#people like to feel needed. they like to feel like they have a purpose

[void-my-warranty]

He’s large.

He doesn’t try to hunch himself smaller, because at work he’s large on purpose, and he’s just not interested in appearing small while off duty.

He’s not interested in being perceived at all.

Because getting stared at means a loss of control, a loss of choice. He decides when he wants to appear powerful, so he fades into the background. Skips out early, stays in the farthest corner of the booth, limits his words. He becomes a backdrop that people have a tendency to forget about.

He listens.

He won’t quit cigarettes because that’s when overhears the best conversations. That’s his entertainment, the lives of others. It’s safer that way. If he tries to shape his own life into something whole and complete, that means a commitment. It means there’s right and wrong, healthy and toxic, and he has to actively choose which to follow. He’s not ready to make those choices, he needs the control a little longer. Safety in the known.

So he watches, and listens. Hunkered down, waiting for something to rock his boat.

Maybe it’ll come to him. Maybe that’s the safest thing, getting the choice to accept or reject. He’ll reject, of course, because he needs the control a little longer.

At least, he hopes it’ll come to him. That’s what he can calculate, predict and manipulate into something comfortable. If he has to come to it, if he has to put his own neck on the block, that’s the terrifying one. That’s the powerlessness, the leap of faith. If he has the choice to tell himself no, then he has the choice to tell himself yes, and he’s so afraid of telling himself yes.

Come to me, he projects, one silence after another. Come to me so I can tell you no.

It’ll hurt to tell himself yes. He doesn’t like that kind of pain.

Yes, yes yes.

It doesn’t feel like pain yet. He rolls the concept around in his head over and over, visualizing the best possible outcomes for the first time in his life. Maybe he’s old, maybe some hope stuck to the bottom of his shoe at some point.

It feels strange, childish. Maybe he should’ve brought it out and exercised it a little more before now, because he doesn’t know what to do with something so juvenile.

Slowly his projection shifts. That silent come to me, changes, becomes words. Hellos and how are yous and playful fuck offs. Exercise.

Fuck this one for making him come to them. It hurts. Every step forward is a choice he can’t help but make. Every step is a commitment. By the time he’s closed the distance, he’ll have handed them all of the power. His hard-earned power, that he’s never voluntarily given to anyone.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Maybe it’ll be too late. They’d come to him if they wanted him, so they must not be interested. Even now, he knows that if they came to him he’d reject them. He needs them to not do that.

Let me come to you. Be patient. Let me come to you.

Just one more step.

[diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls]

Sunrise on the Reaping changes the whole game. Suddenly, Katniss isn't the chosen one anymore, or the only person who can make the capital pay for what they have done. She's just a girl with a long list of grievances, coming from a long line of people with even longer lists who have been trying to make them pay for years.

She finds her victory standing on the backs of hundreds or thousands of people who came before her. All pushing for the same goal, all guided by the same anger and grief and the need to go out on their own terms. The same things that caused Katniss to reach for the poisoned berries for her and Peeta in the first place.

When Katniss gives her "fire is catching" it echos the same purpose the districts have had for centuries; honour the dead, make the capitol take responsibility: Sejanus with the breadcrumbs, Reaper; who covered his dead with the capitol flag, Haymitch running with Louella to make Snow face what he'd done, Haymitch running again with Lou Lou, Katniss covering Rue in flowers, Peeta painting a mural of her for the gamemakers, so when the last stand finally comes she has all of her living allies behind her, but not only that. It's like Haymitch said: "Those 31 allies I boasted of to the head game maker? I can feel every one of them at my back"

She has every person who suffered at the hands of the capital, every person who was abused, every person who was reaped too soon, every person who died, standing at her back and in the end I think that's what gave her the strength to finish the fight.

[writingwisterias]

Belonging

Single Dad!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, MNDI, Needy Dom!Leon, Touched-Starved, DILF!Leon, Unprotected Sex, Fluff, Comfort, Edging, Oral, Overstimulation, Orgasm-Denial, Praise Kink,

Summary: Maybe sometimes it's worth being a bit selfish

I hope you enjoy, it's inspired by all my anons Headcanons over DILF!Leon !! Also I read somewhere on Reddit that his favorite film was French connections so his daughter is named after a character in that

Words: 7.6k

Thank you Eva for beta reader @clitorphosis 😘

Mornings like this were always his favourite, where the breeze flowed through that gap in the window that he never shut. His soft sheets wrapped around his body encasing himself in warmth that the fabric provided and let's not forget the small breaths that fanned over his chest as he tugged the little body closer. Her blond hair spewn out across his arm and chest as she clinged onto him for dear life. He’d ignore the pain that rose as her fingers dug into his flesh, the action feeling somewhat familiar to others in his past. Leon was never sure how his life gave him these moments, how despite all the shit he has gone through his little angel shines brightly in it. Marie Kennedy, the guardian angel that saved her father from himself. 

He would now never come to regret the decisions that led him to this point. All of his years of self torture wondering where his life was going and what his true purpose was meant to be; came crashing down as soon as her little finger held onto his when she was finally in his arms. It didn’t matter that her mother wasn’t a part of the picture, not when he promised himself to fill that role as much as he could for her. For now it was easy, listening to the 4 year old ramble about the disney princess’. Half the words coming out as a babbled mess with a few he could understand mixed in. 

The harder parts he was sure would soon come, but he now has an army of people who would help him.There was little point in him thinking about her older years, not when she was still so clingy that he couldn't do the reports at home without her sitting in his lap. Her pink crayons always end up scribbling a few lines in the corner of his reports. Thank god it wasn’t unusual for Hunnigan to proofread them before she handed them in, there was now an eraser on her desk stained pink as she tried to scrub them away for him. 

Leon’s work attitude improved, he no longer felt the never ending doom within his service. Instead, he focused on working hard to make the world a better place for his angel. 

Leon worked his fingers through the blonde stands of her hair, detangling them before she's even woken up. He watched her as she snuggled further into his chest, as if she could get any closer without being completely on top of him. He wasn’t sure when she had snuck her way into his bed last night but he wasn’t going to argue or tell her off. He never did – not when his body instantly reacted everytime, pulling her into his safe embrace. The action was his favourite, the most soothing to him; after all it was the only place in the world he could ensure nothing would get to her. Not without the lack of trying anyway. 

It was surprising that even with the sun periodically lighting up the room when the curtains would blow with the breeze that she still didn't wake. Leon no longer needed an alarm clock, not when Marie would come running in jumping on the bed excitedly begging for him to take her to the cafe. 

Leon knew he couldn’t cook for shit; he never really had to learn, not when he barely had the time to sit in his apartment before being called on another mission again. Most of the meals she ate were frozen foods, something quick and easy for him in case he did have to leave quickly. So it came to no surprise that her favourite meal of the day was breakfast. He wouldn’t blame her either when you delivered the food, always with a large and welcoming smile.

Leon only ever tried his best for her. Everyone that had met the pair could see it. There wasn’t anything that man wouldn’t do for his little girl. He was never late to collect her or drop her off from kindergarten. Never bought his work home besides a few non-descriptive reports. Leon made sure that the home was filled with everything she needed; it was her little palace not his. It went as far as him even choosing to eat off the pink princess plates instead of boring ‘adult’ ones. Of course his angel made sure to get him his favourite character, Mulan always staring back at him once he finished. 

Leon kissed the crown of her head, smiling at the waft of apple shampoo that filled his nose. In terms of waking up your energetic 4 year old, that's at least a pleasant way to do it. He chuckled as he felt her head shaking against his skin as she slowly rose, her tiny fists rubbing at her eyes before the smile came. The one that was always brighter than any star, sun or flash bang he’s seen. His favourite sight in the morning. “Morning sleepy head” He soothed as she finally looked at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck giggling as she peppered his face with her small kisses. 

He couldn’t help but laugh along with her holding her body close. “Morning Daddy” she replied, pulling back to look at him with nothing but love. He often found himself wondering if she would do the same as she grew up, if she would keep looking at him like the stars shined out of his ass. There was no hiding her from his past when she was older, the horrors were still too present in his mind and with technology advancing, who knows how long he would still be doing this. 

However, he was forever thankful that he had people that looked after her a year ago. The world beat him too hard but for her…he had to pull through. That situation now left her with an army of uncles and aunties, all willing to step in for him. To make sure that no matter what happened he could rest easy knowing she was taken care of.  

Leon didn’t get a chance to sit up before she bounced off the bed, her excited feet going in the motion to drag him awake. He smiled as she tried with all her might, just like every morning, to get him up. “Alright alright, I’m getting up” He laughed, his hand falling on her head stroking the hairs lovingly one more time before standing up. His body popped and cracked as he stretched it out, the abuse it's been through for many years now catching up to him.

Once dressed, Leon turned to see her playing silently with her rabbit, blabbering god knows what to the well loved toy. Her blond hair messy on one side, her cheek still red from where it was pressed against his warm chest. Once he was situated it was her turn, he practically chased her to the room. Following the sounds of playful giggles as she ran away. The pink walls were a form of comfort for him, the fairy stickers he remembered being a nightmare to place now made it feel magical. He always let her choose what she wanted to wear, only reminding her the items of clothing that she needed to find. 

Outfit situated Marie sat in front of him, playing quietly with her toys as he worked on her hair. Carefully detangling it with the brush before braiding, silently reminding himself of the steps that Claire taught him. It was only a basic braid, nothing too complicated for him but it was enough to ensure her hair never got tangled and he didn’t have to deal with nits when they broke out in her class. Leon cringed at the memory of the only time it happened, shuddering at her little sniffles as Claire and Jill worked the combs through the hair as gently as they could, whilst he stood there helpless. Only being able to offer her cuddles once the ‘torture’ was over.  

“Breakfast?” She asked him, looking at him with her version of puppy dog eyes. Not that she needed them with him. Leon grinned as she tried to contain her excitement, wiggling on the spot as he zipped up her coat. “Stay still or I’ll get you angel” He chuckled. It was a repeated phrase, her excitement and enthusiasm was one of the things he treasured most as she grew up. Sure she got in a few cupboards she shouldn’t have when she began crawling and silence always unnerved this household. Ending up being the most common signal that she was up to something. 

“Do you think she’ll be there today?” Her small voice asked as she watched him secure her mittens. He knew she was talking about you, her favorite person in the world. A title bribed with your seemingly endless knowledge on the princess’ she cared so much about and the tiny pancakes you forced the chefs to make for an infamous bunny. None of the other staff members seemed to care about them as he walked in there with her. Maybe it was because he had to deal with her mini meltdowns over it being your day off.

“I’m sure she will be Angel, she was there last saturday” He chuckled, watching as she paused, her features scrunching as she thought about it. Trying to determine if her dad was cruel enough to lie again. 

There was a possibility that he should put more thought into you being her favorite person. Having to explain the connection and routine he’s created for his little one where her mood for the rest of the day is determined by your presence would be a tricky one. Even more so if it was to someone he was trying to date, not that he was trying to find someone. His love life had run dry since the screaming baby was introduced, the welfare of his toddler was more important than any woman he bought home. The drinking had slowed as soon as she was born, he can't drink himself to sleep every night if a newborn cries every 2 hours.  

Her fingers clenched around his hand, holding tightly as he guided her to the car. The Disney CD started playing once he began to drive; he never really had the heart to turn it off and put something that he would have preferred instead. Even when she wasn’t in the car. His Dad Rock days were on a pause for now. 

The car was filled with the sound of his humming. Occasionally broken by half hearted responses to Marie as she babbled about the things they passed. Her sticky fingers left marks on the window, that he never would clean off, as she pointed at them. It didn’t matter that they passed the same sights everyday or spoke about the same tree that was sprouting flowers now spring was around the corner. These moments are what made everything worth it. 

Your body turned towards the entrance of the cafe, the sound of the bell above the door signalling someone had entered. The smile you wore was bright but it was still the fake one that was reserved for the customers you weren’t familiar with. However, it was quick to change when you saw the familiar mop of brown hair and heard mummers of the deep voice you had grown familiar with, whispering a small curse as he tried to stop the toddler from colliding into your legs. You didn’t care, he knew that but at least this time you had warning. You crouched to her level, arms open wide as she collided with you. 

“There's my favorite customer! You’re later than normal, I thought I missed you” you chuckled, holding her tight as she giggled. Leon stood to the side a smile forming on his lips as he watched over the interaction. He was holding her little pink backpack over his shoulder, His leather jacket was done up tightly around him, a black scarf laying uneven around his neck. “She finally decided to have a lay in,” he chuckled, his hand soothing the girl's head once again as you pulled away from her. The interaction had gained the attention of the other customers, all of them smiling at the poor 4 year old who now cowered behind her daddy's leg. “You guys just want the usual?” You asked him, holding your hand out for her to take as you began guiding them to the closest booth. 

Leon watched as his angel sprinted to your hand, grasping it tightly before her rambles began again. No longer scared thanks to your distraction. “Please, though a latte instead of the usual black coffee today” Leon replied as he took off her coat and helped her slide in the booth. “Finally get some sleep?” You asked with a sweet smile. You always gave him one of those, it was his little treat in the morning. One of the reasons he even came back here, seeing you interact with his daughter whilst he nursed the headache. You didn't care if your shift just started or you were about to finish, you always slid into the booth and spoke to him. Gave him the sense of normalcy he needed when stress ate away at him, when he would return from a mission the horrors still haunting him every time he blinked. You were there. Always there.

“Enough that the coffee doesn't need to be strong” he chuckled. You smiled again, a silent encouragement towards him that he needed. You didn't know what he did for work, you didn't care. That's why you were loved here, sitting with anyone that looked like they needed it. The interactions give a sense of community to the lonely souls that washed up here. He was proud that he and his little girl got all of it when they came in. She needed a bond like this, maybe someday she would be able to turn to you for things she couldn’t talk to him about. It was a dangerous line to think about, it often left him thinking about what things could be if he took it further. If maybe you were a part of her life in a way that was more than just the kind lady that gave her extra pancakes. 

“I mean it's an improvement at least. Do we have Bunny with us today?” You asked, turning towards the girl that finally got herself situated. You laughed as Marie proudly showed it off, her small fingers wrapped tightly around the droopy ears. “What flavour pancakes are we both having today?” 

Leon couldn’t help but flash another smile at the way you were talking to her…and the rabbit toy. Watching these interactions didn’t stop the yearning for you he felt. However, Marie was still so young, introducing someone in her life that could possibly fill the role he couldn’t might end badly. Having to explain why they aren’t there anymore if things didn’t work out was something that always lingered in the back of his mind. When it comes to the relationship that she had with you he doesn’t want to ruin it because of a small blooming crush. It wouldn’t be fair for her or you. 

He watched you disappear to the kitchen, Marie finally turning to him again with the colouring activities you had placed on the table. Just like everyday he found himself colouring neatly in the lines of the silly cartoons on the paper. Whilst she scribbled blue over the top. She was lucky it was his favorite colour, so he could pardon her for ruining his neat lines. The vibrations in his pocket broke the bubble of peace he has created, a reminder of his responsibilities. The world didn’t care if it was a saturday. 

You watched from the coffee machine his brows pinch in frustrations, heard his tone become short as he looked down at his angel. You knew it wasn’t a good phone call, likely him being called into work again. When you finally placed his drink next to the crayons that were chaotically laid around the table. The phone call ended and Leon was now laid back against the seat in defeat. “Is there anything I can help you with?” You asked him, sitting across from him in the booth. Your knee bumped against his, drawing his attention from the rather boring ceiling lights back to you. You offered him a tight lipped smile whilst he thought about your question. 

“Work called me in…something about…important reports” He groaned, his hand reaching for the latte. It was funny watching his brows pinch at confusion as the latte art that stared back at him. A funny idea at the time, a cute smiley face. “You always order a black coffee so I never get to do my infamous art” You laughed. Leon smiled a soft chuckle escaping his lips, his frustrations momentarily on hold as he looked at the smiley face that stared back at him. You watched his adam's apple bob as he sipped the hot beverage. The burn of the liquid is a more favourable one compared to the other drinks he was used to. “There's no one to watch her. Everyone I trust is busy” He sighed, leaning back against the chair in defeat. 

“Do you trust me?” 

Leon paused, his whole body stiffened at your question. His gaze was intense as he scanned you contemplating your words. “I do” He nodded, “But whilst you’re at work? I can’t ask you to watch her as you do that” 

“Leon, I promise you it’s fine. I go off shift in a few minutes anyway. You both came in later remember” 

You watched him think it over again, his eyes flicking between you and his angel. It wasn’t about her this time, he knew she would be in good hands with you. The time you spend bonding over the years he’s visited didn’t account for nothing. He was just…thankful you would do this for him. To change the plans of your day to help him, it was a strange feeling in his chest. Perhaps his weakness is his little girl, if any woman showed an ounce of love towards her he would fall to his knees it would appear. “If it’s not too much trouble, I can drop you off at mine or yours…I don’t know which is easiest” He sighed, his hands grasping the mug tightly. 

You didn’t miss how tight his grip was, his nerves put on a back pedal for her. A wall that he held proudly and strongly to ensure Marie never knew what was happening. “Your place is fine. Besides, watching Movies all day with this little sweetheart sounds much better than laundry” You joked, looking over at the young girl that finally perked her head up at your sentence. Her blond hair swished rapidly as she nodded excitedly at the idea of a playdate with you. 

Marie’s reaction sold him. She was never this excited when the others looked at her, it was like she had forgotten about him entirely. He watched as she scooted around to your side of the table, the scribbled mess being dragged with her. “Thank you” He sighed, his posture finally relaxed again. “You don’t have to thank me” 

“I do” 

The car ride lacked any awkwardness. It felt almost like you belonged in the passenger seat, belting out the songs with your favourite duo. Despite the fact you were the only person in tune and singing the correct words. You didn’t miss his smile or the twinkle in his eyes. Leon had his arm propped up on the door of the car, his eyes remained on the road. You almost wanted to reach over the center console and lay your hand on his thigh but that would be wrong. You weren’t doing this to get in his pants. 

You did it because despite the way he hid behind a wall of cringey dad jokes and his care for others…for his daughter, you saw his longing for a complete family. So he didn’t have to explain why every kid had a mommy and she didn’t, to have a conversation as to why she wasn’t wanted by someone in that way. He craved for someone to fill the gap that was so glaringly obvious in this house– you could see it despite the fact he never mentioned it. Never asked for it either, he dealt with the hand he was given just as he always did. 

It wasn’t wrong for you to think it could be you. To hope it could be you. You loved them both, they created a sense of safety just as you did for them. It was clear that you would be a perfect match with how natural this felt. You understood why he was cautious, you knew he was a man with a dark past – a closet full of skeletons. It didn’t stop you from wanting him to dive head first into his arms without caring about what happens after. You needed them as much as they needed you. 

Leon gave you a quick tour as well as a scribbled note of her evening routine in fear he couldn’t escape early enough. Until eventually with enough reassurance from you and slobbery kisses from his toddler he left. Leaving you both to a house stocked with enough blankets to build a fort. 

“So…how about we build a palace?” You asked the girl, looking down at where she was standing next to you. Her face covered in a small pout, her bunny clutched tightly in her arms as she waited for her dad to come back. It was adorable to see this side of her because normally you would only catch the energetic side where she would talk to you for hours over pancakes. You didn’t see the quiet toddler, the shy one that needed her daddy to feel safe.  Marie looked up at you, her brain considering the idea before shyly nodding a grin slowly replacing the frown. You knelt before her, taking one of her small hands in your own. A large grin plastered on your face when you asked “Where are all the blankets?” 

Some would call it a mess but you would call the perfect palace for the perfect little princess. At least she was treated as such in this house. The floor was covered in the couch cushions, Leon’s duvet laid over the top creating a layer of comfort. Trust the man to not cheap out on his bedding, the feather duvet felt heavenly as you both tested out beforehand. You tried to ignore the butterflies that became persistent as you became surrounded by the scent of him. The Cedarwood and musk instantly calms the two of you. 

She helped you hold the blankets as you pinned them in place. Running around giggling as she collected her favorite stuffed toys to add inside, the giant squishmellows worked as the perfect cushions. As you were setting up her star projector for ambience she appeared at the door of the fort in her onesie. The perfect slumber party, it was a shame you didn't have your PJs.

 “Looking cute” you smiled at the girl, watching her spin around to show it off. The unicorn onesie was a clash of bright pinks and purples, but it suited her perfectly. You couldn't have picked out a better one for her yourself. “Do you not have one?” She asked, walking closer to you for help with the zipper. You watched her brain contort as you helped her. Seeing the adorable comparison between her and her father's micro expressions, the way her brows pinched together as she thought. Her toothy grin now replaced with a tight lipped smile, almost like she was thinking of a solution that didn't involve you just cuddling in your work uniform. “It's okay, sweetheart. You're so cosy that it's enough for the both of us” you grinned hoping it will wipe away the slight frown on her face. 

You held out your hand offering it to her so she could follow you to the kitchen as you prepared her dinner. She sat on the counter watching you from a safe distance, rambling about anything that came into her mind. You tried to ignore the rising baby fever in the situation. Tried to ignore how natural this felt…how domestic it felt. 

The two of you were so engrossed in the domestic atmosphere that you missed the slam of the front door. As well as missing the muttered ‘what the fuck’ as the intruder approached the living room and was met with the cosy fort. Leon was home earlier than he thought, not that he was going to argue anyway. He was grateful for it, not wanting to keep you any longer than he needed. He also knew first hand how hard bath and bedtime was with his girl. However when he turned around, naturally following the sound of laughter his heart stuttered at the sight. It was everything he wanted for her…for himself. 

After putting the dinner in the oven you were now dancing around with the young girl to some random disney song you chose on your phone. Her small hands in yours, her blond hair whipping around with her. Laughter filled his home, it warmed the space up, ignited the home feeling he always craved for her. Leon wanted nothing more than to move and press himself against the sway of your hips. His eyes flicked between the enjoyment of the moment and you. There was no denying his attraction anymore, not when he wanted nothing more than to finally claim you as part of this family…as his. You slotted so perfectly – there was no other option than you belonging here. 

“So was I not invited to this party?” Leon chuckled, his voice cutting through the enjoyment of swaying and jumping. Marie let go of your hands, her small frame bolting it to him, the laughter following her. Was it wrong to think about how good it would feel to join in their hug? To have him press a kiss against your temple as you both welcomed him home. The more you stayed the more you wanted it. Wanted him. “Well, we set up a movie night for the two of you to enjoy” You spoke, smiling at him softly before gathering your things. You needed to leave, they didn’t need you here. He had told you countless times he wanted to focus on her and not a woman…not until she was old enough. 

“You’re leaving?” Leon questioned, placing Marie back on her feet before guiding her gently to her toys. She didn’t argue, not with him. “Uh…yeah, you are back right? I don’t want to intrude or anything” You replied standing awkwardly at the doorway of the hall. Leon looked between you and the fort, his brows furrowing as he fought with himself to let the question slip between his lips. The invitation to stay the night. He would be more than happy to sleep on the couch…or what remained of the couch. If it meant that you stayed, that you could keep the happiness you bought in the home he wanted you in and not the booth. “Please stay, I hate for you to waste all your time making a cool fort and not use it” He invited, a small smirk placed on his lips. 

There was no argument that would be valid, not when he looked at you like that. When his eyes spoke louder than his mouth, his silent admission that he wanted you here. “I suppose it would be pretty lame to miss out after all that effort” You smiled, setting your bag back down on the kitchen table. Your coat was forgotten from where it was draped along the dining chair. You couldn’t help but blush as the intensity of his expression increased, for once he looked relaxed and happy. 

It was hard not to admire him in the dim light of the laptop screen, to see the way his arm held the now sleeping toddler against him. He knew he should have carried her to bed a while ago but she was the only thing keeping you separate from him, a barrier he didn’t realise he needed until he looked at your content face. Watch the rise and fall of your chest as you laughed at the movie. “Guess I’ll put her to bed” He whispered, adjusting the girl onto his lap so he could carefully carry her. It was hard not to notice the muscles move, his arms on display now his jacket had been discarded. 

It was cute seeing him struggle to manoeuvre himself out of the door, silently fighting with the blanket you used. Leon froze when your fingers brushed past him, his breath catching in his throat as he caught the smell of your perfume as you leaned forwards to pull the blanket aside. “Thanks,” He muttered. He couldn’t look at the soft smile on your face, not when you were this close. The few loose strands of your hair tickling his cheek as you nodded. 

He took the time to steady himself as he put Marie to bed.He sat in the silence of the room watching the slow rise and fall of her chest; a sign that she was okay as always. It reminded him of when she was first born and he would sit and watch her newborn chest rise and fall not quite believing that she was okay, that she was really there. He was so alone in those moments, spending so many nights wondering if he was really cut out for this shit. Yet, when he texted you, late at night begging for someone to talk to after she wouldn’t stop crying, you always replied. Then when morning came and the tired father made his appearance at the cafe, a baby finally asleep in the car seat still, you soothed him and her. 

It was only then he realised that you integrated yourself in their life, helped them in the role they both needed…a mother and a partner. With one more kiss to her head Leon left the room finally deciding to be a little selfish for once. 

He had to admit it felt pretty stupid crawling back into the tent, the lack of his child changing the atmosphere now there wasn’t a barrier in between the two of you. “Did she wake up?” You asked him, his thigh pressed against yours. It felt childish sitting in this fort, like no one was going to hear the admissions you both clearly wanted to release. “She didn’t” 

The silence wasn’t awkward, that much Leon was thankful for. He just had so much to say, so many things to thank you for. This was too much, helping him out, looking after her like this. Marie never argued whilst you looked after her, he didn’t have a text to inform him of a tantrum she had. “I need to thank you” He whispered, his attention solely remaining on his hands, picking at the skin nervously. You didn’t respond, instead you watched him. Watched as the slow creep of blush bloomed upon his cheeks under your gaze. His eyes flicking to the side and back to you. Leon always oozes confidence, never once showing you the person behind the front. Now his daughter wasn’t here…he didn’t have to pretend he was strong. That he didn’t need validation of his efforts in her life. 

“You’re a good dad, Leon. The best I’ve seen” You spoke softly. He jumped as your hand slid into his, squeezing it gently.

 “You think so?” 

When he turned to look at you, you finally broke. His eyes were soft  as if he couldn't believe the words you spoke, the small praises that left your lips. It was foreign to him. He gasped when your lips pressed against his, his hands instantly pulling you onto his lap holding you tightly. “I know so” You whispered when you pulled away, your foreheads touching. The longer you sat on him like this, relishing in the feel of his hands – his cock hardened. He couldn’t help it, not when your lips learned his quickly already tugging on the bottom one with your teeth. The harder he got, the more greedy he became. 

Leon’s tongue ran along the bottom of your lips, prodding gently between them demanding access before slipping in. He whimpered as you moved, the subtle attempt at getting closer dragging along his throbbing dick. You heard his breaths as you pulled away, your hands slipping underneath your shirt. Dragging the fabric above your head slowly. “Fucking hell” He groaned, his hands already moving up your waist. You moaned as his lips attacked your sides, kissing and biting his way along them. You threw your head back, breathing heavily at his affection. Each pinch of pain adds to your now throbbing core. 

The more he tasted, the more he wanted. You didn’t care how he pulled you to the side, manoeuvring you so he was above. You watched his abs clench as he pulled his shirt off, you were sure he was flexing them but you weren’t one to judge. Not when he was so pretty like this and it wasn’t because of the stars that projected over his skin. “That thing is so bright” He laughed, lowering his head to nip at the nape of your neck, sucking softly at the skin, whilst he hid away from the projector. “I mean it’s sort of romantic, we are under the stars I guess” 

It was only fitting that as he removed your final layers you were both enclosed in the fort, that this little moment was for the both of you and not the outside world. He wouldn’t let his horrors taint you or Marie. Not in this apartment. His mouth attached itself to your pussy, his tongue working on thick stripes between your folds. Leon needed to worship you, to taste the sweetness you allowed him too. No amount of orgasms he could give you would even make up the slow burn of this moment. Of all the time you listened to both him and his daughter crying down the phone offering only your kindness. 

He nipped at your sensitive bud, sucking the whines out of your body. He loved the way your thighs squeezed around his head, muffling his senses. His hands pried your thighs apart, keeping you open for him as he continued his assault. “Don’t close up on me now” He mumbled against your lips, each breath cooling the arousal and saliva that collected on your skin. 

Leon got lost in you, the taste, feel, scent of you. Nothing else mattered. It wasn’t fair you couldn’t please him; give him the pleasure and relaxation he needed. Leon wasn’t sure he was going to be able to look you in the eyes and take your love, the pleasure and attention he needed from someone that wasn’t his little girl or his friends. For now he allowed himself to get drunk on the taste of you. 

Your hands tugged at his brown hair, pulling him closer to your core. You could feel his breaths against your skin, sucking in harshly against your twitching clit. “Leon-” 

He moaned at the plea of his name, wanting to draw it from you again and again. He worked harder, his tongue prodding against your entrance entering you briefly before continuing its sloppy attack on your clit. He could feel you buck against this face, your thighs shaking as they tried to close around him. He needed to give this to you, to allow you one orgasm before his own. It had been so long since he experienced this, the love was suffocating, making him dizzy. He wasn’t sure how long he would last when he was finally able to sink into you. 

Leon smirked as he felt your body relax and slump against the bed. It was only then he lifted away from you, spit and arousal coating his puffy lips. His eyes were hazy as they stared down at your form. You watched his cock twitch above you in the dim light, the heat you were both creating causing a light layer of sweat to form over the two of you. When you finally met his eyes again you smiled, so sweetly at him he felt his arms buckle. “I want you Leon…I want to be a part of your life, this home…please” You begged. 

It was different than anything he wanted, you weren’t begging for the pleasure he could give you but instead for the love. The stability of a family. You were begging to intricate yourself in this home, in their life deeper than you already have. Who was he to deny you? Leon didn’t respond when he hitched your thighs on his, aiming his leaking tip towards your entrance. You felt his fingertips run along your hips, his eyes watching for your approval. “I want you to be too” He groaned as his tip notched at your entrance. 

Your eyes flicked down waiting to watch as he sunk himself deep inside of you, but he didn’t move. Leon’s eyes were shut tights, his breaths coming out short and sweet as he felt your entrance twitch around his hip. Your intense gaze begging for him to move silently. Instead, once he had collected himself he moved. Sliding his cock throughout your folds, the tip making its appearance before sliding back out of view. You felt every one of his veins then ran along the underside of his dick, his pre-cum smearing with the arousal that dripped out of you. 

Leon smirked as he watched you whimper each time he pressed himself against your clit. The sharp bolts of pleasure had you arching into him, wriggling in an attempt to notch himself inside you. Just like the both of you needed. To your credit it worked, his lubricated cock slid in with ease, a moan of his filling the tent. It was loud, of course he was going to be loud…it had been so long since he felt this. Poor guy was so selfless. 

Your breath hitched as you stretched to accommodate his size. He filled you perfectly. There was no stopping him, not when he felt you like this. Not when he sunk so perfectly in your warmth, your body doing nothing but love him back. Your body arched into him, your hips angled perfectly to add the friction you needed from his happy trail. His arms flexed next to your head as he hovered above you further. You hadn’t expected him to be so vocal, to be so demanding with your pleasure before his. 

“Fuck-” He grunted, the restraint snapping as he craved more, craved to be deeper. To bury himself to the hilt inside you. You didn’t object, you wouldn’t - not when it felt so fucking good. The wet sounds of your pussy and his low grunts filled your ears. It was too much, you lost yourself in the sounds, drooling and begging for more. His hips snapped harder, his hand grasping as the sheets near your head. You were suffocated in the feel of him, the scent that lingers the duvet beneath you, his lips that dragged across your breasts. 

“Come on, you’re so close for me baby…I can feel it” He begged. “Please…baby…” 

He felt his balls tighten, he was too close…far too close. He wanted the release, to feel his cum spill inside of you but it’s been so long. So long since he’s felt this, buried his cock in something that wasn’t a cheap flesh light or his lubed hand. You whined when he stopped moving, instead sat his cock so far inside you. It now twitched as your walls clenched around him, his eyes screwing shut as he willed his orgasm away for just a little longer. Edging himself like he’s done many times before. 

Leon’s grip was tight on your hips as you attempted to writhe against him, to draw the pleasure that was fading away back. “Stop…I don’t want to cum yet” He grunted, his grip was bruising as he desperately commanded you to stop. “Leon – Please..I was so close” 

“I know…christ woman be patient please” 

You waited, your hips stilled but the whimpers still escaped your lips. His fingers toyed with your clit, pulling the hood back to expose the erect nerve. Your whimpers turned into moans, your hands grasping at his wrist leaving small crescent marks as you dug them “Please…yes…” You begged as he continued his assault. Your walls clenched around his stiff length that was still buried inside you, stuffed so far inside it made your eyes water. He didn’t stop the squirm of your hips, not when they loosely circled around his cock. Giving him some form of pleasure as he throbbed inside of you. 

He knew you were close, the volume now being replaced with breathless whimpers. “Come on baby…I know you’re there” He mumbled against the skin of your breast. His teeth tugging and sucking on the peaked buds, devouring the flesh as you pressed it further into his mouth. The pleasure was searing hot throughout your system, your brain lingering on the edge of too much and not enough. You needed him to pump everything he could inside you, to feel his cock drag in and out of your walls in a desperate speed. 

“Leon please…move…There’s going to be more times we can do this” 

You were right, he knew you were but it didn’t stop him from wanting to take his time. To worship you at the same time he got to sink himself into you. He knew a few thrusts is all it would take to send him over the edge, his pleasure too close to guarantee the feeling of yours first. “No baby…you can do it like this, I’m filling you up nice” He groaned, his lips detaching themselves from your swollen nipple. His attention already moved to your other one whilst his finger flicked and circled around your sensitive buds. “Leon–” 

He ignored you, his hips never moving. His cock twitching inside you, his fingers and tongue working on your nerves was all you were going to get. Leon eventually smiled when he started to feel your body tighten up around him. Your thighs twitching over his, hips grinding against him no matter how hard he tries to stop it. With a whine you came, gushing around his cock as it twitched painful like it was begging for him to finally move. 

Leon whimpered as he began to drag his cock out of your walls fucking you to overstimulation. His head falling into the crevice of your neck kissing the soft skin of your collarbone. “Fuck…you are so good” He whined. He focused on himself, his balls tightening, preparing to release himself deep inside of you for the first time. “I love you Leon” You breathed against his hair, kissing the crown of his head. His thrust was sharp as he finally spilled himself inside of you. You smiled at the warmth it gave off, the feeling of him filling you. 

Leon didn’t move away, he remained where he was, in this small bubble of safety – comfort – love. 

“I love you too” He mumbled against your skin. With a small tug on his hair he lifted his head. The kiss you shared was nothing short of perfection, the unspoken words you both had to say pouring into it softly. Not like before. The two of you settled, exhaustion lingering as you watched the stars move around on the blankets. The silence felt right, his heart beating steadily lulled you to sleep. He pulled one of the many blankets around the two of you, holding you close as the tiredness crept in for him as well. 

The sound of giggles awoke you, the soft music filling the room. You spotted his shirt next to you, folded neatly with a clean pair of his boxers placed on top. The blanket closed, giving you the privacy you needed to change. As you pulled back the blanket you faltered observing the scene in front of you. Marie was propped against his hip, her head tucked against his shoulder as the scent of bacon welcomed you. Soft rock filtered around the kitchen, different to the usual disney songs. “Morning” You greeted him, your hand encircling his waist on the other side. He jolted at your touch, still not used to someone other than his daughter wanting to be close. 

His unease faded as he smiled, brighter than any you have seen in the years you have known him. This is what he wanted, what he needed. You smelled of him, the slight musk that lingered on his shirt permating your skin. You looked adorable, comfortable, happy. 

“We were just making you breakfast, someone was excited to see you stayed the night” He laughed. Adjusting Marie on his hip as he tried to prepare the breakfast. “Lucky me” You spoke, holding your hands out for his daughter. The small girl smiled, happily moving from Leon to you. Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck as you both watched him finish off. You truly did belong here. 

[rose-maidenn]

Pac : What is your soul purpose ?

Pile 1-2-3

Hi loves hope you have been doing well , I'm sorry for the inactivity . Here's a new reading focus your intention and choose what calls out to you most , take what resonates .

In case you need a deeper guidance feel free to checkout my masterlist and paid readings ( book at 30% off for april)

Pile 1 :

This is the birth you have been praying for this is the birth where you finally get initiated to a certain lifestyle, to be the devote of a certain God or Goddess this is it. You're born to be great to understand your own soul. You are the oracle you are the altar, this is the Pile of healers and people who know the truth about life. This lifetime play because most things in your life aren't hard but you're making it hard by getting into the mindset of hustle life's meant to be really easy for you , take it slow . There are really some good inventors in this pile , you may invent a new way of life , an idea or you may do some discoveries or inventions you are on the way to find something that will be remembered by the generations to come . You are here to show people how growth is an ongoing process and that healing isn't linear you're meant to play and keep growing , stress isn't a factor in your life believe that you deserve easy things and life will prove that you sure do .

Pile 2 :

You're the warrior you're the one who fights for justice , you Will fight for a good life and you will have it. Some of you might have dealt with adverse life situations in this pile. Bullying , toxic people etc were always around you have to now go through this take a sword and kill all the bad memories and start a new life have no resentments, your growth is the greatest revenge, let it go you grow like nature grows . You also are meant to gather people for a big purpose build a community (like be in social media, start classes in some art or academics) have a beautiful family life , but all this will happen when you realise that you're a leader Don't be afraid and don't gaslight you , you definitely are Born to lead now don't be scared hold your own hand this is meant to be . You will find so many people from your soul family , you will have so much support just trust the universe and keep working .

Pile 3 :

This lifetime has been hard hasn't it ? Everytime you think it will get better you see that there's something that's making it worse right ? Well trust that all the hurt would turn because each hurt is a lesson learned , you have to take the lessons right okay , don't just go through it write and apply what you learnt sit and talk to your higher self . You are what your ancestors prayed for you're healing your family you're the chosen one , the life of a chosen one is never an easy one but it's monumental and it teaches everyone a lot so trust your path see how you can make flowers grow on graveyard dust , because that's what it is about , you are meant to see the good despite the fall . Dance with life , if it makes you bow make sure you take the bow and show your moves because life's not something that happens to you but for you , you have been training for this for lifetimes this life this it it where you get ready for the biggest blessing this is when you let go of all hurts and grow into the person you're meant to be . Big time scorpio energy , you're a Phoenix don't be scared you will go down in history if you learn your lessons right .

Thank you so much for reading have a great time ahead love love

[aquasoftware]

"HAVE SOME CLASS!"

FT║ Fem!Reader ✘ Sukuna | WC ➜ 624 ♪ ML

Desc | Dating a criminal with zero tech skills as a “high-class” model was your first mistake. ➜ Now, thanks to one accidental upload, the whole world knows exactly what you look like crying his name.

Cw║ (N)sfw 18+, màt!ng press, accidental sēx tape leak (Kuna being a dumbass whoops,) hūm!l!aț!on, degrādatiøn, sp!t k!nk, pøwer imbalance, s!ze k!nk if you squint, model! Reader + criminal!sukuna.

The world knew you as more than a model—a goddess. A vision draped in designer, skin kissed by flashing lights, a body sculpted to be worshiped. Your name carried prestige, once spoken in admiration. Now, it was scandalized like the greatest sin.

The leak had spread like wildfire. A single clip, no more than a minute long, of you folded in half beneath him—knees pressed to your chest, ankles hooked over his shoulders, his weight caging you in as he rutted deep, relentless, possessive.

Sukuna.

An infamous criminal—untouchable, unstoppable, and the last man anyone expected to see fucking you senseless.

The video was grainy, taken from a low angle, but there was no mistaking you. Manicured nails digging into his forearms, lips parted in a wrecked gasp. And him—looming over you, one hand wrapped around your throat, the other forcing your legs further back as he drove into you, each punishing stroke stealing the breath from your lungs.

The way your body arched for him. The way his inked hands owned every inch of you. The way your lips trembled as you whimpered his name, so pathetic “Kuna…”

But the worst part? Your voice—wrecked, needy—cut through the sinful symphony of flesh against flesh. “Spit in my mouth, please.” Sultry, desperate, dripping with desire. And he did—gripping your jaw, tilting your head back before letting a slow, deliberate trail of saliva fall onto your waiting tongue. The moan that followed? Indisputable proof of how thoroughly he’d ruined you.

And the cherry on top? His voice, mocking between every ruthless snap of his hips, calling you his little slut. Filthy words blending into the slick, obscene melody of him stretching you open. Your tight cunt clenched around his thick cock, a creamy ring forming at the base each time he bottomed out—proof of just how devastatingly deep he reached, and how much you craved it.

Your reputation was in shambles.

Your agent’s frantic calls went ignored. Social media was a wasteland, your name drowning in every filthy hashtag imaginable. Some people shamed you; others called you lucky to have a man like him wreck you so thoroughly.

And Sukuna?

That bastard was amused.

You stormed into his penthouse, the city skyline glowing behind him as he lounged on the couch, phone in hand. His sharp eyes flicked to yours, a slow smirk curling on his lips.

“Enjoying your newfound fame?” he drawled, tossing his phone aside.

Your rage surged. “What the fuck did you do?”

Sukuna clicked his tongue, stretching lazily. “Relax, princess. It wasn’t on purpose.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know hitting the wrong button would post the damn thing?” He exhaled, tilting his head back. “They need to make this shit less complicated.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re telling me you accidentally leaked it?”

His smirk widened. “Tsk, I was trying to send it to you.” He rolled his shoulders like this was some minor inconvenience. “Guess I hit the wrong button.”

“Sukuna, you fucking idiot—”

Your words shriveled as he grabbed you, yanking you onto his lap. His grip was firm, unyielding, his breath hot against your ear.

“Listen to me,” he murmured, lips ghosting along your jawline. “The whole world’s seen you now. They’ve watched you break under me, fall apart for me. You think any other man can look at you without seeing me buried inside you?”

Heat surged through you, a mixture of anger and something far more dangerous.

Sukuna’s fingers pressed between your thighs, feeling the warmth even through your designer dress. “Oh?” he purred. “You like that, don’t you?”

His teeth grazed your earlobe, a wicked grin curling against your skin.

“Let them look, princess. They already know who you belong to.”

Divider/Boarder creds | enchanthings-a + miffyvirtuales.

[honeyshiddendesire]

Monster Trio + Shared Kinks

⛔️ Warnings: Dom/Sub ! Rough Play! Degradation! Dacryphilia! 69 Position! Oral(male & female receiving)! Dirty talk! Kinky Shit! Pet names! Luffy calls you mami! (Cause I said so 🤤😩) foursome! Consensual Sex!

*Author’s Note: So happy when I find stuff from my old blog lol so I’m reposting it lol 

*masterlist*

Oral Fixation + 69 Position

Luffy could spend hours eating both food and you, no doubts about it. The man is the type to eat your pussy while kicking his feet in the air. Smiling, giggling while his tongue work has brought you to orgasm like three times and that man will just munch away. Gets impatient though for his pleasure so he loves the 69 position which he definitely learned from Sanji. Favorite position just like the rest of the monster trio! Luffy loves both of you coming together, both your moans mixing like a beautiful song of the sea.

Zoro’s oral fixation clearly gets cured during battle with his three sword style and after when he downs a bottle of sake sloppily. But at night he cures his need with you above him, pussy in his mouth. Yours wrapped around his dark veiny cock choking perfectly on his girth. 69 gives him the opportunity to spank you and thrust up into your tight throat.  He’s an ass eater idc 🤷‍♀️lol everyone headcanons him an ass man so ima take it a step further saying he’ll wanna eat that ass too. Zoro sees the whole ordeal as further jaw/mouth training for his sword style don’t fight me on this lol 

Sanji also has an oral fix similar to Luffy, for his love of the culinary arts. Your juices are the most exquisite he’s ever had the privilege of tasting, no matter the ingredients he’ll never be able to create such a perfect blend. Whether your natural flavor is musky, floral, tangy or tart, he always finishes his meal. Asking for seconds with sweet words that have both sets of your lips dripping. Sanji, like the rest of the trio has a liking for the 69 position. Not particularly his favorite all the time but there are exceptions. Unlike the others he only uses this position as a form of punishment. Using reverse 69 to thrust into your bratty throat, but never being too cruel to not please you as well.

✨These men just can’t get enough of your precious honey ✨

Dacryphilia

This kink is shared amongst the monster trio for the same reason. They love having you cry for their cocks. Your psyche so fucked out that it glitches and cries out in the pure bliss that they’re giving to you. Tears of pleasure only they get to see always has them cumming faster than they’d like. They just loved seeing those cute tears that came from pleasure and no pain. Beautiful is how you looked to them in those moments. “Dick’s got you crying so pretty-huh Mami?” Luffy’s grin was always so bright it made your eyes hurt even while his cock stretched inside of you. His added thrusts to the stretch made you cry tears of ecstasy that had him shiver in delight. “Awe look at my pretty little slut cryin from how good I’m fucking her.” Zoro would mock with an iron grip to your jaw forcing your teary eyed gaze to look at him. His hips moved with a force that left you too drunk to answer as he sent you both to another wonderful orgasm. “Oh sweetheart don’t cry~ I’ll kiss that pussy and make it all better for you.” Sanji would surprisingly taunt with a pout at your cute tears, pretending your pleasure was pain just for the excuse to make his baby come again. But in no way we’re you complaining as those blonde locks dipped back to your honey pot.

✨Seeing you cry has never been so sweet till you did it around their cock ✨

Sharing is Caring

No matter what Zoro and Sanji might make people believe I feel like they would share a partner. Purely for competitive purposes though, wanting to see who has you coming the best and the fastest. Begging and whimpering as both their cocks worked your poor little holes. Cunt and ass stuffed as they argued back and forth. Bickering so loud it wakes Luffy who no doubt sees the fun and joins in. Cause what Luffy wants Luffy gets, even if that means taking what belongs to the arguing duo. Now you had all possible holes filled for the monster trio to feast upon. Battling to see who gave you the best orgasm of your life. But being a brat who didn’t want the fun to end, you’d say none of them just so they’d want to go again.

✨ With you in the middle of it all, again they would bring you more pleasure until the winner was decided✨

[vinnyvamppp]

She Threw Me—Then Kissed Me

NOTE: Have I been up for three hours writing this? Yes. Is this one of my longest expeditions about an alien mating with a man? Probably. Two lucky commenters requested this, so here I deliver.

@xecres1cloud @deleted-1-800 Warnings: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Public Sex, Cecil Catches Them, Alien Fucking, Tit Sucking, Porn w a Plot, Misuse of Powers, Cowgirl, Dom!Reader, Switch/Dom!Mark Grayson (battle for dominance), Infatuation, Rough Sex, Plot Changes for Convenience, Mutual Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling, etc.

Mark Grayson x Alien!Fem Reader

Word Count: 2, 908

You were never meant to leave Themyscira.

Your people—warriors, champions, god-forged in strength and purpose—do not abandon their home lightly. But you were given a mission, one that pulled you from the sacred shores of your birthplace and thrust you into a world that feels too fragile beneath your hands. The gods spoke of a coming war. A force beyond Earth, beyond even Olympus, stirring in the void between stars. Not one brewing on earth, but amongst earth dwellers in space. The Amazons do not sit idly by when the balance is threatened. You do not sit idly by. So you were sent to watch. To learn. To prepare.

You were sent to this world to stop what’s coming. And then you met him.

Mark Grayson is not a god, but he wears his strength like one. And yet, for all his power, for all the might in his blood, there is something uncertain in the way he carries it. He does not fight like an Amazon—he hesitates, he questions, he cares in a way warriors are taught not to.

Never knowing a world this fragile. Being of Amazon and Talok IV descent, you were a new breed of soldier for your people, and one that could blend in if needed. Although, the power was bestowed due to your father's trickery. No matter. The man is dead. The moment you landed on Earth, you sought out Cecil to initiate your infiltration. Earth people claimed to be resilient, yet so desperate for help once offered, it's pitiful.

You weren’t expecting to find something worth staying for. His influence prodding at you like an infectious disease. The time was approaching, the time to mate that is, yet you were unusually apprehensive–. THWACK!

Here, metal bends like softened wax beneath your hands. Brick crumbles as if it were pressed from sand. You’ve seen men build their homes, their towers, their weapons—each one designed to endure, yet none of them built to withstand you. Mark learned that the hard way. “I swear I was ready for that,” he groans, flat on his back in the wreckage of a training arena that should have been reinforced better. The dust hasn’t even settled from your last hit. A crack spiders through the concrete where he landed, but he’s already moving, rubbing the back of his head like a man more embarrassed than injured. You stand over him, arms crossed. “You weren’t.” Mark exhales sharply, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He’s strong—stronger than most things in this world. But not stronger than you, outside of his domain of expertise.

He knows it, too.

“You’re really not holding back, huh?” he says, half a grin forming. You tilt your head. “Should I?” Mark blinks, then laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s just… you’re insane.” He gestures vaguely at the crater where the ground used to be. “I’m supposed to be the strong one, you know?” You raise an eyebrow. “Who told you that?” For a second, he just looks at you. Then he grins, something sparking behind his eyes that wasn’t there before. “I’ve been wanting you to say that. I like you.” he says, and for the first time since this match started, it almost feels like a challenge. The slight rasp in his voice sends tingles through you. And finally, you think, someone worth fighting. Someone worth keeping.

Mark is still grinning at you, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. I like you. A simple statement, but there’s something behind it—something testing the waters, something that sees you as more than just an opponent. You roll your shoulders, easing the tension from the fight. “You like losing?” Mark exhales a short laugh, pushing himself fully upright, closer now. "I like a challenge." His eyes flicker over you—not with fear, not with wariness, but something else. Something warmer. You’re used to admiration. It comes naturally when you are carved from power itself, when your body is built to command. Men have looked at you in awe before, in fear, in respect. But Mark looks at you like— Like he isn’t afraid to lose to you.

That’s new.

You shift your stance, but you don’t step back. "Careful, Grayson," you say, your voice dipping lower. "Keep looking at me like that and I might think you're flirting." At your words you sway slightly. You were tall and statuesque, and your skin was kissed by deep cerulean hues. Its very image carries the mystery of the void itself. Your hair, thick and dark flows past your shoulders, caught in satisfying curly tussles. Your eyes—piercing, luminous—glow softly in the dark, a warning and a lure. Just how could he not be reeled in? From the moment you two’s eyes met, he felt his heart stir. He couldn’t tell if it was just lust, perhaps, even so he wanted you.

Mark swallows, his grin flickering—still there, but a little uneven now. His eyes dart away for half a second, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re messing with him. “Uh,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “I mean, I was kind of flirting, but if that’s, like, weird, or—y’know, if you don’t—” He clears his throat, cutting himself off before he spirals any further. “You’re really hard to read, by the way.” You arch a brow, unimpressed. “You’re nervous.” His shoulders tense slightly. “What? No. Pfft. Me? Nervous?” He gestures vaguely between you. “I just—uh—didn’t expect this to happen after you threw me through a wall.”

“You survived.”

“Barely!”

“You’re fine,” you counter, stepping closer. His breath hitches—just a little, but you catch it. He’s still sitting on the broken concrete, looking up at you, and for all his strength, all his power, there’s something hesitant in the way he meets your gaze. You tilt your head. “You’re not used to this, are you?” Mark blinks. “Used to what?” “Someone stronger.” His mouth opens, then closes. He hesitates, then exhales a short, nervous laugh. “Wow. Okay. Just calling me out like that.” It’s not an insult, just an observation. The men here—especially the ones like him are used to being the strongest person in the room. It doesn’t matter that he’s still learning, still figuring out his limits. People look at him and see power. You wonder if anyone has ever made him feel small before. If he even knows what it’s like.

You kneel slightly, closing the height difference by roughly four inches. His breath stills. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Mark.” His lips part slightly, like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze flickers over your face, lingering for just a second too long. “…I’m not.” Lie. Not fear, exactly but something close. That nervous, unsure energy that coils in his muscles like he doesn’t know if he should lean in or back away. You’re used to confidence, used to men puffing their chests, trying to match your strength. Mark doesn’t do that. He just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure how. You decide for him. You lift a hand, slow enough that he can stop you if he wants to. He doesn’t. Your fingers graze his jaw, and he tenses. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and when you tilt his chin up, his breath catches. “I really don’t know what to do right now,” he admits, voice slightly higher than before. You smirk. “That’s new for you, isn’t it?” He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “That obvious?”

“Then let me teach you.” Mark swallows hard, his hands twitching slightly at his sides—like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he should. His pulse is quick under your fingertips, his face just inches from yours. “…Yeah,” he breathes after a moment, voice softer now. “Okay.”

his hands grip your waist, rough and sure, pulling you into him with a force that sends heat curling through your spine. His lips crash into yours—not careful, not questioning, but hungry, decisive. It takes you a moment to process it; to register the way his fingers tighten against your hips, the way his body pressed against yours, firm and demanding. Mark Grayson, who had been so nervous before, so uncertain, is kissing you like a man who finally stopped thinking and started wanting. Mark moves, twisting, and before you can counter, the ground disappears beneath you. He takes you down with him, the two of you collapsing onto the rubble left in the wake of your fight. The impact sends up a small cloud of dust, but neither of you care. He’s already back on you, already pushing up on his elbows to hover over you, breath warm against your lips. His voice is rough, a little unsteady. “You keep acting like you’re the only one who can take control.” You smirk, fingers trailing along his jaw. “Prove me wrong.”

Mark stares at you. Mid kiss, you’ve fumbled the bag and told him, in clear, matter-of-fact detail, that on Themyscira, men do not live after mating with an Amazon. And he is very much a man. His mouth opens. Closes. Then, finally: “Okay.” He lifts a finger, his voice rising slightly. “Uh. I—Okay. I really need you to explain how we got here.” You fold your arms, unimpressed. “We were talking about your customs romantically. I shared mine.” You explained. “Right. Right.” He nods rapidly, pacing for a second before spinning back around to face you. “And—just so I’m understanding this correctly—your custom is that if we—uh—mate, you have to kill me afterward?”

“Yes.”

Mark makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and a panicked wheeze. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. And you—you don’t see a problem with that?” You tilt your head. “I see a problem for you.” Mark runs both hands through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Okay. See, that is the part I’m stuck on. Why does that have to happen?” He inquires. “It is tradition,” you say simply. “The Amazons have no need for men beyond what they offer.” Mark lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing his face. “Great. That’s very reassuring.” You watch him carefully. You expected resistance—expected him to balk at the idea of it, at you. Men tend to do that when faced with their own mortality. And yet, he hasn’t left. He hasn’t even backed away. He’s nervous, sure, but he’s still here. Interesting. You take a slow step toward him, forcing his eyes back to yours. “Do you want to?” Mark swallows. Hard. “I—What?”

“You seem conflicted,” you observe, studying him. “If you didn’t want me, you wouldn’t still be here.” His lips part, but no words come out. His gaze flickers over your face, your stance, the way you’re looking at him. He does want you. He just doesn’t know what to do with that want when it comes with a potential death sentence. You smirk. “I wouldn’t kill you, Mark.” Mark visibly deflates with relief. “Wait. Hold on.” His brow furrows. “Then why would you even say that?” You shrug. “I never said I had to. Only that it was tradition.” Mark stares at you again, looking so caught between exasperation and disbelief that you almost laugh. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly, pointing at you. “You could have led with ‘I don’t have to kill you,’ but instead you decided to give me a heart attack first?” You tilt your head, amused. “You’re still alive.”

“Barely!” He sighs, pressing his fingers against his temples. “I think I just aged like ten years.” You close the space between you, reaching up to rest a hand on his chest. He tenses—but not in fear. His pulse thrums beneath your fingers, quick, strong. “You’re an interesting man, Mark Grayson,” you murmur, watching the way his breath catches. His hands hover uncertainly at your sides, fingers flexing like he wants to touch you. “…Yeah?” You nod, smirking. “Most would have run by now.” Mark exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. I’m really bad at making good decisions.” You hum in amusement, then lean in, lips just a breath from his. “Now, where did we leave off?”

It didn’t take long for you both to be disheveled and distracted. Mark shudders beneath you, his hands gripping your hips as you hover above him. "I won't kill you, but I can't make any promises about how hard I'll fuck you." He shudders at your words, his resolve crumbling. "I'll take my chances." You can feel his hardness pressing against your core, begging for entrance. Creamy pre-cum bubbling from his tip acted as a perfect lubricant. The slip caught your clit, each time earning a sharpened moan from you. Without warning, you slam down onto him, taking him deep inside you. The size of him certainly shows his non-human relation.

He groans, his head falling back as you begin to ride him hard and fast. Your breasts bounce with every movement, drawing his gaze like a magnet. He reaches up, cupping them in his large hands, kneading the soft flesh. "F-fuck, you're soooo beautiful; I’ve seen this in my dreams." He pants, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples. "I c-can't get enough of you." He admitted, a grin wearily etching across your lips. “W-Wouldn’t want you to, need you badly, Mark.” The simplicity yet raw need in your sentiment drives him wild.

His strong hands suddenly suction to your upper thigh, his mouth latching onto your nipple instead. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, his gaze fixed upon your pleasured expression as your combined moans vibrated the flesh. His tongue grew erratic as it sought to bring stimulation, his hips snapped forward to meet you. The swollen tip of his cock threatens to bruise your cervix with each drive. Small dust clouds from debris kicked up, the sex growing more aggressive as he realized you could handle his strength. No need to hold back, only needing to savor the feeling. A loud clap echoed within the domain; the slab of concrete shifted beneath you as his toes gripped the floor. It's taking everything within you two to hold on as your cunts arousal responds to him. Thank god you’re on earth, easier access to the best pussy he’s had so far. The only pussy he needs now. A strangled growl crawls from his throat—.

“Donald. Turn off the training facility cameras.” Cecil chimed, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “...Right away, sir.” Replied Donald as he hastily cut surveillance.

Your fingers left his chest, faint scratch marks reddening his skin. You lean down, your hair cascading around you as you capture his lips in a searing kiss. Your tongues dance together, each of you fighting for dominance. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping it tight as he thrusts up into you, meeting you stroke for stroke. You squeezed him with such vigor, pussy puffier with more pleasurable ridges. "Jesus, y-you're s-so tight," he grunts, his hands digging into your ass hard enough to leave bruises. "I'm going to make this pussy only crave me." His conviction made you laugh, a wicked sound. "Promises, promises," you taunt, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts. "But we'll see who's ruined by the end of the night."

The room fills with the sounds of your lovemaking—the slap of skin on skin, the cries of pleasure, the obscene squelch of your wetness. “Mmph…! Do you feel this, Mark Grayson?” You asked, your voice dropping to a husky whisper, and something in it—some unearthly vibration—rolled through his bones like a pulse, deep and intoxicating. “Mmm… yeah—yeah, fuck yeah, I do.” He rasps, as his teeth grit with determination. “This is how it feels to fuck someone who can handle you.” You grinned, almost sadistically, with a strong sense of pride. Your expression grew into one of lust as your nose scrunched, glistening lips singing so beautifully for him. “I’ll give you that and more.” The comment was so resolute you almost didn't hear it before you both groaned in unison. One of his hands comes up to tug your locs, preventing your teases. Your head slinging back with a loud yelp as your vision blurred.

You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. A series of pleasured whines leave your unfiltered lips. Mark must sense it too, because he flips you over onto your back, never breaking their rhythm. However, his previous efforts went for not, only spurring you on. Wisps of living shadow curled around his neck, his chest—soft and teasing, cold phantom touches caressing him in droves of trembles. They grew more intense with every stroke of gratification. “Ooh…! Mark! I— I—.” You stutter.

He pounds into you, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "Oh god, I’m gonna cum. C’mon… please… for me,” he commands so sweetly that you couldn’t deny him, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you come; I need to feel you." His words are all it takes to send you hurtling over the edge. You scream his name like a mantra, your body going limp, and he convulses above you as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows soon after, dick knotting inside you as he spills his seed deep within your walls. Harsh gasps leave you both as he nestles himself within you absentmindedly, not thinking of the consequences. Or so you thought.

Mark smiles— a small, lopsided thing. He leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips before whispering, “… Guess you’re stuck with me.”

…

Optional ending!

The Next Day

“No, Mark. After the shit you just pulled, you two are banned from the training facility indefinitely,” Cecil said, rubbing his temples like he was one bad decision away from an aneurysm.

Mark, sitting across from him with his arms crossed, groaned. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

Cecil shot him a look. “Mark, we had to evacuate three city blocks because someone thought an earthquake was happening. Do you have any idea how hard it is to explain to the public that the ‘seismic activity’ was just you and your Amazonian girlfriend going at it?”

Mark turned bright red. “Okay, in our defense—”

“There is no defense!” Cecil snapped. “You two leveled the place! I’m still waiting on a damage report for what’s left of the foundation!”

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, entirely unbothered. “It’s not my fault your training grounds weren’t built to withstand real combat.”

Cecil’s eye twitched. “It was! It just wasn’t built for you two doing whatever the hell that was!”

Mark coughed into his fist, eyes darting to the side. “...We, uh, might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

Cecil exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mark. Son. You punched through a wall mid-mission briefing the next morning.”

Mark stiffened. You turned to him, amused. “You did?”

He muttered something under his breath, ears still burning.

Cecil waved a hand. “You’re lucky we need you, otherwise I’d have you both on clean-up duty for the next decade.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “Just—do me a favor. Next time, take it off-world.”

Mark perked up. “Wait, so you’re saying we can—”

“Out of my office, Mark.”

And with that, you grabbed your still-flustered boyfriend by the wrist and gracefully exited before Cecil had an aneurysm.

Again.

[cologona]

The fact that Jason’s wearing his murderer’s old title is a fun detail for angst but good god, “taking ownership of his trauma” is not his primary reason, or even secondary reason for doing so.

Practicality is core to Jason’s character. He did not learn to use bombs because he died from an explosion, he used them because they’re destructive and remote controlled and that’s useful for his goals. Even his theatrics are for a purpose of communication. Remember that he spent all of Lost Days in the same ratty track suit, and never took credit for anyone he killed or anybody he saved. If he isn’t saying something to someone he doesn’t bother.

So what is the practical utility of taking on the Red Hood persona?

It’s crap as a symbol of fear. Unlike the silhouette of giant bat, which stokes the imagination, the sight of some guy in a helmet hardly inspires anything more than perhaps thoughts of motorcycles. The name itself is merely a reference to the costume and the costume is just a thing to hide your face. It’s the most spartan, pared down persona one could have. That it used to be Joker’s hardly helps because it was only his back when Joker was just an ordinary man— and a rather pathetic no-name fall guy at that. Anyone clued in enough to know about it is more liable to think of Jason as another nutjob than to be intimidated.

But that’s the point. Jason doesn’t need a symbol of fear because he gives people perfectly tangible reasons to fear him. The Red Hood persona is nearly devoid of expression, but because of that it’s very effective at the one thing it does express- “I am a criminal. Refer to me by color because there is nothing more to know.” Its association with Joker taints anyone else who uses it with the implication of insanity, but insanity is useful when any crook or businessman worth his salt in Gotham knows not to bother questioning the non-negotiables of its local lunatics.

Jason is an especially acrobatic single-operator pushing a seemingly altruistic agenda. It would’ve been very easy for him to get labeled as another vigilante. One that is more comfortable getting blood on his hands maybe, but a vigilante nonetheless. That he’s able to function the way he does, while still being taken seriously a rogue and crime lord is due in large part to his very deliberate presentation.

Why, if Jason thinks what he does is good and necessary, does he present himself this way? Maybe because from the start, his beliefs were more nuanced than one would be lead to believe. That Jason thinks his actions are necessary does not mean he must also think they should be attributed to righteousness or justice. He explains in Outsiders: PAYG— what it means for a ‘bad guy’ to do something is different from if a ‘good guy’ does the same thing. Jason essentially makes the same point Tim once made to Huntress about public trust in heroes but from the opposite angle.

The assertions modern comics make about why Jason has the Red Hood mantle (and why he uses a crowbar) ring very hollow to me. It feels like an almost deliberate push to erase the complexity he had as a villain in favor of a squeaky clean redemption arc. The way I see it though, so long as Jason remains Red Hood any sort of “redemption” he has is a false one. He’s still holding onto the symbol of his convictions, just because he’s willing to betray himself and others for love doesn’t mean that he’s changed his mind about how it all works.

[unwanted-house-guest]

How about this Version.

The Ring of Rage was never part of the King's Regalia. it apppeared one day and offered power, power perfectly suited to the King. he was losing the battle and there is nothing he can do about it.

how can he be king when he can't protect his people?

The king was fine but his people are dying. he can take it but he doesnt have the ability to deal with so many... and his people was dying.

How dare they kill my people! How dare they treat us power sources! as Slaves! as if their people had not worshipped us as gods

He needed more power, so he told the council of his plan. of this damnable Cursed ring that surely preyed on him for a purpose. a contigency was placed.

Ghost are powered by emotion,they are only as strong as their emotions. the lengthy war has taken a toll on them all. Tired is never a good emotion, especially for them. Tired meant fading. the King doesnt have much of a choice.

So What if the source of that emotion is from somewhere else, would it fuel to do what he must. if he gets Raw unfiltered emotion as powersource so he can destroy the bastards and their iterations in the multiverse. if they chain us once they chain us all in every iteration. I cannot let this happen no matter what.

King of the Outcasts, a Pariah, and thus himself shall cast himself to a fate worse than death to protect what he loved.

if this is what it takes, so be it.

The Red Lantern ring replaces the heart of its bearer, rendering it useless. The blood spoils, and the ring expels it from the bearer's mouth in a vomit of violent rage. A Red Lantern's veins stretch as they fill with the liquid fire of the red light, making them give into the rage and hatred in their hearts until it is all that they know, an all-consuming need for revenge and destruction, in turn taking over their minds.

Destroy this Dimension that chose to Subjugate us and eveything that can threaten our people.

Pity, the poor King. Lost to the Dark. Lost himself. forgot what what he strove to protect once vengeance was given.

I had hoped being Dead and made of ectoplasm it cant affect us. Forgive me, do what you must. Traitors!! How dare you!! all of you, I'D KILL ALL OF YOU

We'll meet again,My king. just not for a very, very long time.

So the contingency was used, they lay the poor king to an eternal slumber. no one has the heart to end the tragic king, not when the ring is at fault poisoning.

May he one day feel a great enough hope to overcome their rage, to unbind the cursed ring. for now, Sleep eternally.

periodically, they had to weaken the king by purging his ectoplasm, forcing to his weakest form. the Ectoplasm, true to the curse of the ring, is spoiled. it will corrupt everything around it just like the damned ring.

Best banish to the material plane rather keep it here where emotions takes tangible forms. at least it would stay in one place not spontanously grow legs to roam around or worse, sentience and attack. at least it will stay in a pit and people can avoid it.

a Pathway opened from our realm to the material plane. a new world. with it like a little Baby Ghost, a small spark of Hope and wonder.

Why not go out a play with the kid? see what he's made off.

The child never knowing the truth held firm. he start to believe in himself. a little bit surer. still a mess but hopeful that things will get better

Show him the worst outcome that thing DON'T get better but worse. see if he breaks.

the child Hopes to change the future, believes in a better future. despite everything he still believes. he befriends even those who harmed him the most. a little StarChild shinning even in the darkest of night.

it seems it's time to give the guards of the king's casket a vacation

In front of the once great king is a Baby Ghost, a Child full of HOPE. a natural enemy of that damnable Ring. HOPE to save his town, his people, a HOPE far stronger than anything he had seen. a child of Starlight, of Wishes, of Hope and protection.

One day, that effect of that damnable will wear off. for now, my once and future king, you should sleep it off.

the Damnable cursed ring shattered, but the effects of it still lingers. it seems i'd have to expel the built up corrupted ectoplasm, still until the only generate the healthy kind.

One day, you and the Baby ghost will end that Damnable Red Lantern corp and it's creator. for now, He will live, grow and become truly a being of hope. we have all the time in the world, after all.

It seems fragments of the cursed ring have bonded themselves to a mortal. the StarChild just happened to run into them. the only way to destroy a Red Lantern Ring is through hope or love. the problem is that the mortal itself have been burned too much and never dares to hope. the StarChild is far too emotionally hurt to fully use Hope energy for now.

It's just fragments of the ring. try True Love's Kiss. if the person it's bonded with Truly Fall in Love than it shall break the curse of the ring fragments.

it seem i forgot to mention, that Blue lantern ring of hope or star Sapphire lantern ring could work too. it seems things will be a little interesting, for a while.

The Reason for Corruption

Dpxdc prompt #5

It is a widely used headcanon in the dpxdc fandom that the lazarus pits are corrupted ectoplasm. However I have never seen anyone give an explanation for why they are corrupted past "they're runoff of the Infinite Realms." What possibly in the dpxdc fandom could be powerful and corrupt enough to taint that much ectoplasm?

The Ring of Rage

When Pariah Dark was put in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep he was sealed with the Crown of Fire, but not the Ring of Rage.

In the time between when Pariah was sealed and Vlad found the Ring of Rage in his keep there probably could have been a couple hundred years where the ring was lost in some ectoplasm.

This gives a reason for why Jason has pit rage. There's nothing more corrupting than the Ring of Rage. Rage is (quite literally) in its job description.

It also explains why the pit healed his injuries and made him physically stronger. With the Crown of Fire, the Ring of Rage gives infinite power, so on its own it should still be pretty powerful. If mixed with ectoplasm (something known to bring things back to life) it could probably do more than just bring the person to the state they were in before they died.

And with power comes corruption, which can explain why Ra's al Ghul is so enamored with the pits. While keeping him alive for hundreds of years past when he should have reasonably expired is good on its own, the power of the pits corrupting him does make sense when you think about it.

I'd also find it really funny if Danny saw Jason and is just like, "excuse me when did you get your hands on the Ring of Rage."

Like he thought that thing was sealed with Pariah and then later sealed in his own haunt. Why does this random twenty something crime lord have the Ring of Rage's power intertwined with his (not even fully formed) core.

Danny: see's residue of the ring of rage's power on jason

Danny: now correct me if i'm wrong

Danny: but that is Not Right

[compress1repress]

i feel like i never read abt patrick getting aftercare 😭 i feel like it's usually regulated to bottom art fics since he comes across as more in need of affirmation? but we all know pat is just as hungry for that shit, probably on an even deeper fear-rooted level. like i think he's usually a yapper and bounces right back but once in a while gets super quiet and it freaks artashi out. he makes me think of that daredevil tweet that's like "[patrick zweig] cries before and after sex but never during. during sex he has a fucking JOB to do"

yasss boy loves to be smacked around and degraded by the ppl he loves! boy has also been alone for 12 years! boy has mad abandonment issues! boy probably has sexual trauma from being on the road! in conclusion: boy needs to be squeezed and headscratched and loved on 🙏 artashi im beaming you a mission from god

ok sorry I wrote a 4k+ word fic (that got a bit dark) in response to this 😭 but let me ramble first:

I think about this a LOT (my throuple fic that I'm in the process of writing gets into this a little, and artashi will be giving him that aftercare 🙏) but yeah he has been SO lonely he needs to be hugged so bad but he would never say that.

i think safewords would be such an issue for him because he would be terrible at using them. or if they don't have specific safewords he's just bad at expressing when something is too much for him. Because he loves to be degraded and he's a masochist so he loves pain even when it hurts too much because it feels good... mostly. but when it gets to a point of not feeling good or he's just not in the mood for it that day, he refuses to say that

it's partially an ego thing, that he wouldn't want to admit that he couldn't take something but also i think it ties up with him needing to sleep with people for a place to stay and the weird power dynamics of that

Anyway I got struck with inspiration so here's the fic :)

art x tashi x patrick

cw: nsfw mdni, consent issues, rough sex, blood

***

1.

It had been a particularly rough session, like it often was. The way Patrick loved. Having them shoving him around, pushing him down, humiliating him, degrading him. It was working for him until it wasn't.

He was laid out on his back, Tashi was riding him as Art made out with her. They often did this, a punishment for him when he'd been annoying (on purpose). They'd fuck him but basically ignore him, only focusing on eachother. Like he was a toy for them to use however they liked. It was fucking hot.

Today though it made nausea swirl in his stomach.

Did they even want him here? What's to stop them doing this with any random guy off the street? What if they got bored of him, replaced him, and then he was on his own again?

He tries to shake it off because he's into this, and they don't always ignore him. They only do it when he's purposefully driven them to it, because he wants it.

He tries to grab at Tashi's waist even though he's not allowed. Neither of them look at him as Art pushes his hand off and Tashi brings a hand across his face, the sound of the slap echoing.

She does it a lot, it gets him off, except because she's not looking she hits slightly off, catching his nose with her wedding ring.

The pain radiates and he brings a hand up to his nose. Blood. Shit.

His dick twitches at first but then the pain gets worse, a deep aching. That combined with the fact that it was her wedding ring, identical to Art's. The wedding rings they have because they are married to eachother. That Patrick doesn't have because he's not part of that. Not connected to them in any meaningful way.

He feels wetness at the corner of his eyes, willing it away because it's fucking stupid. And Art and Tashi haven't finished yet so he's got to hold on. He can handle a bloody nose, he's not a pussy.

They haven't noticed so he doesn't say anything, trying to just focus on the feeling of Tashi warm and tight around him, of the sight of Art's back, his muscles flexing as he rubs at Tashi's clit.

He can almost cope but then because he's lying down, he feels the blood block his nose, starting to unpleasantly drip down the back of his throat. He's trying so hard to hold on, doesn't want it to end, doesn't want to look weak.

Suddenly the feeling of it at his throat is too much and he starts to cough, sitting up and spluttering.

"What the fuck," they both say in unison turning to him.

Then they take him in properly. He probably looks a mess, blood around his nose and now coming out of his mouth as he spits it out.

"What happened?" Art's asking, his eyebrows drawn together as a vaguely horrified look crosses his face.

"Was that me?" Tashi's sliding off him now, worry in her voice.

"We don't have to stop, it looks worse than it feels," he assures, even though it feels pretty fucking bad, "it's fine, I think you just clipped me in the nose with your ring."

He's smiling at them but they just look more concerned.

"Patrick, why didn't you use the safeword?" Tashi asks, more confused than angry.

They did have a safeword, even though Patrick didn't feel like he needed one. It was more for Art and Tashi than it was for him.

He'd suggested something tennis related but Tashi had vetoed saying it might be confusing in case they were just using that word normally, not in the safeword way.

Patrick had asked why the fuck Novak Djokovic would come up naturally during sex but Art had just agreed with Tashi.

They settled on bumblebee in the end, which felt a little ridiculous but he figured it didn't matter since he wouldn't be using it.

"I didn't use the safeword because I'm fine, a little blood isn't going to keep me down," his insistance is undermined somewhat by the way his voice sounds, so he coughs a little more to clear his throat.

Then he's having a coughing fit which just makes everything worse because his eyes are watering like crazy now. It might look like he's crying or something.

"Shit, Patrick," Art is scrambling over to tap him on the back, "are you okay?"

Once he stops coughing, he responds, "yes, let's get back to it."

"I don't think any of us want to carry on, you don't have to-" Art starts but Patrick interrupts.

"I'm not doing anything, I'm being serious, I think it's hot," he grins at them but it comes out strained, "I can be into blood."

"No one's asking you to be into it," Tashi tells him, an edge to her voice.

Art's rubbing his back and Tashi's staring at him intently, probably looking at the way his eyes are still damp.

"I know, I just mean I'm not crying over a slap or something," he feels the need to say, "I like it."

"No one would think you're a pussy for using the safeword," Tashi tells him, "we have one for a reason."

"Especially if you are literally choking on your own blood," Art jokes, before getting solemn, looking deeply at him, "Patrick, seriously, it's fucking scary."

"Alright, in the future I'll try to have less scary sex injuries," he teases.

"No, in the future you'll use the safeword," Tashi cuts in, tone stern

"Alright," he holds his hands up, smiling.

"I mean it, Patrick, it's not funny," her face is absent of anger, that's how he knows she's being earnest, "you've got to promise me you'll use it."

He doesn't say anything so she continues.

"I won't fuck you if you don't," she threatens.

"Sure," he nods, trying to keep some levity, and because he knows Tashi couldn't keep that promise. She can tell what he's thinking.

"Fine, I'll make him stop fucking you," she points to Art. Oh, she's serious.

He looks to Art who just shrugs.

"Fine, I promise to use the safeword," he sighs but looks Tashi in the eyes, hoping that she'll know he means it. She must because she nods at him satisfied.

"Oh thank god, I was really going to miss fucking you," Art whispers in his ear.

"Yeah?" Patrick smirks trying to lean in to Art but he bumps his nose sending a shock wave of pain, "shit."

"But we're definitely not doing that today," Art gives him a kiss on the shoulder instead.

Before Patrick can call him a killjoy he sees Tashi glaring at him, so he adjusts his answer, "yeah ok, no more fucking today."

"Good," Tashi stands up, "now I'm going to get you a towel, and you better hope none of that blood got on my sheets."

He smiles to himself. She's looking after him. It's very sweet.

As she heads to the bathroom, Art moves to sit in front of him, "you look crazy."

"Wish you'd been the one to do it?" He can't stop himself saying.

"Patrick," is all Art says, pleading, warning and exasperated all at once.

"I was joking," he tries but Art just sighs.

He reaches a hand to the corner of Patrick's eye, swiping with his thumb, he doesn't say anything more except, "I'm getting you a painkiller."

When they both come back they work together to clean him up, it's really not that much blood, and he spat most of it into his hands. Still, Tashi is precise in the way she dabs the towel at his face, avoiding pressing too hard or too close to his nose.

As Tashi rubs his hands, Art uses his forefinger under Patrick's chin to tilt his head up, putting two ibuprofen on his tongue. He even holds the glass of water to Patrick's mouth.

He swallows the pill, and Art rubs his back again, softly. Tashi keeps cleaning him, even when he knows the blood must be gone, inspecting his hands, holding his face to make sure it's all gone.

He thinks this might be the most they've touched him without fucking him. Well, since he'd 'moved in' at least. Might be the most anyone's touched him, non-sexually, in the past decade. He tries not to think about.

Doesn't want to ruin how nice this is. Maybe using a safeword wouldn't be so bad.

***

2.

Patrick hadn't been in the mood today, it was a rare occurrence but it happens. Art and Tashi clearly had been, so Patrick had gone along with it.

On the couch watching some bullshit home renovation show that Tashi put on when she wanted to pretend like they were actually going to watch TV. Patrick had observed the way they got closer, Art rubbing at Tashi's thigh as she kept directing his hand up further.

He liked watching them like this, it was still nice this time but he just couldn't find it in himself to get horny. They kept looking over at him and he felt the need to insert himself, joining in at Tashi's other side, kissing at her neck. He's sure it will come to him soon.

It doesn't, even as they all stumble into the bedroom, making out, getting each other undressed until they were all naked. Patrick lay out, enjoying watching them, being close to them, but he just wasn't horny.

He could just watch them fuck, he's done it before, but the fun of that is that Art and Tashi get to see how bad he wants them. How he can't have them. He'll sit watching, dick straining through his pants if he's tied up, or furiously jerking off if he's not.

But that only works if he's hard. They're not going to want him sitting there, flaccid and not interested in fucking them. He's no use to them like that. What's the point of him being in the room? He'll probably have to go sleep in the guest room while they fuck it out.

What's the point of him even being here at all, if he's not going to fuck them? Isn't that why they're letting him stay? Isn't that why anyone lets him stay?

"Patrick," Art snaps him out of his thoughts, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, just zoned out," he looks up at them.

"Right," Tashi says, slow.

Before they can think about it too much he pushes himself up to join again, make himself useful, prove why he's here. He grabs the back of Tashi's head pressing his lips to hers, letting Art come up behind him, his front against Patrick's back.

Tashi pushes at him, wanting him to turn to Art, meaning she wants them to kiss for her. He can work with that. He's not getting hard but he can work with it.

Tashi's at his back now, kissing his neck, he connects his and Art's lips, trying to make it good. He wonders how long he can get away with it.

"I want you to fuck me," he whispers to Art.

"How bad?" Art asks, but then, shit, he's reaching his hand down his body, "Patrick?"

"Yeah?" He pretends not to know what Art is asking.

"What's wrong?" Tashi rests her chin on his shoulder.

"He's not-" Art starts but Patrick stops him.

"That's why I said I wanted you to fuck me, don't need my dick for that," he tries to lean back in but Art pulls away. Patrick tries not to let it sting.

"I don't think he's going to want to fuck you if you're not into it," Tashi interjects.

"We can do doggy style, that way he'll never know," Patrick attempts but clearly it isn't funny to them, "I just mean, I'm sure little Patrick will perk up after some action."

"Don't fucking-" Art starts before adjusting himself, "if you're not in the mood it's okay."

"I'll get in the mood, or" he has an idea, slipping off the bed, getting on his knees, "I can blow you, let you use my mouth."

"Not the point Patrick," Tashi narrows her eyes.

"Don't worry I won't leave you out, you can sit on my face after," he grins at her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tashi's suddenly snapping, desperation tinging her words, "of course we don't want to fuck you when you're not into it, who do you think we are?"

"I know," he gets out, voice small.

"Then why are you so insistent?" Art cuts in.

"It's what I'm here for."

What I am for, in general. He wants to say.

"Is that what we're for?" Tashi raises an eyebrow at him.

"It's your house," is all he can think to say, but it's clearly wrong because both their faces drop.

"What and you're paying your way here with your body or something, is that what you think?" Tashi's angry, and all he can do is stay knelt, "we're your fucking pimps?"

"Well technically you'd be Johns, since you're the customers," he jokes.

Tashi just stands up and starts getting dressed silently, before walking out, closing the door behind her. Then he's just left kneeling, staring up at Art.

Art turns away, reaching for his clothes too. Patrick can't even move, just left naked and alone.

"Get up here," Art speaks, shaking Patrick out of his thoughts, "and put some clothes on."

He finally gets up, grabbing his boxers, pulling them on silently before taking a seat next to Art on the edge of the bed.

"I don't get it, since when would you sleep with someone, not for your own pleasure?"

"Are you calling me selfish?" Patrick smiles.

Art finally returns it, "yeah, I am."

Tashi comes back in, standing with her hands on her hips but she looks on edge, "Are you ready to be serious now?"

You came back. He doesn't say that.

She looks between them both, "why are you smiling?"

"Art was telling me how selfish I usually am," Patrick explains.

Tashi's lips twitch at that and she moves to sit on the bed with them, on Patrick's other side.

"That's why I'm confused, it's not like you to be like this," her voice goes softer, "you really think we're that awful?"

"It's not a big deal okay, it's not about you," he just wants to move on.

"Do you actually think we'd kick you out for not fucking us?" Art looks nervous, fiddling with his fingers.

"I don't know," Patrick does know, but he's not going to say. Not going tell Art he's scared of being alone again, "it happens."

"What do you mean?" Art asks.

Patrick groans, falling back and throwing an arm over his face, "nothing."

It makes him feel like a child.

"Patrick, you know when I saw you at the hotel with that woman, how often do you do that?" Tashi pushes not letting him off, and shit, she's too smart.

"What woman?" Art questions.

"Don't be jealous," Patrick interjects but they both ignore him.

"He was using a date to find a place to sleep," Tashi answers and Patrick peeks out from under his arm to see his reaction. Art actually grimaces.

Ugh.

"So what? Sorry I can't afford fancy fucking hotels every week," his skins itches with the feeling of their eyes on him, "you can't be mad at me for sleeping around, it's none of your business."

They were married to eachother, and they're mad at him for sleeping with a few (many) random people? It's not fair.

"I'm not mad, I'm concerned," Art tries to stroke his thigh, probably in comfort, but it makes him feel worse.

"Fucking prudes," he mutters to himself, "you expected me to celibate for a decade? Me?"

"Did you ever do this with them? Having sex when you weren't hard?" Tashi won't let up and he hates how she's picking him apart.

"Well if I'm on a date with a complete stranger and asking to go back to their place, it's kind of expected, I can't just not have sex with them" he says trying to prove how ridiculous it would be but they just look more worried, "most of the time I was into it, I like to fuck," he shrugs.

"But not all the time?" Art presses.

"I guess, but it's not like I could just be like oh sorry I don't want to have sex right now but can you just let me stay in your house anyway?" He laughs but it's a hollow fake thing.

It really wasn't often but sometimes when he'd been staying at someone's for a few nights, and he was tired from a match he wouldn't really want to have sex that night. Or when someone didn't look like their picture. Or when they were into something that he wasn't. Or he was into it but didn't particularly trust the person.

Sometimes he would leave, just sleep in his car instead or find another date if it wasn't too late. But other times he really needed a place and it felt worth it, it's not like he was being forced or anything. There just weren't that many options.

"Patrick you have to know that's kind of fucked," Art is moving the arm off his face, trying to look him in the eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it," he can't get into it now, not with their faces looking like that.

Art tries to say something else but Tashi saves him, "we can stop for tonight."

He knows they'll have to talk about it another time but he's grateful she's finally letting him off the hook.

"But you can't do that with us, ever again," she continues, sharp and serious, "we're not random strangers from a fucking dating app. You have to tell us if you're not in the mood."

"I know," he replies, looking at the ceiling.

"We're not going to kick you out for not having a boner," Art says it so sincerely that it makes Patrick laugh.

Art glares at him.

"I believe you, man, it's just the way you worded it," Patrick holds his hands up in surrender, Art smiles, and he thinks even Tashi does a little.

"Alright, let's just go to sleep," Art taps his leg.

They let him sleep in their bed that night, the first time he's been allowed to do that outside from when they pass out there after sex.

It's nice. Really nice.

***

3.

This time had been great. He'd been in the mood. Really in the mood. Grabbing at Tashi and Art desperately, touching himself even when they told him not to. He knew how to get what he wanted.

Laid out on his back with his hands above his head tied to the bed post. Art was fucking into him, tight grip on his thighs, and Tashi was riding his face.

It was perfect, he couldn't move, all his senses completely overtaken by them both. They'd teased him, got him close to the edge a few times but not let him over, he couldn't see but he could feel his dick straining, probably bright pink and leaking.

He could barely breathe as Tashi used his mouth to get off, grinding against his face until she was shaking with her orgasm. She slides off him and he takes in a deep breath.

Now his mouth is free he's immediately asking, "touch me?"

"You're so impatient," she's out of breath too.

"Art?" He's pleading with his eyes.

"Don't go running to him for help," she grabs his face turning it to her, "you never fucking learn."

God it's getting him off, his brain fuzzy, not working right, "can't think."

"Can't do anything right," she spits at him.

He wants to remind her he just got her off but he's too desperate, just wants somebody to touch him.

"Sorry," he gets out, moaning as Art thrusts into him somehow faster.

Tashi's smirks, like she always does when he's too fucked out to fight back anymore. When she's won.

He fucking loves it.

She takes mercy on him, "guess I can forgive you, not your fault you get so stupid on his dick. Not your fault you're such a slut for it."

He's whining, trying not to beg.

Tashi knows what he wants, she turns to Art, "what do you think, baby? Has he earned it?"

Patrick squeezes around Art making him moan, "fuck. So tight."

"Art." Tashi scolds.

"Yeah, yeah he's earned it," he rambles out.

Patrick looks up at Tashi, begging with his eyes, she's in a good mood today so she nods in agreement.

"Alright, you've earned it," she moves her hand on his face, prying his mouth open with her fingers, "but you haven't been good, this is still a punishment, so I want you choking around my fingers, okay?"

Patrick nods the best he can with her hand in his mouth like that. She does this more often now, warning him before she does something.

Then she's shoving her fingers in, without hesitation to the back of his throat. He gags around them and it makes Art fuck him harder.

"That's right," she smirks at him, then addresses Art, "only touch him when you're about to come."

It turns out that's pretty soon because Art's hips are stuttering and he's reaching for Patrick's dick. He's so close too, with Art stretching him, the ache in his arms, and the burn of the restraints on his wrists. The way Tashi is relentless with her fingers, basically fucking his mouth.

It doesn't take much more, the feeling of Art's cum spilling inside him and a few clumsy strokes pushes him over the edge.

As he finishes his hips jerk up and he instinctively takes Tashi's fingers deeper, cutting off his breathing for a moment.

When Art pulls out, and Tashi removes her hand he feels dizzy, on a different plane of existence.

He thinks they're asking him something but he can't hear, just lays there breathing.

Suddenly feeling awash with dread for some reason.

"Was I good?" He says, but it gets caught in his throat. Not sure anything actually came out.

He's vaguely aware of one of them untying his wrists, and he finally relaxes his arms at his side.

"Patrick," Art's shaking him by the shoulder, and he's finally able to hear again.

"Sorry, my ears were ringing," he gives a weak smile.

He doesn't want to get up but he knows it's time for him to go to the guest room. Tashi's mom is coming over early in the morning which means he can't sleep in their bed.

"I'll just clean up in your bathroom then go to bed," he mumbles out, on autopilot.

He gets up, aching all over. Aware of them watching him.

Was I good? Echos in his head but he keeps his mouth shut.

After cleaning the cum off himself he leaves their en suite, ready to walk past them silently to go to the guest room.

Tashi's standing there, "get in the bed," she orders.

He crawls in reluctantly, knowing it's only going to make it harder when he has to leave,"I can't fall asleep here remember, your mom's coming over early."

He's got Art on one side of him as Tashi slips in on his other side, "we'll just wake up early, she won't come to the bedroom anyway."

"You can sleep in though," Art chimes in, "you must be tired."

"Not too much," Tashi adds, pausing, "but yeah, sleep in a little."

"I can sleep here?" He still sounds out of it, half wondering if he's not hearing correctly.

"You've done it before," Tashi chuckles, all warm and soft.

"I know," he breathes out, "but never when other people will be here."

Tashi just hums, stroking his bicep, "how do your arms feel?"

"They ache a bit," he says carefully, she doesn't normally ask about that.

Art's touching him too, inspecting where the restraints had been, "and your wrists?"

"Sore, I guess," he answers.

Tashi keeps stroking him, and Art is kissing at the red marks on his wrist.

"Was I good?" Spills out of Patrick finally, and actually audible this time.

Art's face crumples a bit, but he regains composure, "yeah, you were good."

"Really, good," Tashi adds, kissing his shoulder, "so good for us, right Art?"

"The best," Art's pulling him in, cuddling him as Tashi presses up behind him.

If he had asked why they were being so nice to him Art and Tashi would've said something like this: because after you finished you went basically unresponsive, and didn't reply when we asked if you were ok. Then when you finally did, you got up like a fucking zombie, walking to the bathroom with this horrible look on your face. Felt like you needed to be treated gentle. Even if you'd never say that.

He doesn't ask though, doesn't say anything else, just lets them kiss at him, telling him that he did a good job.

Art pushes himself further up the mattress so that Patrick can fall asleep tucked into his neck, and he can kiss the top of Patrick's head. Tashi spoons him from behind, an arm draped over him.

He falls asleep pressed between them, they hold him tight, covering every part of him, squeezing out the last drops of loneliness.

***

an: not proofread but will probably be cross posting to ao3 soon, thank you for reading :) (more Patrick being treated nice in other fics, i promise 🙏)

[xoxoaugust]

holidays

pro footballer!rin itoshi x childhoodbsf!reader

now playing : holidays by Conan Gray

-▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

years have passed since the two of you have seen each other

December 23rd, 2023

You have just landed at the airport, frankly exhausted and drained. Visiting home for the holidays after maybe five years of being away for school, now work. You called your mom, telling her that you’ll be home in a bit since you had just landed.

Tightening your coat around you, you walked out of the airport to find your uber to finally take you home. Sniffling a bit from the cold and taking in the scenery, your mind drifts off to old memories. Snowball fights and putting up wreaths, you really missed it, you missed being a naive little kid.

Your nostalgic break was interrupted by your uber, which finally pulled up to take you home. Staring out the window, you would mentally point out buildings that you remembered from five years ago. Your school, your favorite store, favorite restaurants. You snapped out of the daze you were in and checked your phone for any texts. It was around midnight so you assumed there wouldn’t be any, but unbeknownst to you, a text from an unexpected send would be waiting for you.

12:47 AM

no caller ID

Hey, is this y/n?

You

Who is this??

no caller ID

I don’t think I need to say, I just need to know if this is y/n

You

Then you don’t get to know if this y/n

no caller ID

This is Rin Itoshi.

You

Rin???

Rin Itoshi

Yes?? Can I know if this is y/n now?

You

Yes it’s me, it’s been a while! I haven’t seen you in ages

Rin Itoshi

Yeah I know, I wanted to ask if you’re back in town for holiday season

You

Yeah I am, im gonna be here for around two weeks!

Rin Itoshi

I’m here for two weeks too, we should catch up soon

You

Of course! Let me know if you have a place to go!

Rin Itoshi

👍

You caught yourself smiling at your phone, same old Rin.

You still remember how your childhood best friend was then, and he hasn’t changed. The same considerate nature, the cold demeanor hasn’t changed but his heart was always in the right place. He was always thinking of others, he was the first to remember what people liked and disliked.

In elementary school, people thought he was weird. Falling over on purpose, for fun? Or maybe attention? It was weird, but you didn’t care. You would fall over with him, you would give him bandaids, making sure you always had matching bandaids. You watched him play soccer with his brother, in awe of his talent. You were his number one supporter through and through. The two of you always got popsicles together, that was your favorite thing to do after every hangout. Rin treasures those memories, getting popsicles with you and his older brother.

In middle school/junior high, the two of you got even closer, inseparable even. Everyday after school, the two of you would go off and do whatever. Get food, play soccer, stop by that one cafe that served the coffee that was too bitter for the two of you, so you’d end up getting hot chocolate and writing latte on the cup. Those were the days you’d never forget. You remember going to the airport with Rin to say goodbye to Sae. You also remember how Rin’s face was dull afterwards, so you took him to get popsicles. That’s when you vowed to yourself that you would never let him feel sad like that again.

Come high school, things hadn’t changed between you two, until Sae’s return. Prior to Sae’s return, you would hangout after school at the fields to help him get better at soccer, then go to his house so he could get changed, then go to the cafe so you could “study”. You always had to order for him because he was always too tired to say anything to anyone other than you. Then he would complain about the coffee being too bitter and tasting weird. You would roll your eyes and tell him to order something else, but he never did. That was your little routine everyday for about a year, until Sae. One day he had told you that we would be practicing a little extra that day so you should just wait at the cafe. You waited maybe two hours before deciding to go to the field to make sure he’s okay. News flash, he was far from okay. As you approached the field, you saw two figures conversing. It didn’t take you a while to realize it was Sae, you had grown up with him so you knew it was him. You looked at Rin directly, an unusual distressed look on his face. Before you could move any further, Sae started dribbling the ball to the goal. You watched the situation unfold before your eyes in horror. The defeated look on Rin’s face made it a thousand times worse. You watched Sae walk away, leaving Rin on the ground in shambles. Within seconds, you were on the field in front of Rin, trying to comfort him, trying to make him laugh or smile in any way. He didn’t smile, or laugh at all, he didn’t smile or laugh as much onwards. Your daily hangouts went from fun and laughter and conversation, to just soccer. You missed your Rin a lot, but you knew that he needed someone to rely on. You were always there to listen to what he had to say or complain about. It wasn’t long before he was offered a spot at Blue Lock, and you were off to college. You hadn’t kept in touch, mostly because he wasn’t allowed a phone and you had changed your number since then, plus you went to college in London m. It had been five whole years since you two had spoken, at all.

Your daydreaming was cut short when the Uber had finally pulled up to your driveway. You thanked the driver and grabbed your luggage. Taking in the reality that you’re actually back home, you smiled seeing how everything is just as you left it. You sighed contently, your breath visible due to the crisp cold weather outside. Walking up to the steps of your front patio, you felt warm inside. Everything was blissful as it was, just like when you were younger. Ringing the doorbell, your mother opened the door excitedly, ushering you inside. Though it was your first time back home in a while, your family had come to visit you a few times since you were too busy to go visit them, but it had still been a while since you had seen them. You sat down on the couch in the living room, a cup of hot cocoa in your hands (courtesy of your mother) catching up with your siblings. It was maybe 2:15 AM when you had said goodnight and went to your room. Your room was the same, nothing was moved, definitely cleaned but not moved. You placed your bags in the corner of your room, deciding to take a quick shower after smelling yourself. The ‘quick shower’ was 45 minutes. You got dressed and flopped onto your bed, slightly sore from the uncomfortable plane seats. You picked up your phone to place it on the charger.

3:04 AM

Rin

Hey, does Cherrywood work for tomorrow?

You

Yes! What time do you prefer?

Rin

Does 3:30 work for you? I know you’ll be tired from jet lag.

You

Yes that works! I will see you then, bye!!

Rin

Bye :)

You smiled at your phone before setting it down on the bedside table and falling fast asleep.

That same morning, you woke up around 11:30 AM. The exhaustion in your body had left, but you were physically sore. You mustered the energy to get up and make a coffee and a light breakfast, knowing that you would meet with Rin soon for a late lunch anyway.

You noticed the extra energy you were spending on getting ready. The strong perfume you had applied, remembering that Rin liked strong and bold perfumes. The extra jewelry and effort into your look was evident. You weren’t doing it for him, not for attention or anything, it was for you. You and Rin were eerily similar but just as different. You liked soccer, so did he, but he was obsessed with it. He liked strong perfumes very much, and so did you. It wasn’t liking something because someone likes it, but finding common ground and interest with a close friend.

The clock struck three o’clock and you got into your car, driving towards the place you knew oh so well. Having thirty minutes of leeway, you knew you only really had fifteen, because Rin was never late, on the contrary he was always too early for his own good. You finally reached the little cafe and parked in the spot right next to your favorite cherry blossom tree, it wasn’t in bloom but it still looked beautiful. Staring at the big sign at the front labeled Cherrywood, you smiled to yourself, memories flushing back to you.

Cherrywood Cafe was yours, and Rin’s. It was the cafe you had always gone to, everyday. You had made so many memories there, the owners knew you by name and order, they always thought you were a couple. You still remember the times Rin would surprised you on your birthday with a little set up at the cafe. Good times.

You walked inside, the owner recognized you instantly.

“Oh my goodness! You have grown so much my dear!”

You loved that sweet old lady, she was the cutest thing to ever exist.

“Come come, your boy is waiting for you.”

You instantly felt the warmth creep up to your cheeks, because you knew exactly who she was talking about. She dragged you over to the table in the corner with the large window, which had little succulents on the sill. There he was, Rin Itoshi in all his glory. He stared at you with so much intensity you thought you would puke. He stood up to greet you, well he got tall.

“Oh! Hello, it’s nice to see you.”

Well he is awkward as always.

“It’s nice to see you too Rin.” You gleamed.

The two of you sat down in awkward silence for a bit, and the food had arrived before you started the conversation.

“So how have you been, I know you’re a big shot soccer player now, how’s that going for you?” You smiled.

“It’s great honestly, not too bad, minus the paparazzi.” He said with a blank stare.

You nodded in acknowledgment, the silence was slowly creeping back in.

“How about you? What do you do now?” He asked.

“I am a physical therapist, I just completed my clinical studies. I had my white coat ceremony a while back, now im in the field. I actually get a lot of athletes, I think I met a friend of yours.” You rambled.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you meet?” He asked, it felt more like an interview.

“He was eccentric for sure, I think his name was…Shidou im not sure it was a while back.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. You stared back with a puzzled look on your face.

“Did I say something wrong?” You questioned

He sighed before starting.

“It pains me that you think that he is my friend, I would never, and I mean never, consider him my friend.”

That statement elicited a chuckle from you.

“And why is that?”

He frowned.

“You met him, he’s such an odd person.”

You laughed even harder.

“Yeah I noticed he has an obsession with Sae.”

You didn’t know what you were starting. It was like Rin was waiting for this moment his entire life.

“Right? It’s so…odd. If you like a person and you think they are talented, don’t start jumping on them and saying odd shit, on live television too. He is a PR nightmare.” He rambled on about how weird Shidou was.

You don’t think you had laughed at someone complaining this hard. Somewhere in the ramble, Rin laughed a bit too. When he finally stopped, you were still laughing, he was then just staring at you. He was too busy listening to your laugh.

“Wow you have the same laugh from when we little.”

Well that caught your attention.

“Really?” You replied

He nodded with a small smile on his face.

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed much.” He continued.

You smiled, not knowing how to respond. He was never one to be super nice, just respectful enough to get by. You would be lying if you said you didn’t like him, and his compliments.

“You changed for the better, you’re smiling more.” You complimented back.

His smile slightly fell, your smile also fell when you noticed.

“Keep smiling, it suits you.” You quickly added before finishing the last bite on your plate.

Rin had always been ghastly pale. Even being an athlete, he was very fair and it was probably one of his biggest social weaknesses. This is because, his face would turn bright red at any given moment, he could be embarrassed, shy, angry, surprised and everyone could tell, because his face had changed colors. He tried to cover it up, but as you said that, his face instantly turned pink. You pretended to not notice so he could save face but it was no use. You giggled a bit, slightly poking fun at him.

You two finally finished your lunch, getting up to pay for the meal, you insisted on paying. As you went to give your card, Rin snatched it from you and gave his instead. He handed the card to you, not uttering a single word. Walking out of the cafe side by side, he broke the silence.

“I had fun, we should stay in touch.”

“I did too, and we should, let me know if you’re ever in London.” You nudged his shoulder.

“I will I promise.” He held out his pinky, securing it with yours. He hesitated before continuing.

“You should come to one of my games, I’ll seat you in VIP.”

You looked at him, surprised and giddy.

“Oh my gosh Rin id love to see one of your games!”

He smiled, blushing furiously, he was so glad it was cold outside.

You guys parted ways again, but not for long. You texted everyday, called frequently even on busy days. You stayed in touch, a little too much maybe. When he played a game in London, you attended, sitting in the nice VIP front seat. He kept glancing your way, trying not to make it obvious so the media wouldn’t get any ideas, he already had plans to ask you out, he didn’t want rumors to ruin that.

When he won the game (obviously) he met with his team and then quickly ran over to you, telling you to meet him outside the stadium in the staff parking lot.

You stood there for maybe 15 minutes, waiting for Rin in front of his car. Then, a pair of hands came up and covered your eyes. A smile adorned your face, knowing exactly who it was. It was a bit out of character for him, but you weren’t complaining. When he lifted his hands off your eyes, you finally turned around, looking straight at Rin, who had a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a small box. He looked handsome as ever. You gasped, mouth agape, you didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t say anything, instead you instantly leapt forward and kissed him. You have been waiting for this moment for god knows how long. You felt Rin’s arms pulling you into a hug, you could tell he’s been waiting for this too. When you pulled away, he gestured you to open the small velvet box in his hand. You smiled at him before taking the box and opening it. Inside was a beautiful charm bracelet, and a ring with white and teal crystals on it. You were speechless, you didn’t think this day could get any better, until he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing a matching bracelet and ring on his hand. You hugged him so tight he couldn’t breathe properly for a bit, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was living his dream now, dream job and dream soulmate.

And it wasn’t long before you and Rin had to switch those matching rings for another set, this one had diamonds though.

xoxo, august

[luvsicktyun]

𝓓𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝓑𝐘 𝓓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐼𝒩 𝒜 𝐵𝐸𝒜𝒰𝒯𝐼𝐹𝒰𝐿 𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒟𝒪𝑀 there lived five Princes with great power. Power to control the uncontrollable. All you know about the air you breathe, the fire you light, the water you drink, the land you stand on and the ether that makes you who you are falls on the shoulders of the royal beings that lay amongst the clouds. They watch you, they walk among you and this was their story, told on the scrolls of your being and the cages of your heart. Prepare yourself, for this story will change you and all that you are.

𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡…. @hyukascampfire , @biteyoubiteme , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 彡 𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟐𝟔𝐭𝐡

𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓦𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝓢𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐜.𝐛𝐠

━ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 - @luvsicktyun

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ wind god!bakery boy!beomgyu x mortal!reader

── ꒱⠀ ‎ູㅤ ‎ིྀ You hear it in your sleep and when you’re baking bread, when you’re putting the laundry up to dry or reading a novel on the porch. You hear it. The wind, it speaks to you. It sings sweet melodies in your ear when you're sleeping. Whispering soft reassurances when you can’t figure out what to do next. The wind speaks to you. And the only one who believes you is the village bakery boy who you can’t seem to stay away from.

𝓕𝐎𝐑 𝓐𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝓦𝐇𝐎 𝓦𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝓛𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐜.𝐲𝐣

━ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 - @biteyoubiteme

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ fire god!yeonjun x psychic!reader

── જ⁀➴ Stolen in the night you have been held captive by a king who has collected people like fine jewelry and coin. Week by week he invites people from kingdoms all over to show off his riches, his prizes, his possessions. Amongst the gold is hidden a god, tricked into captivity and looking for a way out. Writing letters you burn them in fear of having anyone read about your desire to escape, only there is always someone who listens, someone who reads between the flames.

𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓥𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝓞𝐅 𝓝𝐈𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈 𝐡.𝐤

━ 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 - @beomiracles

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ ether god!kai x queen!reader

── ⏜ ꒱⠀⠀ׁ⠀⠀ׅ⠀Ether, in its rawest and purest form is nothing. But to feel ether, you must become nothing yourself. You must mimic it, become hollow and void. Only then will you truly be able to embrace it. — When the King loses his battle to the sword, the Queen will come to know nothing but emptiness. Her body and her mind is now ether’s to take, and he will do so with purpose.

𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓦𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝓖𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐤.𝐭𝐡

━ 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 - @hyukascampfire

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ earth god!herbalist!taehyun x mortal reader

── ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ. the earth is an ancient thing, wise in ways that a spoiled Lord's daughter couldn't understand. taehyun is just that—both the vine and the dainty bloom made in the flesh. he is unmoving as the dirt beneath her fine slippers, and as much as she does not understand him, she knows that she needs his help.

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝓘𝐍 𝓨𝐎𝐔 𝐜.𝐬𝐛

━ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 - @izzyy-stuff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⎯ water god!soobin x mortal!reader

── ︵⠀ Ꜥ    · In which Soobin wasn't sure what love felt like. A true, innocent connection between two people. It seemed almost like a myth to him until he saw his brothers in love. The look in their eyes-Soobin wanted to have that as well. So, he searched. He waited for centuries, watching people, trying to find a person that could make him feel the same way his brothers told him they felt with their people. And then he saw it, your eyes, the smile on your face as you talked to your friends, and he felt it. There was nothing that could stop him now, he was going to get his happy ending.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ๑ ֹ ₊ㅤ ۟ a new event! me and my girls are working so hard on this and were so excited to show you what we have!!! if you'd like to be added to the taglist for all fics comment here or send me an ask! if you'd like to be tagged in a certain fic, please send an ask to the designated author!

[candlelightreader]

They need to stop with this thing where these two adorable and intelligent people that live in the same damn house don't seem to have any meaningful conversation off camera. It's like they are Toy Story toys but in reverse. Like Schrodinger's cat, dead whenever the camera isn't on and alive when it is. How do you be married to a man for five entire years (most of the time without the kids in the house, whether it was because they were at Michael's or because they moved out) and never ask him details about his mother? What did he say when they were planning their wedding? Why is he OK with letting such a big lie go with his wife? Embarrassment is not a good enough excuse for a mature human, I'm sorry. How do you live with a woman for five years and never speak of your mother, even to get it over with? Like, "Hey I don't get along with my mother and we have been estranged basically since my family died and I prefer not to speak about her." Simple.

I just need the writers to give them more interesting conflicts if they have to create marital drama. How about someone trying to seduce either of them? How about trying to solve an issue with the kids? Or crap about being an interracial couple in this context? How about taking care of one of the 118 fam? Or better yet focusing on their partnership. When they play detective alongside each other it's always very entertaining. Why not do that more?

I don't want to complain too much though. The universe giveth and the universe also taketh. It is a rare thing to have a happy couple on TV for this many seasons. A canon OTP is a beautiful thing and I don't want them to be broken up for the sake of drama. But a little continuity and a modicum (not total I'm fine with the campiness) of realism would be nice. I can believe them surviving multiple super disasters. But the characterization issues just personally take me out of the story.

I think the lack of planning also explains the way some of the character arcs fall flat or never come back again. And it gets frustrating to lack basic storytelling 101. That is, we should be able to go back to a previous season or even a few episode before and notice that something was up that we just didn't catch. Chekov's gun is meant both as an imperative to minimize unnecessary details that won't pay off later and don't serve the plot, as well as a statement on the importance of remaining coherent if you write things later into the plot. (Otherwise it's a soap opera. Are we watching a soap opera. Omg. Maybe I'm the problem for misreading the genre when its been an elvated soap all this time.)

We see, for instance, that Bobby doesn't react in any way to the conversation about parenting one's parents when they're in Florida, making it clear that the writers had clearly not yet drafted the idea that Bobby parented his dad when he was just a child. And nothing ever indicated anything about his mom until all of a sudden it's a whole thing. Why didn't he think of at least reaching out to his brother as part of step 9 when they made a whole thing about it with Amir? Oh and we can see this trend very well earlier, when Wendell is introduced out of the blue as this supremely important character just for the purpose of providing Bobby with angst. I don't mean to say they should've thought about this in season 2. But they could've done a better job of soft launching Wendell over the course of a few episodes leading up to the one he died in, so we could care about him. Thank the goddesses that Peter Krause is a great actor because I enjoyed seeing him act despite not feeling much attachment to Wendell. I have cared more about random victims of a random call the team responds to than I did for Wendell.

Hen cheating in season 1 is perhaps the worse this trend ever was. But to be fair, everyone was all over the place in season 1. I would also add Buck's sexual orientation. I truly didn't see this coming at all. We don't get to see Buck coming to terms with it in very subtle ways (ones we may even have missed on first watch) before rushing into his first same sex relationship. If you rewatch after finding out, there is no indication, only inferences you can make in hindsight to make it floe better. That is not the same as subtext and hidden meaning!

And this would be fine if they did not make the bisexuality a big deal. But they do! He's not just a character who happens to be bi to the point where no one truly discusses its meaning. No. They make his coming out a whole thing! It is something he has to deal with and speak of, it changes him, and becomes something that is woven crucially into his character development and arc. So in that sense, you can't have it just appear out of nowhere narratively speaking. You can't just all of a sudden tell us he was checking guys out. You have to show us.

A good dropping hints they do is with Amir. Not solving that in one go and dragging it out all the way to the fire being connected to Bobby and Amir's little misadventure is great. There is a thread there that allows it to feel satisfactory, even as one may criticize the fact that that was a convoluted way to burn the house.

(And evidently you get another instance of complete communication breakdown because Bobby doesn't tell Athena shit and she also does some stupid shit like invite Amir then go after him with a damn gun after telling her kids she's by the books and cops don't abuse their power.)

Ultimately, I think narratively what is wrong with the writing is tied to relying so much on just telling us things instead of showing us (instead they take this energy in building backstories for victims that rival those of the main characters sometimes). We are TOLD about how convoluted the relationship Bobby and his mom is, instead of being shown things the way we were with his dad, for instance. We are TOLD about this failed relationship with his brother instead of being shown. As a result, I don't care much. I can just forget these conversations ever happened and it won't change a thing.

While they don't have to have figured everything out referring to where the story will end, at least they should map out character plots over the course of each season. They need a show bible! An outline of who these characters are exactly, even though we may never get to explore all those aspects, would avoid derailing characters just for zhuzh.

Anyway, I really love Athena and Bobby to death. I think they are fantastic characters. I just wish they were better handled and their arcs more carefully flushed out individually and as a couple, so that they don't so often just do things for the sake of drama that simply do not mesh with the characters they are projected to be most of the time. I think Angela Bassett and Peter Krause deserve better stories to sink their teeth into. Let them act with subtlety during foreshadowing so that they may get a satisfactory build up! And the audience deserves not to be taken for goldfish brains.

I acknowledge that several interruptions skewed the development of the plot, from the pandemic to the writers' and actors strikes to the move in networks. I really hate how we have some season that are so short. We could've had so much more with an 18 ep pilot season! Nevertheless, the MO of just dropping a random drama is a feature at this point, but a bug.

Phew. Glad I got that off my chest.

[bwobgames]

It’s 10:50 pm

“Hey, how did it go. Are you alright with the kid or do we need to sleep with one eye open?”

“We’re good now”

“Although now I owe Sebasti��n a favour”

“Huh? Was he there?”

“Ah, well, he cleared some of my points”

“Man, perhaps I really should hire you as my social situation interpreter”

“Oh baby, for you it’s all free”

“You’re insufferable”

“Eepy time, then? Two Mimir? Did you brush your teeth on the way? I’m already done with my skincare routine”

“Heehoo”

“Yeah…”

He puts on his pyjama and sits for a little while.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. I just… been thinking”

“About your dad again?”

“About the house.”

“Did you… feel something?”

“No but, what if this is, let’s say, some kind of evolution?”

“A sneakier house?”

“Maybe.”

“Remember when we analysed the doctor’s investigations? The feeling we proposed it might be?”

“Grief.”

“I fear that. If we or our friends or the other passengers or by accident…!”

“If someone breaks the current purpose, could we…?”

“Could someone accidentally give it a new one with their grief?”

“Are you thinking of someone specifically? Nina, maybe?”

“Ah, well, this thing is hosting a ton of people so, possibilities are not zero”

“Oliver. Do you think you…?”

“No.”

“No. I have nothing to grieve for. It’s been plenty of time already.”

“It’s not even been a month”

“I know. But by any means, I shouldn’t be grieving”

“Grandma lived a long and fulfilling life. She had her chickens. She had her family. She had just enough to be happy.”

“She never had to worry about the city life, content with the wonders of the south”

“Everyone got to see her at the hospital. And she died in her sleep. The most peaceful way to go”

“You even got to meet her. To talk to her. To know her. And she liked you”

“She liked you enough to ask to come by next year...”

“Oliver…”

“And she would’ve hated for us to be sad. She would’ve wanted us to throw a party instead of a gloomy funeral. To remember her as she wanted to.”

“By all means, I have no reason to be sad.”

“…But then why it still hurts so much…?”

The pressure in his chest, silently present since that day, grew tenfold.

He felt his as if his heart was painfully pumping tears out of his eyes.

It hurt. Even deeper than his chest. His heart. His soul.

For a second, he feared getting completely engulfed on it.

Until

A heart next to his, separated by a pair of ribcages.

“It that happens. I’ll fix it”

“I’ll buy this whole train if necessary. I’ll live in it. I’ll change it.”

“Grieve as much as you need. I’ll take care of the rest”

“So, don’t bottle this up any longer, okay?”

He thought he couldn’t cry any harder. He was wrong.

Grasping into Ángel, as if trying to completely unite their hearts, he let himself feel.

He misses her. He misses her. He can’t visit anymore. He doesn’t know what happened to the animals. He wishes he did more.

But the pain doesn’t eat him whole. There is a warmth to it.

A warmth embracing him, shielding him, applying a new pressure. A welcome one.

When he looked at that sunrise, he imagined a bright future. A perfect future.

One where Mozilla didn’t get sick. One where he wasn’t afraid of heights. One where he didn’t have nightmares.

One where everyone he loves lives forever.

Accepting reality used to be easier. When he wasn’t fragmented.

When he wasn’t haunting any buildings.

He should’ve spent more time with her.

He should’ve known, more than anyone, the importance of time.

He feels a kiss on his temple

“We’ll visit her, yeah? Every year. We’ll bring the prettiest flowers”

“She gave me her lemon pie recipe. I know I’m not the best, but”

“I’ll do everything to make it perfect”

This is the reality he lives in. And it’s the best it has ever gotten.

His pain might never pass. Part of him doesn’t want it to.

But it will always be cushioned around strong arms.

Accompanied by another beating heart, two ribcages away.

One day the pressure will be lighter, accompanied by joyful nostalgia. That day is clearly not today.

But he will look at the sunshine once more. Even if it’s cloudy.

He can be brave.

Because he knows that there will be times where he doesn’t have to.

His tears are not yet done with him, so he stays.

Ángel gently sways him side to side. It makes him sleepy.

Who could’ve thought that a busy day travelling and emotional turmoil would make him tired?

He closes his eyes and dozes off.

It’s 11 pm

<PREV START NEXT>

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

-- -- --

When Cecil walks into the infirmary, bleeding sluggishly and grinning sheepishly, he notices three things in quick succession:

1) It is crowded.

2) It is ridiculously loud.

3) It reeks, absolutely reeks, of peppermint.

His smile fades fast.

He moves, elbowing through the throng of neon orange, to the nurse's station, shoving a poor, innocent satyr to lean against the counter, searching. It takes a minute to find a shock of green hair under the actual piles of paperwork.

"Kayla," he says urgently, excavating her just enough to make eye contact. "Where's Will?"

"Uuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhh," she groans, reburying herself. "Fix your own problems! Why is everyone always so concerned with their own mortality!"

"Well," responds Cecil, not sure how to respond to that. "Well, it's urgent. I need to talk to him."

"So do five bajillion others! Get in line!"

Five bajillion others do appear to be in some kind of squashed up, unserious line. Cecil is in the infirmary a lot -- for a myriad of reasons, but for alibi purposes it's because that's where his best friend essentially lives -- but he doesn't see crowds like this often. At least, not this lively. Usually when there's a crowd like this it's accompanied by silence and strict suicide watch.

"What's going on?"

Kayla groans again. There are bags under her eyes, Cecil notices. This is unusual.

"It's the full moon, I guess."

"And -- what, vampirism is on the rise?"

"That's werewolves, you dumbass. And no."

She looks at him like he is dumb. Cecil stares back intently, because he is. She will have to use her words.

She does, rolling her eyes. (Jeez. He does not envy the head counsellors at this camp. If he had to attitude manage thirteen-year-olds for even one hour he would kill himself.) "Injuries and illnesses increase during full moons, for some reason. Although this is worse than normal."

"Okay." The general crowd noise coalesces, several people shrieking over -- something. Cecil winces, nodding to himself. Fuck. Fuck. "Okay, that's -- thanks, Kayla. I'll find him."

"If you see him, tell him I want a raise! By four trazillion percent."

"I'll -- pass that on."

He pushes his way back through the crowd, and it's harder this time. He can see three more people slip through the doorway, and it's ridiculous. Most of them aren't even scratched. He sees a group of Ares kids in permaglitter, glaring at a group of giggling Aphrodite kids with no visible malady. Annabeth Chase sits rolling her eyes on a free cot, holding her broken wrist, her boyfriend fussing over her. Nine of Cecil's own siblings are sprawled about with various gashes and bruises. He nearly trips over Clovis Yanam, who is passed out in the middle of the floor, snoring.

"J -- Jesus," Cecil curses, swiping a hand down his face. The smell of peppermint is worse, somehow, when he takes his hands away; his eyes burn anew and even his nostrils feel singed. He would be convinced it was all in his head if there weren't several people with their shirts over their noses.

"Reeks, huh," comments Malcolm Pace, as Cecil rushes past. "Smelt it all the way across the common. Must be the Vicks."

It's not. It's not the fucking Vicks, and Cecil knows that, because this smell is more familiar than it should be and he hates it, he can't fucking stand it. This peppermint is sharp and oily and comes out of a vial that Will keeps in his pocket and has since he was nine. This peppermint means quiet. This peppermint means ice packs and cold compresses, this peppermint means a still cabin and crying audible through pillows.

He trips over a bedpost and has to bite his lip, hard, to keep from shouting. He takes a second, burying his face in his hands, and breathes, in, out. He lets the noise wash over him. He plants his heels on the old floorboards, swallowing hard. In. Out. He squeezes his burning eyes.

He exhales, long and heavy, dropping his hands and turning his face to the ceiling. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking, focusing on the popcorned white.

"Alright," he whispers to himself. "Alright, we're good. We're good."

He isn't usually this stressed. He isn't usually forcing himself to unclench his jaw, blinking back frustrated tears. He doesn't usually jump to 100 this quickly.

The peppermint isn't usually this strong.

Right as he is about to stick a washcloth in a bottle of rubbing alcohol and clear out the building, consequences be damned, he catches a flash of blond hair. He beelines toward it, praying to his father for speed, and has to stop a good three feet from his swaying friend, nearly gagging at the potency of the smell.

"Will," he manages, breathing through his mouth. It burns there, too. "Will, dude, you gotta call it quits."

Will continues -- something. Doing something. Cecil walks around him, elbowing at least two people out of the way, and grabs both his wrists, waiting until he stops struggling.

"Get off."

"Will. I'm serious. Enough is enough."

Any other day, Will would twist out easy. Cecil knows it. Lotta folks think Will is some -- some goober, who can't hold his own, but Cecil grew up with the fucker. He was there when he gained two clean feet of height in one summer. He was there as the muscle developed. It was infuriating. He knows just how nasty Will's left hook can be.

He also knows the migraines make him weak.

"People. Busy. Get off."

He tugs, again, and Cecil lets him, following him closely behind. He stumbles towards the nearest cot, smiling weakly at Lacy. She smiles back, looking worriedly at Cecil as soon as Will focuses on her banged up knee. Cecil shrugs.

"...Hey, Will."

Will hums.

"You, uh. There's a whole lot of aura coming off you right now."

Will snorts. Cecil smiles, slightly, at the accidental pun, shaking his head when Lacy lifts an eyebrow.

"'M okay."

He coughs as soon as he says it, scratching at his throat. Lacy doesn't blink, because there's no way she knows what that means, but Cecil sighs, resisting the urge to smack his head against the wall.

He's not -- Cass. He's not Lee. He doesn't know how to make Will listen to him, how to make Will care. He doesn't get it, either. He twisted an ankle slightly at the beginning of the summer and has been leveraging it to get out of chores for three and a half straight weeks. He's never had migraines, not like Will's, but he's seen enough of the tensing, of the twitching eyes, the grey faces and swaying on his feet to make a pretty educated guess.

Sometimes, he hates being a half-blood.

"It's not that bad," Lacy says quietly, snapping Cecil's attention to her. She places a gentle, manicured hand over Will's, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. "I can get ice and rest up, hey? You look exhausted. Maybe it's time to rest."

Will hesitates. Cecil holds his breath, hoping. Maybe it's just Cecil. He's never been particularly good with his words. Maybe he'll --

A weak, pulsing flash of light envelops Lacy's knee, fading almost as quickly as it came. Will sways. Lacy frowns.

"Honestly, Will. I shouldn't have even come in."

"No, it's -- fine." He stands, and nearly stumbles right into a shelf, Cecil darting out at the last second to steady him. "You should always come in when you're hurt."

He walks off, or tries to. Cecil follows, holding firm to his wrist, waving apologetically to a still-frowning Lacy as they drift by.

"Okay," he says, when she finally heads out. "Okay, dude, enough is e --"

"Is what, Cecil?"

Will wrenches his hand free, whirling around to face him.

"Is it time? For me to head back to the cabin and crawl in bed and just sit in pain for the next several hours? The next however many more days? To just curl up and cry? I'm fucking -- I'm tired, Cecil. I'm tired of crying, I'm tired of throwing up -- throwing up fucking nothing, by the way -- I'm tired of feeling my heart beat in my fucking eyeballs I'm tired of seeing flashing lights and passing out and I'm just fucking -- I'm done! I don't want any more of it! I just want it to stop, and it won't stop, so I just want to work! I want to do something that isn't sitting in -- in fucking peppermint!" He pauses, breathing in deep, holding it, screwing his eyes shut. "I fucking hate peppermint!"

The force of his shout echoes through the crowded infirmary.

Cecil stares at him, wide eyed, as he puts his face in his hands, drops to the floor, and starts to cry. Quiet, shaking sobs, shoulders wracking, tears leaking out between his fingers; Cecil, lump in his throat, slides down across to him.

Horsehooves echo in the thick silence.

"Anyone who is not actively dying," calls Chiron softly, "get out. Clovis, you stay."

Murmurs and footsteps swell as dozens of people. for perhaps the first time in their lives, quickly and quietly follow orders. Cecil keeps his eyes trained on his best friend, blinking away the blurriness of his eyes. Two sets of footsteps approach the edge of Cecil's vision, one horse, one slippered.

"May we sit?"

Cecil doesn't move. Will, after a moment, nods.

"How many days, now, child?" asks Chiron kindly. He reaches out a strong hand and rests it gently on Will's head, sliding his fingers through dull curls.

Will holds up a hand, five fingers splayed.

"Fucksake," Cecil mutters, scratching his nose. "Say something day one, dude."

"To what end?" Will's voice is muffled in his knees. "You gonna snap your fingers and magic it away?"

"Something can be done," Chiron chides. "Five days is too long to be in pain, Will."

"It's psychosomatic and you fucking know it," Will snaps. For a second his eyes are clear, glaring as he lifts his head, but it fades just as quickly. The exhaustion leeches the color right out of him. "If it could be healed it would have been healed when Lee was around."

"Just because your brother couldn't fix it does not mean it cannot be fixed."

"Yeah, right."

Will winces again, hands flying up to press against his eyes. Cecil looks over at the centaur, resting his cheek on his knee.

"If it helps, he's always this mean when he's hurting," he offers. He smiles slightly at the scowl he can feel Will sending his way. "It's kind of nice. I never get to see bitchy Will."

"Bitchy Will is the only Will you're ever going to know for the rest of your life, you quisling."

"Quisling?!"

Chiron smiles wryly. "You have your father's inkling for the dramatics, don't you." He shakes Clovis, who has passed out against his flank, gently awake. "Up, my boy. We need your skills."

"Sure thing," Clovis yawned. "How long you wanna be out? A week? Two?"

Will peeks a wary eye open.

"I have a shift tomorrow morning."

"Not happening," Cecil and Chiron say together.

Will sighs. "Sleeping won't make them stop."

"But you won't feel it when you're out."

"...Fine." He lifts his head up, slowly, and scooches over to Clovis. "No more than a day."

Two, Chiron mouths, over his shoulder. Clovis nods.

"Just close your eyes," Clovis says. "Good. Imagine a sheep, in front of you. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

"'Kay. Hold it gently, around the forelegs. Grab a pair of clippers."

Will's hands curl carefully.

"Imagine shearing it, okay? Stripe by stripe."

Will obeys, too tired to keep fighting. He moves his hands slowly, rhythmically, and Clovis keeps a careful hand over his head. Slowly, the shadow from his hand grows over Will's head, covering his shoulders, his arms, his hips. Will's movements start to slow, and then, as the shadow ghosts over his knees, stop, and he tilts suddenly forward. Cecil darts out to catch him.

"Thanks," he whispers, throat dry. "I, uh, can't carry him, though. He's six-two and I have a twisted ankle."

"I'll get him."

Chiron stands slowly, careful of his hurt leg, and hovers for a minute, hands on Will's shoulders.

"We will have to figure out a lot more than this," he murmurs, exhaling deeply. "You cannot go on like this, child."

He picks Will up with careful, paternal hands, twisting to rest him gently on his back. He stands so that his hooves don't creak the old floorboards.

"Thank you, Cecil."

Old, serious brown eyes are turned suddenly upon him, and Cecil looks back, frozen.

"He needs someone to look out for him. You do well."

The centaur turns and walks lightly out of the infirmary, ducking through the low entryway.

The smell of peppermint fades into something sweet and gentle.

[lsunstreakerl]

1.9k of maxiel forced bite/legal adjustments verse. Daniel POV, Max POV, mature content.

Max sleepily presses into Daniel's chest, legs tangled together. He's purring softly, hair brushing against Daniel's nose.

They've been... figuring it out. Daniel wakes up some mornings sick with disgust at himself, but he can't manage to hold onto it, not when Max is so sweet in the nest, waiting for Daniel to come back.

He's ruined his life.

Daniel's been sending email after email, getting paperwork sorted and signed, demanding his agents find the right wording to give Max as much freedom as possible- but it's not what he had before.

The final say will always go to Daniel. They both know it.

He's rumbling anyways, arm wrapped across Max's waist. He didn't-

Neither of them really wanted this, but it's what they have, and Daniel's the alpha here, he's the older one, he's the experienced one, and Max is so young. He deserves to be able to go out and party, to have fun and sleep with random people and make questionable choices in clubs.

Daniel refuses to take that from him, even if they're mated, and he looks down at Max, feeling his soft breaths against the skin of his neck.

He won't fuck him again. Not unless he's in heat, when he needs it- otherwise, Daniel is going to step back. Give Max the space to go back to how he was before, and he's not going to be some overprotective hovering alpha.

The thought of Max going home with someone else makes his stomach turn, grinding his teeth, but that's Max's choice. Daniel's taken enough already.

He won't take anything else.

------

Daniel drops his head back against the wall, eyes narrowed as Seb goes on and on and on, some technical bullshit he doesn't care for. He's been on a hair trigger all week, clenching his jaw and forcing his annoyance down.

His rut schedule doesn't have him lined up for another two weeks, so it can't be that, but he feels like he's going crazy, irritated at every little thing.

He's perpetually aware of Max, as always, a few rows away talking to Hulk, hands gesturing. He's wearing the FIA required flat black elastic around his neck, covering the nape of his neck. Mated omegas are more susceptible to scruffing, so this is the solution.

It has Max's logo embossed on it, because Daniel had refused to put his own, had to bite down on his tongue to avoid snarling at the representative who'd tried to encourage it.

Seb has gone quiet, and Daniel forces himself to look back at him. Away from Max. Always, always away from Max.

Seb looks concerned.

"Dan..."

Daniel presses his lips together. He's annoyed enough as is, the last thing he needs is soapbox preaching about how he's supposed to navigate his new situation.

"It's all good, Seb."

"Is it? Because you smell like rut, and you refuse to touch him, and none of us can figure out what exactly is going on here."

Daniel growls softly, low and quiet. He can see Checo raise an eyebrow nearby, but otherwise he doesn't cause a scene.

"None of your business."

Seb's eyes shift to something sad and gentle, an understanding expression Daniel doesn't want directed at him. He stands abruptly, stepping out into the cool hallway.

He feels hot with it, frustrated and antsy.

He's not going to rut, he's not going to ask for Max, he's going-

------

His teeth sink into a pillow, hips sliding against the mattress, fucking into his own hand. It's not enough.

The pillow doesn't whine or writhe underneath him, doesn't burst with sweet scent snapping under his teeth, the mattress isn't warm and malleable, his hand isn't wet enough, isn't tight enough, isn't enough.

Max is in a different hotel, the exact way Daniel had asked for, and he can feel his absence like a missing limb, keenly aware that he has a mate, and he's not here.

They haven't reaffirmed the bond enough to pass sensations or feelings, and Daniel had done that on purpose, but it hurts. His instincts are screaming at him, rubbing his nerves in all the wrong ways, reminding him of what he has, what he needs.

What he doesn't deserve.

------

He's lying in a pool of his own sweat and cum, hazily awake. He aches everywhere, and his rut isn't over, far from it, but he's having a brief moment of relative lucidity.

His phone is buzzing.

Daniel groans, reaching out one hand to slap around for it, squinting at the bright screen. Anyone important should know that he's in the middle of a rut-

Max V. is calling...

It's a bad idea. It's a terrible idea, Daniel's not sure if he could've come up with a worse one if he tried.

He's answering anyways.

There's a brief moment of static before the call connects.

"Finally, what the fuck Daniel."

Max's lisp rolls over his words, separating Daniel's name into something beautiful, something perfect on his tongue.

He flops his head back into the pillow, shoving a hand down between his hips, lazily rocking into his closed fingers.

"Rut, Maxy."

Max sighs, heavy and crackling over the phone.

"Obviously. Why are you in some other hotel, and not with me?"

There's a pleased rumble somewhere in Daniel's chest. His mate misses him. His mate wants him. He knows there's a whole list of reasons he'd set it up this way, but he's having a hard time thinking of them, tongue thick in his mouth and he starts panting softly, shoving his head closer to the phone to hear Max better.

"Stupid."

Max huffs, and there's a weird rustling noise over the phone.

"Yes, that is you. Stupid alpha. I do not know how this works, so you are just going to have to use your imagination-"

Max cuts off with a soft gasp, and everything in Daniel is abruptly tuned into the phone, listening to his omega. He didn't think Max would dare doing something like this.

The blood is rushing rapidly away from his brain, listening to Max work himself up over the phone, and the visual is doing his head in, thinking of Max pushing slim fingers inside of himself, twisting to get the right angle, unsatisfied because it's not Daniel.

He rumbles, low and vibrating through the mattress, listening to the wet noises through the phone, hitching gasps through the static.

"You're making pretty noises for me, yeah? Just for me."

Max whines, and the noise is doing things to Daniel's brain, to his dick and his instincts and his morals, makes him want to sneak his way back to their hotel, to the room he knows his omega is in.

He doesn't.

------

Daniel feels like shit coming out of his rut, the past few days completely empty in his mind. He could've had a press conference in his boxers and he wouldn't remember it.

His muscles ache, and his hotel room is disgusting, but he's made it, and he's made it alone. He did it without Max, even though he's sure it was difficult- there's bite marks ripped into the pillows, the bed is a mess, and his phone is dead on the floor.

He takes a long shower, carefully collects his things. He'd been determined to not even take any of Max's clothing with him, even if it would've been so easy- he needs to be able to do this alone, doesn't want Max to feel forced or indebted.

The short walk back to the other hotel helps him get his thoughts in order. They're flying back out to Monaco soon, and Daniel needs to finish getting his name on Max's paperwork for his flat. The idea that an alpha would try and hold housing over their omegas head- it makes him sick, the thought of treating any omega like that, and certainly not Max.

He's keeping his own flat, and they'll be separate even in this, the most freedom Daniel can give him. He won't invade Max's space, won't take even more from him than he has. If Max invites him over that's a different story, but Daniel is just going to treat his entire flat like a nest.

He's not going anywhere near it without permission.

------

Daniel hasn't mentioned the phone call. Max had expected something, but it's like it never even happened, like Daniel hadn't growled over the line, told Max how hard to push in his fingers, listened to him get himself off for hours until his phone died.

Max hopes it helped- the internet had said that long distance mates can call for the occasional rut or heat, and while it's nothing like the real thing, it hopefully curbed some of Daniel's more aggressive rut habits.

But Daniel hasn't said anything about it.

Max is trying not to let it get to him. He knows he's not a good omega, not the standard, not small or meek or submissive, but he can- he can try, if Daniel will let him.

Being mated is humiliating at a level he hadn't expected, but the shame burns brighter at just how ashamed of him Daniel is. He doesn't touch Max, doesn't even keep an eye on him most of the time. Max could go hook up with a stranger in a club and Daniel wouldn't even care.

They don't live together, and Max had thought being mated to an alpha was the worst possible thing, that it couldn't possibly be any more degrading, but he's so bad at being an omega his alpha doesn't even want him for a rut.

He wasn't aware that was possible.

It stings, knowing that even at Daniel's most basic instincts, he doesn't want to fuck Max.

Max curls tighter into his nest, whining softly. It smells like him, just him, no Daniel to be found.

Before the bite, Daniel used to come over to Max's flat bringing beer and pizzas, used to roughhouse with him in the garage, used to watch sports matches on the TV and knocks their knees and ankles together.

Now it's like Max doesn't even exist, shoved away in his flat he doesn't own, with an alpha that doesn't care about him.

He'd even take a rut fueled fuck at this point, or a hate fuck, or something- anything from Daniel.

The phone call is the closest they've gotten, and just like everything else, Daniel is pretending it didn't happen.

His next whine hitches in his throat, wet and upset. His throat is thick, and there's a heavy weight in his chest, frustrated and sad.

He's having a heat flash, again. They've been disturbingly constant lately, hitting him out of nowhere, slick dripping down his thighs.

It's not hard to sneak out of the garage when he feels one coming on, and Jake knows- had given Max a mortifying bag filled with heat aids, telling him to have plenty of options for when he and Daniel aren't together.

Embarrassing as it is, Max is glad for the bag, because he and Daniel are never together.

He fumbles off to the side, fingers wrapping around textured silicone, legs dropping open as he feels the heat running through him.

He thinks about calling, just for a moment- wonders what Daniel would do if he picked up the phone and heard Max begging for him.

Daniel's made himself clear though. He doesn't even want Max around to fuck. He's certainly not going to go out of his way and come take care of him, not when he'd rather pretend Max doesn't exist.

Max can't even go to another alpha either, because he's mated. No alpha in their right mind would risk that, pissing off someone like Daniel.

It's just Max, and his silicone, and the audio file he paid for online of an Australian alpha sweet talking him through an orgasm.

He hopes Daniel isn't watching his finances very closely.