#pain crisis cw

[fletcherwilbury]

@sicktember Day 20: Cramping Pain

Warning for Illness, pain, chronic pain, pain crisis, flare-up, medication

[lifewithchronicpain]

Dr. Charles LeBaron is a medical epidemiologist who worked for 28 years at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. LeBaron was not directly involved in the development of the CDC’s 2016 opioid prescribing guideline, but knew colleagues who were and largely supported their efforts.

Then LeBaron developed crippling pain from a meningitis infection and learned firsthand how the CDC guideline was harming patients. While hospitalized, he screamed into his pillow at night because a nurse -- following the CDC’s recommendations -- gave him inadequate doses of oxycodone. The pain relief only lasted a couple of hours, and then he had to wait in misery for the next dose.

“I hadn't experienced the pain so that many patients feel, so I hadn't had the level of sensitivity to the issue that would have benefited me. It took full personal experience to straighten me out,” said LeBaron. “You'd rather be dead than in pain. In that bubble of pain, it really is life changing.

“Once you experience that, you tend to view things very differently through a very different lens. At least that was my experience. There was nothing like being in acute pain.”

LeBaron eventually recovered from the infection and no longer needed oxycodone. But his experience made him wonder if the CDC -- his longtime employer – made mistakes in developing the opioid guideline. That’s when he saw the CDC’s push to limit opioid doses was based on weak evidence and the false presumption that many patients quickly become addicted.

Most of all, he was shocked at how quickly the CDC’s guideline was adopted throughout the healthcare system. He’d never seen anything like it, in all his years at the agency.

“Most of the recommendations we come out with, that people should eat right, exercise or whatever, no one ever bothers doing. We have a tough time getting people to do things. This recommendation? They just had remarkably fast implementation,” LeBaron told PNN…

…“The problem here was not the motivation, the notion that if you can kind of reduce prescription opioids, maybe you'll reduce subsequent addiction. The problem was not looking at the thing sufficiently quantitatively and then not checking the consequences, or at least responding to the consequences when they're brought to your attention.”

People working in public health are normally careful about tracking the outcomes of their policies. But before and after the CDC guideline, the agency turned a deaf ear to a chorus of complaints that it was forcing patients on long-term opioids into rapid tapers that resulted in uncontrolled pain, withdrawal and even suicide.

Worst of all, the number of fatal opioid overdoses doubled to over 80,000 annually after the guideline’s release, an outcome that demonstrated CDC had gone after the wrong target at the wrong time and with the wrong solution.

“The typical person who's having an overdose is a 30-year-old male taking illicit medication. The most typical person who's getting chronic opioids for pain would be a 60-year-old woman with a variety of rheumatological conditions. So you're aiming at a completely off-center target,” LeBaron explained.

“Then subsequently the data started coming in that, in effect, you are worsening the situation. If you take people who really need pain control off their meds, in a sense, it normalizes illegal acquisition. (Read full article at link)

I don’t generally wish chronic pain on other people. But I tell you what, if doctors having an experience with under treated chronic pain is what it takes to give them some fucking perspective and empathy on the opioid crisis, then so be it. I hope they all do.

[dreamwatch]

For the Spotify fic challenge: Steddie, and lucky #13! ❤️

I got this ask on December the 3rd!! It took me forever to come up with something for this, but I got there! I don't think this is as heavy as the tags make it seem, but please heed them @thisapplepielife thank you so much for the ask, it really got the old brain box working!

Spotify Prompt: Free Fallin' by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (yes, Tom Petty again!)

Word Count: 3623 | Rating: T | CW: Period typical homophobia, homophobic language, chronic pain, internalised ableism, brief mention of AIDS crisis | Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington and His Parents | Tags: Protective Eddie Munson, Disabled Eddie Munson, Established Relationship, Meeting The Parents, Steve's Parents Are Trying, Not Beta Read

--

Eddie works fucking hard all week and he just wants to kick back on a Saturday, and do nothing. Feet up on the table, beer in one hand, pizza in the other. Maybe catch a film. Maybe watch a game with Steve. Whatever. It’s his time, he gets to choose how he spends it.

Instead, they’re sitting in the car outside the Harrington’s house, and Steve looks like he’s about to be fed to the wolves. Eddie’s never been brought home to meet the parents before. Usually, he’s never brought home at all. This is as hard for Eddie as it is for Steve. He’s deeply suspicious of Steve’s parents, of their suddenly wanting to meet the guy he’s shacked up with. To get a closer look at the guy who stole Steve’s chance for a good ol’ fashioned midwestern life, white picket fence, sweet wife, a couple of kids, briefcase and tie, trade in the bimmer for a Volvo. All that shit. All that shit that Eddie has no experience with, no desire for. 

Two years together, and this is the first time he’s been summoned. Steve says it’s because they finally believe him. They thought it was a joke at first. They stopped laughing, eventually.

Eddie doesn’t really know what to expect. Robin says his mom is sweet, his dad is nice enough but tough on Steve and there’s still tension there even though Steve’s in his twenties now. Dustin thinks his dad is a hoot, and somehow the idea of Dustin bonding with Mr Harrington feels like a betrayal. But Dustin doesn’t have the full picture, so. There’s that.

“We better go in,” Steve says, not looking at Eddie. Not really looking at anything. And that doesn’t really instil confidence in Eddie, about how all this shit is going to go down, because Steve has been telling him all week not to worry about it, it will be fine. But he’s sitting here looking like the world is about to end. And maybe it is. Maybe that’s exactly what’s about to happen, Steve’s world, that complex relationship with his parents that they cultivated with such tender hands, will just shatter once the reality of everything Steve has been telling them for the last couple of years manifests in their dining room.

Eddie might not have done this before, but he knows his part. Turn up, be polite, play nice. And above all things don’t bite if the other kids don’t play nice. Because Eddie will always be the one that gets the blame. 

He checks his hair in the rearview mirror one last time. It’s tied back, the tiniest bit of hairspray to tame it and stop any unruly hairs from escaping mid canapés. How uncouth. Picking clothes was a whole thing. ‘It’s not a formal dinner’, Steve said, no need to get gussied up, ‘I want you to look like yourself, to be comfortable.’ And Steve probably did mean that, truly, but it didn’t matter how many teeshirts and jeans combos Eddie tried on, none of them seemed to be the ‘Eddie’ that Steve was hoping to bring home to his parents. What followed was an argument, ‘You fucking choose then’, slammed doors, eased over with a kiss and ‘What about these?’ So now he’s in the Harrington’s driveway wearing a pair of clean black jeans, knees neatly hidden behind denim, and a long sleeve (always long sleeves) plaid shirt, which could almost pass for one of Wayne’s if it weren’t for the tiny little polo player embroidered on the pocket. He’s been permitted to wear a pair of Doc Martens he found in a thrift store in Indy, they’re clean and smart enough and they’re fucking comfortable and he needs that. Just one bit of comfort, one bit of him.

They stand on the doorstep and Steve knocks and it strikes Eddie as weird. He moved out of Wayne’s a while ago, but he still has his key, and if he knocked on the front door Wayne would ask Eddie what his last doorman died of. But he forgets sometimes that his upbringing is not the norm, that not every kid got saved from foster care by their uncle because their dad is in jail. 

Mrs Harrington answers the door, and Eddie’s seen pictures of her, he’s been in this house before (he’s done things to her son in this house that would definitely lower its market value) but she’s shorter than he imagined, and Steve bends over to hug her. It’s cute. 

Mr Harrington looms behind her and makes eye contact with Eddie briefly before moving to his son. Another hug, stiffer, with a manly clap on the back. But it’s not nothing, and some of that tension from before has already dispersed from Steve, he has some of his lightness back. A smile back on his beautiful face. Eddie’s not ready to let his guard down yet, he is after all the main course at this particular feast, and he’s just waiting for the cleaver to fall, the teeth to take hold (not teeth, not teeth, not teeth).

“Mom, Dad, this is…” Steve looks at him. Pleading. Loving. Accepting. Scared. “Eddie.”

“Eddie!” says Mrs Harrington, like she actually wants him standing in her hallway, god love her for trying. “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

Oh God, he’s on now, isn’t he? Steve’s thrown him the ball and he needs to not fumble the catch, or something, he’s watched enough games now that some of it should be sinking in. 

“Mr and Mrs Harrington, it’s lovely to meet you both. Uh, thank you. For inviting me.”

“Amanda, please,” says Mrs Harrington, “and this is David,” and it’s pointed, a little spiky. Eddie likes that. David’s giving Amanda the evil eye and Eddie is trying not to smile about it.

“Eddie. Good to meet you,” the poor guy manages to spit out. And Jesus fuck, he holds his hand out to shake it, and Eddie has to resist the temptation to wipe his hands down the front of his jeans. He’s clean, every inch of him scrubbed and moisturised and cologned. Eddie doesn’t know why he’s sweating on this particular social norm, both Al and Wayne taught him the art of the handshake as a young boy. ‘Shake from the elbow, firm hand, and match their grip’ said Wayne. ‘Ain’t nothin’ worse than a weak handshake’ said Al. 

Amanda offers him the grand tour before Steve reminds her that Eddie’s been here before, only not when they were around. David bristles and walks away and that’s probably for the best all things considered.

They all walk through to the massive kitchen, and Amanda offers him a beer and he nearly breaks his fucking neck with the speed he takes it. 

“Dad thought because it’s such a lovely day we’d grill outdoors. How does that sound for a change?” Steve’s mom rests her hand on Steve’s back, and Eddie sees the movement, the slow comforting strokes. 

There’s a cough from the patio, and David Harrington looms in the doorway. “Why don’t you give me a hand, son.” Huh. Divide and conquer, and so early into the afternoon. Steve looks at Eddie and what is Eddie going to say? How dare you leave me to your mother so that you can bond with Daddy? I haven’t seen mine in years, hasn’t done me any harm. He’s a good boyfriend, so he nods and smiles, hoping that it conveys what he really means. We can leave whenever you need to. Just say the word. I love you.

Amanda bustles around in their kitchen, dicing cucumbers and tomatoes, making herself busy, keeping herself away from him. He’s propped on a stool at their breakfast bar because he needs to get the weight off his leg and he didn’t bring his cane because ‘I’m fine Steve, I don’t need it’, not because he didn’t want the Harrington’s to think he was weak or incapable of working, mooching off their son. Definitely not that.

“So, um, what do you like in your salad? Anything I should leave out? Steve didn’t really give me much to go on. I promise I asked.” She sounds like she cares whether he eats zucchini or not (not, decidedly fucking not).

“Ah, I’m not fussy, honestly. Just, you know whatever you guys usually have is fine.”

She looks over her shoulder, a little conspiratorially. “Not a big salad guy, huh? Don’t worry, neither is David. I know when I’m fighting a losing battle.”

Eddie returns the smile. He keeps throwing furtive glances outside, hoping he can just summon Steve to save him. He should be glad, to be honest, that Steve is still out there with his dad. If it was going badly he’d likely have returned by now.

Amanda keeps up the inane chatter, the small talk grating on him. This is so alien to him, so bizarre. He’s doing his best to keep up with her, though, because this isn’t about him. If they never accept him, never want to see him again, he’s fucking fine with it. But Steve loves them, and despite things being tense over the last couple of years Eddie’s pretty certain they love him.

Eddie’s sipping at his beer when he hears the knife slam against the marble countertop. 

Amanda spins to face him.“Look. I’m as uncomfortable as you, okay? So why don’t we just cut the shit.”

He puts his beer down, sits up and draws his shoulders back, ready for battle. He’s been waiting for this. Unfortunately, his leg decides to spasm painfully at the same time, kind of killing the image. He hisses, clutching his thigh and doing his best to massage the pain away as if that’s all it would take. He hates this, fucking hates that it happens in front of this woman of all people.

“Are you… are you okay?” Amanda makes her way closer, and she looks like she wants to reach out to him but can’t quite bring herself to do it.

Eddie takes a deep, calming breath. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It just… it happens. Sometimes. It’s fine.” It’s not even close to fine but he’ll be fucked if he’s telling her that. About his constant pain, about losing one job because he couldn’t keep up with the rest of the crew, about being shit scared he’s going to lose his current job for the same reason. About how he’s pushing himself so that Steve doesn’t have to carry the load. The Harrington’s don’t get to know any of that.

Amanda nods and creeps closer to him, finally pulling out a stool and sitting at the breakfast bar with him. 

“This is difficult for us. Steve and...” She gestures loosely at him, and he does his best not to tense up at that. “God I need a drink. Do you want another beer?”

He’s maxed out on his pain meds today, for all the good it did, so he really shouldn’t. Steve is particularly strict about that kind of thing. But Steve’s not here. So he nods and watches Steve’s mom pour herself a large glass of wine before returning with another beer for him. She knocks the whole thing back in under a minute.

“Steven’s my pride and joy. He was just such a gorgeous child. Kind, would scream with laughter, just so much happiness in him.” She plays with the rim of her wine glass, and swipes at the lipstick she’s left behind. “From the moment you find out you’re pregnant you think about the person they’ll grow up to be. You hope you’ll be a good parent, that you’ll do right by them. I had a life planned for Steve, in my head. He would come home with a beautiful girl one day and tell me she was the one. They’d get married, and have babies of their own. We’d have grandchildren to spoil.” Amanda smiles wistfully, watching Steve and his Dad through the kitchen window. Eddie hopes he’s okay, hopes Steve’s doing better than he is, anyway. It feels like there’s cement lining his stomach. 

“Mrs Harrington—”

“No,” she says, harshly. “I’m talking now, and you’re going to listen to everything I have to say.

“I thought, Nancy Wheeler, you know her?” He nods, silently. “Nice girl. He brought her home and I could see it in his eyes, you know? Just this… light. He was happy. I thought she was the one.”

“So did Steve,” he says before he can stop himself.

“When it didn’t work out, I felt sad for him, but my boys a catch. It’s not like he was going to be alone for long. But that spark, it just fizzled out of him. He carried this… I don’t know, sadness. He’d smile, and he’d laugh, but it was always there under the surface. And then he started getting into fights, vicious ones. The Hargrove boy put him in the hospital, did you know that?”

He did know that. Eddie had spent many a night lamenting the fact he’d never get the chance to punch Billy’s smug fucking face. He doesn’t tell Amanda Harrington that, though, just scowls and nods.

She tops her wine up again. Eddie just wishes she’d get to the part where she calls him a dirty queer and cuts him a cheque if he’ll leave Steve. He wonders how many pieces he could tear it into before throwing it all over her stone floor.

“When Steve didn’t get into college, David told him to get a job. We didn’t make him pay rent, but if he wanted money he was going to have to earn it. And he did. He got that stupid job at Starcourt, got up early every day, worked the weekends. We were both so proud of him.

“And then there was the fire…” Her voice shakes, and she looks genuinely upset, and, maybe for the first time today, he feels sorry for Amanda Harrington. “We were in Indy that day, having dinner with friends. We didn’t know what had happened. We got home late and he wasn’t here, but he was eighteen years old, you know? We thought he was out with friends. We weren’t worried.”

She takes a large breath, and let’s it out slowly. “We got a call at three in the morning to tell us our son was in the hospital. And when we saw him…” Her voice catches before she looks up at Eddie. “You’re not a parent, Eddie. So you can’t know what it feels like. You don’t know fear until you nearly lose your child. And we kind of did, a little. He was never the same after that,” she says softly. She gives a sour laugh. “And then it happened again.”

“Spring break,” Eddie says. She nods sadly.

Amanda pauses and swirls what’s left of her wine in its glass. “A few months after the earthquake, or whatever it was, he walked in the door one night and he just… He had that light back in his eyes and suddenly my Steve was home. And I knew he was in love.” She smiles, and Eddie sees Steve in his mother, just how alike they are. “It was like Nancy times a hundred. He was glowing. I was so happy to see him like that. And I asked him ‘When are you bringing this mystery girl home to meet us?’ and he’d be coy, get all shy. I asked him outright if he was in love and he didn’t hesitate, just said yes with a huge smile plastered across his face, and yet he wouldn’t bring her home to us.

“And then one day he sits us down and tells us that this girl who he has fallen so deeply in love with is… is a boy.” She looks accusingly at him, and he refuses to shrink under her glare. “And suddenly everything you thought about your child, everything you had planned for them, it’s gone,” she snaps her fingers, “overnight. Now I’m not worrying about teenage pregnancy, I’m worrying about AIDS—”

“That’s not—”

“No, let me finish! Let me get this out, for Christ’s sake.” She knocks back the last of her wine. “He’s explained, all of that to us. And how you’re being… responsible. But we’re old-fashioned. Traditional. Our son coming home and declaring he’s bi — whatever it is —”

“ — sexual.”

“Whatever it is,” she glares at him, “it’s hard for us. But here’s the thing. I haven’t seen him that happy in so long. Maybe ever. You gave him his light back. You. You with your long hair and your tattoos, and your bad reputation… ” She runs out of steam, and blows out a huge puff of air. “He says you talked him into going to college.”

Eddie nods. “He’s smart,” he says, fiercely proud. “Smarter than people give him credit for.”

“He is. I’m glad someone else sees it.” She gives him a ghost of a smile and he feels wrongfooted all of a sudden, no longer sure what they’re doing. The fight he thought he was gearing up for seemingly off the cards.

“We’re getting there, Eddie. And we’ll keep trying. He loves you. And we love him. You do love him, don’t you?”

Eddie’s throat tightens and he swallows hard. “So much it hurts,” he croaks.

She smiles, a tentative thing. Fragile. “Good. We’re on a journey, David and I. I’m a little further along… but he’s getting there. We’re both getting there. I hope you’ll allow us the time to catch up.”

And what can he say to that? His own father told him he was a dirty little freak and tried to beat the gay out of him. Steve’s parents just want more time. They can give them that. Eddie can give them that.

“If it’s okay with Steve, then it’s okay with me.”

Eddie watches the tension in Amanda’s shoulders melt away, the worried frown smooths. “Good. And… thank you. For your patience. And for looking after him. All I ever wanted was for someone to love him and look after him.”

“I will always love him.” And he means it, knows in his heart that whatever might happen in the future, whatever gets thrown their way, he will always love Steve Harrington “How could I not?” 

Amanda offers a shy smile and Eddie thinks maybe he’s done his job. Maybe, at the very least, she will accept them now, and try not to fight it.

She’s still smiling when she looks at the kitchen counter, at the mess of vegetables in various states of being chopped and washed. “You know what?” She gets up and grabs the vegetables, throwing them in the refrigerator with a slam of the door. She turns back to look at him, hands on hips, and Eddie bites back a smile. “Fuck the salad.” He’s open mouthed as she gestures out to the garden. “Dave doesn’t like it, Steve doesn’t like it and I’m not going to make you choke it down out of politeness.”

Amanda crosses the kitchen to him and offers her arm. “We have steps out there. If you fall Steve will kill me.”

Eddie wonders just what exactly Steve has been telling them, how infirm Steve seems to think he is and he’d be lying if it didn’t rankle him, but at the same time his mom is trying to do something nice. She thinks she’s helping. So he’s going to let her.

They walk out into the sunlight, arm in arm, and he sees Steve laughing with his Dad, they both look relaxed and happy and that’s all Eddie wanted from today. They look up as Amanda and Eddie approach, Steve locking eyes with Eddie, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Eddie smiles and nods and Steve visibly relaxes as he goes back to arguing about the best way to grill a steak.

The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly, and while it’s Steve’s Mom who does all the heavy lifting, his Dad isn’t exactly a silent partner. It feels so normal, family in-jokes and laughter and he can see how much Steve has missed this.

When they leave Amanda hugs him, giving him a warm smile, and David shakes his hand, a little longer and a little softer than the first one.

Steve starts the engine, the radio springs to life, and they head out of the driveway, back to their own home. Steve reaches across and takes Eddie’s hand in his. “Thank you,” he says, glancing away from the road for a second.

Eddie squeezes his hand. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“No, I do. I was a dick. The clothes, your hair… I’m sorry, okay? I was just…”

“Scared,” Eddie finishes for him.

Steve nods. “Scared.”

“They love you, Steve. Whatever happens. They love you, okay?”

Steve sighs, finally unburdened. "I know."

They pull up to a stop light, Tom Petty playing on the radio. Steve runs his hand through his hair, finally relaxed enough to muss it up. “Uh, Dad asked if you’d like to bring Wayne.” Steve glances across at him quickly, and then back at the stop light. “Next time?”

He’s not exactly sure what Wayne would say to an invitation to the Harringtons. But he does know that Wayne thinks the sun shines out of Steve’s ass, and there’s not much that he’d say no to if Steve was the one doing the asking.

“Sure,” Eddie says, and he reaches across to this boy, this man, that he loves so fiercely, and pulls him in for a kiss. “Next time.”

[creepyscritches]

You don't know me but we had a friend in common, Hanna. Her Tumblr was radiant-avad. Hanna thought very highly of you and said she missed you a lot. She died 2019 November.

I....appreciate where you're coming from, but after spending a year and a half brokenly grieving her and only in the past year having entered into the acceptance stage of grief, anons like this feel like a shot in the back of the head. A lot of my difficulties with the grief centered around my illness drifting us apart for a short period and the guilt of not having the chance to tell her I loved her again before she died. I know she missed me and it kills me still. I don't think I'll ever be able to have such fun with art again--she was my co-pilot and I loved everything about her.

I'd appreciate it going forward if I was allowed to grieve her privately as it is the healthiest method I've had so far, thank you

[cebwrites]

achilles, i’m talking to you

a/n: something of the boys needing companionship, we feeling melancholic in this house tonight... 💔

oc x canon, they/he law word count: 1k

Kirin’s birthdays are always quiet.

His crew mill about their duties but keep to themself - out of his way in hushed tones, even the bubble of laughter or obnoxious cackles that have become so commonplace can’t break this somber wave that seems to envelop the entire ship once late November rolls around. 

This year, Rio’s quiet scratching of pen to paper is absent. Izzy’s quill in their office hardly takes up half as much presence. Everyone feels the way their captain’s bones ache with the weather and the how he wishes to disappear with the swirl of his drink, downed.

Some wayward Hearts, catching wind of the date but not the crew’s protocol, come in guns blazing with balloons, streamers, and a cake Penguin, Bas and Laeno agonized over for hours to make just right - taking into consideration that Kirin never really did have a sweet tooth. They’ve all even wrestled their captain into a spotted party hat over their regular one for the occasion, begrudging as ever.

The reception when they show up for a surprise party is frigid.

‘Course, it’s no one’s fault. The Hearts had no idea and Hiraishin are still happy to see familiar faces, reunite with long distance partners, drink the night away - a celebration just wasn’t what anyone on this ship had in mind for this week, let alone on this of all days.

Kirin manages to peel himself off the underside of his blanket for long enough to announce that everyone’s free to party for as long as they like and that he’ll be around, just not in the spotlight for today. Gotta let someone else take center stage for once, right? Law can see that his heart’s not in it, sharp eyes soften upon being told the reason why, among a few others.

Still, everyone manages to get a pleasant buzz going after a while. Even with gloom from before, it’s hard to stay that way once the sparks of comradery begin to shine through - rubbing shoulders with old friends and catching up with stories of the adventures they’ve had without the other parties around.

Laughter returns to the Aura Nimbus, the Tang comfortably joins her as crew members slowly spread out when day turns to dusk.

Late into the night, long after they’d stopped catching the other captain flitting around circles of conversation - rarely taking part and almost ghostly in his presence, Law finds Kirin drinking below deck. Deliberately avoiding interaction, the small voice in their mind mentions, not that they were in any place to judge. Law was no stranger to these behaviors, they were familiar, a comfort.

But patterns of isolation weren’t healthy.

“Sorry, you know,” Law clears their throat, “for springing this all on you unannounced.”

Kirin glances at their backlight figure in the doorway, only a step below divine, vaguely registering how the crumpled shape he’s contorted himself into against the wall must look in contrast.

“Nah, s’alright. I would’ve rolled out a better welcome met for ya any other time.”

The smile that falls into place is one he knows well but wrong - no, this isn’t the smile he’s supposed to give Law. Or Izzy when he came by earlier with dinner. Or Reiji, any time he popped in to check on him. This smile is cold, dead behind the eyes, the instinctive one his facial muscles pull out of reflex whenever he’s hiding something.

Kirin can’t see it but he knows the exact look, it’s a shadow of actual delight saved only for others to mirror their disdain for him. He obscures it with a drag of his hand, ashamed, hoping he’d be able to force something a little more genuine by the time Law gets close enough to look at him in this dim light. He doesn’t see whatever expression Law has in response to that, either.

He doesn’t want to be perceived, yet yearns for the warmth of another person’s presence. Kirin doesn’t flinch away when they take a seat beside him, but does wince audibly at the question of what he’s doing here stewing alone in self loathing when everyone above wants to help.

Kirin doesn’t have a quippy comeback. Law’s words cut deep because they’re parallels, he sees right through him, Kirin can’t ignore the metaphorical arm extended his way. He leans - slumps - against their shoulder, Kirin’s grateful that Law doesn’t pull away but does whine when they swipe his booze for a swig of their own. 

A glimmer of his regular self coming through.

“I,” Kirin begins, ruefully, “don’t think I should be here.”

“Mm?”

“My parents were practically kids when they had me. Twenty with their whole lives ahead of them. Even with marines on their asses, maybe if they didn’t have their hands full with a baby, maybe then they could’ve...”

Law cracks one eye open to follow the faint clicking in their periphery. It’s Kirin fiddling with a lighter idly - a passing mention from someone that he used to smoke comes to mind, they’re just as guilty though. The memory of smoke, lipstick, and cherry cologne on woefully lonely nights fill their thoughts.

No, not now. That was too painful. Law tamps down the thought with different memories. A dull throb in their chest rather than direct stinging behind the eyes.

“Flevance’s destruction was always going to happen. Nothing a single person being born or not was going to change that after the Word Government decided that our suffering was worth exploiting for profit,” they take another sip, Law makes a face. It’s the cheap stuff.

The given well, yeah is on the tip of his tongue. The unfathomable tragedy of a genocide isn’t something Kirin wraps his head around easily - though he’s seen enough of what the world’s worst was willing to offer elsewhere - so he holds it, takes the empty bottle from their hands to set it next to the ones just out of Law’s direct line of sight. They hear the clinking, though, Kirin’s not spared a levelled stare but he chooses to ignore it.

“In any case,” Law sighs, “you—we’re here now.”

“Yeah? So what’s the plan, capt’n?”

They cast their gaze to the thumping above deck; the party isn’t as loud as it could be - Law’s well aware that both their crews were capable of and have been far rowdier than this. Muffled laughter and cheers still make their way to them through the floorboards. For the moment it’s peaceful that way. So they shift to get comfortable, cheek nestled snugly on Kirin’s head.

“Learning to live.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

in a new light

for @steddie-week prompt 'body swap'

rated t | 2653 words | cw: mild language | tags: body swap, friends to lovers, eddie has a crush on steve, steve fast burns through a sexuality crisis, steve has chronic pain

🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺🔺

Steve woke up in Eddie’s bed.

He woke up wearing Eddie’s clothes.

He brushed Eddie’s hair off his shoulder as he yawned.

Or was it his hair?

He opened his eyes and looked down at his shoulder.

Eddie’s hair.

He brushed it off again, but it just fell to his back.

He sat up in bed, looking around the room. No Eddie.

Steve looked around the room before his eyes settled on his own hands.

Eddie’s rings were on his fingers.

He looked down at his arms, jumping at the sight of Eddie’s tattoos.

Eddie’s pale skin.

He rushed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, ignoring a deep sense of dread taking over him.

“What the fuck?” He asked out loud, only remembering that Wayne would be home at the last minute.

“Everything okay in there, Ed?” Wayne’s voice asked from the other side of the door.

“Yep!” He squeaked out, Eddie’s voice falling from his lips.

He had to call Robin or Nancy or Eddie-

Oh god. Was Eddie in his body?

He had to get to his house immediately.

He opened the door slowly, hoping Wayne had already gone back to another room. He hadn’t. Wayne was standing right outside the door still, brows furrowed and arms crossed over his chest.

“You hurt?” Wayne asked.

“No,” he replied, trying to keep their interactions at a bare minimum.

How would Eddie talk to his uncle? He knew they were pretty close, especially since everything that happened in March, so he probably shouldn’t be so standoffish or awkward. Wayne didn’t know everything about what happened, but he knew enough to be suspicious of anyone acting differently than they normally would.

“You need to talk about anything?” Wayne pushed.

Steve didn’t know how to handle an adult actually caring. Was this how it was for Eddie all the time?

“Um…no?” He cleared his throat. “Just a weird dream. I’ll be fine.”

Wayne squinted his eyes, but nodded and walked towards the kitchen. “Makin’ some eggs for breakfast if you want some.”

“Sounds good!”

Steve booked it back to Eddie’s room, closing the door quietly behind him. Eddie had a phone in his room ever since they moved, a requirement that Dustin insisted on so they could easily reach him. Wayne didn’t mind, especially because it meant he didn’t have to listen to Eddie on the phone in the living room while the game was on.

He dialed his house number, hoping that Eddie would answer.

“Harrington residence,” Robin answered.

“Robin! What’re you doing there?” This was good, actually. She could probably confirm if Eddie was stuck inside Steve’s body.

“Uh…I slept over last night? I always sleep over on Thursday nights, Munson. You know that.”

Shit. She didn’t know yet.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot what day it was.” Steve had to think. He could drive over there and check himself. Or he could just have Robin check right now. “So here’s the thing-”

“Oh, there’s the sleepyhead now!” Robin said away from the phone. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve said through the phone before he realized Robin wasn’t talking to him.

“What the hell is going on?” Robin asked, sounding more panicked now.

“Is that Steve?” he could hear his own voice asking. Jesus, is that what he actually sounded like?

“What do you mean? You’re Steve!” Robin’s voice was getting louder, higher pitched than it had been when she first answered.

“Robs, hand the phone over,” Steve said as calmly as possible. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

“This is so fucked.” He heard her say as she handed the phone to Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, quiet and unsure.

“So you’re stuck in my body,” Steve confirmed. “This isn’t good.”

“Tell me about it. Are you always in this much pain?”

Steve swallowed around a lump in his throat. “It’s…not always that bad. It’s been worse the last few weeks.”

“Why the hell haven’t you said anything?” Eddie sounded angry, but Steve was having trouble getting past being reprimanded in his own voice. “My head is pounding, my side aches, my knee creaks. Your body is fucked, man.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s it?” Eddie sounded angry. “Get over here so we can figure this out.”

He hung up the phone and Steve stood awkwardly by Eddie’s bed.

“Shit.”

****

Steve managed to avoid questions from Wayne, but did get forced into eating some eggs before he left.

“I swear, you better tell that boy soon,” Wayne said as he made his way to the front porch to have a cigarette. “Can’t handle all this dancin’ around feelings.”

Steve tabled that for now, in too much of a rush to get to his house to figure out what was going on and how they could fix it.

By the time he managed to get Eddie’s beat up temporary truck into his own driveway, Robin was gone and he was watching his own body pace up and down the walkway to the front door.

“Robin?” Steve asked as he walked up to Eddie.

“Her mom needed the car. She’s gonna be back later with the kids apparently so we can ‘figure this out’,” he did air quotes around it. “She said this can’t be that bad of a migraine because I can still stand. What the hell does that even mean?”

“Let’s get inside,” Steve sighed as he pushed Eddie in the house and locked the door behind them. “You already knew I get migraines.”

“I thought they were rare! I didn’t know you just woke up like this.”

“Oh, this isn’t a bad one.” Steve looked at the way his eyes weren’t drooping and his shoulders were still surprisingly relaxed. Most of his bad migraines were too intense for him to even be standing, let alone look this calm. “If you’re upright, it’s manageable.”

Eddie’s face dropped from anger to disbelief. “Do you feel like this all the time?”

“I mean, some days are worse than this. Some days are better. But I guess…yeah. Most of the time is like this.” Steve shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“Steve…” Eddie’s hand raised, then he seemed to think twice and let it drop to his side. “Does Owens know? I’m sure he could find something to help.”

“He had more important things to deal with and I didn’t wanna bother him.” Steve walked to the kitchen so he could grab them both drinks as they figured out what to do. “But let’s focus on what’s most important right now.”

“How is your health not what’s most important?” Eddie asked as he followed close behind.

“We can figure it out when it’s my health again!” Steve exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “You’re stuck in my body feeling the way I’m supposed to feel instead of in your own body, which seems surprisingly normal despite the itch on my side. You should get that checked out by the way. It shouldn’t be itchy anymore.”

“Are you seriously telling me to get an itch looked at when you’re in constant pain? You’re kidding.” Eddie stood in front of Steve, hands on his hips. It was weird seeing his own body doing something so familiar from Eddie’s body. Now that he was seeing it like this, it was a little funny. “I can barely see straight and you’re worried about my scars itching a little?”

“Well, I don’t want it to be infected,” Steve started playing with the ends of his hair, no, Eddie’s hair. “If it ever burns, you should get some antibiotics.”

“Steve. For one single second I need you to focus on the fact that you are in pain all the time. You don’t even take anything for it!” Eddie gently took his fingers from where they were wrapping his own hair around them. “Robin said you never even told her about the scars still hurting.”

“It wasn’t important. I barely even feel it anymore most days,” Steve couldn’t help noticing the way Eddie’s hands were still on his. “Other people had it worse.”

“I think the people who allegedly had it worse would have wanted you to say something. The kids wouldn’t want you to hurt like this all the time,” Eddie turned away and groaned, holding his own head. “Fuck, this is awful. How do you accomplish anything?”

Steve didn’t answer, but reached into the freezer to grab his ice pack designated just for headaches and held it up to where he knew his head was hurting. Eddie seemed to deflate, leaning back against Steve.

And that’s when Steve had the realization that they fit together pretty damn well.

Despite the fact that there was only about an inch of height difference between them, Steve’s body fit perfectly against Eddie’s front.

It felt nice. Even being stuck in Eddie’s body, it felt good to be close like this.

He kept holding the ice pack against his temple and left eye, where the pain always seemed to be the worst. Eddie leaned more weight against him.

“Feel good there?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah. Perfect.”

“You wanna go back to bed? I can wait for Robin and the kids,” Steve offered.

“Nah, I can wait with you.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

Eddie turned and glared at him, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at his own face.

“Bold words coming from Mr. Overdo It himself,” Eddie mumbled as he took the ice pack from Steve’s hand and made his way to the couch. “Come sit with me. We might as well try to talk through what could’ve caused this.”

“I honestly don’t even know where to begin. I don’t think it’s Upside Down related.”

“Pretty sure if it were, one of us would be dead by now.”

Eddie’s eyes closed as he rested his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“It happened in our sleep so maybe it was a dream thing?” Steve asked as he wrapped his arm around Eddie, pulling him into his side more. “Was I in your dream?”

“Mhm. Always,” Eddie slurred, already half asleep.

Steve was too busy trying to think through what could have caused this to realize what he said until he was already asleep.

He looked down at his own sleeping body, the ice pack starting to fall as Eddie’s hand relaxed more. Steve grabbed it and held it in place while he got distracted by new thoughts.

Wayne had said something about feelings earlier and Eddie had sounded genuinely upset about the pain Steve was in, not just because he was currently living it. He’d admitted that he was dreaming about him always.

Sometimes, Eddie would find excuses to be alone with Steve during movie nights: helping him grab drinks for everyone or offering to help get the guest room ready for the kids. He showed up randomly with Steve’s favorite milkshake from the diner, always remembered to order his favorite beer when they went to the bar, and bought him earplugs so he could go to a Corroded Coffin show without getting a migraine.

“Oh.” Steve breathed out, his heart fluttering in his chest.

So Eddie probably liked him.

But did he like Eddie?

As Eddie turned his face into Steve’s neck, breath sending chills down Steve’s neck, he realized that he did. Probably for a while, actually.

Because when Eddie showed up with his favorite milkshake, the butterflies in his stomach would start fluttering. When he watched Eddie on stage at his concert, he’d felt so proud of him, all he wanted to do was kiss him. When they spent endless hours together while the kids argued or splashed around in Steve’s pool, he fell for him.

“Shit.”

Steve closed his eyes and hoped that they could figure everything out soon. He wanted to kiss Eddie when he was Eddie, not while he was stuck in Steve’s body.

****

When Steve woke up, he felt a dull ache in his head and a sharp pain in his neck.

He opened his eyes and frowned.

Hadn’t he fallen asleep holding Eddie?

Now Eddie was-

Steve sat up quickly, nearly falling off the couch. “Eds! Wake up!”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open. “The fuck?”

“We’re ourselves!” Steve shouted before jumping into Eddie’s lap, legs straddling Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie’s hands instinctively grabbed his hips to keep him from falling backwards in his enthusiasm and Steve’s arms wrapped around his neck to hold on.

“Head still hurt?” Eddie asked him. “And don’t lie to me.”

“A little, but not that bad,” Steve gave a comforting smile. “I promise. The ice pack must’ve helped.”

“Wayne used to get migraines when he kept switching between night shift and day shift. Used to swear by peppermint tea before he went to sleep. I could make you some?” Eddie offered, thumbs rubbing just under Steve’s t-shirt. “We’d have to go back to mine for it, but I’ll drive so you don’t have to.”

“Eds, I’m okay. But I think I’ll grab some at the store tomorrow and you can make me some next time,” Steve wrapped a strand of Eddie’s hair around his finger, much like he did earlier when it was his hair. “Did you really dream about me?”

Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m hoping the answer is yes,” Steve continued. “So if you have been, I think we could do something about making your dreams a reality.”

Eddie blinked back at him for a long minute.

“That was horrible. Is that the charm the girls always bragged about? Jesus, Stevie.”

They both laughed, Steve’s head falling forward so it rested against Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie’s hands started rubbing his back, slow and cautious, testing the waters a bit.

“I just meant that if you want me like that, I’d like to take you out.” Steve leaned back, but kept his face close enough to lean in for a kiss if Eddie let him.

“Out? On a date?”

“Out on a date,” Steve nodded. “Would you wanna?”

“Steve. I’m seriously asking this question so don’t laugh.”

“Okay…”

“Is it because you saw the size of my dick when you were in my body?”

Steve laughed so hard, he choked on his own breath. “No!” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t even see it. What the hell, Eddie.”

He shook his head, smiling fondly at Eddie, who was smirking back at him.

“You wanna see it, though, don’t you?” Eddie teased.

“I’m not a fuck on the first date kinda guy,” Steve smacked his shoulder. “But maybe for you I could be persuaded.”

“This might be the best day of my life.”

“It could be better if you kiss me.”

The moment their lips touched, Steve’s front door burst open and Robin, Nancy, and the kids rushed into his house.

“El thinks she knows what happened!” Dustin yelled.

“Okay, this is definitely not something Robin mentioned,” Mike said as he turned away from Steve and Eddie on the couch.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked, probably so done with the events of the day.

“Nothing anymore.” Steve slowly slid from Eddie’s lap, but grabbed onto his hand to hold it on his leg. “Back to normal.”

“Just like that?” Will asked.

“Yep. Just like that.”

“What if it happens again?” Nancy asked them both.

“Dunno. But if you don’t mind, we’ve got somewhere to be,” Steve said as he stood up and pulled Eddie to his feet. “We’ll let you know if it happens again!”

They both walked out of Steve’s house and got in Steve’s car.

“You think they’re gonna be here when we get back?” Eddie asked him as they pulled out of his driveway.

“Probably. But I think if we kiss in front of them, they’ll scatter pretty quick.”

“Devious.” Eddie lifted their hands and kissed the back of Steve’s hand. “Where’re you taking me?”

“Milkshakes. I think I owe you one after all the times you brought me one.”

[wheneverfeasible]

Confession

wc: 3k || rating: T+ || AO3 || cw: referenced homophobia, homophobic language || summary: Eddie comes out to Wayne

Eddie Munson was bi.

Bisexual, meaning liking boys and girls and anything in-between.

What. The. Fuck.

It was all stupid Harrington’s fault. Steve. God, why did it have to be a preppy jock? There were plenty of other guys that could have snapped that realization on him, but no, he had to watch Steve Harrington spit out demobat blood (if it could be called that) after ripping its fucking spine out that made Eddie realize ‘huh, I think I like guys.’

It wasn’t like Steve was the only guy he was attracted to, he was shocked to realize. No, now that he knew that it was a possibility, his obsession with some of the musicians of bands whose music he wasn’t even that fond of started making a lot more sense, as well as how he’d reacted to some of the guys he’d gone to school with, or who had bought from him, and Jesus H. Christ, that guy at The Hideout had been hitting on him, hadn’t he?

So yeah, Eddie was dealing with a little bit of shock at his attraction to his friend, as well as the fact that that attraction was also apparently becoming a legitimate crush. Because that was healthy and safe to do. Especially when last he knew, Steve was still hung up on Nancy. And in a weird codependent relationship with Robin. Seriously, if he had to listen to Dustin complaining about why Steve wouldn’t just date Robin one more time, he was going to pull his hair out.

But so Eddie was bisexual. That was fine. Once he’d had his little crisis—and he’d been given plenty of time to think about it while recovering from being the main course at the all-you-can-eat Eddie Munson buffet—he’d done a little bit of research into the topic. Which was how he’d discovered that he had unintentionally been telling every gay man (if he came across any) that he apparently liked to top and was into inflicting pain with his sexual partners (suddenly the guy at The Hideout made more sense).

And…okay, maybe Eddie left the bandana there. He didn’t know, but the idea of it wasn’t too bad. Maybe. Maybe he should look into getting other bandana colors too, just in case.

It didn’t matter. He was still inexperienced, had only been with chicks before, and even then there had only been three of them. Two of them had only slept with him for the story, and the third one…well, everyone needed a little heartbreak in their life he supposed. Maybe he and Steve could compare notes.

The idea of sleeping with a guy, however, was not…unpleasant. It took him by surprise, sure, but he thought he could be down to trying some things out.

That wasn’t the issue on hand, however. It wasn’t what was eating him up inside, making him nauseous as he gnawed at his cuticles, pacing back and forth in the new double wide trailer the government had bought for them after Forest Hills was repaired. (R.I.P. to his uncle’s mug and hat collection.)

And there it was. The issue. His uncle.

Eddie could keep it a secret, sure. Could stay firmly inside the closet he hadn’t even known he’d been in, sitting safe and secret. But…that went against Eddie stood for. Sure, he knew he couldn’t shout it from the rooftop that he maybe sometimes thought about what it would feel like to have one of his best friends’ dicks in his mouth, but this was his uncle, man. This was Wayne.

Christ, he wished he had Ronnie, his former best friend, here to talk with her about all this. (He had also discovered another identity he hadn’t known about, asexuality, which he thought was right up Ronnie’s alley and wished he could tell her, but that was impossible now. She’d left Hawkins behind for a fresh start and he couldn’t blame her.)

But that meant that he was all alone. He loved the new friends he had, loved his band, but…well, this was something a little more complicated. And he wanted to tell his uncle. But…

Eddie gulped, every crunch of gravel outside the trailer sending an electric current through him as his anxiety spiked. His uncle should be home from work soon. Eddie paced a small circuit, knowing he needed a cigarette but also not wanting to go outside. His uncle had declared the new trailer a smoke-free zone. He doubted it would remain that way after this conversation.

He’d like to think his uncle would be supportive. After all, this was Wayne. His uncle loved him, had been there for him even when his own father hadn’t, and had stood by his side even when the whole town thought he was some psycho satanic serial killer. Hell, Wayne had walked in to Chrissy’s mangled corpse in his trailer and hadn’t once suspected Eddie of being guilty.

But having a queer for a nephew?

His uncle was progressive, but that didn’t mean he’d feel as complacent about his nephew being…what he was. His uncle had taken him in after he’d already grown and never expected him to help with the rent money, though Eddie did anyways with the money he got from dealing. But so Eddie was an adult, had a GED to his name, and didn’t need his uncle’s charity anymore.

Gravel crunched outside, the familiar sound of a truck engine rumbling along, and Eddie knew his uncle was home. Fuck. He hoped he didn’t leave this encounter with a black eye. Or worse. Hell, there were some people in this town that if he told this secret to, he wouldn’t leave the encounter at all. Not alive at least.

He knows his uncle isn’t like they though. He knows. Still, the fear persists. He’d always known he’d be too much for his uncle eventually. Would this be the final straw?

Wayne’s footsteps sounded on the porch.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Eddie had, in case he had to leave quickly, already packed a duffel. He wanted to trust his uncle, and he did, really, but…but there was that sickness going around, and Reagan, and Hawkins was such a conservative town, and Eddie just couldn’t know, not for certain. Not with something like this.

“Heya kid,” Wayne said with a gruffness to his voice that spoke of long hours at the plant, though there was the small relieved smile that curled his lips when he got home and saw Eddie there. Like Eddie’s presence was a reassurance now. Eddie hated that he was about to ruin that all.

Because sure, there was a possibility that Wayne would accept him, or at least not kick him out, but Eddie had seen too much shit to think that things would ever be easy for him. It was the Munson Curse.

“Hey Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said, and maybe it was the title, maybe it was the way his words warbled in his throat, but Wayne immediately stopped from where he was moving to pour the morning’s coffee into a generic mug and turned to face Eddie with a furrowed expression.

“Everything all right, Eds?” he asked quietly, hesitantly, and took a large stride over to where Eddie was hovering by the coffee table. He froze, however, eyes widening, when Eddie flinched. Wayne swallowed, his gaze darting over Eddie as though looking for an injury. “Eddie?”

He could do this. His uncle deserved to know he had a fucking fairy living under his roof. Maybe he wouldn’t care, or maybe he’d be fine with it as long as Eddie never acted on it, or maybe…maybe…

Eddie thickly swallowed against the rising burn of bile in the back of his throat. He wanted his uncle to know because this was a part of who he was and it was important to be honest with himself and with his only family member still alive that genuinely loved him, just…he hoped he didn’t lose that love with his confession. But he wanted Wayne to know. Even if it hurt.

“U-Uncle…” Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his tone almost pleading. He blinked back the burn behind his eyes next, willing the words to come out of his mouth. As soon as he’d fully realized the truth, fully known what it meant, he knew that he’d tell Wayne. No matter what, he wanted his uncle to know this about him.

Wayne’s face grew slightly panicked at Eddie’s response, the way he held himself, the tone of his voice, and Eddie could tell the older man wanted to reach out for him but was taken aback by Eddie’s earlier flinch. Christ, would Wayne still want to hug him after this? Touch him? Be in the same room as him? Breathe the same air?

Would he tell Eddie that Alan Munson had been right all these years when he’d continually abandoned Eddie because he’d somehow known his own son wasn’t worth sticking around for?

Wayne took another step closer and Eddie panicked.

“I’m bi!” he exclaimed suddenly, wincing as he withdrew into himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he subconsciously braced for some sort of physical attack. “I’m bisexual,” he whispered, his words shaking.

There was silence, stillness.

Eddie drew in a shaky breath and risked opening his eyes to look at Wayne, expecting disgust, revulsion, perhaps even anger. Instead, all he got was…confusion?

“What?” Wayne asked, his expression full of his lack of understanding what Eddie had just said.

Eddie swallowed again. “I…I’m bi? I like…both girls and boys,” he clarified carefully, though there was a touch of confusion in his own words, his brows furrowing as they only seemed to stump Wayne further. Eddie frowned, figuring he was as clear as could be.

“Did…” Wayne began frowning a little himself, still looking confused. “Okay? But you’re lookin’ like you wanted t’ tell me somethin’.”

Eddie blinked.

“I’m bi,” he repeated pointedly, his arms dropping to his side.

Wayne rolled his eyes to look at the ceiling for a moment in mild exasperation before looking at Eddie again. “Son, did someone say somethin’ ‘bout it?” His lips twisted into a small scowl. “Did that Harrington boy say anything?”

“What? Jesus, no!” Eddie exclaimed, because why the hell was his uncle bringing up Steve when he’d just come out to him? His insides still warmed at being called ‘son,’ however. “Wayne I’m…I…” The panic started up again despite everything and he swallowed nervously. “I like boys, Wayne. I’m a queer.”

Wayne just blinked at him, his scowl turning once more into a confused frown. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s the truth!” Eddie exploded, not having expected his uncle to think he was making it up or lying. Jesus, and what a thing to lie about.

“Obviously,” Wayne snorted in answer, crossing his arms over his chest as he let his gaze roam over Eddie as if looking for an answer. “But I need to know what this prelude is for.”

Eddie felt lost. He stared at his uncle in confusion, his earlier fear and anxiety slowly draining away as he tried to make sense of what was happening. His uncle sounded…sounded like he already…

“You knew?” he asked, voice soft and fragile.

Wayne’s brows lowered, and Eddie felt a little offended that Wayne was looking at him like he was an idiot. “Eddie…I’ve known since you were twelve years old and told me you thought Big Bill Broonzy was pretty after lookin’ through your mom’s old records with the biggest blush on your face.”

Eddie gaped. He vaguely recalled something like that, but that wasn’t…he hadn’t…Jesus fucking H. Christ.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Eddie huffed in sudden annoyance.

“I thought you knew!” Wayne protested, throwing his hands up and looking like he was losing what this conversation was even about. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you’ve been makin’ moonin’ eyes at the Harrington boy and you didn’t even know you liked him?”

Eddie’s blush now could rival any he made when he was twelve. He stuttered, gaped, and dragged a whole handful of hair to cover his face in his embarrassment. “I know that,” he whined. “God, have I have been that obvious?”

Wayne snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved to finish pouring himself that cup of coffee. “Had me worried he finally said somethin’,” he muttered to himself. He turned to point the plain white mug at Eddie. “If he or any of the others do, you let me know, Edster, you got that?”

Eddie softly groaned, burying his face in his hands next as he stumbled back to drop onto the sofa. No wonder Robin had started giving him those looks. He gulped. And…and Steve. Steve had been smiling at him more often, was…was lightly touching him with lingering fingers, had even used that voice on him that he’d use on the pretty girls that stopped by Family Video…

Steve hadn’t been using that voice on any pretty girls that stopped by Family Video recently.

Gulping, realizing that that was not something he had the ability to think about right now, he focused on the truly important thing. He lifted his head to stare at his uncle with wide, shining eyes, his heart fluttering so madly in his ribcage he’d almost thought he’d trapped a bird in there. He licked his lips, eyeing his uncle with wary hope.

“You…you don’t mind?” he asked, needing to clarify, needing to know. “You don’t mind I like boys too?”

Wayne snorted, reaching for another mug and pouring it half full, leaving enough space for him to pour a godawful amount of sugar and a splash of milk in it, just like his nephew liked it, before taking it over to Eddie. He sat down on the sofa next to him, hanging it over. Eddie was grateful for it, even if it was room temperature now.

“Son, I know you ain’t lived here with me long, and I know your father…well, Al’s always had his faults. But we’re family, kid. I’ve loved you since the moment Elizabeth told me she was pregnant with you. Nothing is ever gonna change that, you hear?” He sniffed, taking a sip of his coffee. “‘Sides, ain’t nothin’ wrong with love. You just got lucky, and your chances for love have doubled now.”

Eddie glanced over at his uncle with a shy smile, relief and affection for the older man coursing through him. He cradled his own mug between his hands, drawing in a shaky breath. Wayne knew. Wayne knew and he still loved him. A small, tearful chuckle escaped him and he hastily wiped away one of the tears that fell down his cheek.

“Eddie…” Wayne sighed, sounding regretful as he set his mug on the coffee table and turned to properly face his nephew. “I am deeply sorry if I have ever made you feel like I wouldn’t accept you, like my love for you was conditional.”

Eddie hastily shook his head, setting his own mug down to mirror Wayne’s position, curling one knee halfway on the couch. “You didn’t,” he reassured. “You didn’t, I just…I…” He felt bad now for doubting Wayne. For packing a bag like he was going to get tossed out at any moment. For thinking even just for a second that his uncle would ever hit him.

Wayne studied Eddie’s face before letting out a soft sigh and a small nod. “I understand. It’s not safe out there right now, especially not with everything.” And Wayne didn’t even know everything. He couldn’t, not with all the papers Eddie’d been forced to sign while being patched up after everything. But he knew that he didn’t know, so there was at least that.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Eddie murmured. “I trust you, Wayne. That’s why I wanted you to know. As soon as I was sure, I wanted you to know.” He huffed. “Meanwhile, you knew before even I did.”

Wayne grinned then, reaching out to clap Eddie on the shoulder, making the younger man grin back. “Here I thought it was just some unspoken understanding between us. Guess I know why you always seemed confused when I bought more mugs with rainbows on them.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie moaned, slapping a hand to his face. “I am such an idiot.”

Throwing his head back with a laugh, Wayne relaxed against the sofa, making Eddie chuckle and do the same. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, boy. Just know that you’re safe here, and so is whoever you bring around.” He huffed. “Even if it is the Harrington boy.”

Eddie quickly shook his head again, his hair fanning around him at the force of it, a nervous laugh escaping him. “Oh no, Wayne. Absolutely not. Steve is as straight as they come.” He smiled a little ruefully at that, and though Steve had been smiling at him like that, it was just because they were friends. Expecting anything else would just lead to more heartbreak.

Wayne gave him a disbelieving quirk of his brows. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Eddie rolled his eyes in response. “You thought he had said something homophobic earlier.”

Reaching for his mug, Wayne gave a one shouldered shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone projected anger at themselves outwards.” He eyed Eddie. “They good to you though? Your friends. You feel…safe with them?”

Eddie thought about that. He trusted them, with his life actually, and not just in the figurative way. They’d proven that they’d save him, time and again. He even had his very own brand new walkie-talkie and call sign to show for it. He was part of something bigger now, something real, which was just what he had always wanted. Even if it was all over, their little group was a forever sort of thing.

Smiling, Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” He glanced over at Wayne with a soft look. “But no matter what, I know have you to back me up so…yeah, I feel safe because I know at the end of the day, I won’t be alone.” He had needed to tell Wayne first, but maybe…maybe he could tell the others too. Eventually.

Wayne gave a short nod. He seemed content with that answer. “Just remember to use protection when you bring your boy over.”

“Wayne!” Eddie screeched scandalized, but his uncle only laughed.

Of course, it still took several months to get there, but when Wayne came home early one day to find Eddie and Steve shirtless and making out on the sofa, all Eddie could do was give his uncle a sheepish smile.

When the next day Wayne came home and chucked a new pack of condoms at his head, Eddie just gave another scandalized screech while Steve, once again next to him, flushed a bright cherry tomato red.

They’d use them, of course, but it was the principle of the matter.

[diejager]

Just the boys and König finding sh scars on reader, and/or helping them stitch a wound? Platonic, if possible

I’m gonna make the assumption (I might be horribly wrong about this…) that sh means self-harm???

Cw: Self-harm, blood, scars, protective behaviour, helicopter parent (Price and Laswell), angst?, fluff?, stitches, tell me if I missed any.

There’s a certain level of… panic in their eyes, the rising waves of fright until it threatened to drown them in a thick and dark abyss, swallowing their minds whole at the single fear of losing you to something they could have stopped; prevention they thought, a plan B in case plan A failed, but if they didn’t know, how could they have time to set it up? König almost had a heart attack when he broke the door at Gaz’s call, finding you slumped against the bathroom door, one hand on the door knob and another - the bloodied one - limply clutching your phone, eyes blinking blearily at them, clouded in confusion and fatigue. 

It didn’t take them long to call the rest, rushing you to the infirmary after your accident, cutting too deep and risking death from your slight slip of the hand. Laswell and Price were called, finding the four of them seated beside you after they stormed into the sterile room. You looked ashamed, not about the act of cutting yourself to feel more than the depression and darkness in your heart, but the act of being caught, letting them know of your… ways to refresh your mind. The shameful tilt of your head downwards, staring with heavy eyes at your bandaged wrist, cleaned and stitched up. 

Ghost had forced your sleeves up, rolling them until your biceps to show the extent of it, the many lines, crisscrossing in old and jagged lines of paler skin, standing starkly from the usual flush. He wasn’t disappointed at you, never, from a person who cut themselves to another, he was more so disappointed in himself from not catching the signs —a dark omen of pain and sorrow, forgetting that he was blinded by your happy smile to catch the tired gleam in your eyes. 

Both he and König knew the pain, the new scars that no one asked for, but kept adding and adding until it would eventually tear your arm off, limb from limb, piece by piece until you lost the will to keep on. He took on smoking instead, as self-destructive as cutting was, but the thicket of nicotine would calm his loud mind, and König had a therapist, someone he was… willing to talk to when things got too hard. They understood and felt, but failed you all the same, despite everything they vowed, they almost lost you because they were too blind to see past your thin mask. 

It was a feeling shared by the two sergeants, the more sensitive and sympathetic of the bunch, more in tune with heartfelt affection and human socialisation than the others, and the two weren’t afraid to voice it. The anger at themselves, the rage that crossed Soap’s face when he curled his fingers, bleeding his palms in the same manner you bled your feelings, hidden and alone in your dark room, bathroom and floor stained in the iron-rich ichor. 

Gaz made a face, lips pulled down, brows pinched and eyes wet, tears fluttering at the edge of his lashes. He was a soft man, feeling and sympathetic, nearing empathetic whenever he wanted to feel what you felt, but in a crisis like this, where the thought had crossed his mind once or twice, but never acted it, he was lost. Confused and afraid, a daze where he thought that - perhaps - was how you felt when he wasn’t there to ease your pain, ignorant of the subtle signs of agony in your heart, screaming for help when your mouth wouldn’t utter a single word. 

Price and Laswell hovered, combat helicopters roaming around you for any danger, watchful and worried, confident in their helping hand, but worried you would need help. Wanting to help, but afraid that needing it would mean something much deeper, and today was just the boiling point of it, the discovery of your sorrow and their dread and disgust at their inactivity. Laswell had made a few phone calls, her voice hushed as she spoke, eyeing Price for corrections and agreements until they came to the same consensus. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you would have considered them your parents, loving and caring, tender and affectionate, just as the rest of them, all friends and teammates you considered brothers. Yet, there was a stigma to it, one imposed by normal people that made you feel a certain way. Perhaps that why you hadn’t spoke about it, the dreadful need to keep it hidden until it was forced into the light. 

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore, luv,” Price promised, his low and rumbling voice that exhumed calm tenderness.

That was all it took you to sob, a dam creaking and breaking, letting your tears flood outwards while you clutched at the lapel of his jacket, hiding away in the familiar musk and cologne of his parental figure.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Even More Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs

I've discovered some amazing new authors since my last post! And writers I've already recced have published more great stories So here's another fic rec post!

Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup? (series) by RoseGanymede95

I couldn't chose! They're all great! Basically a series of Edwin and Charles through the years and on cases pre-show. It scratches that adjusting-to-being-dead/newly-escaped-from-Hell itch and the authors writing is magic! It also fleshes out a really interesting conflict in the payneland dynamic: Charles' drive to protect Edwin at all costs clashing with Edwin's guilt over putting Charles at risk/depriving him of some ideal afterlife. Parts one and four also introduces Constantine/Johanna and part three revolves around an absolutely gut-wrenching temporary break-up. 😢

In Hell I'll Be in Good Company by laylabinx

Charles rescuing Edwin from Hell does not go smoothly. Just. Bucketloads of Trauma for both of them. And for you, the Reader. It's so good though!

your fangs in my neck (like an anchor like a vow) by shadowquill17

Vampire Edwin AU! It's great because it combines the (homo)eroticism of vampiric feeding with Charles' whole bisexual crisis and post-confession Edwin worrying about making Charles uncomfortable. Also Charles is some kind of demigod/immortal agent of divine vengeance which is an AMAZING detail and I desperately want to see some fanart!

The same author's ongoing story to the pain is also excellent though very angsty (cw temporary character death). I'm anxiously waiting for an update!

To Memory Now I Can't Recall by engineering_madonna

This is an amnesia fic and the most recent in an established relationship series. The first two installments feature the boys getting together and navigating their new relationship, so pulling the old 'character A forgets their whole romantic relationship with character B' trope hits especially hard! The whole series is lovely, but I am WEAK for temporary-amnesia.

Lemonade & Sunrises by paraph

A Quiet Place AU! The boys are alive, but they're the only ones. Very bleak but in a way that makes me want more!

1999 au (series) by websters_lieb

The boys figure their shit out in the 90s. Also, Edwin gets to read Maurice and queer theory. The cases in both stories are compelling and the author's writing and characterisation of the boys are excellent.

I also recommend offer me that deathless death which is about the boys' first meeting, Charles' funeral and the birth of the agency.

if I could reach the stars (i'd give them all to you) by ObsessedWithFandom

Charles falls first, Edwin falls harder. This is an AU of the author's excellent Charles' bisexual awakening fic, which I also highly recommend. It has lovely OCs and Charles having a sweet little friendship/romance with the boy he saved in canon, which actually makes his death a whole lot more tragic.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

Charles and Edwin get caught escaping Hell and promise to capture a demon-eating ghost called The Deathless in exchange for their freedom. With the added twist that they get to be alive again! An exciting case, high stakes and all the alive-again culture shocks and emotional/interpersonal drama you could ask for.

gig officially gigged by laiqualaurelote

Band AU! It shouldn't work but it does. Which might also be an in-universe review for the band tbh. Idk, I loved Edwin's massive obscure musical instruments and Charles being his unpaid roadie. Peak Found Family Feels.

No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It by DontOffendTheBees

Charles overthinks being in love with Edwin, my beloved. This time with increasingly flimsy pretexts for why they NEED to kiss. Just perfect Idiots in Love, no notes.

The Case of David Bowie's Made up Sexuality by williamvapespeare

The agency attempt to help a living lesbian couple deal with a haunting. Meanwhile, Charles struggles through his bisexual (re)awakening. With bonus past (living) Charles no-homo-ing himself to the nth degree. Pure of heart, dumb of ass, indeed.

The lamps are going out by CasiHuman

Vengeful Spirit Edwin AU! Has some interesting ghost lore and Edwin being convinced his touch is painful to Charles (love that trope!). Also features some of the author's adorable/hilarious fanart at the end.

just frame the halves (and call them brothers) by Anonymous

Crystal stumbles upon the ghost of Edwin's older brother, who hires the agency to free him and his platoon from the battleground they've been haunting. Case fic with interesting details about Edwin's family life and an awkward as hell family reunion.

the case of the very long ferry ride by obsceme

Sex pollen but with skin hunger, so it's more touching turned making out and hand jobs in a bathroom. Interesting use of ghost lore and it's cute and well written.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

Charles Rowland's Love Language is Acts of Service: The Fic. So many feels! Plus Afterlife worldbuilding and some quality Night Nurse rep.

don't go sharing your devotions (lay all your love on me) by Hephanna

The boys and Crystal accidentally summon an alternate universe version of Charles. He's very... handsy. Charles being jealous of himself is objectively hilarious and it looks like it could be heading towards throuple territory. Possibly even a foursome, if alternate Edwin figures out parallel universe travel. Which he probably will.

Still a Better Lovestory by Vamillepudding

Hanahaki disease! Charles is on the case but Edwin's being weirdly uncooperative about his own curse. I loved the worldbuilding (there's a whole sisterhood of washerwomen!) and the angst, plus the writing is excellent.

The author has also written Eternal Sunshine, in which Edwin is cursed to feel no love of any kind. It makes for an interesting character study, contrasting cursed Edwin, his public reserve and his actual personality.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

you had me at 'hello'

the sequel to daddy all along

pairing: dbf! leon x f! reader

cw: alcoholism, p in v, masturbation, oral sex

word count: 10k

a/n: "when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" <3 (quote from when harry met sally, title from jerry maguire)

thank you to @thevirgincherry for your feedback!

Leon remembers when you used to call him on the phone as a child. You’d interrupt his work, and Hunnigan would tell him to hang up, but he’d ignore her for a few minutes. You were too important. You’d pace around the living room, telling him about your day at school, what you did at recess with your friends and the art project you’re working on. He loved to hear about it. Most days, it was the only good news he’d get.

It pained him to hang up, but he promised you he’d call to say goodnight, and he did. Even when he drank, he stepped outside the bar and tried his best not to slur his words.

“Do you have a daughter?” A woman he’d go home with would ask.

“No,” he’d say, but it felt like it.

When FaceTime was invented, it became your favorite activity. Leon would pay extra for an international phone plan and for wifi in every hotel room, so he could talk to you. He kicked a woman out of bed once to speak to you. He never saw her again and hasn’t thought of her since.

“It’s an important thing for work,” he told the woman.

She knew he was lying when she heard a little girl’s voice on the other end while she was putting her clothes back on. He didn’t bat an eye at her expression - confusion, distaste, bitterness, who cares? Not Leon.

You’re his favorite girl, the only girl he’s ever cared about.

The morning after your 21st, Leon gently shrugged you off him. He washed his face in the mirror, hoping to wipe away the previous night’s mistakes, but he was still the same old Leon. A fuck-up, an idiot, a pervert who slept with a girl he’d known since she was a baby.

When you woke up, he was in the shower. You’d go on to ask him if he jerked off, and he’d say no, but he did. It wasn’t lust, it was procrastination - five more minutes before he’d have to face you. He tried to think about Ada with one hand on the wall and the other on his dick. Your name slipped out when he came, and it felt like another violation, in addition to lying and then cumming down the drain with your shampoo bottles - the ones containing the sweet scent of you - scrutinizing him.

A long time ago, Leon promised he’d never lie to you. It was the one promise he’d kept - until that morning when he told you ‘something important came up, and he had to leave ASAP’.

You could see it in his eyes, but you took out your anger on your father, who deserved it more after he came home that afternoon with an obvious hangover. You screamed at him until he told you to go upstairs. You were already on your way.

Leon only knew how to deal with his problems in three ways: call his therapist, drink, or fuck. That day it was either drink or fuck because there was no way he could tell his therapist that his mental crisis was caused by fucking his friend’s daughter, a girl who was decades younger than him. It wasn’t an illegal act, but he still felt like he deserved to have the cops called on him. I should get the death penalty, he thought. Unfortunately, capital punishment was not allowed in D.C., but Leon considered the fact that his actions may have been heinous enough for him to be granted an exception. 

He decided on alcohol. He went to the ABC store, bought a handle of whiskey, got home, and dumped it down the kitchen sink. Nope. He promised everyone he was done with that. His therapist, Hunnigan, Claire, Chris, himself, and most importantly, you. He promised you.

Sex it was, then. He never promised anyone he’d be celibate. Leon was well over 40, so he didn’t use Tinder - though he had heard of it. He looked through his contacts list like a little black book, and his thumb hovered over a few names. He debated and picked Claire. Another idiotic decision.

“Hello?” Her voice already sounded suspicious. He didn’t call Claire on the phone often. They usually stuck to emails and texts.  

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay, Leon. Why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to talk. Do I need another reason?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

There was a long pause until she said,“If I promise not to bring it up again, will you admit that you’re trying to get me to hook up with you?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Goodbye, Leon.” She hung up on him. He should’ve expected it. He texted her an apology later, which she accepted.

Soon after, before he could make another mistake, he received a text from a number he hadn't saved. “Are you in D.C.?” It read.

“Who is this?”

“A.W.” She wouldn’t even sign her full name - didn’t want a paper trail. Classic Ada.

“Yeah, I’m home right now.”

“I’ll be there in an hour or so. I have some things to finish up.”

“K” Leon texted and left the door unlocked.

He knew it was her by the click of her heels.

“In the bedroom,” he called.

“Perfect,” she said when she reached the threshold, “Nice of you to be ready for me.”

He shrugged and smiled because he was tired and had been in that position for hours, but he’d pretend like he’d done her a favor by getting down to a pair of sweatpants before she arrived.

She worked on getting out of her dress. “Not going to help?” she asked, annoyed.

“Thought you could do it yourself,” he said, teasing her.

“Thought you treated your guests nicely.”

“I’m about to.” And he did. At least, nice enough. They didn’t talk during sex because they never do. They’d worked out the logistics of their arrangement long ago. It was a pretty sweet deal, especially since there were never any condoms involved. Leon didn’t mind paying the 40 or so for Plan B in the morning. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what the cashier at the pharmacy thought of him. 

“Can I talk to you?” he asked after round two. He used to have more stamina. 

“About what?” She was slightly more interested and less suspicious than Claire was when he’d called her earlier that night.

“I need advice.”

“That’s new. I’m flattered.”

“You know that girl, my friend’s daughter?”

“The one you’re always gushing about? She’s practically your daughter.”

Yeah, you really were his little girl, considering even Ada had heard about you from Leon. 

“Don’t say that.” His defensiveness was a confession in and of itself.

“You slept with her,” she said, matter–of-factly.

“How’d you know that?”

“I can see the guilt in your eyes. She’s an adult, right?”

“Yeah, just turned 21.”

“Okay. Nothing illegal, then. Just… an interesting situation.”

“Yeah, I fucked things up pretty bad.”

She hummed in agreement. There was no pity, but no ridicule either. She cared enough not to laugh at his idiocy.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

“Either be with her or don’t. Don’t string her along.”

“You’re one to talk,” he mumbled. He wanted the remark to pass through the air as a bit of his dry wit and not his eternal bitterness.

“I’m not stringing you along. You know that this is all we’re ever going to be.”

“That’s what I told her.” 

“But she’s 21. You’re much older, and if you can’t wrap your pretty little head around this arrangement yet, then…” 

He was 21 when he met Ada. And she broke his heart without giving him any reason to think whatever they had was more than a kiss. Ironic. He wondered if she knew the way she was playing with his head at the time. He’d always liked to believe she had a good heart, it was just deep, deep, deep down under all the layers of mystique and her cold disposition.

He was supposed to be the good man, the hero, a beacon of morality, of all things just. But he was on Ada’s level now. Ada the heartbreaker.  

“Can you just tell me what to do?” He asked, pissed off at his own indecision. 

“Why? So you can blame me later when you don’t like the choice you make?”

She knew him well. He stayed silent. 

“I’m not going to be your scapegoat,” she said.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you for your honesty.”

She laughed - almost, but it was genuine amusement because, despite it all, she did care. People never really stop caring do they? She left in the morning and didn’t need an excuse, not like Leon did with you.

You told yourself you wouldn’t call, but weeks went by, and you hadn’t heard anything. You were wondering if was alive at that point. And you missed him. So you called.

His phone vibrated on the bedside table; he picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and saw your name. A part of him still got that same warm, fuzzy feeling that he always felt when you called, and the other part was full of dread and guilt.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you said.

There was a lull. Dead air, not peaceful silence. 

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Doin’ fine.” It was a lie. You missed him too much to be considered “fine.”

Your hands should not have been traveling downward, but they were. They had a mind of their own that lived between your thighs. You couldn’t help the fact that his groggy voice made you ache.

“What are you doing right now?” You suppressed the urge to ask him what he was wearing and where he was. You imagined him sprawled out in bed, naked and ready for you.

“Nothing. I was lying in bed, nodding off when you called.” He wasn’t nodding off, but he was in bed, mind filled with memories and stress per usual.

“Sorry to interrupt your relaxation, then.”

“It’s no big deal.”

He told himself that he’d keep one hand on the phone and the other fidgeting with whatever he could find so as not to reach any lower than his waistline. But there was something about your voice, the way you were talking - it was different than usual. He was probably just imagining things, but it sounded like you were touching yourself.

He was getting hard already, and it was distracting. He had to do something about it. It was either jerk off to the sound of your voice or think about something horrific and grotesque to make his dick go soft. He spent enough time thinking about dead bodies and parasites, so he indulged himself and decided to worry about the consequences later. It’s not like you’d know anyway. Leon could be stealthy.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“Calling you.” Your little laugh was light and airy, and maybe he wasn’t just imagining things. It was the voice you used when you asked him, so coquettish, to kiss you.

You thought you heard him moving around, and then he dropped the phone. He was trying to hold the phone between his ear and his shoulder while taking his pants off.

“Sorry. Dropped you,” he said when he retrieved the phone.

“How’d you do that? It just slipped out of your hands?”

Fuck. She caught on quick. Too smart for her own good. 

“Guess so.” He didn’t have an excuse. All of the blood that was supposed to be in his brain was in his cock, which was now painfully hard.

“What have you been doing these past weeks?”

“Work mostly.” Thinking about you. I can’t get you off my mind, no matter how many other women I sleep with.

“Anything fun?” your question felt pointed even though it wasn’t.

“A little bit.”

“Like what?”

“Some things should stay a secret. I’ll tell you when you’re older.” He would never tell you about his escapades with Ada.

You thought you knew what he meant. You couldn’t decide whether to be jealous or not. You were too focused on remembering what he looked like during sex, and it was a glorious sight. Someone should paint him, sculpt him, anything to preserve his beauty, you thought. It was worthy of a new renaissance. 

“Have you been up to anything fun?” he asked, not sure whether he wanted to hear about any of your sexual escapades or not.

“No. Just lounging around the house mostly.”

“Hangin’ with your dad?”

“Can we not talk about dad right now?” Your dad really kills the mood.

“Are you guys not in a good place?”

“It’s not that, I just don’t wanna think about him right now. I’d rather think about you.”

The words came out more suggestive than you intended. You could hear his breath hitch, and it might have been arousal, or it might have been surprise, but he knows.

“Oh? You’re thinking about me?”

“What else would I be thinking about?”

“I don’t know.”

He coughed to hide a groan that wanted to leave his mouth while you were biting your lip to hold back any moans.

“Leon…” you said, and it was the same voice you used to call him daddy the night he found out what it felt like to be inside you. 

“Uh-huh?”

“How do you feel about me?”

I love you. “You know how I feel about you. I think you’re great. You’re a great girl.”

“A good girl?”

Fuck it. He’ll take the bait. “Yes, you’re a good girl.”

“Even now?” He could hear your pouty lips and dewy eyes. He could see the image of you coming undone beneath him. Angelic, soft, heavenly, ineffably so. 

“Why wouldn’t you be? Are you up to something… naughty?”

“Maybe. It depends. Are you?”

He didn’t answer because you both knew that you were in the same state - naked and needy.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In bed.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Your shirt.”

The one he left there. It only aroused him more. It was a white t-shirt, and the fabric was thin enough that if Leon were there, he’d get a peek of your nipples hardening through the fabric. He could slip his hands under your shirt and play with your tits. He could, if only things were different.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing. You are naughty.

“Nothing?”

“Are you wearing clothes?”

“Barely.”

“Why did you drop the phone before? Taking your dick out?” You were so flippant and crass that it should’ve sounded ridiculous, but Leon was too hard to care. 

“Might have been.”

“Did I catch you while you were already jerking off or…?” Or was it me?

“No, I wasn’t when I picked up.”

“But you are now.” It was not a question.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll admit it, as long as you admit you’re touching yourself too.”

“I am.”

“Is that why you called?”

“No, I wanted to check on you.” It was true. At least, in your conscious mind, but maybe your subconscious always knew that you wanted to do this.

“And what? You like my voice that much?”

“Yeah.”

Leon closed his eyes and allowed it to happen, giving himself this one little sin because he’d been good for so long, more than good - heroic.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“You, Daddy. I told you.”

Daddy? Jesus Christ. Leon was sure he was pushing his luck with God. He was getting more than he deserved in this bargain. Honestly, he never deserved anything you gave him. You were so perfect and he felt like he was ruining you. 

“Be specific, princess.”

“I wish you were touching me.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I want your fingers inside me.”

“My fingers, huh?”

“No, more than that. I want your mouth, too. I want all of you.”

Your voice faltered mid-sentence like you were getting closer to your peak, but by the end of your statement, your confidence overrode anything else. You didn’t just want his fingers, his mouth, his dick; you wanted all of him. You wanted his fucking heart and soul.

“You have me.”

“I want you here, inside me.”

He needed to be inside you. Fuck his dignity, fuck his sensibility, fuck his morality. He needed to feel your warmth around him again.

“I want that too.”

“Did it feel good for you? Did you like the way it felt with me?”

You were begging for a yes, and it was easy for him to give it to you. The truth is easy.

“The best. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I was lying, princess.”

“Leon,” you whined, and it didn’t matter that you weren’t physically there; the sound reverberated through his dick, and he was dangerously close.

“I know,” he said, “Me too.”

“Can I? Please?” You didn’t have to ask, but it was hot when you did.

Leon wanted to make you beg, but he needed you to come first, and if he heard you say please again, he’d risk coming before you - no, he would come before you. He was already teetering on the edge.

“Come for me,” he said.

And you did. You were muffling your moans with your hand over your mouth, but you were close enough to the phone that Leon could hear it. He was lucky he was alone because he didn’t hold back when he moaned out your name. He shouldn’t have done that at all, though. Just another tally to add to the endless list of sins.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, meaning it two-fold. Please do not mention this.

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Yes, you’ll see me again.”

I’m never going to leave you, and you know it.

The next time you two saw each other, Leon picked you up from the hospital. You were not the patient, thank God. It was your dad. Drunk driving accident. Leon was more pissed than anything else.

The nurse asked if they should call your mom, and you laughed. Dare you to try, you wanted to say. They understood.

“Is there someone you can call?” They could see the loneliness behind your stoic facade.

“I can try.”

You called Leon.

“Hey,” he answered, not knowing his nonchalance was inappropriate for the circumstances.

You didn’t cry when you drove to the hospital. You’ve been your father’s emergency contact since you turned 18. Your heart was beating out of your chest, but no tears fell. You didn’t break until you heard Leon’s voice.

“I need you,” you cried into the phone.

If it weren’t for your tone, he’d think you meant, “I need you in my bed,” maybe even, “I need you inside me.”

But you were crying. He could hear the tears before they’d fallen.

“Where are you?” He masked his panic with sternness.

“Hospital,” you managed to say through your sniffles.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Leon was already grabbing his keys and jacket, imagining the worst.

“It’s not me, it’s dad.”

Leon was only slightly relieved. He doesn’t want your father dead, but you’re his girl; you can’t die on him.

“I’ll be right there.”

Leon didn’t drive fast, he drove safely. 

“Name?” The woman working at the front desk asked.

“Leon Kennedy.”

“Relationship to the patient.”

“A friend. His daughter called me. I’m here to come get her.” He knew they’d want more of an answer than ‘friend’, and he was more than just a friend. He spoke with such conviction as if it were his right to be there as if they had to let him see you.

You didn’t talk on the way home - not to your house, but to Leon’s apartment. You insisted. You couldn’t be in that house, and Leon knew precisely why. 

It was over a decade ago. You were at least 6 or 7, but no more than 10. It was one of those things that Leon tried to forget.

You called him on the landline and gripped the phone with both hands, slippery with sweat.

“Leon, I need you.” He swore he could hear a whispered ‘help’ at the end of your sentence, or maybe it was just his instinct.

Thank God you called his cell. He talked to you while he drove.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Dad. I don’t know what happened.”

“Is he okay?”

“No. He’s in the kitchen. On the floor. He’s not moving.”

“Is he breathing?”

“I think so.”

“Did you call 911?”

“No, I called you.”

I can be your father figure, your guardian, or the one who tucks you in at night, but I am not a paramedic.

“You need to call 911. Tell them what you told me.”

And you did. Leon got there after the ambulance arrived.

“Sir,” they stopped him before he could enter the front door, “we’re dealing with an emergency. We need you to wait out here.”

“I can’t.” He brushed them off and called your name. You came flying out the front door.

“Who are you?” One of them asked.

“Leon,” he said because that was the only answer.

He slept on your bedroom floor that night.

No, he didn’t sleep. He watched you sleep, constantly checking to see if you were breathing.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Leon offered.

“No,” you said.

“No? I don’t have a guest room.”

“I wanna sleep in your bed with you.”

Do you want to sleep with me? Absolutely not.

He raised an eyebrow, not daring to say the words aloud lest he put them into your mind.

They were already there, and you both knew it.

“Not like that. I just don’t wanna be alone. And I don’t think you wanna sleep on the floor.”

“No funny business.” He held out his pinky finger for you to take.

“No funny business. Serious business only.” You took his pinky and cracked a smile that mimicked the one he was holding back. You shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this, but you have to if you want to avoid crying.

Leon let you wear his clothes to sleep because you didn’t bring a change of clothes. You didn’t stop at home. It wasn’t the same as last time.

He was about to turn off the lamp on his bedside table when you said, “Leon?”

He turned to see you lying on your side, facing him.

“Yeah?”

“One kiss?”

“I thought I said no funny business.”

“I’m not trying to be funny at all.”

“I know,” he breathed the words into your mouth as he accepted his fate.

You gripped his shirt for dear life and wrapped one leg around his hip. He expected your tongue to be in his mouth and your hands in his pants soon. But he was wrong. It didn’t go any further than that. Your lips left his, but you never entirely pulled away. You clung to him.

“I just want to feel loved,” you whispered, answering questions he didn’t have the words to ask.

“You are,” he said confidently.

You fell asleep on his chest. This time, he did sleep because he could feel your steady breathing. 

You found him in the kitchen, making breakfast in the morning.

“I have good news,” he said.

“Pancakes?”

“No. I mean - yes, if you want, but that’s not what I meant. Your dad’s awake.”

“Really?”

“Really. You wanna stop by your house on our way over to the hospital? For a change of clothes.”

“I can’t wear this?”

“I don’t think the hospital staff would appreciate you not wearing pants.”

“Why not? They make everyone wear those little hospital gowns anyway.”

“You’re not the patient. Plus, I think your dad would prefer you in pants, too.”

His expression told more than he was willing to say. He’ll think we had sex. We didn’t. But we did.

“I was kidding.”

“I know you were.”

“I’d like to see you in one of those hospital gowns.”

“I hope you never have to.”

“We could play doctor and patient.”

He turned to face you, mouth agape in surprise but holding back his laughter.

“If we did - which we won’t,” he held out a finger as he spoke, “you would be the patient.” Joking is a slippery slope.

Your dad went to rehab. Finally, it was a win in everyone’s book. Leon moved into your guest room during the months that your dad was away. It wouldn’t be fair to leave you alone when your life had been shaken up like that. Leon made it clear from the beginning that you would be sleeping in separate beds. He loved you, but not like that.

“You don’t wanna do it again?” You asked one night.

“Do what again?” Leon was tired from work. You were used to seeing the good version of him. He can’t hide behind the facade of the happy-go-lucky, charming guy 24/7.

“Have sex,” you said, making sure to enunciate, “with me.”

“No. We’re not doing it again.”

“Why? You said it was the best ever.”

“Why? Because this,” Leon gestured between the two of you, “cannot get more complicated than it is. I cannot take care of you and fuck you at the same time.”

You’d never seen him get so serious. Even on your 21st, when you were flirting with him, and he tried to brush you off, he was still being playful, still willing to let you try to win him over.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You stood still until Leon grabbed the remote control and un-paused the TV. Then, you turned on your heels and walked upstairs. You put yourself to bed that night.

You hadn’t realized the possibility that you were anything but an angel in Leon’s eyes. You were a burden to your father, a bigger burden to your mother - enough that she packed her bags and left, but being a burden to Leon - you’d never imagined it. Maybe he was just strong enough to carry the weight of you. Maybe your problems were too heavy for him now.

You didn’t cry. The wells had dried up. You cried them out over your parents. There weren’t any left for Leon. You fell asleep to the sound of the fan overhead.

You and Leon didn’t speak about it. He wanted to say, “I’m sorry for talking to you that way,” but he didn’t want to open the door for you to proposition him again. Maybe you’d just forget, he hoped.

Leon continued to be distant, and you had no one else you could talk to the way you did with him. You had no one but a few friends from high school who were home from college. You loved them, but you couldn’t relate to them a lot of the time. You knew they would accept you if you talked to them about your dad and his situation, but it always felt like there was some sort of wall between you and the rest of the world. One that was never there between you and Leon. Sometimes your dad managed to break through it, too. Sometimes.

As your father progressed in his recovery, you allowed yourself to let optimism back into your life. You went to visit him one weekend and ate lunch out in the yard.

“How’s Leon?”

“He’s fine, I think.”

Your father could see your attempt to evade further discussion.

“Is that it? You used to talk about Leon all the time when you were a kid,” your dad smiled as he spoke, “I’d come home, and you were always blabbing on about ‘Leon, Leon, Leon’.”

“Not much to blab about. He’s just Leon.”

Your dad accepted whatever you were willing to say and whatever you weren’t. He asked you about your friends, too. You’d spoken to him over the phone, and for the first time in a long time, he’d remembered what you spoke about. You didn’t have to retell the same stories because he was sober now. Your dad was drunk so often you thought you hated him, but sitting next to him on that sunny afternoon, you remembered why you loved your dad. He didn’t mention the tear that slipped down your cheek when he pulled back from his goodbye hug. He just gave you an extra “Love you, Kiddo” with a smile before sending you off.

Leon lived in your guest room, but emotionally, he was miles away. He had always been a workaholic, but it felt like he managed to spend even more time at the office than usual. One afternoon, when Leon was at work and you were sulking in your room, you got a call. 

Leon used to schedule his lunch breaks around you. When you were in middle school, struggling to make friends, you sat at a picnic table out in the courtyard on the phone with Leon. You cried on your first day. Your voice shook with every word, “I can’t do this.”

“You can do this.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re you. You’re my girl.”

You told the mean girls who bullied you that you were talking to your boyfriend who went to a different school and they were stupid enough to buy it. Leon made you promise to stop, threatening to spill your little secret. 

One time, you went to the nurse after having a shitty third period, and subsequently getting cornered by the worst of the bully clique. They told you that you had to call your parents if needed to go home or you had to go back to class. You called Leon and lied, saying you felt too sick. He knew you were lying and he didn’t have to call you out on it for you to see that you’d been caught. You climbed into the passenger seat and he flashed you a look.

“So, what’s really going on?”

You dished out the gossip over milkshakes. You sang Sheryl Crow on the drive from the Burger King drive thru to the pond just far enough away from the school.

“This is a one time deal,” he said, “or Hunnigan will take the stick out of her ass and make me into a kebab with it.”

You laughed so hard that vanilla milkshake came out of your nose. At your expense, Leon laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes.

“You better not tell your dad about this either,” he said.

You pinky promised on it.

Middle school was long gone, but the days of you needing him were not. He was the one to break first. He needed you, too, it seemed. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, princess. I have an important question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“There’s a thing I have to go to for work… that I completely forgot about until Hunnigan reminded me… it’s an event with a bunch of diplomats and shit - point is, they’re sending me as the rep for the DSO and I need a date.”

“What’s your question?”

“Will you be my date?”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? How formal is it?”

“Black tie-ish, maybe, I guess. I don’t know that much about dress codes. Hunnigan usually helps me with this.”

“I don’t have anything that formal.”

“That’s why I’m giving you advanced notice. So you can get something.”

Fuck it. “Okay,” you said. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll be home early tonight and we can figure out the plan for tomorrow.”

You were not Leon’s girlfriend, not his wife, not his daughter, but you were his date for the night. 

This wasn’t the first time you and Leon had danced together. He’d gone to a father-daughter dance with you when you were in kindergarten. Back then, you wore a little pink dress, cheap tulle fabric, and a tiara atop your head. Tonight, your gold dress was form-fitting around the hips with a tailored hem so you could dance without tripping over your feet. It didn’t quite brush the floor, the fabric stayed clean. The slit halfway up your thigh could only be seen when you moved. The classiest tease.

“Dance with me?” you asked with your hand out as an invitation, already inching towards the dance floor.

He thought about it for a good moment, and with an eye roll, he took your hand.

“For you,” he said.

It felt like prom night, in the awkward ‘where are we supposed to put our hands’ way. There was a novelty about it. Your arms around his neck and his carefully placed at your waist, no lower. You swayed back and forth, and Leon felt at peace for the first time in a long time. There was no pressure to be the father you never had and no expectation of the two of you sleeping together. It was just you, beautiful as ever, smiling as you swayed back and forth in time like you’d practiced.

“Did you take dance classes?” you asked him.

“No, why?” he asked.

“You dance effortlessly.”

“It’s not hard. You’re doing it too.”

“But you’re leading.”

“It’s simple,” he says, counting each step 1-2-3-4, slowly leading you through a box step.

Your smile made Leon smile. You made him giddy like no one else.

“Can you twirl me?” you asked because you knew he could unless he’d somehow forgotten how to in the years since he’d done it when you were a little girl.

“Of course,” he said with an unwavering grin as he spun you around, and to your surprise - and delight - he dipped you, too. He even dared to press a kiss to your cheek when he pulled you back up.

I love you. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you kept your mouth closed. Your smile said enough.

You and Leon made the mistake of getting tipsy on champagne, but the open bar was too tempting for either of you to refuse.

“I usually leave these things early,” Leon said to you around midnight. 

“You usually don’t invite me.”

“I should more often because you are a great dance partner.” It became effortless once you got the hang of it, so you both danced until your feet hurt, and then you danced a little more. 

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my dancing because I’ll probably never walk again after tonight,” you said, leaning onto him for support, “I need to get these shoes off.”

Wait until we get home, he tried to say, but what came out was, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Leon had complimented you a thousand times. This should not have felt so novel. You were always his pretty princess, right? But his smile was not light and playful like it usually was with you. The look on his face was so sincere. The redness rising in his cheeks was the confession. It was real. 

“Should we go home?” You asked, secretly hoping you could get him to crawl in bed with you when you got there. 

“We have to wait until one of us sobers up enough to drive unless you want to get a cab…” he said, “or, we could get a room.”

Leon’s face lit up, almost like he was proud of himself for coming up with the idea - a little giddy about it, too. 

You had an even better idea to accompany his genius plan. “Can you hold the glasses while I get us a bottle?” You whispered. 

“What?” He whispered back. 

“Here.” You thrust your champagne flute at him after you down what was in it. “I’m going to go grab us something.”

“Wait,” Leon said, stopping you. 

“It’s not like they’re going to miss it.”

“I didn’t say ‘no’, I said, ‘wait’. Let me book us a room first. Then, we'll come back to conduct your little ‘operation’.”

Leon made mistakes, but he wasn’t completely careless. He flashed you two room keys a few moments later. 

“Take this,” he said, handing you one, “and go up to the fourth floor, room 405, take the glasses. I’ll get the bottle.”

You nodded and snuck out. You were lucky that no one was in the elevator to catch you with stolen goods since you didn’t have a jacket or a big enough purse to hide them in. You opened the door to find a lovely room with only one bed for the both of you to share. 

“Perfect,” you said to yourself. You stepped out of your shoes and slipped off your dress. You were down to only a thong, no bra. Seducing Leon was a secondary motive. You really just wanted to get out of your clothes. 

You covered yourself with the sheets before Leon walked in. You wanted it to be a surprise, and you were freezing your ass off. He swallowed hard when he saw your dress pooled on the floor. 

“So?” He asked, holding up the bottle. “Want me to do the honors?”

“Yes, please.”

He poured one glass for each of you and said, “A toast?”

You nodded and held up your glass, giving him the go ahead. 

He hesitated. “A toast to you,” he said, “for being the prettiest girl in every room.”

You clinked glasses with him and tried not to look too emotional. 

“Like Celine and Jesse, right?”

“Hm?”

“Stealing the champagne. In Before Sunrise they steal a bottle of wine and wine glasses.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that. I think I’m Celine and you’re Jesse, though.”

“You do? Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.”

You put your glass on the bedside table while Leon took off his shoes and his jacket. He left his glass sitting on the dresser next to the TV. Every rational part of his mind would be telling him not to do this, but they had all been lulled to sleep by the alcohol. 

He didn’t climb into bed next to you. He leaned over and kissed you. It was better than you remembered. You reached out and pulled him in again when he pulled away to take a breath. This time he didn’t argue, he leaned into the kiss. It was more passionate than the last time you’d done this. 

Leon murmured something about taking his pants off and you made no effort to stop him. The room was quiet minus the clinking sound of his belt buckle and then the pop of a button and the pulling of a zipper. You’d seen Leon’s dick before. You were eager to see it again, and yet, waited patiently while you watched him undress. His calloused hands ran down his torso, taking his shirt off button by button. He hung up his clothes in the closet, though he’d send them to the dry cleaners regardless. He wasn’t sexy, hot, DILF-ish. He was beautiful. You pretended you were watching your husband take off his suit after a long day at work. A familiar man, one you’d chosen to lie down next to every night. You longed for that choice. 

He returned to you in nothing but his underwear, matching you in his state of undress. 

“Wanna let me in?” He asked. 

You lifted the covers. When he got under the sheets, he lay down on his side facing you. Your bodies drifted closer to each other until your skin was touching his. His lips were on yours again. You weren’t sure whether or not to ask. You didn’t want to shatter the delicate moment. 

His hands roamed your body, ending up on your waist. 

“Can I touch you?” you asked. 

“Mhm,” he said. Not a reluctant yes, but a guilty one. If he didn’t say it, maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

He watched as you palmed him through the fabric of his underwear. His breath hitched, and you asked, “Can I go down on you?”

He didn’t respond at first. “Please?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. His gaze was hazy and warm despite his icy blue eyes. He changed his position so that you could be on top of him. You kissed down his stomach, making your way down to the v-line of his hips. He pulled the covers down before you could dip your head below them. You thought it was a courtesy. So you could breathe. 

He said, “I wanna see you.”

You were slightly nervous for your performance, but he looked pleased with the show by the time you’d gotten his dick out of his pants. You licked a stripe up the side while you looked into his eyes. He rubbed your cheek and smiled. 

You took him into your mouth, slowly easing yourself down so as not to gag. You couldn’t go all the way down, but he didn’t mind at all. He was focused on trying to keep his eyes from closing and his head from lolling back. 

His breath was ragged and his hands ran through your hair. He didn’t dare move his hips. 

“Fuck,” he said, “C’mere.”

It was clear he was getting close. He pulled you up so that you were on top of him, your noses touching. He asked in a whisper, “Do you wanna do this?”

He was nervous. You could hear it in his voice. You’d had sex before. It wasn’t your first time doing this with each other. But, it was your first time making love. Something Leon hadn’t done in so many years it felt brand new to him, too. 

You nodded and he swiftly flipped you over, so he was on top. He was going to take care of you. He always took care of you. That was the one thing that never changed between the two of you.

He kissed you with such a passion that every other kiss you’d shared before that was put to shame. Every time he touched you, he did so with reverence. The last time you were naked and entangled, it was morally dubious at best, a cardinal sin at worst. This was something holy.

He slipped your thong down your thighs and you kicked it off, letting it disappear somewhere in the sheets. He’d peeled back the final layer that stood between your skin and his. Leon paused. Everything paused. All that was left was your heavy breathing, matching his, and the thrum of your heartbeat, hard, but steady in your chest. Sure of its own existence more than ever at that moment. Leon ran his hands over your entire body, making sure to learn the way every atom made up your physical form. He understood you more than ever when his hands grazed your inner thighs. Your breath hitched when he brushed his fingertips over your clit. 

Then, he began to finger you, getting you ready for him - which didn’t take very long. 

You felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, and he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

It took you a moment, but you realized what he meant: I don’t have a condom. 

“Yeah,” you said, confidently as the thought of feeling him inside you without any barrier made you more aroused. 

He began with slow thrusts. He kept his body close to yours. He didn’t increase his speed, but you could feel him deeper inside you. When he was finally fully encased by your warmth, he groaned. You could feel his cock pulsate and it made you moan. He never pulled all the way out, he stayed deep inside you for as long as he could, rocking his hips slowly. You wished for your bodies to melt into one. This was the closest you’d ever get. 

It didn’t make you scream or cry or swear, but your breath quickened and your legs trembled. You got close to the edge faster than the last time. It took all of Leon’s willpower not to come when you did. You didn’t warn him, though he saw it coming. You arched your back and dragged your nails down his back. You could apologize later if you even remembered. He pulled out just in time to paint your thighs with thick white ropes.

There was the briefest moment of clarity. The duality of ‘this was a mistake’ and ‘I love you’ was at the forefront of both your minds. 

“Don’t think about it,” your eyes said when he returned with a wet washcloth to wipe you down. 

He got into bed beside you and pulled you close. 

You didn’t talk about that night, but things got marginally better. In some ways, it was like the sex had smoothed things over. You noticed the creases forming next to Leon’s eyes when he smiled at you - it wasn’t forced anymore. But that was all it was. When you brushed up against him in the kitchen, he walked past you, not thinking anything about it. You wanted his arms encircling your waist, his face in your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. Since that night, your thoughts were filled with wedding bands, baby clothes, watching Leon get dressed every morning from your shared bed. You wondered sometimes how well he remembered that night in the hotel. His credit card sure did. 

You started spending time with friends. You needed to get out of the house before you made yourself crazy. When you did go out, you stayed out late, and Leon gave you the typical “if you’re going to drink, don’t drive,” which was all too pertinent given your dad’s situation.

You didn’t drink that night, so you did drive home. Your friend had a family obligation the next day - oh, what it would be like to have one of those, you thought. 

You got home around midnight after having been out since the afternoon. You walked inside, took off your shoes, and planned to go to your room until you heard rustling coming from the living room. You walked into the living room, your living room, your father’s living room, to see Leon balls-deep in some woman you’d never seen before.

With messy hair falling upon his forehead and sweat beading on his brow, Leon locked eyes with you. The mystery woman was facing away. You could only see her brown hair on the throw pillow and her legs wrapped around Leon’s hips. You bolted upstairs, worried you’d be physically ill if you stayed in that room for one second longer.

This time, you did cry - after screaming into your pillow. This was worse than leaving you. There was no contract between the two of you about being with other people; rather, he’d specifically told you to find someone else the first time you’d had sex. It was a one time thing. But it was a one time thing that happened twice, more than twice if you count the time over the phone. Every act of love you shared, no matter how right it felt, was still a broken promise, still a foolish decision, just kicking more dents into your fragile relationship.

This was the greatest violation in all of human history. You wanted to tattle to your father, but what would that do? Yeah, fucking on his couch would get Leon a read of the riot act, but to truly explain the severity, the double backstabbing that he’d done, you’d have to tell your father that you’d slept with Leon. And you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him about that.

There was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Go away,” you yelled.

“Open up,” Leon called back.

“Go tell that to the stupid whore downstairs! I don’t want you anymore!”

She can have my sloppy seconds, you thought. But, in reality, weren’t you having someone’s sloppy seconds the whole time? Leon was your first, your only, but you were a notch in his bedpost.

Leon could scold you about calling the woman a whore, but he didn’t. “She’s gone. I kicked her out.”

“Pumped and dumped her, too?” Just like you did with me, Leon. Only you can’t leave physically.

“Excuse me?”

“Come and go, blow your load, and hit the road; how else would you like me to say it?”

“Open the door,” he said again, but you could hear the smile forming on his face. At least you were funny, even if you couldn’t be good enough for the true once-in-a-lifetime love you wanted from him. 

You opened the door, dressed in your PJs, which consisted of a tank top and a pair of panties. He didn’t deserve to look at you like that. You covered yourself with the door.

“What do you want, Leon?”

“To apologize.”

“For what?”

“For having sex in the living room.”

“Why?”

“You know why. All of the reasons why.”

He knew you about as well as you knew yourself. He knew all the ‘whys’ even if he couldn’t verbalize them.

You remember when you were little and got in trouble for a stupid thing you did as a child. You disobeyed Leon in some way - secretly ate a cookie while he wasn’t looking, snuck out of your room to watch TV, messed with his paperwork, etc. You drew him an ‘I’m sorry’ card in crayon.

He wasn’t going to pull out the crayons.

“What can I do to apologize to you?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing. It’s all wrong. It’s all gone. Everything.” Everything we were, everything we could’ve been.

When you were a little girl, you thought you were going to marry Leon. He and your dad both thought it was funny, so you had a fake wedding ceremony. It was innocent at the time. You had ring pops instead of wedding bands, and he kissed you on the cheek, not the lips.

You were going to be ‘Mrs. Kennedy’. Your brain persisted, and Leon only solidified the idea in your mind when he took your virginity. It was the last piece of you that you held from him. He had your soul but never your body. Now, he had that, too. You had an old t-shirt of his and tainted memories. Nothing more.

“What do you mean?” He asked. There was a partial understanding. Everything between the two of you was always going to be different. He’d warned you before you had sex with him. But there was more to it than that.

“I just saw you with that woman. I can never unsee that.”

“You’ve seen me naked before, and you know I’ve had sex with other women.”

And I promised you nothing.

“But, it’s like, you’re totally different now.” You gestured vaguely at his body, something that now held more meaning, a complex layer of disgust covering him.

“How?” I’m the same man I’ve always been.

“Not to me.”

He sighed and held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I think you see me as someone I’m not, someone I’ve never been.”

“That’s not true. You’ve always been good to me.”

“But you only know what I show you.”

“So you’re a dick to everyone else? You’re a fucking asshole every moment I’m not in the room with you?”

“I don’t think I’m that bad, but I’m not anyone’s knight in shining armor.”

“You were mine.”

“No, I wasn’t. You thought I was. I didn’t want you to see the bad parts of me. I still don’t. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Goodnight,” you said and closed the door in his face.

There was nothing you could do to forget. You felt something you’d never felt before. You wanted your mom - a woman you had no memory of, someone you’d never known. She left when you were a baby, but your dad never talked badly about her. His words were rare but had a nostalgic sweetness. You’d heard Leon say a few nice things about her over the years, too. You had a picture of her in a drawer in your bedroom. You pulled it out and looked at a face almost identical to yours. You wished, in some way, that both your father and Leon had left with her. Surely she wasn’t perfect - in fact, you should resent her for leaving, but you’d never heard anything to taint your image of her. She was just a woman who made a bad choice once, but you weren’t attached enough to be angry, and no one had cracked the facade you put up around her image. If you had her phone number, you’d call.

Leon was in the next room over, and somehow, he was further away than her and more absorbed in mystery. 

Your dad came home. He came home sober with suitcases in hand, holding his arms out for you. You ran into them. You sobbed harder than you ever had. Happy tears flowed easier than sad tears. There wasn’t anything holding you back from crying.

Your dad’s hand held the back of your head while you buried your head in his chest. You ate dinner at the kitchen table together. You felt lost without Leon. He left your house, you stayed, and yet it felt like you’d woken up in a completely different place than the one you’d fallen asleep in. It wasn’t bad, just different. You wished there was a way to put all of the parts of your life together. You’d have to put super glue on mismatched puzzle pieces. It would always be a futile effort. You had Leon, you have dad, you’ll probably never have mom. 

“What are you thinking about?” Your dad’s voice called you back to the present. 

“Nothing,” you said, faking a smile. 

“What are you really thinking about?”

“Mom,” you said. You were, you always got stuck when you thought about her because you were trying to imagine a woman who was a stranger to you. 

“Mom? Why?” You expected him to be somber, maybe bitter even, but he was intrigued, it seemed. 

“She’s been on my mind recently. I’ve been thinking about you, my dad, my parent, and- and I don’t want to sound greedy because I’m lucky to have you here, but I wish there was more than just us.”

“You’ve got Leon,” he offered. 

You scoffed, waving it away with your hand. “Don’t bring up Leon right now.”

“Is there drama between the two of you?”

“No, I wouldn’t call it ‘drama’.” 

It’s way, way worse than that, you thought.

“You’ll get over it, he’ll get over it. It always works itself out.”

“Who are you and what did you do with my dad? What’s with all this optimism?” You playfully nudged his shoulder. 

“What can I say? This whole therapy thing has given me a new outlook on life.”

He paused before taking on a more serious tone. “And, a near-death experience gave me a new appreciation for life. I didn’t care much about my own life. I could take it or leave it.”

“Dad…” You couldn’t find the right words. 

“No, no, let me finish: you are important to me.” He put his hand on your shoulder and locked eyes with you. “I remember going in and out of consciousness the day of the accident, and seeing your face. I hate to see you cry like that. I didn’t realize how much the things I do affect you.”

You raised an eyebrow. I’m your child, you thought, how would it not affect me?

“I’m serious. It sounds stupid. I was being selfish, and I always knew that, but I didn’t realize how much you needed me. You had Leon, and you always liked him better anyway. I figured you didn’t mind being left alone with him sometimes.”

“I don’t mind seeing Leon, but I still need my dad.”

“I know. I was making excuses for my own behavior. I know it’s a little late to say it, but I want to be a good father.”

“Better late than never. Better than mom…”

“No,” he said, “you don’t know your mother’s reasons for leaving. It wasn’t you. She loved you.”

“She left because of you.” You were blunt with him. You usually were. 

“She couldn’t take the drinking problem, my constant working. If she could’ve taken you with her, I think she would have.”

“If she wanted to, she would have.”

“No, babies are expensive, and I was always the breadwinner. I think she hoped it would be a wake-up call and I would get better. She thought it was the right choice for you.”

You sighed and tried not to roll your eyes. You wished he’d get angry at her for leaving. Shouldn’t that be easy? Shouldn’t that be right? Whatever, you thought, maybe he’s like you - good at making peace with people leaving. 

“I know it wasn’t due to my parenting, but you turned out pretty darn great.”

“I’m kind of a disaster, actually.”

“Blame the ‘disaster’ parts of yourself on me. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re smart-”

“I’m not that smart, trust me.”

I’m such an idiot. You have no idea. 

“I’m not going to ask because somehow I feel like whatever you’re up to, it’s something I don’t want to hear about. Just promise me you’ll be safe, okay?”

“I promise. As long as you promise, too.” You held out your pinky. 

“Promise,” he said, interlocking his pinky finger with yours. 

You let yourself believe him. You decided to take a dose of his optimism, irrational as it seemed. At least let yourself fantasize, right? You’ve got something. Maybe not everything, but something. Maybe not Leon, but you’ve got dad, and isn’t that what you wanted the whole time? 

That same night, Leon went out with a woman he’d been casually talking to - it was time to move on from you, at least in the romantic way. 

You’d always have some sort of bond.

Leon sat through dinner, dissecting his steak out of boredom. It wasn’t worth the price. He could cook a better one himself. The woman sitting across from him was talking about something, but he wasn’t quite sure what due to the fact that he wasn’t listening. 

“Leon?” She said, irritated. 

“Yeah?” He said with the least fake-looking smile he could muster. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, why? What did I miss?”

“I asked you-”

“-have you seen the movie ‘Before Sunrise’?”

“Yeah? I never really understood the hype.”

“What? It’s a great movie. The sequel is great, too.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“You should. Maybe it’s unrealistic to think about that once in a lifetime love, but don’t you think we should try to find that? No matter how irrational it seems?”

“You do realize you’re on a date right now, and you’re talking about love and romance like it’s this lofty, unattainable concept.”

“I see your point.”

The waiter comes by with the check and Leon thanks him, and thanks God silently, too. 

“I don’t think you’re ever going to find it if you can’t even pay attention to a woman. I like you, Leon, and I’d ask you to come home with me, but-”

Leon knew he shouldn’t see you again, but when he got his credit card out of his wallet to pay for dinner, he saw your picture. He’d always kept it there. He’d change the photo about once a year and keep the others in his bedside drawer. It’s a picture of you in your cap and gown. He was so proud of you; he is so proud of you. He loved you then; he loves you now. The problem is that he’s falling in love with you now. It’s not just familial; it’s not lust, either.

He thought about When Harry Met Sally, which is your third favorite movie after Jerry Maguire and Before Sunrise. The woman asked him if he wanted to take this back to her place, and he was barely paying attention when he said ‘no.’ He gave her a half-assed excuse and dumped tic-tacs in his mouth so he didn’t have wine on his breath because he knew you hate the taste of red wine. He wasn’t drunk, though. If he were, he wouldn’t drive. Leon’s an idiot, Leon’s a fuck-up, but Leon knows he’s a shitty driver. He won’t risk his life on his way to you. This isn’t a tragedy, he hoped.

He forgot your dad was probably home, but fuck it. If he’s really in love, he’ll confess it in public.

“I’m in love with you,” he said when you opened the door. It wasn’t ‘Hello’. You couldn’t say, ‘You had me at hello’ because he began with, ‘I’m in love with you.’

You stared at him long enough that he started fumbling through apologies and excuses. You didn’t say anything. You pulled him into a kiss, which was to say what he should’ve known all along.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

[nkogneatho]

Ex-husband gojo that was just released from the prison box needs to get off. *I can't get it put of my head*

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

#mlist #liawot jjk #taglist #whoreclub

—cw: fem!reader, clit stimulation, mutual orgasm, a little angsty, spoilers ofc.

—a/n: It was supposed to be a thirst but I was in my feels so it's a drabble now. Sorry.

Tumblr works on reblogs so it's appreciated.

Ex-husband!Gojo who should've been minding his own business, prioritizing the crisis that has befallen. Instead, he found himself longing for something that wasn't his. Wanting to touch something he had no more right to. But wait. Is that entirely true? Because you both did share a connection. A marriage for fucks sake. Even if it was over because you couldn't take his ignorance towards the relationship, deep down, you too longed for his touch.

Heaven knows how many cold nights you hugged the pillow he used to lay his head on, compelling yourself in this vague imagination of the material being him. And what about the times when you felt so horny, that you could only get off to the thought of him. No one else.

There was a loud thud on your door. You walked curiouslyx and opened it. Although before your eyes could absorb the view, your feelings could sink in, the man pressed his lips against your, almost so harsh that you could fall. But his calloused hands rested on your lowers spine, keeping you right where you are.

When you realised who it actually is, you should move right. You should shove him away, yell at him, scream. Then why your shivering hands wrap around his neck, pulling him further in the kiss, till both your feet are away from the threshold. The kiss is so heated, you don't even realize you have almost reached your couch until you feel something hit your heels. Satoru grabs your shoulder and pushed you further.

"Toru," you call, tears threatening your eyes.

"Fuck, I miss you. I am so sorry. Please," there's so much regret in his voice, yet so much love. "Please let me stay, baby."

You feel so furious. Not for the fact that he had the nerve to appear suddenly, wanting to stay, but for the fact that he thought you had enough courage to deny him. Even after knowing what had happened to him. When you got the news of your ex husband being sealed, you felt like almost a part of you died.

And now with his touch, it came alive once again.

Satoru's hands run all over your—now naked—body. It's almost like when a sculptor touches his figures, tracing the outlines to remember the nostalgic feeling of how it felt to make it what it is. He knows. Toru still remembers how quickly you get wet. It turns him on. He wants to shove his dick in you. But he doesn't. Not yet. He wants to feel in a new way. Gojo quickly gives his boner a few pumps, before lining it up your slick. Your pussy is so wet, it can fill up an empty tube of lube.

"Miss me that much?"

"Mhm. Need you," you mewl. He spits on your cunt, then uses the tip of his cock to mix the saliva and your wetness. As much as your pussy is calling him in, he doesn't push it past your hole. What he does is put a pillow under your back, so now you are angled a little upwards, perfect for him to do what he is about to.

Gojo moves both your legs, holding it so it's straight in the air, so now what he has is your pussy lips folded perfectly, as the juices flow out of you. He aligns his veined cock parallel to your cunt, and starts moving. You don't feel the sweet pain of him filling up your hole. What you feel is past it. The veins on his cock so erect, they are stimulating your clit. The wetness causing no friction but just smooth moving of both your sex.

Your legs shut tight helped him squeeze your lips so he can feel the tightness. God the noises erupting from this act are so lewd. Gojo squints to see you biting your lips in pleasure. The little "ngh"s you've been whimpering. He loves it. Squeezing you even tighter, he uses his finger to manipulate his tip into perfectly rubbing your clit, stimulating your orgasm. To chase your high, you squeeze your legs even tighter. He fastens his pace chasing his own. Surprisingly, you both cum at the same time. His warm semen spurting on your stomach, you can see the top of his cock from the position. What gojo sees—feels is your juices flowing so much, it is dripping down his balls, pooling the couch.

He parts your legs, leaning in to land a kiss on your lips. "Missed you."

"Was that damn cube better than this apartment?" you ask.

"Not sure what kind of question is that but no."

"Then why the fuck did you stay in it for so long?" He almost chuckles when you are tearing up. It humors him to acknowledge that even after you were the one who left him, he wasn't the only one missing everything he had.

"It hasn't been that long, ya know?" he grins. You hit him gently on the chest. "Just a few weeks."

"Felt like three years." You wrap your hands around his neck. "Don't leave."

"Don't worry. I plan on bothering you for the rest of your life." He says with a smug look around his face, before kissing your forehead, reminding you of the warmth of his love.

[wangxianficfinder]

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 13th

~*~

1. Any wangxian fanfics with straight wei wuxian having a sexuality crisis over lan wangji?

ao3 has been erroring out for me when I try to get to my bookmarks , maybe because I have so many? but for #1 , there is a tag "straight boy wei ying" /"Wei wuxian in denial about sexuality" that will give great fics. when I can get to my bookmarks I'll add my faves

show me how you do that trick by ilip13 (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern Setting Porn with Feelings, The Porn Is the Plot, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, straight boy wwx, with an aspec twist, Sexuality Crisis, Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Switching, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Slow Burn, Except for the sex that part is on fire soooo fast, sexuality realization, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending)

The Cause Of This Fair Gift In Me Is Wanting by Alliandra (E, 47k, WangXian, LQY/QS, Modern AU, High School, College/University, Time Skips, Slow Burn, Pining, LWJ POV, LWJ Fucks, WWX dates, "Straight Boy" WWX, Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Reference, d Suicide, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Overstimulation, Light Bondage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Getting Together, Ableist Language, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Queer Themes)

I search myself (I want you to find me) by ilip13 (E, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff and Smut, The Porn Is the Plot, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Self-Discovery, Adolescent Sexuality, Slight Gender Feels, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Voyeurism, (sort of), Exhibitionism, (also sort of), Lingerie, Explicit Het Content)

~*~

2. Hi! Do you have any fic recs for fic where wwx come back as someone else other than mxy? I remember seeing one where he ends up as Qin Su @fysmiin

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, Dogs, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels)

To Deserve So Much More by renysen (T, 19k, wangxian, getting together, one big happy family, no angst, getting engaged, family feels, female bodied WWX) ofc summons wwx to defend her family's besieged manor.

🔒Femme Fatale by coffeepie (E, 76k, WIP, WWX/WC, WWX/WRH, WWX/WZL, WWX/JGS, Porn, Smut, Possession, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Aphrodisiacs, Rough Sex, Minor WangXian, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Strangulation, Object Insertion, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Blood and Injury, Somnophilia, Belly Bulge) WIP. wwx wakes up in wlj's body before the sunshot campaign. cw lots of sex with wc.

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, slightly dark!JYL, wq lives because i said so, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, manipulative relationship (background xiyao)) qs summoning jyl-centric but includes someone else summoning wwx as well

patching the road with vague intentions by loosingletters (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Developing Friendships, WWX Resurrected By Others, Trans WWX, Case Fic, POV WWX, POV LQR, Family, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, MXY Lives) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. lwj hasn't appeared yet.

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. wangxian starts early.

Friends, Sabers, and Other Essentials for Solving a Conspiracy by MeridianGrimm (T, 50k, NHS & WWX, LWJ & NHS, WangXian, Humor, Friendship, Love, Mystery, Canon Divergence, Smart NHS, WWX doesn't stay dead, LWJ gets a new friend, Happy Ending, Fix-It, To be clear the WangXian is mostly background, This fic is about friendship) NHS does a modified summoning

Karma's a Bitch (It's Me, I'm The Bitch) by loosingletters (T, 8k, SS & OC, WWX & OC, Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Suicidal Thoughts, Resurrection, Moling Su Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Body Dysphoria, WWX is NOT in MXY's Body, Unreliable Narrator, Assassination) Su sect oc summons wwx.

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP) seemingly-abandoned WIP. OFC summons wwx.

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD) WIP. qs summons wwx.

sweet hay and the flowers rising by Shializaro (T, 4k, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Alcohol, Humor) qs summons wwx.

Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, LWJ/NHS/WWX, canon divergence, different body offering ritual, atypical relationship dynamics, sentient sabers) NHS does a modified summoning (short fic)

❤️ The Book’s Cover by Eudoxia (E, 50k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX not in MXY’s body, canon retelling, humor, demisexual LWJ, genderqueer WWX, smut) OFC summons WWX. this is probably my favorite one of all these.

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust (E, 46k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Franken-canon, Gender Identity, Gender Dysphoria, Trans WWX, Protective LWJ, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Fluff and Angst, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Major Character Death) Qin Su summons WWX.

Chapter 1-23 of The Tales of Despereaux by stiltonbasket (T, 36k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, (when applicable)) Chapters 1-23 are "What if Qin Su summoned Wei Wuxian?" A prologue is linked in the author's note.

Wei Wuxian keeps / gets his OG body / Resurrected by someone other than MXY Comp

Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by EHyde (G, 3k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, 5+1 Things, Angst, [Podfic] Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by sisi_rambles)

~*~

3. Hey! I have only once asked for a fic before but this is for a Itmf , can you recommend any dark lwj fic? Not just after wwx’s death but lwj protecting wwx or joining him in demonic cultivation, even better if wwx runs yiling wei sect^-^

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

🔒 Flawed and Free by Vrishchika (E, 18k, wangxian, major character death, time travel fix-it, dark LWJ, dark LXC, dark gusu lan, temporary character death, not JC friendly, angst, hurt/comfort, WIP)

🔒 At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 36k, WangXian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Revea, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, kind of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

Until The World Embraces Me Home by azri (T, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ Has No Golden Core, Role Reversal, Not LXC Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Not cultivation world friendly overall tbh, Sunshot Campaign, Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

Corrupted Core by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Sad with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds)

~*~

4. Hello 👋

I'm in the mood for Twitter wangxian fic threads,i don't mind it if it's modern or not, but I don't like bottomji or switch wangxian

You might enjoy our Twitter comp

~*~

5. Hello! Thanks for your work. Are there any Wangxian fics set at the Olympics? @chalionkat (previous ask moved to FF - mod C)

Our Sports AU Compilation has a Olympics au section you can check out 😊

and so my heart beats wildly by lily_winterwood (E, 106k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Modern Cultivation, Rivalry, Competition, Competition-Set Fic, Athletes, Multimedia, Miscommunication, frenemies to lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Seemingly One-sided But Actually Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, Competitive Cultivation, Anal Sex, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Olympics, Inappropriate use of an Olympic gold medal, Breathplay, Rough Sex, Food Porn, Tanabata, Lily’s back on her Qixi bullshit, Switching, Bottom LWJ) this has cultivation Olympics

🔒 Dance Me to the End by venagrey (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Skating, 2021-2022 Figure Skating Season, No Pandemic, teammates to friends to lovers, Eventual Smut, mixed signals: on ice, Oblivious WWX, Bisexual WWX, mortifying ordeal of being known, slightly nonlinear timeline, Unreliable Narrator, gratuitous descriptions of skating, first time nudes, Accidental Phone Sex, WWX is Very Flexible, YOI homage, not actually a crossover, IRL skating homage, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a little gnc for added zest, inappropriate use of medals, Rimming, Winter Olympics)

~*~

6. Hi! This is for ITMF where WWX is a king maker/advisor/spy master or something like Foot on the brakes, screaming there's a red light by Lookingkindofdumb or Copying Scriptures by chiyukimei

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

🔒 Half Agony, Half Hope by queenklu (T, 105k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, Jane Austen Fusion, persuasion au, Pining, Broken Engagement, Secrets, Espionage, Child Injury, Terrible Parents (YZY & JFM), Past Child Neglect) maybe? Wei Ying was a spy during the war.

~*~

7. Hello!!. i need need need to know if theres any more fics like A Street Kid Named Wuxian where wwx isnt adopted by any sect and just grows up on the strrets/ poor or an orphan @yesibest

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Developing Friendships, lots of OCs, miscommunication and misunderstandings (they’re idiots your honor), Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Slow Burn) fits but Wei Ying lived in Yiling until he's around 17 and then gets invited to train with the Lans for a year. It doesn't go into a lot detail about his life on the streets but he is poor throughout his childhood and into his teens.

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) link in #14 Not sure if this fits as while WWX does grow up on the streets without being adopted into a sect, it's down to time travel, with his soul being sent back to his child body, so he has knowledge of the future & cultivation, so he gets to cheat a little & be more than a normal street kid

~*~

8. Hello, I was wondering if you and the lovely community could help me find selkie-style creature fics? In myth, a selkie is a seal creature who can shed its fur and walk on land as a human. Whoever holds the fur has control over the selkie because they cannot transform back without it. So I am looking for similar themes in WangXian fics! I just read Burn It All Down by nekojita which suggested this would happen with Jiang Cheng holding one of Wei Wuxian’s dragon scales, but the wip hasn’t been updated to finish that portion of the story! So I come to you, looking for more “I control you as long as I hold this part of you captive” stories. Thank you for any recs you can suggest! <3

never love an anchor by tardigradeschool (T, 31k, WangXian, Selkies, No Powers, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Pining, Angst, Happy Ending, The Inherent Eroticism of the Sea, PTSD, Presumed Dead, Drowning)

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending) this might work? It has Dragon!LWJ whose dragon is missing. While no one actually uses it to control him in the story, the possibility that someone could is a major driver of the plot.

Lanterns To Guide You Home by cuttlefeeeeeeeeesh (T, 7k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Mythology, Selkie AU, Fisherman LWJ, Selkie WWX, Sorta Established Relationship, Fluff, Soft (tm)) might like Lanterns to Guide You Home? It's a bit of a twist on the selkie trope, being less about captivity and more about wangxian reuniting/mutually pining years after being married, but I think it would still appeal to a reader who likes selkie stories. And it's a lovely fic!

~*~

9. Hi! For the ITMF, I was wondering if there are any fics where WWX knows a bit more about MXY when he wakes up in his body? By viewing MXYs memories maybe, or something like that? Just, I want him to be able to act like MXY better and understand his situation better. Is there anything like that? Thanks in advance! @hikato-chan

~*~

10. Hi! This is for ITMF. Is there a fic where WWX tells JYL (or someone else really) that he trust LWJ but not his clan/sect? Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

~*~

11. ITMF a fic that takes place during the Cloud Recesses study arc, in the scene where WWX gets LWJ drunk. Something goes different: a kiss? A love confession? A fist fight? @luliaka

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses Series by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 23k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR and WCZ Live, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

You Are My Euphoria by orphan_account (M, 17k, wangxian, canon divergence, fluff, making out, 5+1, pining)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

~*~

12. itmf some concubine wwx, following canon as mich as possible? something along the lines of the concubine mo series by enigmatree

~*~

13. Itmf:

A) some wwx realizing that he's been abused as a child (for example: Madame Yu) and having to accept that actually the adults in his life kind of suck (no Jiang Yanli bashing pls ♡)

B) wwx being raped and his recovery

Thank you 💕

13A)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

🔒 Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

so i cut the shackles and changed my name by MichelleFeather (T, 9k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, LQR & CSSR, LQR & WWX, CSSR/WCZ, WWX & The Lan Clan, WIP, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, WWX is a Lan, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, JFM & YZY Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Abusive Jiang Family, Running Away, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, No Sunshot Campaign, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cultivation Sect Politics, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Divergence, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, WRH isn't a power hungry tyrant, mostly)

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don't look here for bashing) WWX gets frustrated with how unconcerned JFM is regarding the Wens & ends up leaving. Features sect leader JYL

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) WWX realises he's been poorly treated by the Jiangs & defects. However it could be seen as JYL bashing depending on how you define bashing. She does ignore her family's treatment of WWX & later tries to stop his wedding to LWJ, but she's portrayed as meaning well & just wanting to avoid conflict, & believing she is saving him from a forced marriage. Up to you whether that counts as bashing

13B)

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY,  implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma) focuses more on the immediate aftermath Wei Ying being raped but does touch on the beginnings of his recovery.

feast and famine by luckymarrow (E, 49k, wangxian, rape/non-con, aftermath of gang rape, modern au, trauma, PTSD, medical procedures, rape recovery, non-consensual drug use, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, mind all the tags) Rape/recovery and the ripples across the friend group. JYL is the glue that holds everyone together. It's a gut-wrenching, amazeballs fic.

~*~

14. Hii, I'm itmf some good coming of age fanfics!

🔒 Flowers Blooming by Ilona22 (M, 35k, WangXian, Adoption, Prostitution, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Growing Up)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 128k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Angst, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Idiots in Love)

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won’t get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

~*~

15. Hey!!

So i was wondering if there are any fics where wangxian have a cute little couple’s argument..they make up in the end obv, i don’t really prefer heavy angst. Just a normal couple’s argument. @honestlyewww

tipping point by cherrywhiskey (M, 13k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Married Life, Bickering, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Fights, Arguing, Making Up, Angry Kissing, Making Out, Modern AU, POV Alternating, Fighting)

you became my husband when i first laid my eyes on you by bunnylan (weiyingpretty) (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Era, Fluff, Boyfriends, Cute, Tik Tok Challenge, Husbands, Established Relationship)

~*~

16. IMTF wangxian or any one of the two as (a) lawyers (b) teachers trying to hide their relationship from students (c) scientists (biologist, physicist, etc.) any kind

Thank you <3

16A)

🔒 a thousand fragile and unprovable things by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Trans Male Character, Trans MXY, MXY Deserves Happiness, Best Dads Wangxian, Handwaving The Legal System With The Power of LWJ, A little bit of angst, mostly soft, Happy Ending, Gender Happiness, Let LWJ Wear Skirts Agenda, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Close to the Truth by Winglesss (M, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Romantic Comedy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Scapegoat by Anonymous (E, 216k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Slow Burn, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral jc, Good Sibling JYL, neutral lxc, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Neck Kissing, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream)

16C)

🔒 at first sight of the sun by sunflowersfield (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern, Coworkers, Fluff, Neurodiversity, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, First Dates, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort) Lan Wangji is a researcher at a forest preserve in at first sight of the sun

A Cyborg’s Three Laws by @joshua-beeking, FairyGardenCorgis (M, 194k, WangXian, Future, Cyborgs, Science Fiction, Science Boyfriends, Romance, Slow Burn, Medical Procedures, Surgery, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ has RA, Idiot Friends to Idiot Lovers, Medical Assault, Dehumanization, obscene amounts of cuddling, Versatile wangxian)

~*~

17. Hi! I meant to ask this, but I think I haven't yet (it would already be posted otherwise). For the ITMF, are there any fics where WWX, post canon, gets transported timewise into the 13/16 years he was dead? Preferably only for a bit until he figures out how to get back, and while hiding his identity. Thanks for the help! @hikato-chan

Less Than Two Years by wenqing (maniafic) (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, but also canon divergent, in an alternate universe though, Minor Angst, mostly wwx confusing the kids)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[eustasskidagenda]

Eustass Kid x Reader - S/O reacting to his phantom pain crisis

Resume : Eustass Kid is having a phantom pain crisis in front of his s/o for the first time. It's just a headcanon of mine, I honestly think Kid is facing that kind of symptoms since the loss of his arm and only Killer knows about it.

CW : a lot of cursing (from Kid, duh), mention of sex, hurt & comfort.

WC : 1787

______________________________________________________________

It’s your first time sleeping together. Kid is already snoring loudly on his side of the bed, your legs entwined beneath the bedsheets. You’re holding him from behind, in a lovely spooning position. You never thought Kid would actually, like to be the little spoon, but here he’s, sleeping heavily with your arms wrapped around his large and toned bare chest. Despite the peacefulness of the night, the intense and rough sex session you just had and the fresh air of the night, slowly caressing your face through the open window and the sweet moonlight shining on your skin, you’re unable to fall asleep. The whole situation is just new to you and it makes you so nervous. You’re afraid of doing something embarrassing if you dare to close your eyes. What if Kid is disgusted by your face when you sleep? You know your questionings are idiots, but yet, it’s haunting you.

With a low sigh, you nuzzle your head again Kid’s strong back, tracing his scars with your fingers. You love how warm and toned his body feels against yours. And you love even more how Kid’s hair are all sprawl out like a fire halo on the pillow. He looks so beautiful with his hair down, anytime he takes off his goggle, you fall again for him. You gently run your fingers through the red hair. It’s soft, it even surprised you the first time. You never thought someone as tough as Kid could actually care that much about his hairstyle and skin. "Being a punk is a whole lifestyle" as he loves to remind you all the damn time he takes an eternity in the bathroom. 

You smile against Kid's back. It seems like he's a heavy sleeper, not even perturbed by your hand running through his hair. You fondle his face, retrace the scars crossing his eyes, slowly but surely starting to feel sleepy. Just when you can't keep your eyes open anymore, Kid starts to move harshly, almost convulsing. In his sleep, he's cursing and groaning. But not with that usual tough and husky voice. He sounds more… desperate. 

Vulnerable. 

"Hey, Kid, what's wrong?" You ask, but he doesn't answer, still trapped in his own dreams. You turn on the candle lamp, only to see Kid sweating, his face twisted in a painful expression. Your heart twisted painfully. You never thought Kid could look that miserable and helpless. "Hey, please, wake up, it's alright, I'm here," You whisper next to his ear. Still breathing hardly and sweating, your boyfriend groan louder, cursing again and again. A litany of "shit" and "fuck" coming out of his lips. "Killer," he whispers pathetically. 

You hesitate to indeed call his best friend, because you're totally clueless. But when you decide to stand up and look for help, Kid sit up straight in the bed, eyes wide open and his hand wrapped around… nothing. You can't help but notice how red and wet his eyes are. Again and gain, his hand look for something it can't find. "Kid… please talk to me, what's going on?" You try to hide how stressed and afraid you feel. "My arm, it fucking burns," He yelps, short of breath.

His hand continue to look for his missing arm. With a moan of nothing but pain, he grabs his stump, holding back another whine. "Please, talk to me, I don't understand," You hate how you sound: almost begging. In your chest, your heart is racing really fast, almost painfully. What's going on? Seeing your boyfriend in such a suffering is really breaking you in pieces. His burden looks so heavy to carry for a single person. "My arm… it fucking burns… it feels like goddamn electric shock…"

And then, you finally understand. You already heard about it before: phantom pain. Common for amputated victims. Still breathing heavily, Kid try to wrap his hand around his missing arm, but the only thing he can reach for is the emptiness. Even if he hides it with his hair, you can notice some tears running down his cheeks as he lies back on the bed, his body almost convulsing with the pain. "Fuck!" Kid growls. "Fucking arm. Fucking body!" And this is why Kid was always avoiding you sleeping with him. Not because he wasn't feeling comfortable with you. But, because he was scared to have a crisis in front of you. To look fragile, human. But you're together in this mess, and in everything. "I've got you. Just tell me how to help," You whisper soothingly, entwined your fingers with his. 

Kid avoids your gaze, writhing in pain, making a mess with the bedsheets. The sweat drips from his forehead and he bites his lips, trying to shut down his snorting. "Massage the stump. Or wrap it in a warm towel," Your body immediately starts to move, and you gently start to massage Kid's stump. The skin is warm, soft, except along the scars where the touch is more rough and coarse. It's the first time he allows you to touch this part of his body. This man has no shame nor reserve when it comes to nudity, and yet, he never allowed you to touch his stump, always snarling every time your hands reach for his left shoulder. He must really feel bad to let you touch him in such an intimate way. He sits again, his back leaning against the wall and his breathe heavy with the pain. "Fuck," He continues to growl and a drop of sweat slide along his neck. With each shaky breathe, he curses. "I know it's disgusting," He growls as your fingers continue to fondle the stump, trying to soothe the pain. "Why?" He shrugs. "It's ugly," You smile. "Nothing about you is ugly. Just let me help you. Do you feel better?" He shakes his head. "Sometimes, my crisis can last a whole day. Usually, Killer just massage the stump or help me to take a hot bath. Warmth can help. When the crisis is light, he uses a mirror," You raise an eyebrow. "A mirror?" Kid curses again. "Shit! Yeah, a goddamn mirror, it's just some shitty trick to fool my brain," 

He's not doing well, even with your help. Fighting against another spams crisis, Kid growls, eyes wet and body covered of sweat. His hand hit the mattress, his movement full of pain, anger and powerlessness. "Let me help you to take a bath." You whisper, still fondling the stump. It doesn't feel swollen under your fingers, that the tricky stuff with phantom pain. "No way. I hate water, I feel weak in it."

Well, actually, right now, he's already weak and vulnerable. "Stop being a child and let me help you. If a bath can help, then, we need to try."He snarls angrily. "I don't want to look like a shit in front of you!" You gently stroke his cheek. "It's okay, Kid, you're still the same for me: annoying and goddamn loud. Seeing you in such a state would never change how I feel about you." He tries to fight back, but the pain is too much to bear and he just let out a slow moan of pain, more sweating dripping from his forehead. He can't resist anymore, almost breaking down because of the unbearable pain. So when you help him to get up, he just shut up, avoiding your gaze, trying to not fall apart as you lead him to the bathroom. "Ugh," he complains as you lock the door behind the two of you and let the hot water running down the bathtub. He knows what's going to happen and already feels so damn ashamed. He mumbles while taking off his underwear. The bathroom is slowly turning steamy with all that warm water. "Here it is." You help Kid to sit in the tub, and his body immediately starts to soften. You know he will not talk in such a situation, ain't no way for the sake of his pride, he lets you hear how ridiculous his voice sound when the cursed water affects him. 

Nicely, lovingly, you fondle his stump covered of warm water. Kid closes his eyes, his breathe still messy and shaky from pain. He doesn't want to look at you. He feels ashamed by his current state. No one, except Killer, never took care of him like this. Since his childhood, he's used to fight for almost everything. Life makes him tough, pitiless, violent. He had to fight the whole time, only to have the right to stay alive. And yet, you're here, not even disgusted while touching his stump. What has he done to deserve someone as passionate, strong and yet tender like you? Your gentle massage combined to the warm water slowly ease the pain. His breath is less harsh, eyes shut less tightly too. "Want me to wash your hair?" He doesn't answer, just nod as you grab some shampoo to wash his precious red hair. You slowly bend to kiss his temple. Maybe it's bad to have that kind of thoughts now, but Kid looks so beautiful, his naked body all wet, muscles glistening of water, hair down, hair pulled back. Without the eyeliner and red lipstick, Kid looks a bit younger, less tough, but always that damn handsome. You fondle his head, then his tensed shoulders, and finally the stump. "Does it happen often?" You ask curiously and he just nods. "It's calm when you're quiet." He snarls angrily, but keeps his mouth shut. You chuckle and grab his chin, bending for a sweet kiss.

The solace of the minute embraces his chest. He remains quiet, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Later, when you lead him back to the bedroom, he lies back on the bed and finally speaks. "Sorry about this," He groans, hiding his face with his forearm. "Don't be sorry. I love you, even through the suffering. I'm with you, always." 

He just rolls on his side, showing you his back. Yeah, your dear Kid will never be good with talk. Even more than kind of deep conversation. The ones acknowledging he's just a normal human, with failures. You sigh and lie next to him, kissing his stump, just to let him know how much you love him, despite his missing arm and all the phantom pain crisis he'll have to face in the future. "You can sleep with me every night, now." He just mumbles before falling right back asleep.

You can't help but smile against his back, as sleep finally takes you. Through the small open windows, the moon, up in the sky, looks like she's watching the two of you.

End talk : English is not my first language, I apologize for the potential mistakes or weird sentences. My requests are open.

[madlori]

Here's where I am with Buddie.

[CW: I am using the Buddie tag on this post, even though the gist of it is that I'm increasingly doubtful that it'll ever happen. This is NOT an anti-Buddie essay. If you'd rather not read about this topic, please keep scrolling. The bulk of the essay is behind the cut.]

-------

I've thought a lot about this over the weeks since 7x04 aired. It's not a secret that I'm wildly enthusiastic about the BuckTommy pairing (as are many fans) but what does that mean for my thoughts and opinions about Buddie, a pairing I still love and for which I am still writing fic (slowly but surely…)?

It's become increasingly difficult to reconcile hopes for Buddie with dread for a BuckTommy breakup, but if the show managed to pull off a breakup that did not destroy me, I would still be all in for a Buddie endgame.

But more and more, I don't think it's in the cards, and I'm increasingly okay with that.

First off, I know it's a common assumption that Buck and Tommy have an expiration date, and that it cannot last. That may very well be the case, but…the show is not acting like it, nor are they presenting this arc as if it's short-lived. Episodes 4-6, while also being about other things (especially the amazing Madney wedding plot in 6) were also a bit of a trilogy about Buck discovering his sexuality and taking tentative steps into a relationship with another man. It didn't go…particularly smoothly, but the events of 7x06 where they were concerned had a completely different tone. They had a much more settled vibe in the karaoke club scenes, from Tommy's very boyfriendly "check-in" look before he had to leave, to Buck's casual/distracted "Be safe" (as if he's said this before) and just how they spoke to each other and touched each other was much more comfortable than in the coffee meetup. Which makes me think it's been a few weeks and they've seen each other a few times in the interim.

And then that kiss. Putting aside that it was juxtaposed with a literal wedding kiss, there was nothing uncertain or hesitant about it. It felt like a very arc-capping kiss, coupled with the reveal to the rest of Buck's friends and family, and the clear message was "Okay, they're done 'getting together' now, they are together and will be together going forward, even if we don't see Tommy every episode (much as we don't see Karen every episode)." We know Tommy will be around through the end of S8, if not in every remaining episode. After that, we'll see.

A lot of fans have viewed one of the guys coming out as queer to be a first step towards a Buddie future, but I have to say I've never been super comfortable with that logic. I've always thought that if they were going to get together, or both be revealed to be queer, it would have to be at the same time, with each other, via them getting together. The minute they pulled the trigger on Bisexual Buck, I immediately thought that this made Buddie far less likely. Why?

Because it would mean that the writers/showrunners would be making BOTH their "hot younger firefighter" characters queer…separately. In separate storylines. Distinct from each other. And I just don't see that happening. I'm not saying it SHOULDN'T happen. I'd be over the moon. I'm saying I think that's unlikely.

As much as it pains me to say it, I think Eddie will be written as straight and will continue to be written as straight. I don't disagree with the many examples of queer coding we've all seen - the problem is all of them can be just as easily interpreted as arising from a different trauma. Almost everything we've seen from him that could very legitimately be read as breadcrumbs for a queer identity for him could also be rooted in his trauma over Shannon's death, his family trauma, his PTSD, or his general anxiety over being enough for people. He can be read as having sexuality crises. But he can also be read as having other crises with the same results.

I'm not seeing a sexuality crisis for Eddie in the future. I just don't feel like that's where they're taking him. They're taking him somewhere -- he's got storylines coming up -- but I think they're going to have to do with his family, possibly his friendship with Buck, maybe his relationship (I think we can all agree Marisol isn't going to last, she's like the anti-Tommy in that she's been around way longer but has infinitely less of a presence), and Christopher. That's a lot to deal with just right there. If I'm wrong, I will be delighted to be wrong.

But.

I think the show will continue to prioritize and showcase Buck and Eddie's very deep and emotional friendship, which is revolutionary in its own quiet way. Another thing that makes me think they're setting Tommy up to be a long term love interest is that one of the first things they did with him was affirm that he will not come between Buck and Eddie, give him his own relationship with Eddie and Chris, and have him show that he understands and respects the depth of their bond. Not to mention they've integrated him with the firefam. No other of Buck's love interests have gotten this treatment (Taylor had the most contact with the firefam, but I don't think anyone would say she was integrated, LOL). And it shows how committed they are to maintaining Buck and Eddie's friendship as a key emotional element of the show. Tim has also said this, repeatedly.

People often say that there's no explanation for how Buck and Eddie are with each other if it's not romantic - I read a fantastic essay that pointed out that this statement is the reason their platonic friendship IS so important. Men should be able to be vulnerable and loving with each other without it being romantic, as women can be. If we're unable to see a loving friendship without interpreting it as romantic or sexual, what does that say about the kind of male friendships we see everywhere, that makes this one so different?

I know this is an old anti-Buddie argument and I'm not anti-Buddie nor do I mean it's wrong to see it as romantic. I still do. I'm saying if it's not, if it never is, what it is, is already valuable and special, especially when one of them is now openly queer and dating a man.

Anyway. That's where I am with it, and my interpretation of where the show is with it.

[the-guardian-kitsune]

✧ — you're back.

for gepard, being the silvermane guards captain meant he was often away on the front line, fighting for the safety of belobog. for you, it meant praying for him to come back alive once again. luckily, your prayers are always listened.

cw / tw : gepard x reader. mentions of injuries. reader is smaller than gepard. just fluff and cuddles ♡.

with the last wave of fragmentum monsters gone, gepard could finally put down his shield. he couldn't completely relax, as he had to check on his subordinates to confirm they were, at least, still alive, hopefully not having to report any tragic news to some family waiting for their loved ones to come back from the front line.

even if thanks to the astral express the whole stellaron crisis was avoided, it bringing the fragmentum distortion to a halt, monsters were still spawning every once and then, forcing the silverman guards back in action in the restricted zones.

stopping after his fourth check, the captain took out his phone, unlocking the screen searching for your chat. almost a week had passed since he last saw you, five days of almost uninterrupted fighting and leading the action. even when he had the actual time in which he could have sent you a text message, he felt too tired to do so, falling asleep in a tent, bracing the stiff and unforgiving cold weather.

now that the monsters have ceased to come forth, gepard knew he could finally go back to belobog, to his family, to his friends, but especially to you, the love of his life.

"we're done here. i'll be back soon."

"thanks to qlipoth!" "are you okay? any injuries??"

"minor ones and some bruises. don't worry too much."

"mhh" "still, please be careful :("

a smile crept on the captain's busted lips, but the annoying pain came back. still, he could ignore it, the warmth seeping from your texts enough to push him through, even if he felt like collapsing in a long, deep slumber right then and there.

the clock hands were moving too slow for you. your leg was shaking, jolting up and down as the wait was becoming unbearable. although gepard told you he was fine, you couldn't not worry. more than once you had to run to the hospital upon receiving a call from one of your boyfriend's soldiers or his sister serval. every time you had to witness a heavily bandaged up gepard lying in bed, his chiselled body bruised and cut, sometimes feverish from an infected injury or the cold seeping through. gepard was an incredibly capable captain, his soldiers had full trust in him, and it was that same trust that pushed the landau man to stay in the front line, leading the action head first.

the clicking of the door had you jumping from the couch, sprinting to go and greet your lover. your heart was beating in fear of how you would see gepard; however, it calmed instantly the moment your eyes met his figure: his lips were busted and he had a bruise forming under his left eye. the armor plates got ruined and there was a burnt hole in his pants. he probably had other injuries you couldn't see at the moment, but he was with you again, standing on his feet without needing support.

your arms found their rightful place around his torso, careful to not squeeze too hard as to not hurt gepard. you heard him sigh satisfied, leaving the guitar case on the ground and kicking the door close. his arms went around your body, his cheek resting on your head, eyes closed to fully enjoy the moment.

he could feel your chest going up and down with your breathing, soft and calm, guiding his own. one of your hands traveled up to his face, cupping his cheek, forcing gepard to look at you. you stroked the cold skin with your thumb, a small but warm smile on your lips.

«i'm glad you're back» you murmured.

gepard turned his head to kiss your palm, keeping it in place by putting his hand on yours. «me too, my love»

you felt your cheeks getting warm at the gesture. it was incredible how even after all this time gepard was capable of making you blush with the smallest, simplest gestures. probably it was one of the reasons as of why you were still so deeply in love and giddy like a high schooler.

with his hand still on yours and the other arm around your body, gepard began pushing you inside, toward the living room, aiming to the couch were you sat waiting for him. you followed his steps, arms around his neck. a little scream left your lips when you fell on the worn couch, gepard's full weight on you, almost crushing your much smaller frame under his.

«geppie! you're heavy!» your desperate yelp, hitting your palm on the armour plates of his back.

groaning, your boyfriend slid down a bit, his head on your chest, part of his weight now on the pillows, making it easier for you to support him.

gepard raised his head, his chin on your chest, looking at you with his blue eyes half lidded; you could read in them all the tiredness and the sleepless nights and the pain his job gave him.

your hands went in his hair and on his back, cuddling his blond locks and removing his armour plates to pat his broad back. his face went back into your chest, his arms wrapping around you, snuggling closer. gepard kissed you from above your t-shirt, and you could feel that small smile of his that always gave you butterflies. you understood he was exhausted and just wanted to feel you, your warmth, that soft love that was his refuge when he needed a break. you didn't mind, always ready to help him alleviate the weight on his shoulders.

a satisfied groan came from gepard when you started scratching his scalp, some words following after that you didn't quite catch.

«what?»

«i love you» he said, louder, his chin on your chest, looking at you with sleepy eyes.

your lips curved into a huge silly smile. «i love you too» you pushed away some locks from his eyes. «get some rest, my love. you deserve it.»

nodding, gepard got back to rest on your chest. his breathing soon started to even the more you cuddled him, ruffling his blond hair, pulling a blanket over his body.

yawning, your fingers began to slow down. you slid a bit more under gepard, sound asleep now, to get more of his warmth and reach him in the dream realm. you snuggled your face closer to gepard's, kissing his jaw, nuzzling your nose against his cheek.

he was back, he was alive and warm, and even if he was too big and heavy for you to keep him on you you couldn't possibly care less. he was there, and that was all that mattered as you fell asleep.

@ the-guardian-kitsune do not copy repost translate or feed to ai

[nereidprinc3ss]

i have thoughts on reid x dilaudid that i feel like i’ve never seen anyone talk about before so im gonna share

spoilers for s2 ofc and cw for discussions of substance abuse

something im thinking abt right now is that presumably reid was not psychologically or physically dependent on dilaudid yet by the time he was rescued from tobias hankel. of course he was incredibly traumatized and im not saying i wouldn’t anticipate wanting relief from that if i were him, but he could have gone without the drugs. he CHOSE to take the vials from tobias when he left. so if you think about it we didn’t even see the turning point into his addiction—he had to make the choice AGAIN to shoot up at some later point. he obviously knows the statistics abt addiction and the opioid crisis. but we know he really was addicted eventually. so after tobias, he got home and looked at those vials and made that choice to shoot up again, fully aware of what he was doing and all the implications and potential consequences but he was just in that much pain.

like it makes me so so sad to think about how smart he is and how his vast intellect was not enough to stop him at any point in the pursuit of getting high and he was contending with that the whole time, aware that he should be “too smart” for what he’s doing. like he had to procure syringes, he had to consider what he was potentially sacrificing, all while he was completely lucid, and he still made a fully conscious decision that it was more valuable to get high.

or maybe he convinced himself he was just going to use them to wean himself off because it would take a major toll on your body to receive all those drugs in such a short time frame. maybe he thought he could slowly detox. which might be even sadder. or maybe he was lying to himself the whole time and knew he just wanted to give himself permission to get high again. idk.

regardless it’s really really sad to think about how much effort he had to put into doing something he knew was terrible for him and how he chose it again and again because that’s how much he was hurting. like that scene of him holding the bottles and looking in the mirror at work hits a lot harder when you realize his addiction was not something just happened to him. he can’t entirely shirk the blame. i can’t even imagine how much self loathing he would have had going on at that time

(also i am fully aware that addiction is an illness and in many regards not a choice at all, but im saying its not likely he was actually clinically diagnostically addicted to dilaudid by the time he was freed. in that sense, he did make choices which contributed to his addiction, and he had to live with that, which i think is really highlighted by him looking in the mirror like what the fuck have i done to myself)

anyways im so sad now😂😂😂😂!!!!!! this is one of my favorite plot lines it was done so dirty!!