#pov i can fix them i can make their relationship better

[zegrasdrysdale]

Jamie request! this is kinda lengthy but Jamie thinks something is happening between his girlfriend and Z bc a Trevor keeps popping up in her phone but it’s an ex that Jamie has heard about who’s blackmailing her. She doesn’t wanna tell Jamie bc she’s very independent but also doesn’t wanna get anyone else involved. This causes tension between her and Jamie so Jamie texts Z trying to confront him before realizing it’s the ex and his mind goes to cheating but she finally explains the situation to him and maybe a little spice? and fluff at the end

[ guess who ] j. drysdale

pairing : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : after seeing someone named ‘Trevor’ pop up on his girlfriend’s phone, Jamie thinks she’s cheating on him with his best friend, but then she comes clean to him and Jamie finds out that not everything is what it seems

warning(s) : nsfw ! implied sex, some sexual content, making out, angsty (very angsty), mentions of cheating and abuse, blackmail, mentions of injury, POV changes, one use of Y/N

author’s note : anon i am so sorry this took so long to finish. hope you enjoy <33

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She and Jamie are both left panting with a layer of sweat covering their bodies as they lay beside one another. They're completely spent and she's not sure if she can feel her legs at the moment. She pushes her hair away from her face before she looks at Jamie.

"You are incredible, pretty girl," Jamie pants with a smile on his face. "God, if you could ride me everyday, I could die a happy man."

"Jamie, I don't think you understand how tiring that is," she laughs as she rolls over and presses soft kisses to his already swollen lips. "The only reason I keep riding you is because you're hurt and I don't want you to exert or hurt yourself again."

He deeply kisses her back, wanting to start another round. She hums and shakes her head. Jamie pulls back with a groan. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll let you go pee and clean yourself up. I want my mouth on you as soon as you get back though."

With a laugh, she rolls out of bed. She pulls on one of Jamie's shirts before slipping into the bathroom to relieve herself so she doesn't end up catching a UTI. She fixes her ponytail knowing that it's going to get ruined again and checks her chest for marks, which are new and bruising already.

After she's done, she makes her way back into the bedroom. "You know," she says as she walks into the room. "You need to let up on the marking before it looks like I got bit by a vampire or something." Her playful tone ends when she sees Jamie scrolling on her phone. "Baby?"

Jamie looks up at her. "Why is Trevor sending you pictures?" he asks.

"What pictures?" she questions in reply.

He turns her phone around so she can see what he's talking about. The pictures in question are pictures of her, pictures of Trevor -- but it isn't Zegras who is sending those pictures. Not that anyone would know who it is in those pictures because they're all faceless.

Her ex-boyfriend, also named Trevor, is mad that she's with someone infinitely better than he is, and now he's trying to manipulate and blackmail her back into a relationship with him. Jamie doesn't know about him, which is why he thinks it's Z sending her naked pictures of them.

"Jamie, baby-" she starts to say before she's interrupted.

"Don't 'Jamie baby' me right now," Jamie snaps. "I can't believe you'd do this to me. To us. Trevor is my best friend. You could've picked literally anyone else but you chose my best friend to cheat on me with."

She immediately begins to shake her head. "Jamie, it's not what you think," she panics as he gets out of bed and gets dressed. "Please. I need to tell you something and-"

"Tell me when you end things with my best friend because I really don't want to hear your excuses right now," he tells her as he dresses. "I'm going to Cam's. Don't talk to me until you're ready to tell me why you cheated on me with Trevor."

Not knowing what else to do, she watches Jamie storm out the door. The front door slams shut and she flinches like the door hit her.

This is what she gets for not telling Jamie about her ex sooner.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ Jamie's POV ]

He has half a mind to drive up to Bedford to have a word or two with Z. How could her girlfriend sleep with Trevor knowing he's best friends with Jamie? He can't believe that the two most important people in his life betrayed him like this.

It's nearly midnight when Jamie knocks on Yorkie's apartment door. A second or two later, the door swings open. A surprise Cam asks, "What are you doing here? It's midnight, Jimmy."

"I, um," Jamie hesitates, not knowing if he wants to tell anyone what is going on. "I just needed to get out of the apartment. We had a fight, I guess you can say."

Cam moves aside to let Jamie into the apartment. He pushes past and sits on the couch in the living room. Cam joins him a second later.

All he can see is the pictures on his girlfriend's phone. Pictures of her. Pictures of Trevor. He shudders at the memory and resists every urge to throw up on the carpeted floor.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cam asks. "The fight, I mean. It was bad enough that you had to leave."

Jamie pushes his hair out of his face and sits back. "She was in the bathroom," he begins. "Then her phone began buzzing and buzzing so I looked at it to see who was texting her so late at night. I opened her phone to Trevor sending pictures to her of the two of them. In bed together."

"Holy shit," Cam breathes out. "No way. Zegras hooked up with your girl?"

"I don't know when and I don't know if they are still hooking up but yeah, apparently," he says. He rubs his face and groans into his hands. "I can't believe the two of them would hook up behind my back. Like, I get that I'm not the easiest person to be with considering I've needed near constant taking care of over the past year and a half but talk to me instead of hooking up with my best friend."

"That's not your fault, Jamie."

"Apparently it is because why else would she go out and fuck Trevor behind my back?" he questions.

He pulls out his phone and pulls his his messages with Z. "What are you doing?" Cam asks.

"Texting Z because he needs to know that I know."

to: zzzegras - 12:02 am what the fuck dude ? my girlfriend ?

from: zzzegras - 12:03 am ????????

to: zzzegras - 12:06 am i saw the pictures you sent her. i'm not stupid. why her ? don't you have your own girlfriend ? why mine ?

from: zzzegras - 12:08 am i have know idea what you're talking abt jamie. what pictures did i send her ? aside from gifts for you for when you get better

to: zzzegras - 12:09 am what ??

A picture comes through seconds later of a screenshot. It's an exchange between his girlfriend and Trevor from the day before. There are pictures of buildings and tickets in the screenshot with a message from Trevor saying "he'd love that".

The final text in the chain is from (Y/N). It's from fifteen minutes ago and it says: "you were right. i should've told him abt my ex bc he just walked out the door thinking you sent me naked pictures when it was him. god, why can't trev just leave. me. alone ! he's going to ruin everything between me and jamie when i don't want jamie to worry abt this rn".

from: zzzegras - 12:12 am it wasn't me dude. you need to talk to her abt it. there's more going on that you should know, and it concerns her and she should be the one to tell you

Confused, Jamie looks up from his phone. "I don't think it was Z that sent her those pictures," he tells Cam. "I think she's in some trouble though."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[ reader's POV ]

She sits on the mattress with her knees brought up against her chest while she stares at her phone. More texts from Trevor come through while she wants for something from Jamie so she can explain what's going on and that she isn't cheating on him with Z.

That's the last thing she ever wants Jamie to think because she loves Jamie and everything that comes with him. His baggage, his injuries, his laugh, his smile. She won't care when he retires from the NHL. She loves all of Jamie, hockey player or not.

The door opens while she's deep in thought and the sound pulls her out of her head. Jamie stands in the doorway. She pouts and tears begin to prick her eyes at the sight of Jamie in the doorway.

"Tell me who Trevor is," Jamie says. "Why is he sending you naked pictures of the two of you in bed?"

"He's my ex," she admits with a shaky voice. "He was manipulative and abusive. When I found the courage to leave, he told me that I'd never find anyone better than him. I did, and now he's mad about it."

Jamie's face falls at her confession. "I didn't know any of that," he quietly says. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want him to have anything against you because you have a career to lose," she cries. "I didn't have anything to lose. If those pictures of me come out then oh well, they'll probably get posted to some porn sites, but if he was able to get something of you and those leaked then I'd be devastated. I was scared that he'd ruin your entire career, our lives together."

He walks toward her at the same time her phone buzzes. She groans and hides her face. The bed moves as Jamie sits on the mattress. She looks up at him and watches him grab her phone. He scrolls for a second and says, "I could've helped you. Seriously. You didn't have to go through his alone."

She wipes away her own tears. "I did," she tells him. "Well, technically, I had Z because I texted him once asking him why most guys named Trevor were assholes and had to tell him but that was an accident. I didn't think he'd ask questions. I should've told you but I didn't want you involved."

The phone buzzes again. She sighs. Jamie taps a few more times before he holds the device up to his ear. Her eyes widen when she hears her ex's voice on the phone. Jamie winks at her before he says, "I don't know who you are but you have the wrong number. I suggest you stop sending those pictures though. They could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands."

Then he hangs up the phone. He smiles at her. "I don't- you aren't mad?" she asks.

"Oh, I am," Jamie replies. "It'll take a little bit for me to get over that you told Z instead of me but I won't let anyone ruin you or our lives together. No matter how mad I am. Not to mention, I love you."

She frowns and crawls up to Jamie. "I'm sorry," she says as she presses kisses to his shoulder. "I really am sorry. I should've told you but I was scared."

Her lips trail from his shoulder to his neck. Jamie looks over at her. "You can kiss me all you want," he tells her. "I'm still mad at you."

"We'll see how long that lasts."

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[brucewaynehater101]

I remember this one shot where tim & bruce swaps bodies while bruce is as batman in some jla meeting. Tim just continues it perfectly.

This is the body swap au, btw

Anyways, would Tim do a good job as Batman?. I think if Tim sees the swap as something brief he would do his best. (But we all make them swap long enough to Tim having enough time for long term plans) so if Tim gaslights himself into believing they would swap back after some weeks, he would do better. He thinks he can do better as a way to show he can be Batman without being a evil one(he's fighting the gun Batman allegations).

Still, it would be funny that in his "I'm gonna fix Bruce's life while am here plan".

Tim acts less as a classic moody batman while in the atalaya. Gives more and kind advice. He talks with Superman about his situation with Kon. He helps Flash with his eating schedule. He helps Arthur with whatever is going on in Atlantis. He shuts off all of the surveillance on Bruce's coworkers, just to mess with Bruce.

He just avoids Martian tho.

Then, it's been a month since the swap. They don't seem to find any way back. Tim cannot lie to himself anymore and the Batman duties are becoming way too much.

Then Bruce dies in Tim's body.

Tim never wanted to be Batman, neither to be like Bruce. But he messed Tim up. Tim never wanted to be like Bruce Wayne. And now he is living his nightmare, every day since Bruce death, Tim has to wake up and avoid his reflection. Tim never wanted to be like Bruce Wayne and now everyone call him the wrong name. Bruce died and Tim does what he does best, he sacrifices. He ditchs his identity any hope of being Tim Drake, so Batman can rise once again.

.

.

(The last paragraph is a little darker end of the version of this au where Bruce dies in Tim's body. I happily would read some of your ideas where none of them dies tho. There's just so many aspects os this au we can develop more, also we need more bruce pov of this).

Here is the post being referenced!

[I'm sorry to say that 90% of Bruce POV's are just gonna be him suffering.... I can try, though. Put up a valiant effort]

Let's really pack in that angst, shall we?

For this AU, Tim has been compared to Bruce so many fucking times.

At first, despite his shaky relationship with the grieving man, he took it as a compliment. He was like his hero Batman!

It started with Alfred fondly tutting over Tim's capacity to neglect self care duties and his shared interests. The older man would sarcastically ask Tim if he was following Bruce's footsteps of being a loner who sits in his basement all day (just teasing and joking and slight reprimanding).

Then there were the heroes that remarked on Robin's uncanny ability to do the batglare or translate Bruce's grunts.

When Steph and Tim got into arguments (and Tim was being a grade A asshole), Steph would compare Tim's emotional incapability and distrust with Batman's.

Dick, in the heat of the moment, has yelled at Tim to stop acting like Bruce (they got ice cream afterwards as an apology).

Jason has tsked and grumbled and shouted about Tim being molded into Bruce's shape/image.

Even Babs has made a comment or two.

While they didn't mean to hurt Tim (unless they were fighting [for which they would both usually make up and apologize]), it caused a small dig and insecurity to Tim's own self-image.

He wanted Bruce to be proud of him.

Tim wanted to be nothing like Bruce.

Then you add on the 16th birthday, Bruce's shit with Steph, how Bruce treats his other kids, other canon events, gun Batman, and Tim losing the rose-colored glasses of childhood?

Yeah. Tim doesn't want to be Bruce.

It seems fitting, after stealing Robin, that he'd get stuck under the name of the man he grew to see as a warning.

It figures that his choice in saving Batman lead to Tim's loss of self.

[Hmm... I can do another post chatting about Bruce or no one dying if you would like.... Or someone else dying before the truth comes out :)]

[gguk-n]

Chapter 2- Secret and Surprises

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N has lost out on a few of her publication dreams while juggling 2 jobs. Her crush on Max has only led to failed relationships. She dreams of one day meeting and being with Max. But Max has a girlfriend and a career she knows nothing about.

{Reader's POV}

I finally moved out from my parents's place a few years back when I decided to pursue Literature. It was a very difficult time for me but I had Max by my side. Trying to convince my parents that I want to understand the art of writing and then doing what I love was very challenging. I moved to a another city with my dream university. Even today, they detest my choices and hope that I would take my life seriously. It has been difficult but seeing them once or twice a year only has made it easy.

Max and I are still very close. I still have a crush on him; it got worse after we started video calling each other after I moved out. I wasn't about to get 'caught' talking to a guy under my parents's roof. The consequences would be disastrous. Max is still the same, slightly older, has a stubble. I still don't know his full name, but he doesn't know mine either and I don't mind keeping it that way.

Having Max as a friend has hindered quite a few relationships either because they weren't him or they were jealous of some guy I would drop everything for. He still has a horrible sleep schedule, I've scolded him a couple time, but he doesn't listen. However, he has the cutest cats, Jimmy and Sassy. They love their dad a lot; I really wanna get cats too but I'm barely keeping myself alive, I'll kill my pets.

My job pays shitty, I'm a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I had hoped that being an editor for bigger and well established authors would help me improve my writing and get my book or poems published; has yet to happen. All my clients are kind people and very understanding of my predicament. Alas, this doesn't leave me much time in the day; teaching, lesson planning, correcting papers, editing other's stories or poems, talking to Max. Max has gotten pretty good about not disappearing like he did a couple years back. I still have no clue what he does, not like he knows what I do specifically. But he said he does something along the lines of cars; I knew he loved cars. I hope his job pays him better since he moved a few years back when I was still at home. His place looks lavish, either he gets paid well or it's from the company. I will never know. He's seen the shit hole I live in, but has yet to comment on my poor living conditions. I have too much of an ego to let my parents know I am struggling; I would rather starve then let them know. All I would hear is that they were right and I should mend my mistakes. What mistakes should I mend when these were my choices and I'm happy with them.

I've compiled 20 of my poems and even wrote a book, I've sent it to so many publishers in hopes that it will get picked up. This is like my fourth or fifth time. I mean, I haven't exhausted my resources and till the day all the publications shut down I'm not giving up. I've been rejected quite a few time, sometimes at the initial stages or after first reading and preview. They make publishing a book look so easy on shows and movies. I wish it was that easy in real life, but it isn't.

Being on spring break makes it so much easier for a while, till I have to return. However, I can focus on my book and the editing gig since it pays better than teaching. There's this guy I'm editing for currently and he's so annoying. I want to stop working with him except he pays the best. The life of being chained to capitalism. I was fixing up his errors when my phone rang, it was Max on video call. We spoke on video call a lot after I moved out. He's attractive, blue eyes; truly all my weaknesses combined. When the screen popped up, he almost fell out of frame when Jimmy jumped on the phone. Max placed Jimmy on the floor. Max- Hey, Schat. Sorry about Jimmy. Y/N- Hi, honestly I would rather talk to Jimmy. (I laughed) Max- Sometimes, I think you are friends with me for my cats. Y/N- Yeah, I would've stopped being your friend had you not adopted them. Max- Wow! I'm hurt. (He placed his hand on his chest) Y/N- Stop being dramatic. I'm just living vicariously through you. Max- You should get cats too, you seem lonely. Y/N- I wish, I'll end up killing them since I'm so busy. Max- hmmm, I hope you find a companion. I did find a companion Max, every time I get a boyfriend, we break up directly or indirectly because of you I thought. Max- What happened to Finn? I thought he was smitten for you. Y/N- Yeah, things didn't work out. We both were too busy with work. In actuality, when we finally got close after months of talking and the first time we had sex I moaned out Max's name. He left immediately. I wasn't about to tell Max this. It would ruin everything, I believe. Max- What were you doing? Y/N- Editing that ass's book. Max- You know maybe, you should leave some blunders, not the most obvious ones but one's that would make him look stupid. Y/N- I wish Max, he pays me a shit ton to do my job. (I laughed bitterly) It's fine, honestly. I'll be done soon and I'll never have to see him again, hopefully, fingers crossed. Max- I hope so too. Y/N- Max, you should date someone. Instead of worrying about me. I've never seen you date anyone in all the years I've known you. Max- ahh, yeah, I'm too busy with work to do that. Y/N- If we lived closer, I would've set you up with someone. That someone being me, but he doesn't need to know that. We haven't even met yet; we never even spoke about meeting each other honestly. Max scratched his neck, shaking his head. Max- I'm good, schat. You should find someone, maybe you'll stop being cranky. Y/N- I'm not cranky, at least not with you. Max let out a deep laugh. Max- Well, I've got to go. My sister's visiting. I'll talk to you later. Y/N- Sure, say hi to Victoria for me. Bye Maxie!! Max- bye Y/N.

Talking to Max always brightened up my mood. But since, Victoria's visiting, he won't be available to talk as often. That means I'm gonna have to spend all my free time scrolling through Instagram. It's all fun and games until I'm on hour 6 of some random video on Youtube. I spent the next couple of days cooped up in my home, just to enjoy waking up late. There were still a few months still summer break and I intended on enjoying them to the fullest.

School started way to soon for my liking. Max would send pictures of Jimmy and Sassy to cheer me up. It did cheer me up. Max travelled a lot for work, I've seen quite a few hotels and I think they are 5 star hotels. So, his work place is rich rich. I wish Max would hire me, I lamented, maybe then we might meet. I've thought about meeting him but he never showed any inkling that he would like to meet me. I wasn't about to seem desperate; I would probably jump him if I did. I mean he is single, so it's fine.

When the school started after spring break, I got handed a new author to help edit her work. I spoke to her and she was very nice to talk to. The book she was writing was based off a sport. On further questioning, she told me it was Formula One. I had heard about it when my city hosted a Formula E race a couple years ago. I don't remember much because I'm not sure if they held it again but what I can tell you is that traffic got so bad, I hated leaving the house for a couple of days. I don't really see the appeal of watching people go around in a circle in fast cars. I think I would panic if I found out how fast they drove. The author asked me to do some research on the topic. I was a good student and I wanted to be of help, so I decided to spend the next couple of hours going through Formula One and their rules.

There's something I have to clear up, I have a type of blindness bias. If I'm not interested in a topic, it would be like I live under a rock. Nothing could phase me and I couldn't care less. That's how I ended up on the wikipedia article of Lewis Hamilton, Micheal Schumacher and then current champion Max Verstappen. Schumacher and Hamilton were very good, reading about them made me awe struck. What really shocked me was a guy named Max Verstappen, who looked awfully like Maxie. I've stared at Maxie more than I would like to admit, so I'm sure they look alike. As I went through the article, my heart seemed to beat harder; not sure why. I felt like this was my Maxie however I believed that Maxie would've told me if he was a Formula One driver. I had to lay my doubts to rest, so I ended up on Youtube with the search bar reading Max Verstappen. My doubts laid to rest in a place I didn't want them to; Maxie was Max Verstappen. I could recognise that voice anywhere. He talked a lot, I could recognise his voice in a crowd of people or in my sleep. All my suspicions were cemented when I saw a picture of 2 cats who looked like Jimmy and Sassy and were called by the same name. My heart was ready to jump out of my chest. Max had lied to me; but was it really lying when I never prodded him for answers. Worst of all, he had a girlfriend and a kid. That's when I felt I was lied too. How could he not tell me? I would've genuinely been happy for him. We would've celebrated his 2 championship wins. My throat felt dry and my eyes wet.

Life wasn't fair when I've been trying to get my book published while my best friend, don't even know if I can call him that, is a 2 time world driver champion. He never even told me, while he has been in Formula One almost all our friendship and karting all his life. I felt the ground slipping from under my feet. Was I that unimportant to not share such a crucial part of his life or huge accomplishment in his life? Was I even his friend? All these questions raced through my mind, while tears streamed down my cheeks. The pillow wet from my tears when my phone rang. It was Max on the other line, and for the first time in 10 years I did not answer his calls even though it rang for a 4-5 times. He finally stopped after sending me a couple of worried messages; asking how I was and where I was?

[Max was freaking out. Y/N never missed his calls, no matter the time or place. Worst of all, she didn't even reply to his messages; not after 5 minutes or 10 minutes or 20 minutes. Max didn't know where she lived, he didn't know who to call, or who to ask about her. His hair was a mess, he was pacing the room so much so, that his girlfriend’s daughter asked him what happened. He couldn't tell them, no one knew of this secret internet friend he had. Who was he supposed to contact to file a missing person's report? He tried to calm himself down and think happy thoughts but all his thoughts were Y/N]

[galactic-rhea]

I think that despite aaaaaaall the very obvious problems about the whole Tuskens plot in AOTC (that also come from IRL bias); something people seem to be hung at is about Padmé's romance being unbelieveable after Anakin confesses the massacre to her; and like I can understand why, since not everyone thinks too hard about her character, but I do, and it's just kind of annoying to have most people saying it was character assasination for and that she shouldn't have known about the fact. BUT! I think it shows quite a lot of deepness and the dynamic about their relationship.

Is a very, very morally gray moment of Padmé, I would say is one of the most charged moments for her, her response is "To be angry is to be human"; Padmé had been, since she was presented, going through ungodly amounts of stress, her people was dying and being taken to camps when she was 14, at the start of AOTC one of her handmaids died in front of her eyes, and through none of these moments she has been able to express much more than some veiled, some composed, some acceptable, anger, I don't believe this to be coincidencce.

Padmé pretty much represents the justice and the good ideals of the Republic, she's pretty much a source of light in the story; this isn't to say she can't do wrong, or that she isn't flawed. She's giving Anakin a chance to do better, even though isn't within her right to decide so, but she's also kind of the only character that does seem to understand Anakin the best, almost beat for beat and she knows he's coming from a very very bad place, with a terrible childhood, she knows how he was when he was nine, she knows of her past.

She isn't oblivious or naive about how terrible Anakin's actiones were, she's just aware of his reasons, she's just able to sympathize with him, she's able to see he feels inmense guilt, and she also is sure he can still be able to do better (and he did! As an audience we know he was capable of much better and of being a force of good very needed. His fall doesn't undo the fact Anakin did went through great lengths to help others) Her reaction, honestly, just puts her in league with Luke imo. "Hey, that's terrible, awful, beyond , but you know, I still love you, because you're still a person I care about. You can do better."

But it also shows how her love is, in many ways, similar to Anakin's, in the sense that's very encompasing, very loyal, very "Follow you to hell and back", she's able to offer him the sympathy and the belief of his ultimate good nature that she wouldn't offer to others (she fell in love with him before going to Tatooine). It can be see as hypocritical, but she's also kind of right, she's proven right. She's still shocked and heartbroken in ROTS because the situation was much more different, because there wasn't any reason for her to believe he would commit something like that again after he clearly expresses so much guilt and trauma over it.

And, when it comens to the relationship with Anakin, I think it makes some senses; it means there is honestity between them, he confessed to her one of the most evil deeds he had commited yet, there's something about it that makes all of Anakin's others relationships different: Obi-Wan and Ahsoka didn't know about this In Anakin's POV, is probable that any kind of love or appreciation Obi-Wan and Ahsoka showed him came with a layer of guilt and distrust because he thinks they don't really know him, probably thinks they would hate him or think he deserves punishment.

And yeah, like, morally talking, he should've gone to jail or at least have a trial or something, but like, what exactly would that manage, or fix in your little fantasy-sci-fi movies? But you know who knew and still loved him? Padmé and Palpatine. In one had, you have Padmé who truly, does love him and believes in his ultimate capacity for goodness. On the other...

So yeah, I think knowing of what he's capable is actually a very integral part of the anidala relationship, and it does give Padmé some deepness you wouldn't usually see in other female characters, and the narrative does tell you she was kind of right.

Because, if I'm honest with you, Padmé and Anakin marrying with Anakin keeping the secret of murdering a whole village, wouldn't do it for me, would actually make me not like or not care for the relationship at all, at least not in their 'romance' sense, because it would be just kind of a Blue Beard, kind of your average "Woman finds out Her Wonderful husband/boyfriend is secretly a Serial Murdered and keeps it hidden for her". That, and also that Anakin is actually very honest, maybe a bit too honest for his own good, when it comes to Padmé and Palpatine, he spills at the edges all the time.

It's meaningful, for them both, that they met each other when they were under extremelly bad circumstances, she knew him as a literal child slave that risked his life to save strangers, and he knew her first as a servant, a handmaid, and then as a queen. And then she knows of his crimes, and he knows he can be fully honest with her, and now he knows how she felt about being a queen, about being a politician, things she never says to anyone else. They're kinda in equal footing and that's why it's meaningfull, as inmoral and messy and kinda selfish it can be.

But yeah, yeah, I ramble a lot, sorry this is very very messy and idk kind of badly written i just wrote as it came to me,I was sleepy and saw yet another youtuber trying to explain why padmé's character was assasinated or something. Because when it comes to her is a flaw and her being irrational, but when it comes to Luke is all encompassing goodness and proof of undying love, siiigh.

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 8 (Final)

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability. Sylus myth mentions.

Word Count: 5610

Written: 17th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. This was rough... Truly romance is hell for me to write (don't ask why an otome game is the only game I write fic for, it's a mystery). I hope you enjoy, final chapter of Turning Point. Thank you for reading ❤️

Now Playing: I Adore You, By HUGEL

Masterlist AO3

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Sylus has spent a lot of his life alone.

It's an indisputable fact of who he has been, and who he continues to be.

A monster, a warlord and a criminal.

There was one fragment of time when he was surrounded by those that loved him, and then they were taken from him.

The dreams of cutting through thick scales, of tearing parts of himself off, throwing them across the cave floor, shivering in the corner. He begs and pleads with gods that don't listen, to fix him. To make him better. To make him worthy.

Good.

Instead he is punished, and reminded of why he is a beast. A failure. A creature to despise.

His hands useless when faced with the blood splattered members of his family. The once warm home turned to a desolate cave, full of nothing but remains.

Home is deeply embedded in a soul, the parts of himself that he wishes he could erase, will never leave him. He is a beast that has little value, outside of what he can provide. Be it a scapegoat, or sating greed.

Throughout his life, he has abandoned being seen as anything other than a monster. That even you, with eyes full of hatred and hurt, had seen him that way. Fury curling your lip, and snarl in your throat. Lunging for him with the knife in your hand.

He has been alone for such a long time, he has forgotten how to be around others. Luke and Kieran are the sole exception. They are unbothered by his harsh tone, finding him more amusing than terrifying. It should not surprise him that EVER are as capable of breaking a mind, as the Justiciers were. They may as well be cut from the same disgusting cloth. He sometimes wonders if they are.

So when he snarks, or bites, or teases, they respond with laughter and response. He has adapted to their countenance. Understands that they will mirror what he offers back.

You… sometimes you respond in kind, biting and scratching, little crooked smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye. Other times, you ache. Look at him like his words have cut somewhere he can't reach to heal. That is when he eases, remembers a field of flowers and the ways he wanted to be before the world decided to destroy dream and hope.

He thinks he is learning to be around you, how to hold you without hurting, and how to soothe your heart with his words and actions. How to be who he wants to be… a fragment of the man left over from the moment he truly thought you could be together after you shared your souls.

With poetry and music, he has carved out a place as himself, so that he can share it with you. In a world where he gets more time, and more space, to share and offer what he is to you. Regardless of what the world says about him, he has only ever cared what you say about him.

He is learning to believe the words you offer him, as who he truly is.

You may not remember, but he always will.

He is, however, still adjusting to the others. He has no basis for adjusting to others, it has been too long since he was in a home that was warm. He has approached them similarly to Luke and Kieran, and while their responses rumble his chest. Fill him with amusement at the discovery of something new, he is aware that they are not as unbothered.

The doctor will ignore him if he teases, until his buttons are pressed enough that he will get a furrow between his brow and speak to Sylus in a voice that is deep and close to a growl. He finds the push entertaining, because breaking people who are so upstanding is a sick satisfaction of sorts.

There are, however, moments when he returns with a wound, and the doctor tends to it. Your hands aren't as steady yet to handle a needle and thread when his EVOL cannot help repair him. The shackles around his power too sturdy, too hindering, and he cannot keep pulling your resonance to him until you feel stronger. Wary of pushing you too far, or making you feel as though that is all he wants. As the doctor watches over him, carefully mending his skin, he wonders at the concern in the man's eyes. Teases him for it.

To worry for a criminal. Not many would.

It receives a huff and eyeroll, and a slight pressure in his wound as the needle pushes through skin, "What you are doesn't matter, who you are does."

Sylus finds himself thinking about it, he knows the doctor is a moral man. His files affirmed that much, observations to understand your life. To blend in better… to be part of it.

It still feels odd for the doctor to help tend to his wounds. Like he doesn't deserve it.

He finds the fish the most fun to tease, to argue with, no fire in his words as the fish gets more agitated with him. He reminds him of you, feline-like and prone to swishing his tail and baring fangs. You are jovial with yours ever since he has gained access to your life with affection. The fish it depends, on his mood, on his health, on the day of the week. Some days he enjoys the clash, Sylus notes, finding the chance to bite and growl fun, other days it is accompanied by genuine frustration. Evening out as the months have gone on, settling down to be less angry.

The more they argue, the more Sylus sees the entertainment in his eyes, even though the fish denies it. There are times when he sees the man painting, stepping over to watch the paint to canvas. Sometimes the fish will ask if he's looking for anything in particular.

"I'm trying to understand." He answers honestly sometimes.

He would be ashamed at the widening of the fish's eyes, but then he shrugs, and speaks as he paints, "Everyone sees something different in my work, some see nothing at all. I see something that others may not. Doesn't matter what you see, as long as it's what you see." 

So Sylus stands, and watches him paint, and thinks. The fish makes no other comments, but moves to the side a little, so that he can see better. So he can study easier. Sylus thinks he sees the sunrise over daturas, another day coming, this one with more hope than the last.

He later goes to buy one of the fish's paintings. To think about more.

The prince is more complicated, he is quiet and he sleeps often. Sylus is unsure if he's sick, or simply prefers the land of dreams to reality. If he had been asked many years ago, he would have agreed. Dreams had been the only time he had kissed you, afterall.

He teases the prince, but receives little in response, except for the occasional cold look. The moments he understands the man most are when Xavier is helping you. He notes the way he lights up, and takes account of the differences. It is in small actions, often that you may not notice, but Sylus does.

He, along with the doctor, ensure Xavier's pillow is clean, that he has food when he returns from missions, that he isn't eating junk food every day.

That when he returns, there is something warmer waiting for him.

Sylus thinks if it were him, that is what he would want, after long days working.

This process, of understanding, of learning, unsettles him to begin with. That he is changing, not just for you, but for others. He enjoys feeding you and your heart, and he begins to look forward to reactions to his food from the others. It is a strange feeling to sit down at a table with others, to share food.

It is… pleasant. The voice that sounds like yours speaks in his mind. Like your busy soul in his chest. Singing and dancing everytime he teases the fish, or chuckles at the doctor's dry wit, or realigns the blanket on the prince's shoulder.

He enjoys his days more, the more you grow and become yourself. No longer as restricted into yourself. No longer aching as dearly. He sees when the days are harder, but you are brighter. He knows that being able to hunt again, likely buoyed you beyond anything else. Still, he is relieved to have a hand in helping you climb the cliff out of the abyss.

Sylus was honest, when he told the others that he had no intention of leaving. That no matter what your heart spoke to you, his path would always lead him to you. That he would keep hold of your hand as long as you wanted it. No matter what form it took. That he was not simply there for your heart but every part of you, that no matter the snapping fangs of fate, you are his destiny.

He has spent too long without you, he is not about to lose you now that he has you again.

While he has long known himself to be greedy, craving your presence, what contact he can receive, every laugh from your lips, every look in your eyes that tells him more than your mouth has managed to… He has found himself craving more.

The warmth around a table he has never known.

The return to a home that is not empty, or full of skeletons.

A place that does not tell him he is a monster.

Perhaps it is the blood on the fish's hands, and the blood on the prince's, that he knows he is not a beast to them.

It is the lack of judgement in the doctor's eyes, that he still matters despite what he has been created to be, forced into being.

Every choice he has made, every path he has taken, he has never expected to find those who do not look at him and see what he is told he is.

You bring change to his life, no matter the time. Opening up worlds he cannot hope to understand in just a moment. He needs many moments, all of them. So he is greedy, he does desire, and he knows those feelings will never fade away from his soul. That hungers and needs and demands.

Seeking the warmth of this space for as long as he can, not leaving its embrace without good cause, just like he does not leave yours easily, when it is offered to him.

Sylus can only hope you will see his heart as well, and accept it once more.

He is, however, struggling with the fact that his kitten has decided to become jumpy once more. Skittering out of his grasp, fleeing at the first moment.

The recent weeks you had sat in thought, mumbling to yourself, keeping them at arm's length. He has seen you leave with Tara and Simone, and he has waited for you to come to him.

To explain the startled look that you give when he sneaks up on you. To finally stop running away from him.

He believes that he is growing accustomed to you, that he knows now when you run from him to hide in an alley, to lick wounds that you're too scared to show, when he would happily dress them for you. To when you are simply thinking, and processing, and trying to find the space to work out how to approach.

He did not lie when he said he did not wish to pry, despite his impatience, and his need to know everything there is to know about you. He does not want to pull it out with his EVOL or against your will. You will speak to him when you are ready.

Sylus does find the skittish nature somewhat adorable, but the fact that he has not been able to hold you, touch you for any long period of time, or share a bed with you as you slept and he watched over, is bothersome. He misses watching you lower your guard, and he does not want to go back to when you daren't even touch him casually with a tease.

So he uses the morning to try to… corner you. He will not pry into your mind, but he will seek out the touch of your hand. Place it against his chest, and let you feel your joined hearts beat a song against his ribcage.

Instead, however, as he approaches you before you leave, intending to go out with Tara, yet again, he is called by the twins. Demanding his time, a report that cannot wait. Time he cannot waste, because he needs to see to Onychinus.

As much as he wishes to tell them to handle it, he has not heard them sound so frantic and serious in a long time. While he has little desire to leave, he is not willing to abandon them or his organisation, when he needs both.

Sylus catches your hand before you pull away, tugging you into his arms and crowding you against the door.

"Sy?" Your voice shakes, soft against his ears, as beautiful as always.

He leans down, long fingers tilting your face up so that he can look at you. Mismatched eyes wide, and trembling with something. Something he wants, something he yearns for, something he desires desperately. Waiting for the moment you speak it into existence.

"Have a good day, kitten. Miss me." His lips brush against your temple, and he inhales against your hair, before leaving you.

Not before he feels the twitch to your fingers, and the tightening of your grip…

And the soft, pleased exhale against his skin.

—-----------

You have spent two hours setting up. Two hours spent scurrying around, cooking, decorating, arranging.

Tara has run in to grab supplies for you as well, eager and excited. You're sure it's so she can hear every single detail when you're done, but you're thankful. You can leave the house alone, but it is always to meet someone. Being alone in a supermarket fills you with dread, least of all because of your arm.

She doesn't question, and she helps. When she finishes lining the things up you forgot, she offers further help which you reject.

You have to do this, you have to make this worth it. They have raised you up off the ground, caught you when you slipped. You have to return it.

You know they would not ask, would not want you to see it as something to return, but you have to make them see.

When you have struggled, or been tired, or worn down, they have offered food, or gifts, or presence. If that is how they show you that they care, you will return it.

You can only hope you return it in the way you hope.

There are some half deflated balloons that you failed to breathe enough air into, your lungs aching before you could even get through one. You are not as dextrous with your metal hand, so when you cut ingredients they are uneven. You fight to swallow the irritation and the pain in your chest. Even though the need to cry burns at them at things you cannot quite get right.

That it has to be perfect. You have to be perfect. Even if you never were, and even if you never can be. At least for this, you want to be…

There's a voice in your head, cold as the chain around your ankle, that reminds you you're incapable of perfection. That you are going to mess this up, and hurt yourself and others.

The knife trembles in your grip as your limb shakes.

It is a squawk that shakes you out of it, Mephisto flies over in a flurry of feathers and glowing red. To settle on your metal shoulder, talons steadying him. He has gotten familiar with perching there over time, since you stopped flinching at anyone touching your prosthetic.

It has become his favoured perch.

His feathers settle, and he bumps your cheek with his head, keeps red eyes on you as your hand settles.

He does not move, as you resume cutting, as you breathe through the feeling, edges closer to the heat of your neck with his body overtime. You think if a robot bird can sleep, he would do so settled there.

His presence helps, he reminds you of Sylus, but he also reminds you that you're not alone. That even the robot bird that Sylus denies is his pet, cares to see you keep going. It silences the beast at your ankle enough that you keep going.

You prepare meals that Caleb taught you how to cook, when he worried you wouldn't be able to survive alone during your studies, even though he never left you alone long enough to really go that long without food. Turning up at the apartment you shared with friends when he got chance, to hand you over a tupperware of food. To poke around the place and make sure you were alright. To lie on your bed and listen to you tell him about what you had been doing.

Even if you lied. That things were fine, that you were doing well. You knew he saw the truth, but you think he just liked the moment to listen to you talk. To see you in front of him. Alive.

You think you understand better now, how he felt. It always hurts to remember that it took losing him to realise.

Tara's words about regrets flit in and out of your mind. That there would be things you wished you'd done if you died tomorrow. As you cook, and you think about the last hour you have before the people you care about return, you know there's a few.

You're going to make an effort to tick them off.

—-----

He has been listening to the twins talk for two hours, and he cannot help but feel like this meeting should have been a call. Or a message.

The twins aren't stupid, despite their chaotic inclinations and their need to cause trouble wherever they can, they don't often bother him without need. Not concerning work. He trusts their capabilities for a reason. Despite their curiosity over if someone will ever claim his head.

He has been tempted to tell them that you are the one, but has decided when the day comes for you to cut his shackles, he would rather see the looks on the twins' faces.

No warning. He imagines it would be quite a sight. He hopes they're not wearing their masks when it happens.

Still, as he reads through his messages, he thinks he knows why they dragged him out here.

So he looks at them, watches as they chat. Luke waves his hands as he speaks, and there is something he notes. The two are trying to feed off each other's energy. Getting more animated as they go.

They are running out of fodder.

"You two-" They jump as his voice drops, looking at him through their crow masks, "are you going to explain why Kitten sent you to summon me away?"

"We don't work for the Hunter!"

"We work for you, boss."

"That's not an answer to my question."

"Why would we follow their orders-"

"-when we don't work for them?"

He says nothing, watches them, watches the way their shoulders pull in, and they gravitate towards each other. As if being closer will defend them from the glowing red eye in Sylus' head.

Before he even gets time to pry, they deflate. "Aww man, we didn't even manage three hours like they asked."

"We got close though bro. Two hours and twenty minutes with the boss, that's good going."

"Is it enough?"

"You two!" He raises a brow, and watches as they look at each other, then back at him.

"We were told to keep you away for three hours, so they could do something at home."

"Don't tell them we told you, they'll be disappointed…"

He's joked before that you have the two acting like your henchmen, and he's starting to realise it is not simply a joke. He shouldn't be surprised, he supposes. You have full control over Onychinus, every password, the location of every base, access to all of his weapons.

Full dominion over him.

Of course you've won over the twins.

"They won't be disappointed." Sylus sighs, "I'll stay for the last fourty minutes." It's a small concession, time wasted in favour of not ruining whatever you are doing. He could check with Mephisto but there is some warning in his chest. Over the heart he has shared with you, that asks him to wait.

That the waiting is worth it.

So he will wait for the three requested hours, and not a second longer.

It is a long wait, however, so while the twins chatter to him, they have abandoned mission reports and are now sharing information on games they want to play, or places they've been, he messages the other three.

The minutes go slower than expected, but finally he watches it pass, and stands.

"Have fun boss!"

"Good luck!"

He doesn't question them, he's almost curious what you told them to gain their help, but he thinks if it was any plan to be mischievous with him, they'd accept without any reason.

There is a kind of satisfaction in knowing he has the twisted loyalty of the two, they certainly don't work in any way his enemies would understand.

He also doesn't hate the fact they bring a smile to your face, or you to theirs.

When he finally returns to the apartment, he sees the other three sat outside, staring at the door. "You all look like loiterers. You're going to get reported. How will the good doctor cope with a criminal record?"

"How does one suit you?"

"Always a story to tell at parties."

The prince's head is resting on the fish's shoulder, he blinks a little, "You're late." Before he stretches and stands.

"Yeah crow, we've been waiting."

"Rafayel almost walked a hole into the floor going around in circles." Xavier adds.

"You almost broke the door down."

"Impatient." He yawns, shrugging as if it's not a problem. "Sylus can replace the door again, it's fine."

"Have you forgotten your fingerprints are registered?" Sylus asks, raising a brow.

"Quicker to break through the door."

He watches as the doctor rubs at the bridge of his nose, sighing so deeply he's surprised he doesn't fall under the weight of it, "You two act like such children sometimes."

"Not gonna share the macarons I bought with you then."

The doctor frowns, the furrow of his brow deepening, turning his face so he can hide some of the blush on his cheeks, "I'm alright with that."

"They're strawberry."

"I apologise."

"Too easy doctor."

"Can we go in now?" Rafayel stands, barely holding himself back from beginning to bounce on the heels of his feet.

"Alright fish."

Sylus watches as Rafayel opens the door. When it swings open, and they enter, the first thing he notices is bunting.

Hung from the ceiling, along the walls, in purples and blues. There are large red ribbons tied around chairs. Balloons half inflated on the floor in pink and green. A banner along the length of the dining table that has 'Thank you' drawn onto it in messy block letters, yellow stars decorated around it.

All four of them pause. The smell of fresh food, plates and bowls piled high on the table. And gift wrapped boxes, messily wrapped with some torn paper, next to each of their seats.

You are standing in the kitchen, stirring a pot to music, bouncing a little on the spot. Singing along with Mephisto whose squawks leave a lot to be desired in the music department.

He is sure that in this they are unified. Watching as you sing, and move, and twirl to grab something from the side. The feeling in his chest is molten and bright and warm, and if he ever loses it he knows he will have truly died.

"Kitten." Escapes him on an exhale as you smile that familiar crooked smile to yourself.

Your spatula clatters to the floor as you twirl to face him, and see all four of them. "Oh, I lost track of time, shit." You squat to clean up the mess in a panic, receiving a disgruntled cry from Mephisto as he flies off his favoured perch over to sit on the top of a dining chair.

"What is all of this?" The doctor asks, as Xavier rushes over to help you clean up.

You hesitate where you stand, toying with your fingers, before pointing over at the table, "I wanted to thank you."

"You don't have to thank us, cutie. Is this why you've been so jumpy?"

You close your eyes and he watches as you take in a long inhale, steadying yourself, and shivering a little, before you open them again. Flames burning in the depths of them, "No. I wanted to tell you something."

He wants to make a joke that you look like you're about to go to war, as you walk past them and indicate the table, to where there are gifts on the table, each with an initial scrawled on the paper. Yet there's a feeling like if he jokes, he's going to shatter something, and he hesitates before pushing it down, to follow as you lead.

He finds the one with an S, and lifts it up, it's a cube wrapped in black and red paper, with a small golden ribbon. He can tell you've torn the paper, struggling with the hand you still can't control for intricate work. You have given him one gift before, the handmade crow phone charm, one he knows matches the charms for the others. It's crooked and it's not perfect, but you made it. For him.

He has shot a man for almost breaking it during a fight.

His chest feels too hot, as a dragon he isn't sure he's ever felt such a thing before. He thinks if he had really kissed you that day so long ago, before it had all shattered, it would feel like this. It makes him feel sick, but he wants it to last forever.

"They're nothing big, it's. I wanted- You needed-" You sit then, slumping and covering your face to force their air in and out of your lungs, "Sorry. Please open them."

The paper comes away easy, and nestled inside with tissue paper is a red mug with a crow that looks suspiciously like that plushie you'd had him catch, and a key inside, with a series of charms. A crow, a star, a snowflake and a fish. He hesitates as he stares at it, hand careful. Like he could crush it easily if he tenses too hard.

Like it will shatter if he moves just a little.

Disappear if he blinks.

"Rafayel was right, when he told me that the password to your place can change easily, your key can't." You're looking down as you speak, and he can see you out of the corner of his eye, though he doesn't want to look away from his gift, "Well I could change the locks, I guess, but it's- That's not the point."

There's a wince before you tighten your hands into fists in front of you, the air is still and they watch. He can feel something and he's not sure what it is.

"You all made sure I could stand back up again, you were here for me when I needed you and wanted you. I wanted- needed you to know that I'll always want you here. That when you go back home, you're welcome anytime, that I-" Your voice keeps trembling, and pausing, and he wants to reach out, to hold you, to take your face in his hands, to cry with you he thinks, "I love you all so much. I needed you to know, before you went. Before this was over, and I had to say bye to this life."

"Cutie, do-"

"I love you. The- ah- the kind with- shit. I should have written this down."

He finally releases the keychain, approaches you as your hand trembles, eases his thumb over your skin, and watches as Xavier hooks his chin over your shoulder. Zayne and Rafayel crouch down to look up at you, a hand pressed to your knees. The contact eases the strain out of your body, but you must feel the small tremor in his, because you tighten your grip on him.

When you speak, you have found your ground, "I never settled down long enough to think about it, what you all are. I knew you were important, precious, but I didn't have a name for it, or wanted to think about it. I was sure if I didn't think about it, if I lost you it wouldn't hurt as much. If something happened to me, you'd be alright." He watches hands tighten against your skin, because he knows his own does, losing you is not an option, "I was wrong. Even though so many days have hurt, or felt like agony, you were home for me. Safe. You feel like love should feel. When I think about where I want to be, it's anywhere you are."

Your hand shakes as you reach out, to ease over Zayne's cheek with your fingers with your metal fingers. Flinching when he gasps at it, when he leans into your hand, taking it in his to press it further against his skin. "I don't know where to go from here, or what you all want. I know I'm asking a lot, and I understand if you don't feel the same way. I needed you to know, before you left, when I was ready. I don't want to keep looking back, I want to move forwards."

There is a shudder in your frame as you swallow, you take the time to look at them all, even though the angle Xavier at pulls at your neck, and Sylus feels that feeling he got when he used to fly, when you hold his gaze. Freedom, falling, soaring. Able to go anywhere, and do anything. When he held you and soared when you could not sleep, while he can't do that now, he can always take you on the back of his bike. Every sleepless night.

Forever.

"I love you."

It is measured, it is careful, and it is spoken on a tremble. Unused to vulnerability, wilfully shown. A wound on display, not hidden and kept under covers. No longer smothered under the bloody blanket, no longer trembling in the darkness.

He watches you look at him, tears streaming down your face with the weight of feelings he knows you struggle to process, and he was right.

You truly are beautiful when you cry and let him see.

"We're not going anywhere, darling." Zayne whispers against your hand, as he kisses against your palm. Cool lips against cool metal. You close your eyes at the feeling, shiver down your spine.

"You're home, starlight." Xavier nods, brushing lips against your cheek.

"Of course we love you cutie, forever, and always."

Sylus watches as Rafayel kisses your knee and squeezes your leg, watches more tears spill from your eyes, in what he knows is relief. Turns your hand so he can press his lips to your wrist, to your palm, to your fingertips, and sighs against your skin, "Thank you for telling us, beloved."

Thank you for loving him again. For embracing him once more.

For seeing him as more than a monster. For seeing a future that he has a part in.

For walking the path with him once more.

For accepting him as your home.

Later when Sylus has had his moment of breathing in the scent of you. Eased against the junction of your neck, hand tracing shapes into your hip. Whispering affection and murmurs of beloved against your skin.

When they have eaten, when mugs have been placed in the cupboard of your apartment, waiting for when they are needed. When he has stared at the key you have given him willingly. Offering him entrance whenever he wishes, trusting him in your territory. That he watches you sleep against the doctor's chest. Relieved and exhausted.

He knows there is more to do, conversations to have, things to fix, to arrange, but he feels like he is finally back at the starting line, prepared for the race ahead.

As he places your prosthetic back on its stand, and pulls a blanket over the prince who has rested his head in your lap, and cleans up some of the mess, so that the fish can paint the image in front of him, he leans down to place a kiss to your head.

Sylus thinks back to the empty cave, the blood splatter and the bones of the past. He thinks about loneliness and eternal exhaustion, of a search for something he worried he may never grasp again.

He is a boy again, standing in the cave, surrounded by family and loved ones, and this time, he has the power to protect it.

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Hii can you write Emily x fem!reader in a secret relationship but the team somehow catching them kissing and that's how they find out. Also there is a bet going on about them.

Are you kidding?

Summary: see the tumblr req above!

Word Count: 1.05k

Fluff

TW: kissing, getting caught kissing

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

A/N: I swear I haven't abandoned you guys I've just been caught up with school!!

Emily's pov:

It's been a slow day at work all day. Paperwork, consultations, paperwork, staring at my girlfriend; the cycle repeats. The team doesn't know where dating yet, we decided to wait to tell them.

She can clearly feel my gaze because she turns and looks at me and smiles, god her smile. I beam back at her and her eyes flick away from mine to the direction of our 'place' I gently nod and she puts up her hand to signal for me to wait 5 minutes before following her.

As she stalked off, her hips swinging slightly, I drag my eyes down to the file I'm currently looking over and pretend to focus on it. My mind is too full of her to think about anything else.

Reader pov:

I casually walk away from the bullpen with a random file in my hand, making a beeline to mine and em's 'place' (which is just a storage cupboard, albeit a very empty one. There's only printer paper in there) I look around and don't see anyone in the hallway so I slip into the small room and wait for Emily.

I hear the click of her heels on the floor as she approaches the door. The handle clicks and she slips in. Her feature lit up by the sliver of light that leaked in from the open door, her eyes shining with joy as she closes the door.

"Hey you." She says in a hushed tone as her arms find their wait around my waist and mine around her neck. She plants a delicate kiss on my lips.

"Hey," I reply with a bright smile on my face. "How's your day been?" My head fell onto her shoulder as I sunk into her embrace.

"Slow, boring. You know, the usual." I lightly chuckled at her answer.

"Yeah same, but uh. I know a way to make it a bit better." A smirk found its way onto my lips as she cupped my cheek.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Why don't you kiss me and find out."

She smiled and crashed her lips onto mine. Our lips moved together with care and love. Her hands trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to her, she slowly backed me up against the wall and deepened the kiss. Her tongue swiped over my lips asking for permission and I gladly granted it. Her tongue fought for dominance with mine, she obviously won instantly.

In the heat of the moment clearly neither of us heard the clacking of another set of heels on the floor coming towards the room. We were both pulled back to reality when we heard someone walk in the door and just as quickly shut it with a yelp.

Both of us pulled away, knowing it was Penelope, and made eye contact. Still holding each other close we burst into a fit of hushed laughter like a couple of teenagers who got caught making out at school. Oh wait...

She got out her phone and put the flash on so she could properly see me so she could fix my hair for me and make sure I don't look too flustered. I did the same for her and we walked out of the room one at a time and sat back in the bullpen.

Not even a minute after we had both sat down Garcia walks over to the round table and Hotch out of his office.

"We have a case." Hotch announces as he walks towards the room.

"Ugh, I was hoping to go home at a normal time today." JJ groans as we walk to the room, a grumble of agreement sounds from everyone as we all sit down.

Garcia sets down the tablets and Reid's paper report. Oh god Reid's still on paper, Pen was probably going to get paper for the printer from the storage room. We clearly all had the same thought at the same time because me and Emily made eye contact before glancing at Garcia, who was already flicking her eyes between the two of us.

"What have we got?" Spencer says, breaking the silence.

"Okay before I tell you, I have something else to tell you all." She speaks quickly, to avoid me and Emily protesting. "Y/n/n and em were making out in the storage cupboard! There I said it, sorry guys. I couldn't help it, you know me!"

The team all looks to me and Emily who are coincidently sitting next to each other, looking for confirmation.

We make eye contact again and she grins.

"Don't I swear to god Emily." I say fighting back a laugh yet again.

"Wait hang on, are you- were you?" Rossi asked. Voicing the confusion of the rest of the team. Emily responds before I can.

"Yeah, we were. Hotch, sorry, but it was a slow day can you blame us? We're dating, she's my girlfriend."

A look of knowing passed across the teams faces before Derek and JJ make eye contact.

"Okay guys c'mon," He says holding out his hand, Jay swiftly following. "Pay up."

"Are you kidding, did you make a bet on us dating?" I stare at them in amusement.

"Well yeah, you couldn't expect us not to." JJ shrugs.

"She's right you know, it was too obvious." Derek adds on as Hotch, Rossi, Spencer and Garcia hand money into their hands.

"You know Pen, I'm disappointed in you." She looks at me shocked. "I thought you were good at spotting these things?"

Everyone laughs and Garcia responds "You had me stumped sugar." I smile at her and then shift my focus to Emily. Her hand trails to my thigh and she squeezes it affectionately, I intertwine my hands with hers.

"Okay, back to the case." Hotch says and discussion about the current case ripples through the room once again.

Emily brings my hand up to her mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it and whispers a small "I love you." I smile at her and whisper back "I love you too."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

Some Real Good

Prompt: Gluttony | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: Alcohol Consumption | POV: Gareth | Relationship(s): Gareth & Eddie BFFs, Background Steddie | Tags: Corroded Coffin on Tour, Bus Travel, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie: The Magpie, Gareth & Steve: Who Love Him Anyway

"What do you have in here, bricks?" Gareth asks, picking up one of Eddie's duffle bags, trying to wrangle it up into the open storage bin under the bus. It's not easy. For some reason Eddie's stuffed the fucker completely full today, and it's unwieldy.

"Yep. And sex toys," Eddie quips, and Gareth rolls his eyes. Unfortunately, Gareth knows that's not where Eddie keeps all the dirty shit he travels with. Because Gareth's seen it all, even if he wishes otherwise.

Eddie finally gets it wedged underneath, and they can roll out.

Meaning, Gareth forgets about the overfilled luggage, until the same thing happens at the next stop. It's definitely not going under there this time, because Gareth swears it's getting bulkier by the stop. 

Eddie's trying to re-zip the damn thing after rearranging, and it's clearly not going well. 

Gareth moves to squeeze both sides together so Eddie can zip it easier, when he catches sight of what's inside. 

"What the fuck?" Gareth says, letting go and picking up a travel size bar of soap, surely from one of the many hotel rooms they've stayed in. He digs his hand in, combing through the mess of small, plastic bottles. It's filled to the absolute brim with travel toiletries, and a variety of shit from green rooms. Mini liquor bottles from airplanes.

Eddie snatches the bag back from Gareth's hands, "They're free. We're supposed to take them." 

"No, we're supposed to use them if we need them. Which I know you don't. I've seen your bathroom bag."

It's definitely fully stocked.

"Well, someday I might need them," Eddie argues.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie. No you won't. This is insane, even for you."

Eddie's part magpie, they all know that, but this is a bridge too far.

"You never know," Eddie says, like he's being sane and rational. He's being neither.

"How is this - you - hoarding them under the bus any better than just leaving them behind? They still aren't being used, Eddie. And now we're just the ones lugging them around."

"I want them," Eddie argues and Gareth's hands find his own hair, pulling. Eddie can rarely be rationalized with on a good day, but this is beyond. 

"You will never need these. We can buy shampoo and soap. We do buy shampoo and soap. In appropriate quantities and in brands we actually like. You damn well know Steve has never once let any of us run out. The minute I toss an empty, a new one magically appears. Which, awesome. But also scary, because that means your boyfriend knows far too much about what I do in the bathroom."

Eddie smiles, but then is clearly headed back towards making excuses for his insane life decisions. His gluttony. His hoarding. 

"But-" 

Gareth pivots. He might not be able to reason with a crazy Eddie, but he knows someone who can, does, "Does Steve know about this? Because he's gonna shit."

And he will. Steve doesn't stand for superfluous anything on the road. He has everything down to a science. Last week he even made Gareth get rid of one of his jackets, because he'd apparently crossed the threshold of the acceptable amount of luggage, at least as far as Steve was concerned. 

Gareth liked that jacket.

So, Eddie squirreling away all the soap he can carry for no damn good reason? Not efficient in the slightest. Steve can't know about this, and he's gonna be pissed when he finds out. For sure.

"Just help me unload it," Eddie demands, and before he can ask what he means by that, Eddie slides forward the sticker-laden dead with the warped lid. Instead of tossing it, Goodie wants it fixed, so it's been taking up space, but when Eddie flips it open, it's absolutely jam-packed with more of his secret stash. 

"Oh my god. Wait, is this a growing up poor thing?" Gareth asks, and Eddie pauses. Gareth never wanted for anything. It may have just been the two of them, but Mama Jones had it under control.

If this is that, well, maybe Gareth could understand. Could give him a pass.

Eddie gives him a withering look, saying, "No. Wayne would hate this, too."

"Then why are you doing it? Damn," Gareth asks, laughing.

"Because we paid for it. And they just throw them away if we don't take them."

"That's crazy talk," Gareth answers.

"They do! And it's built into the price. Of the hotel rooms. The flights. The gig contracts."

"Eddie," Gareth says, then changes tactics. "Fine. I'm sure that's true. But, just. Move. Let me," Gareth says, nudging Eddie off to the side. "Get on the bus."

And somehow, Eddie listens, and does.

When Steve sidles up to him, and sees the red milk crates surrounding Gareth's feet in the hotel parking lot, Gareth sorting the loot, he's instantly irritated, "What're you doing? What's all this doing here?" Steve asks, arms waving. "For fuck's sake, Gareth, what have you been taking all this shit for? Do you know how much this extra weight affects gas mileage?"

And Steve seems to be doing that math in his head.

Gareth grinds his teeth together, "This was not me. This was Eddie."

"Oh," Steve says. Immediately changing his tune, softening, which is fucking annoying. Eddie would never have to get rid of a jacket.

Steve then asks, "What's the plan?"

Gareth nudges the crate full of liquor bottles, and they all clink together, "Day drinking?"

Steve puts his hands on his hips. 

Gareth picks up the one full of shampoo, "I was thinking about donating them to a homeless shelter or something. My mom volunteers at one back home. Says they always needed stuff like this. Eddie hoarding them isn't helping anyone, it's just as wasteful as leaving them to be tossed, right?"

And Steve pauses. Thinking.

"You can't donate liquor to the homeless," Steve says.

And Gareth laughs, "Well, I didn't mean the liquor. That we'll keep. Have some fun. I'm gonna deserve a drink or ten after sorting out this mess your boyfriend has made."

"Oh, he's my boyfriend when you don't like whatever he's doing, but your best friend any other time?"

Gareth laughs, and nudges against Steve's shoulder, "Exactly."

"Alright," Steve concedes.

Great. Awesome. Gareth had the idea, the plan, but he definitely needs Steve to be the one to figure out how to implement it.

And Steve does.

From then on, the sorted milk crates live in the under bus storage compartment. And now it's not just Eddie, no, now all of them save and throw their unused freebies into the correct ones after each stop. Soap. Shampoo. Conditioner. Lotion. And if they ask the front desk for toothbrushes or razors that they've forgotten from time to time, well, then that's their own business. 

And yeah, the liquor they keep for themselves. But they don't let it languish, hidden away. Instead they drink it, doing shots, playing cards as they rumble down the highway, getting tipsy as they cheat more and more blatantly at cards the drunker they get. It's fun. 

When a crate of toiletries gets full, Steve has a plan, a connection, of where they can donate it, wherever they currently are in the country.

It really doesn't take long for word to spread, and then there's a charitable foundation with a damn good purpose bearing Corroded Coffin's name, and several other touring bands helping. Reaching out to Steve. Their reputation precedes them: they're the heavy metal band that gives back. That they don't destroy hotel rooms, just rescue the toiletries from them that were destined for a landfill anyway.

Before long, many hotel managers start meeting them at check-in, handing over boxes of toiletries they want to donate to the cause.

Eddie's hoarding, his gluttony, turned on its head, and instead is being used for some real good.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 15th

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1. Hi! Long time no see. Need help with finding two fics:

A. The AU where wwx and lwj can do some cultivation technique that combines them into one huge cultivator. There are like three or four levels and lwj is hesitant about the last level because the other person can see what you desire most in the world and he was afraid for wwx to see. I recall them practicing this technique in private while studying together and then doing it in front of lqr’s class.

B. Lxc has his own pediatric office and his nurse is on leave because she’s pregnant (i think it’s mianmian or wq) and they recommend wwx. Wwx is hired as a nurse under lxc. During the story, he gets with lwj and they all find out wwx took the blame and went to jail for something jc did and lxc was upset because of how wwx portrayed himself to him when he was really innocent. I remember wwx had some heart problem and had an episode in the office. I remember xue yang was also in this fic as an abuser to his wife and kid

Thanks for all your help in advance! @jikcf

1A)

FOUND? ❤️ Gentians in bloom by teawater (M, 251k, WangXian, XiQing, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Political Marriage, Dysfunctional Family, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, LQR bashing (not really), POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Eventual Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, madam yu bashing (again not completely), MXY Deserves Better)

1B)

FOUND? Nursery Rhymes by manaika (M, 96k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Inexperienced WWX, Experienced LWJ, Reconciliation, Budding Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unreliable Narrator, Medical Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Past Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Found Family, Past Injury, Nurse! WWX, Doctor! LXC, Teacher! LWJ, Character With A Heart Condition (Major), Past Incarceration (Major Character), Underage Character With Leukemia (Minor))

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2. Hi, I'm looking for a modern au that starts with everyone finding out that WWX had been wrongly accused of stealing and selling the Lans' secrets to their competitor. He lives in a separate flat now and has a found family with XY and WQ. But, LWJ goes to him when the news comes cuz he's some sort of cyber security expert, ig. Also, JYL is in a wheelchair as she tries to get evidence to prove WWX's innocence and gets injured in the process @thatindiangirllll

FOUND? Visitations by Vir_Abelasan (M, 18k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, WIP, Modern, Corporate Espionage, Post-Divorce, Reconciliation, Father-Son Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is kinda sad and needs a hug in this, But hey they get better I promise, Found Family, Custody Arrangements, Not a revenge fic, Past Abuse)

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3. Hiiii it's been a while and I'm happy to inform some of may fav fic I found here. So I remember someone asked about this but I can' t find it it's about lwj leaving lan sect and storing money little by little and by the end lxc ask for bunnies because all of lwj bunny vanished from gusu( courtesy of nhs) I hope you can help me thank you!!!!

FOUND? 🔒 Unpack Your Heart by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 22k, wangxian, Romance, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, LWJ Has Feelings, Protective LWJ, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, Wangxian in Love, YLLZ WWX, Lan Clan Elders are Assholes, Minor Transgender Character, Qiongqi Path Divergence, LWJ loves his bunnies)

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4. Hello! In search of a fic I read recently but can't seem to find again! It was definitely on ao3. It was a canon-era fic where for some reason Wangji was cranky with Xichen and so Wangji purposefully misbrewed some of Xichen's favorite tea and gave him the stank eye while he poured. I think it was in Cloud Recesses Study arc, so it was teenJi being sassy in his polite snubbing kind of way.

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5. Hi, hope your well! Im desperately trying to find a fic. So I vaguely remember it starting with lwj and wwx post cannon, wwx passes away, and he makes a ritual/ way for lan wangji to go to an alternate universe where he’s still alive. Lan wangji wakes up in the body of his younger self (it’s implied the original version died because he was trained too hard I think) his father is still alive and is abusive. I remember Wei wuxian and lan wangji meet because they go to visit the Yiling Wei sect. Eventually lan wangji volunteers to go to what I think was their equivalent of the lan lectures which no longer exist in this universe because the lan are kinda sorta evil ish under his abusive father’s rule. I remember that eventually they plan to fight back against the lans and lan wangji ends up getting captured by his father and whipped/tortured. It has a happy ending where lwj tells Wei ying about his original time line etc. I have been trying to find this one forever! Please help me! @808bisexualbitch

FOUND! 🔒 Song Unwritten by Kytrin & ShotsOfSunshine (E, 94k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, cql meets mdzs, Transmigration, Parallel Universes, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Depression)

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6. Hi! For ficfinder I'm looking for a fic which is a genderbend modern au where Wei Ying is dared to give Lan Zhan a lapdance. Halfway through he feels really bad as she realises that Lan Zhan is the butt of the joke and she stops and later tries to apologise and befriend Lan Zhan

FOUND? make me whole, make me new by occultings (microcomets) (E, 24k, WangXian, F/F, Rule 63, Cisswap, Modern, College/University, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, (briefly), Pining, Jealousy, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Light Humiliation, Bathing/Washing, Bath Sex, as is the wangxian way, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex, Getting Together, First Time, gentle on the comphet for this one, there are dubcon vibes for the lap dance but it's not actually dubcon, some uhauling via cats)

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7. For the next fic finder - I've been desperately trying to relocate a fic where everyone (including the juniors) all sort of think WangXian are in an abusive relationship. It's set post canon. I believe its left ambiguous or is implied that everyone is just sort of misinterpreting what's going on. One scene in particular I think has Lan Jingyi spying on WX while they're having sex in the jingshi? TIA 💕

FOUND? We Covet What We See by Dangereuse (E, 6k, WangXian, OneSided LJY/WWX, Wangxian's Canonical Kinks, Consent Play, Voyeurism, Bondage, Overstimulation, Possessive LWJ, Breeding Kink, Dark LWJ, Perv LJY, LWJ's Fucked Up Family Backstory, Biting, Unreliable Narrator, Cloud Recesses can be Problematic, Rimming, oversensitization, POV LJY, LWJ's Canonical Liquor Intolerence, Excessive Husbands upon Request)

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8. Helloo im new to asking for fics (i hope i am doing this right haha) i am looking for two fics

A) one where wangxian were college sweethearts and got married but divorced, then wei wuxian got into an accident and he lost his memories but lan wangji was still with him when he woke up in the hospital and even brought him his medicine.

B) The second one is Modern wei ying wanted to adopt wen yuan but in order to do that he has to be married and stable in life so he reconnects with lan zhan to ask for help which of course he does.

Thankyou!

8A)

FOUND? no balance by silverclaw (G, 20k, WangXian, Modern, Post-Divorce, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Netflix Show Host WWX, Concept Artist LWJ, the give LWJ friends agenda, WWX is a sweetheart and i WILL hug him, That’s a threat, Temporary Amnesia)

FOUND? but the days, they will blur by TheGirlWithTheKite (E, 60k, WangXian, Temporary Amnesia, Hospitalization, Car Accidents, College/University, Flashbacks, Repressed Memories, Recovered Memories, Modern, jyl and jzx die in this fic, LWJ's magical healing cock, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Butt Plugs, sex to regain memories, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, A-Yuan is baby, a-ling is baby, Established Relationship, But also getting together, Pining, all WWX does is pout gasp and pine, Angst with a Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Distrust, Insecurity)

8B)

FOUND? the subtle art of reconnecting with your childhood crush by Flxffyfxck (E, 76k, WangXian, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Modern, rich LWJ, Poor WWX, Orphans, Orphanage, Foster homes are scary sometimes, Eventual Smut, Idiots in Love, Intentional Child Acquisition, LSZ Needs a Hug, LWJ Has OCD, First Time, Anal Sex, safe sex saves lives!, Possessive Sex, Possessive LWJ, Slice of Life, Sad boi hours, Fluff and Angst, Panic Attacks, Whipped Cream, Blow Jobs)

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9. Hi, for the next fic finder, I’m looking for a time travel fix it where LXC is the one who goes back in time. That’s pretty much all I remember, sorry. @villeinagefanstuff

FOUND? 🔒 The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, Fix-It, Time Travel, LXC time travels, Canon Divergence, Possessive LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Fluff, Siblings, Romance, Golden Core Reveal, kind of, Golden Core Fix-It, crack-y idea taking itself far too seriously)

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10. Hey there I'm looking for a fic where wei wuxian went back in time in his yiling laozu body. I remember he was called wei yuanji or something like that. And no this is not the one where the wei yuanji is married to wen rouhan

I remember some details that madam yu is slightly nicer towards this time traveler wei, and how wei ying jiang cheng and jiang yanli all like him as a big brother. Sect leader jiang and madam yu kinda fix their relationship too from traveler wei's quiet comment i think. Time traveler wei is also depressed and sometimes speaks in riddles or nonsense that has connections to the future. Thank you for your help

FOUND! remind me of MingYu by Fino_Al_Cielo (T, 89k, WWX & LWJ, WIP, YLLZ WWX, yunmeng siblings, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, PTSD, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma, there are 2 WWXs, 1 from the future, the other from the normal canon timelines, Pining, WWX just doesn't knows it yet, chapter 23 - implied rape, chapter 23 - graphic torture, chapter 23 - trigger warnings!) but WWX's name is different

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11. Hi im looking for this fic i read awhile ago and cant seem to find! i forgot why wwx and lwj were on the runbut they hid with wen qing with the wens. wwx gave birth to an oc baby and wen yuan was wen qings cousins baby. wwx and lwj have to leave so they leave their kid with the wens but then their kid gets taken by the jins along with ayuan and put into the wen camps where ayuans mom dies. And then the next part i remember is that lwj and wwx confront jin zixun about the heir of gusulan and stuff being in the camps infront of everyone and they save the wens @yesibest

FOUND? 🧡 Don’t Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN)

FOUND? Take Responsibility by draechaeli (E, 187k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Everybody Lives, Original Children Characters, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Mpreg, Teen Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Pregnant Sex, easy to skip nsfw chapters, Fix-It, Happy Ending)

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12. Reddit has directed me to you oh great ones 🧎‍♀️. Essentially, I read a time travel fic a while ago that was amazing and after scouring tags and even my history (I’ve only been bookmarking for a month like a dummy) I haven’t found it. The fic is wwx getting dumped back into his body in the lectures arch immediately after dying. He has some insane PTSD (like genuinely doesn’t want to live anymore but also feels guilty about how he ruined things the first time) and I distinctly remember him throwing up meat of all kinds and the Jiang siblings not understanding but LWJ just rolls with it from what I remember. The final piece which I’m only 90% sure was part of this fic is the plot twist. After everything’s said and done we find out NHS and NMJ are the culprits behind the time travel bc NHS had them both tattooed with WWXs time travel talismans that he made in his first life and he was terrified of losing his brother (pretty positive he had figured out JGY was poisoning him)

Anywhosies, thank you in advance if you are able to find this masterpiece. @xxxnpcxxx

FOUND? Wish me luck by starlight1395 (Not Rated, 164k, WangXian, JC/NHS, JYL/JZX, Fix It, Time Travel, Angst, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Nightmares, Slight fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Lots of tears, canon levels of blood/violence, Minor Character Death, secondary character death, Sibling Bonding, JC curses alot, battle scenes with appropriate levels of violence and blood, semi mild smut, it's emotional and soft smut tho so it's okay, mild Self-harm)

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13. hello! i’m looking for a post first-siege fic but i don’t remember too much about it. it’s set after LWJ is injured with his 33 lashes, and WWX sneaks(?)/deliriously stumbles into the jingshi after news of his death has already permeated the jianghu (i’m pretty sure). LWJ is woken up by WWX(?) or wakes up to WWX kinda slumped beside him. some feels are definitely had between them but i don’t remember the details.

LXC discovers WWX embarrassingly quickly, and in this fic i’m pretty sure this LXC leans on the “WWX was your only mistake” kind of LXC, but ultimately doesn’t care that he’s in CR for the sake of LWJ—like he’s incredibly wary of WWX and his intentions but throughout the fic you can see LXC realizing he’s more than just the yiling patriarch or the man who broke his brother’s heart.

now there are two scenes i remember from this fic, but i’m not sure which one goes first, and for all i know i might be mistaking two different fics lol. but i distinctly remember WWX coming down with a severe illness. like LWJ and LXC come back to the jingshi at some point and discover that something is really wrong with him, and i think him being sick leads to a golden core reveal? not sure tho.

the scene that i remember that is definitely part of the fic i’m looking for is when LWJ and LXC (i think maybe for a medical check up for LWJ?) leave the jingshi for some reason, and WWX just chills for a little bit. after a while a servant comes into the jingshi to clean some things up, and WWX has to scramble to find a hiding place because no one else in the lan sect is supposed to know he’s there. he ends up hiding behind the far side of LWJ’s bed(?) OR behind a privacy screen(?), and he just sits there, cramped and uncomfortable for who knows how long, before LWJ comes back.

LWJ doesn’t see him at first and you can tell that he’s afraid WWX left, but WWX calls out for him and LWJ discovers his hiding spot, where i’m pretty sure WWX is cultivating some nasty illness.

i just realized i don’t know where a-yuan fits in here since WWX is still alive—i THINK lxc goes to save him himself, if WWX doesn’t already have him. please disregard this if this muddles up your search 🙏 i think paragraphs 1, 2, and 4 are the most accurate to what i’m looking for. sorry if this is too long 😭 and thank you for your hard work!!! @shenguangjun

FOUND? Unbreakable Heaven, Luminous Earth by carolyncaves (M, 96k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Secret Identity, almost to the point of uncomfortable identity theft, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Suicidal Thoughts, that's for WWX after Nightless City and is not pervasive throughout the fic, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Power Imbalance, mainly between WWX and JGY in an entirely nonsexual manner, this isn't really a kid fic but the kids are there, as are some yunmeng sibling feelings, JYL lives, Not Everyone Dies, some COVID parallels, this is not a quarantine fic, but thematically WWX deals w things like face-covering for safety and loss of control, also assume all canon warnings, this AU is gentler than canon but isn't a complete fix-it) this fic has a similar scene at the beginning, with WWX hiding from the servants?

FOUND? i woke on wasted bones by orphan_account (E, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sentient Burial Mounds, Cloud Recesses, Golden Core Reveal, Healing, Serious Injuries, Sharing a Bed, First Kiss, First Time, drama and novel canon mashup, Getting Togethe,r Angst with a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, With Art by JoshuaBeeking) is probably not "i woke on wasted bones" unless the asker is mixing two fics; it does fit some of the description, though, so I'll suggest it just in case

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14. Tw: miscarriage. Hi! I think I might have imagined reading this but I’m looking for a fic where WWX was pregnant and Lans punished him for some reason and he lost the baby. Lan Wangji didn’t do anything to protect him.

~*~

15. I’m looking for a fic where Wei Ying gets mad at Lan Zhan. The fic starts off when Lan Zhan has sex with Wei Ying and Wei Ying decides to run away. Wei Ying puts on Lan Zhan’s robes and runs around Cloud Recesses in the middle of the night. Lan Zhan catches him and drags him back to their room and starts to punish him which causes him to yell and scream. The juniors knock on their door and Wei Ying slaps Lan Zhan across the face. They later make up when Lan Zhan gives Wei Ying something. @monochrome012

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16. Hello dear, I am looking for a wangxian fic where wei wuxian was expelled from study in cloud receses and write letter to everyone except lan wangji. after lecture lan wangji and lan xichen visit yunmeng, but wei wuxian ignore lan wangji.

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17. For the next fic finder I was wondering if anyone has read this fic in which wwx is an omega but everyone thinks he's an alpha so when he is smelling Nie Huaisang he gets scolded by Lan Qiren and MAYBE Lan Wangji? It was during the Cloud Recesses Arc

FOUND! We Should Have Realized by BINGHESCURLS (T, 2k, WangXian, NHS & WWX, JC & WWX, Canon Divergence, A/B/O, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Outsider, Feelings Realization, Nesting, Scenting, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Alpha JC, Omega NHS, POV NHS, JC is a Good Brother, LQR Being an Asshole, Crying, Apologies, Mating Cycles/In Heat)

~*~

18. Hi amazing people!!! Asking for help again!! I wonder if you could help me find two fics!! A) One is where people can transform into animals, and they have ears of the animal they transform to all the time!! I remember Lan Zhan had fox ears I think and Wei Ying had round ears, really cute, I remember an image of the two of them!! B) Another one where Wei Ying is adopted by a courtesan and does that and cultivation, he helps in the Sunshot Campaign!! Great stories both!! Help me please!! Be well!! @monicaop21

18A)

FOUND! 🔒 Letters along a River by Ilona22 (M, 19k, WangXian, JYL/LXC, Nighthunting, Letters, Animal Traits, Mystery, Prejudice against Prey Shifters)

18B)

FOUND! 🔒 Flowers Blooming by Ilona22 (M, 35k, WangXian, Alternate Universe, Adoption, Prostitution, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Growing Up, War and what it does to the lives of normal people)

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19. Hey! Long shot, might be hard to find, but for the next fic finder — was there a fic where Wangxian were both pornstars? AFAIK, bottom Wei Ying, and he falls in love with Lan Wangji during the many scenes they have to perform together. Cant remember any more details but they were like, professional pornstars. Thank you all! Much love :)

FOUND? Afterglow by Court_on_Fire (E, 4k, WangXian, Wangxian/others implied, Pornstar WWX, Pornstar LWJ, Pining while fucking, Friends to Lovers, Porn With Plot, Porn AU, Confessions, Anal Sex)

FOUND? Wei Wuxian makes a porno by andreanna (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern, Porn AU, camboy, Power Dynamics, Attempt at Humor, Multimedia, LWJ's canonical big dick, Deepthroating, Voyeurism)

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20. I’m not sure if this ao3 fanfic is deleted because it’s been a couple years, but I’m desperately looking for this wwx x lwj fanfic. from what i remember

wwx has been a god for a really long time (i think yunmeng god, but i’m not entirely sure. and i believe a lot of people stopped worshipping him and he kind of became forgotten?)

he stumbles across young lwj in cloud recesses and takes interest in him, visits lwj every night

i think wwx disappears for some time because he meddled in during the wen clan war/sunshot campaign, which gods were not supposed to

and that’s about all the details i can remember, apart from the fact that it’s EXTREMELY well-written. if anyone has any inkling or possibilities please send them my way! (i couldn’t find it under the deity wwx tag)

FOUND? reminded me of Red Flower Fortress by Tysis (T, 4k, WangXian, Immortals, Immortality, WWX is a GOD, Fix-It of Sorts, Everyone Lives, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, They will get together but not until LWJ ascends, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Unreliable Narrator, Two of them) Where WWX slept under Gusu Mountain, only occasionally waking up until the Wens attack and he does something

FOUND? A Path of Red Spider Lillies by glowingreverie (M, 208k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, hualian, TGCF fusion, angst w happy ending, comedy, mild sexual content, gore, death, past child abuse, supernatural elements, slow burn, WIP)

~*~

[metalomagnetic]

if you don’t mind my asking, i was wondering whether the dynamic between voldemort and harry in either must die is what you generally envision for the two of them as characters regardless of the circumstances — like v treating and considering harry just a prisoner, never getting truly attached, taking advantage of him with every opportunity, etc, while harry seems to genuinely care — or if this is just one facet of the possible relationships they could develop over time?

just curious, since your voldemort in iritb is so much different from harry’s voldemort, and i couldn’t quite make out whether it was a conscious choice for the different characters you decided to pair him with, or if you’re just exploring different facets of the same person (v).

I think I write the same Voldemort most everywhere, with only slight variations in his environment. For example, in Ouroboros he is raised by Voldemort, in other fic by Merope, in others he stays in Wool's; in some of my stories he is bisexual, in others gay; in some he's young, in others middle aged, in others very old. However, even if I alter his circumstances, I do try to keep some core traits of him that are the same across all my stories.

Now, Either must Die Voldemort is older than It runs in the blood one; he has lost 2 wars, and is defeated and a captive; he has a daughter. In It runs, he begins the story at the height of his power, where he feels invincible. He is 50 something as opposed to 80.

Because of this alone, he would be at different stages of his life, and in different mental places.

Yet I don't see them that different from each other- it's only his circumstances that change drastically.

That aside, we are looking at him through different POV characters. We have a terribly depressed, very lonely Harry who barely survived a war but lost almost everyone he cared for in the process only to find out their sacrifices were for nothing, because Voldemort still lives. We have a man isolated by his own hero status, and he further isolates himself, trapping himself in a house he hates. A good man, one that is willing to sacrifice himself for the world, to help any stranger, to do the right thing.

On the other, we have Sirius, a tormented young man, trying to find himself, struggling between two identities; a man that holds great privilege, involved in an active war, with friends or family on both sides. A man that is also willing to sacrifice himself, but only for those who he loves- the rest of the world can go to hell, though. Sirius' moral code is nowhere near as rigid as Harry's. All the mentors in his life had been horrible people (Orion, Arcturs) while Harry's mentor was Dumbledore. Fairly soon in the story, Sirius also gains the protection of the Blacks back- a shield Voldemort cannot easily break.

And I think that makes the very big difference in how the reader perceives Voldemort; he truly isn't *that* different, only Harry and Sirius perceive him completely differently.

EMD V is also in survival mood- his goal is to get out of captivity, he doesn't have the luxury to care about anything else.

It runs V has the war under control- he can take the time to indulge in other comforts- as EMD V did, during the first war, when he started his affair with Bellatrix.

Harry wants Voldemort to be better; he wants to 'fix' him. He always hopes there's more to V, deep down, and he cannot love V as he is.

Sirius falls in love with V precisely because he's a deranged, power hungry maniac.

Voldemort still manipulates them both, only he uses different methods, knowing what works best with each. Yet he responds differently to Harry and Sirius, because of how they treat him in kind.

It runs V also has Horcruxes, and his brains are a tad scrambled, while EMD V, has his shit together, mentally.

I think Voldemort will always respond better to a partner that doesn't try to make him a more decent person. I think Bella (or Sirius) are much better fits for him, because they aren't troubled by his non existent moral code.

Harry in EMD feels nauseous when he sees V slaughter the men who kidnapped Harry and Andromeda. Harry fees nauseous when he thinks V killed Slughorn.

Sirius is *awed* when he sees V commit mass murder against the aurors. He eats dinner with V even after he knows he just killed the Prewet brothers, men Sirius used to hang out with. He has sex with V after V killed a bunch of dark wizards in Norway.

Harry is giving in his relationships with everyone. He gives, and makes compromises.

Sirius is aggressive in his relationship with V.

That being said, I don't think any story with V and Harry would be like EMD. It truly depends on the circumstances. Harry starts the story in a position of power over Voldemort- he keeps Voldemort captive, keeps him from his magic and freedom. Harry is also the boy that destroyed him, so many times, since he was 1 year old. Simply because of that, V could never truly love Harry. And when he does gain power, he gains absolute power over Harry; that, too, prevents V from ever looking at Harry as a partner. Their dynamics have always been extreme.

You can see (if you read my other Voldemort/Harry fic) that in Prison Blues, Voldemort is much more receptive and appreciative of Harry, simply because of different circumstance.

With Sirius, he starts by being in a position of superiority, yet Sirius is never truly defenceless. But we can see V still has the instinct to make Sirius his prisoner. If V would have survived Halloween night, he would have taken Sirius captive, and that would have ruined all that was between them, on both ends.

Sorry if I rambled too much! I hope it answered your questions! I truly like to keep my characters more or less the same in all my story, but just explore how they'd behave in different circumstances.

[kiwii-11]

to love me!

in which . . . your vampire mate is the sweetest man you know, which is why you think it’s such a shame he fell for you.

or . . . three moments throughout their relationship where darlin’ felt like they didn’t deserve sam, and the moment that changed everything.

cw . . . gn reader, they/them pronouns used, second person pov, darlin’! reader, quinn arc ew, previous toxic relationship, insecurites, references to actual audios, based off ‘couldn’t make it any harder’ by sabrina carpenter!!!

one: healing you for the first time.

“sam, don’t you dare—”

“i gotta’ disinfect it, darlin’—”

you bite back a curse as he gently pats your open wound with medical care solution. one hand crushes the couch pillow between your fingers, the other hits a fist against sam’s back in retaliation. he tells you to stop and you shoot him a glare.

a pile of bloodied tissues lay on the rug beside you as sam kneels on the floor to get better access to your wounds. you were reluctant to let him in when you heard him knock. you regretted it as soon as he started lecturing you.

with your last hit, you rest your hand against his shoulder with closed eyes and furrowed brows. sam drops the wipe into the pile and places a square patch on your thigh to cover your wound.

“see? ain’t that hard,” he says as he glances back at you, “you’re stronger than that, aren’t ‘cha?”

you lay back down and cover your face, breathing out heavily. you were sweating and you felt like you were about to pass out.

“we’re not done yet,” he claims, “i saw that bruise peekin’ out from your collar. let me heal it.”

“it’s just a bruise, sam,” you sigh as you push his hand away like a tired kid, “leave it.”

“it’s already so tough, darlin’,” he scoffs whilst taking your hand, “it’s fine, i still got a lotta’ magic stored up in me.”

if he had met you when you were younger, before you distanced yourself from the pack, before you had met quinn, you would’ve gladly accepted his help. maybe if you hadn’t gotten yourself into this big of a mess, it would be different.

you’ve always had a thing for accents. upon first meeting sam, you were a bit thrown off by his tone of voice. you would be lying if you said that him calling you ‘darlin’’ wasn’t one of the most sweetest things you’ve ever heard. if you were your past self, you would’ve done anything he asked simply for being so kind and having such a voice that made you swoon.

it has your mind racing, and you know that if you don’t stop thinking about it now, you’ll—

“fuck…” you mumble out to yourself as you hug a pillow to your face.

“it’s alright, i’ll just fix this one up and then i’ll grab you some medicine,” sam replies, gently placing his hand over your bruise, “deep breath for me, darlin’.”

sam watches as your hand closest to him reaches out and grips his wrist. your fingers shake a little and sam lets out a small sigh, “it’s okay. just breathe.”

you do as your told and feel the magic coursing through your body. it hurts for only a moment and you relax straight after. you drop your hand from his wrist and slowly move the pillow from your face. you felt so much better already, and the look on sam’s face says that he knows that already.

“you can let me do this, y’know,” he claims as he picks up all the bloodies tissues and medical supplies, “don’t act like you can heal yourself, darlin’. no shame in callin’ me for help.”

you watch as he tosses them into the bin.

he was so kind. and you were doomed.

two: quinn’s reappearance.

to have all your intimate moment exposed to not only your partner, but your pack leader, was probably one of the most hurtful things that quinn could’ve ever done to you.

standing behind that glass made you feel exactly how quinn intended — nothing.

on the drive back from the department, after a tight hug from david and the most gruelling hours you’ve ever had to endure, you’re silent as sam’s hands grip the steering wheel as tightly as possible. he can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through; all he can do is glance at you every few seconds.

“are you hungry?” he asks to break the silence.

“no, i’m not.” you sigh out, sure that he had heard you.

sam nods his head as you continue to stare out the window as the passing cars. the silence was unbearable. you both could tell what the other was thinking.

his hand moves to rest on your thigh, thumb brushing against the material of your pants. it’s a wordless piece of reassurance that he offers you. your arm resting on the window ledge, your hand holding your head up as you face the outside world — your whole position screams that you’re shrinking.

but his hand stays as a way to tell you that he’s staying right where he is. you itch to hold his hand, to link your fingers with his. but you don’t.

you don’t want anyone to touch you, you feel so disgusting after having your private moments spilled to the people closest to you. but when it’s sam, his touch lingers even after it’s gone. you hold yourself back from reaching for his hand.

you were impulsive and often said things you didn’t mean. you were similar to david and asher in that sense, as you’d grown up around them. milo’s quick wit rubbed off on you too. it only took a few months distanced from them for those aspects to blow up in your face.

maybe quinn made them worse. you could feel yourself becoming a stranger to your pack in favour for the manipulative vampire, and he never even rejected the idea. he made you complicit, and you came to despise that version of yourself.

“i love you, darlin’.” he whispers out once he reaches the red light.

your fingers twitch against your face at the statement. with the bundle of emotions you were feeling right now, you could cuss your situation out, say things you would regret and just blow up in his face. you couldn’t handle feeling so loved when everything made you small and weak and disturbing.

how could he still love you after everything he’s heard? how embarrassing it is for your lover to hear all the things your ex had done with you. you couldn’t bare to say a word.

he knows you love him too. sam knows it with his whole heart, especially after becoming your mate.

sam’s hand remains there for the rest of the trip. he doesn’t ask you anything else, nor does he urge you to hold his hand. he just wants you to know he’s there, he’s not going anywhere.

you stare out the window for the remainder of the trip.

three: attending the summit.

when sam said that it was a fancy party, you believed him, but nothing prepared you for this whole show.

you pulled your collar a little and stared down at your shoes; sam had warned you of the dress code, and you felt kind of out of place here. milo and his mate were practically in their element right now, and even asher was holding up well. you tried your best.

“you look as if you’re a second away from throwing your guts up all over the marble floor,” you hear the snide remark come from porter beside you, “whatever is the matter? where’s that charm we’ve all grown to tolerate?”

you glare at him. he’s a flirty son of a bitch, he proved that upon your first meeting. sam had gone around to say ‘hi’ to everyone whilst you were waiting for david and his mate to come back from their talk with the head of one of the vampire calm leaders. porter had this habit of popping up out of nowhere whenever you were alone. you promised to play nice, so you will try.

“where’s your little plaything, porter?” you hum out as you sip your drink, “thought you were bringing a special someone to the summit?”

“well, i thought it’d be best for my treasure to spend their time relaxing tonight rather than standing around like a lonely little puppy,” he comments, which makes you roll your eyes, “honestly, the summit should be used to strengthen your connections with all these people. wouldn’t you benefit from such a thing? you know it serves quite well to be liked.”

“i’m guessing you’re living a hard life then.” you retort. porter chuckles.

sam beelines for you as soon as he sees porter saddled up at your side. in an instant his hand is on your hip and he’s pulling you away from him.

“porter, don’t you have other people to converse with?” he sighs out, “are you tryna’ start something with my darlin’ before we even get to the dinner?”

“oh, so motherly, samuel,” porter laughs as he waves his hand, “but you’re correct — i do see vincent’s ‘lovely’ looking quite uncomfortable with the duke from the east. excuse me, i’d love to make him blow a fuse.”

he leaves without another word as you tug on your sleeve. it felt stuffy in here. you were suddenly so aware of how your clothes were feeling on your skin now that sam was nearby.

“are you alright, darlin’?” he hums out as he stands in front of you.

you were leaning against the wall and placed your glass on the table beside you. sam covered most of your view of the party. he stared at you with a gentle smile.

“never knew all this glitz and glam could be so suffocating, i can hardly hear myself think with everything going on — the sheer amount of cologne and perfume in this one room is sickening,” you comment as you rub your neck, only to double back on your complaints, “i—i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“no, i agree with you,” he laughs as he nods his head, “can be overwhelmin’ with your sense of smell, huh?”

you give a hum of agreement. you forget that you’re not here to provide any security, just to be with sam. maybe you should keep these comments to yourself. it meant a lot for you to say ‘yes’ to coming to the summit for sam, and he made it known. why would you try to make him upset?

“you look amazing, darlin’,” sam states as he reaches a hand to cup your cheek, “sight for sore eyes. everyone’s watchin’ you.”

you know that for sure. you could feel their tense gazes from every inch if the room. they were tearing away at your appearance, you just know it.

“not a good thing, i think,” you hum out as you lean against his palm, “where’s the coat rack? i should—”

“you don’t need your jacket, darlin’,” he tells you whilst leaning in to press a kiss to your other cheek, “you’re lightin’ up the room. everyone’s either jealous of you for lookin’ so good, or jealous of me for getting to come home to you.”

“as if.” you mumble quietly, hand resting against his chest.

you were out of place. everyone looked so comfortable in their clothing, whilst you felt like your chest was about to cave in on itself. your shoes sounded too loud, your colours didn’t match the theme, it was all wrong.

sam pulls away with furrowed brows. he brushes his thumb against your skin with a smile. “you listenin’ to a word i’ve been tellin’ ya? you look ethereal, darlin’, believe me. i told you that before we left and i haven’t changed my damn mind. you look so nice, you’re the most beautiful person here.”

the pure love in his eyes makes you sigh out a little, grinning at your mate, “thank you, sam. you clean up well yourself.”

he rolls his eyes with a snort before leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. your hand moves from resting against his chest to caressing the side of his neck. when he pulls away, he says he can introduce you to some of the other clans. you take him up on that offer.

he was always so kind, always knew what to say. he’s the perfect partner, and he’s with you.

final: sam comes home late one night.

it’s 5:30am and he’s just now walking through the door, missing the sunlight by a hair. sam texted you letting you know that he would be coming home in the early morning, so you should go to bed instead of waiting for him. you decided to listen to him just this once since you had work to do in the morning, so you went to bed alone and hugged his pillow close to your chest.

you didn’t really enjoy sleeping without sam near. after that first night he stayed over, you’ve found it hard to go back to how it used to be. he was so tender and calm, how could you not feel at ease around him?

he’s smitten as soon as he sees you in your shared bed, blankets tossed to and fro due to you not cuddling with him. you’re sound asleep, so tired from all the work you’ve been doing around the house — sam thinks the apple tree outside is growing nicely — while he was gone.

“good mornin’, darlin’,” he hums quietly as he presses a kiss to your cheek. you stir, eyes squeezing shut before your hand reaches out and lays across his lap. it humours him. “how d’ya even know i’m here? you’re sleepin’ soundly.”

with a hand squeezing yours, sam stares at you. your expression was so calm that he feels his heart squeeze. he wanted to provide that life for you that was stress free, always ending with you two snuggled up in bed together. as hard as that sounds, he’d fight every day for it.

“thank you,” he sighs to you quietly, “i thank whoever is listenin’ that i have you with me. you make it easy to love, y’know that, darlin’? it’s so easy to fall in love with you. i know it was a long way for us, but i’m so glad that we made it here.”

the bed dips again as he kisses your forehead, lingering for a few seconds more.

“for the rest of our lives, i promise to dedicate every single moment to being with you, if you’ll have me,” sam chuckles out as he lands another kiss to your cheek, “and i know you will. you’re not the best at hidin’ that sweet smile of yours; lucky for a fella’ like me who loves to see it, and who loves you with all his old heart.”

as he leans back up, sam gently caresses your cheek. “i’ll shower and come back to bed, darlin’. keep it nice n’ warm for me.”

sam stands up, taking off his coat and hanging it up. his shoes were already at the door and he was gathering some clothes to lounge around the house in. as he sets his clothes on the dresser opposite you, he heads to the shower.

but not before halting at the door.

“i know you’re awake, darlin’.”

he hastily catches his bed pillow, which you throw at his face full force. an embarrassed expression paints your features, much to sam’s delight as he lets out a hefty laugh.

“how did you know?” you complain whilst covering your face.

“i can hear your heartbeat quicken whenever i tell you i love you.” he admits as he tosses you the pillow back.

“why would you say all that stuff then?” you question, sitting up with a pointed glare.

he tilts his head as he holds onto the doorknob. “because you were awake to hear it, why else?”

his cheeky smile is the last thing you see as he goes into your shared bathroom to shower. you had been up since you heard him rummaging around in the kitchen to grab a drink, but were too tired to get up. so you pretended to be asleep until he came into the room and began talking.

you lay back down and try to get some more rest, but his words were replaying in your mind.

‘it’s so easy to fall in love with you’, he says. the sweetest man in the world tells you this.

you used to wonder if that was even possible. but he’s living proof that it is. you’re easy to love because it’s sam who’s doing all the loving.

and he’s never wanted anything more than you.

[roseworth]

pov tom taylor writing green arrow

ollie: i have embraced the joys of fatherhood, thank god i forgot about those pesky emotional consequences and trauma. lets group hug

dinah: haha ollie you are so silly. i wish i could be even more your wife

mia: you guys are #couplegoals. i only know how to speak in screenshots for twitter

connor:

roy: that reminds me of when i did drugs a long time ago. luckily i had the love of my family to fix me

lian: thanks for getting me away from my evil mom btw she was so scary but i think deep down she might have been good....

cissie: im so glad you guys let me be a part of your family :)

emiko:

ollie: i feel the need to point out how much better we are than the batfamily. i think its been too long since we compared ourselves to the batfamily and we need to make sure to mention that we're a stronger family than them

dinah: LOL youre so right

cissie: can i call you dad

marianne: its me marianne from green arrow 1988 making a cameo in a 3 issue arc! im here to cause drama

ollie: NO MARIANNE! i am a family guy now i would never cheat on my wife who i love

dinah: i forgive you! that happened a long time ago and it doesnt mean anything now, showing that our relationship is stronger than ever before

mia: 😜

[splash page of a group hug]

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (Teaser)

Posting Date: Tuesday, December 19th, 7:00 PM CT

Creative Collaborator: @kithtaehyung FOR THIS AMAZING BANNER!

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Length: One Shot 

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration!

Estimated WC: 45K (... whoops; this will probably be multiple parts)

Rating: 18+

Preview: 2,141

Y/N POV

You should have known better than to trust Namjoon with your dating life.

Yoongi never would have put you in this situation. The more level-headed of your two best friends, Yoongi approaches matters of the heart with the same rationality he does everything else. Namjoon, on the other hand, is a great guy – who is notoriously bad at reading other people.

The number of times you’ve been forced to step in and save him from phone scams is astounding. It’s not his fault, really – Namjoon trusts too easily, which doesn’t serve him well in this world. He’s always willing to give others the benefits of the doubt, which gets him into trouble. 

And now you, by extension, having accepted the blind date he proposed.

Mike Davis moved into Namjoon’s building two months ago, and Namjoon has been adamant since the start that you two would hit it off.

“He goes to all the same conventions you do,” he assured you last week on the phone.

“Which conventions?” you asked, squinting hard at the wall. “I know you’re not big into nerd culture, Namjoon, so as an FYI – not all cons are considered equal.”

Namjoon rattled off a few you’d attended, impressing you enough to agree despite the initial disinterest. This agreement may have been spurred by tonight being the three-month anniversary of the worst break-up of your life.

Almost as soon as you sat, you realized your mistake. While you may have reached a point where you don’t cry every time your ex’s name is mentioned, the prospect of dating someone else is an entirely different matter. Getting dressed up felt strange, as did traveling to the restaurant and waiting for Mike at the bar.

The fact that Mike called this place a ‘restaurant’ should have been your first clue, as Hat Trick is most definitely a sports bar – specifically, a hockey bar. Had you known (really, you should have known), you wouldn’t have gone, but you were nervous and trying to make a good impression. Upon arriving, you arranged yourself awkwardly on a sticky bar stool and waited seven minutes for Mike to walk in.

Nearly an hour later, you find yourself regretting coming at all. Mike excused himself two minutes ago for the bathroom and as soon as he left, you sagged with relief.

He’s a nice guy, you suppose. Good looking, with light brown curls and dark eyes. You can see why Namjoon thought he might be good for you – Mike is the exact opposite of your ex in many ways. Constantly frazzled, he arrived late to the bar, only to immediately duck outside because he forgot to pay the parking meter. Jimin was the type to unpack his suitcase immediately after reaching the hotel and brought several chargers in case one of them died.

Once the meter was paid, Mike sat down and immediately launched into his entire life story. You suppose you should have been happy about this, since lack of communication ended your last relationship but instead, found yourself overwhelmed. 

Mike finally paused for breath once your drinks arrived, allowing you a moment to answer his questions. The moment you said you ran a pretty popular cosplay TikTok, Mike instantly shifted from arrogant to insecure. 

“I can’t believe you came,” he exhaled with a shake of his head. “When Namjoon showed me your picture, I said no way would you go out with me. You’re way too beautiful.”

Somewhat awkward, you laughed. “Don’t try and get me to leave, now, Mike.”

His eyes widened, not catching your sarcasm and it took several moments to get back on track. Everything since has been downhill, so when he excused himself for the bathroom, all you felt was relief.

Digging through your purse, you pull out your phone and swipe to the group chat.

Y/N: Namjoon, WHAT possessed you to set me up with this man [7:46 PM]

Yoongi’s reply comes immediately.

Yoongi: told you it was too soon [7:46 PM]

Namjoon’s ellipses join in.

Namjoon: what! Why? What happened?? Mike didn’t try something on you, did he? [7:47 PM]

Y/N: no, no – nothing like that [7:47 PM]

Y/N: he just keeps saying how *amazing* I am and how he doesn’t know why I’m on this date at all [7:47 PM]

Yoongi: dude [7:48 PM]

Y/N: EXACTLY [7:48 PM]

Before Namjoon can respond, the bartender changes the channel and an all-too-familiar name blares over the speakers. Slowly, you look up, and all thoughts of Mike fade, faced with NHL coverage.

Nope, no – absolutely not.

Leaning over the counter, you lightly tap the bartender. “Hi.” Brightly, you smile. “First off, could I have another glass of white wine? And then, maybe… could you change the channel?”

Glancing around, the guy shakes his head. “Yes, to the wine, but no, the channel,” he says with a shrug. “Half the people in here came to watch the game. Pre-show coverage is part of that.”

With an apologetic nod, he grabs a rag and disappears. Sinking back in your seat, you stare at your hands, clasped tightly together. Your spot at the bar puts you in the unfortunate position of hearing each word the announcers say crystal-clear.

“Well, Josh, what chance do you think the Blackhawks have tonight?”

The silver-haired man beside him bobs his head. “Steve, I’d say their chances are pretty darn good. You’ve seen this team’s early games. Their first line is strong, especially now that Park’s back.”

“Oh, absolutely – Jimin Park has been crucial in the last couple of games. He was sorely missed last season.”

“Ha! You can say that again.”

Trying to hide your wince, you clasp your hands tighter as a fresh glass of wine is set down. “Thanks,” you mutter, downing half in one gulp.

Immediately, your plans for later tonight shift to accommodate another bottle of wine. Movement catches the corner of your eye, and, despite yourself, you watch the montage of star right winger, Jimin Park, tearing his way down the ice. Shamefully, you recognize every shot since, although you broke up in September, you continued to watch every game.

“One of the most talked about moments last year in hockey was the late check on Park by Blues player, Brent Howard,” continues the announcer, Josh. “His helmet came loose when he hit the boards, and he went down hard on the ice. Park suffered a sprained knee and herniated a disc in his neck. A complicated surgery took him for most of the season, only starting to skate with the team again over the summer.”

Hearing the trauma recounted with such callousness, you find yourself gripping your wine glass tighter than before.

“I don’t think anyone ever expected Park to play again,” agrees the other announcer, Steve. “It’s a damned miracle he’s back on the ice – but to return and be this good? Park has always been one of the best right wingers in the league, but I’d say he’s the best offensive player on the ice right now.”

“A bold claim!” laughs Josh. “But I might just agree. Even Jungkook Jeon on the Rangers hasn’t been matching Park in assists.”

“Exactly! I mean, look at the numbers. Last year, the Blackhawks barely made the playoffs and now, they’re first in the Western Conference.”

“Truly amazing, given the nature of his injury last November. I don’t know how familiar you are with herniated discs, Steve, but –”

Mike slides back onto his stool. Grateful for the distraction, you turn fully to face him. Having already lived through the injury once, you have no need to reminisce. Replacing your phone in your purse, you smile gamely at Mike.

“So,” you say, attempting to save the conversation. “Namjoon mentioned you like conventions? What fandoms are you a part of?”

“Oh.” Mike loosely shrugs. “I doubt you’ve heard of any of them.”

At his dismissive tone, you stiffen. Your experience with the male side of fandom is always a toss-up. “Well, there are a lot of them. Any that are more mainstream?”

He considers. “Marvel?”

Stunned, you blink once or twice. Marvel has to be one of the biggest fandoms on the planet, let alone in the country. Even if you weren’t deep in the convention circuit, you’d have heard of Marvel.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I think I’ve heard of that.”

“Cool, cool.” Mike nods. “Namjoon said you do cosplay – and showed me your TikTok! You know, you’d make a great Wonder Woman.”

You can practically feel your jaw tighten. “That’s DC, not Marvel. But thanks.”

Silent, you add for nothing. While you love Wonder Woman and have, in fact, cosplayed her many times, men usually only request her for one reason and that’s the skimpy outfit. Whenever you cosplay as circa 2010 Wonder Woman in pants, they’re decidedly less interested. By now, you’ve learned only to pick your characters based on personal interest.

“Have you ever cosplayed?” you ask.

Unbidden, your gaze slides to the TV. Commercial break. Stifling your twinge of disappointment, you refocus on Mike.

“Nah.” His nose wrinkles, and your stomach sinks further. “I don’t do that stuff.”

“Stuff?”

Hearing your tone, his eyes widen. “I mean, it’s cool for you. I saw your TikToks and you look amazing. I’d just look dumb,” Mike says, attempting a laugh.

Sweetly, you smile. “I don’t know. My ex used to cosplay with me, and no one ever laughed at him.”

Admittedly, this is something of a low blow since your ex-boyfriend is Jimin Park, but either Namjoon didn’t tell him, or Mike doesn’t care. Which – if that’s so, maybe Mike deserves more credit than you gave him. 

“Ah.” He nods, taking a sip of his beer. “Have you ever thought about cosplaying as Wonder Woman, though?”

Your smile vanishes. Then again, maybe you’ve given him exactly the right amount of credit.

“I have,” you say. “But more recently, I’ve been cosplaying Dimension 20 characters. It’s kind of niche, but my last character was Sundry Sidney from A Starstruck Odyssey. You know – giant machine gun arm, roller skates and a mechanical eye. Oh, and a ‘fuck erotica ann’ button, of course.”

Mike’s smile freezes. “Why… would you dress like that?”

“Because it’s fun.” Finishing your glass of wine, you toss a few bills on the counter and stand. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Mike, but I think we’d be better off as friends. Don’t you agree?”

Even with the answer right there in the question, still he looks flummoxed.

“I…” 

“Or acquaintances,” you add, pulling on your pea coat. “Or nothing at all. Whatever you prefer.”

Slinging your purse on your shoulder, you wave at the bartender and start to leave. You only make it several steps before Mike mutters something beneath his breath – loud enough that you hear.

“Stupid,” he mutters. “This is why you don’t date women like her, Mike.”

You come to a stop. Really, you should keep going. Common sense – and Namjoon’s HOA – depend on you being the bigger person and walking out. But your therapist has said you need to work on communicating, even when the message is something the other person won’t like.

Turning around, you tap Mike on the shoulder.

He glances upward, surprised – and then reddens, realizing you heard.

“Yep, I heard,” you say shortly, retracting your hand. “Was your muttering supposed to be secret?”

Mike opens, then closes his mouth, like a fish.

“What did you mean, ‘women like me?’” you demand, folding your arms. “Ones with self-respect? Or hobbies? Women who know more about a subject than you do?”

Behind the counter, the bartender snort-laughs, rising in your esteem despite the whole TV channel thing. 

Mike stares at you, stunned. He seems to grow a pair in that moment though, straightening to face you on his stool. “Women with sticks up their asses,” he blurt.

Stifling an eye roll, you lean closer. “Listen, Mike,” you say, placing one hand on the counter. “If you think you can hurt my feelings – think again. Someone broke my heart three months ago, so nothing you say now will remotely compare. Do you really want to know why women like me won’t date you?”

The furrow between his brows deepens, and you take this as a sign to continue. Leaning even closer, you lower your voice.

“It’s because you’re insecure,” you say softly. “Giving someone a compliment and putting yourself down in the same sentence isn’t nice, it’s awkward. Not to mention, you’re sexist,” you add, watching him stiffen. “Telling me – a two-time Comic Con trivia champion – that I wouldn’t know Marvel is wild. Oh, and you’re a snob. Tabletop games are awesome, and cosplay is fun. Have a good night – I paid for your drink.”

With that, you turn around and march out the door to a smattering of applause from your new favorite bartender. 

[ TO BE CONTINUED ]

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "forcing" my best friend to break up with his boyfriend?

🧸

I (22 cis m) and my best friend 'A' (21 ftm) have been friends since we were 10 years old and I love him more than anything. He’s genuinely the sweetest, most thoughtful, and funniest person I’ve ever met. He means everything to me and we’ve been there for each other through the hardest times of our lives so far and I plan on staying until the end.

It’s always been us two. Btw, everyone mentioned here uses he/him pronouns exclusively.

A has been with his boyfriend (21 cis m) for about 2 years now, and from what he told me, things were going great. Even if I’m not too fond of his boyfriend. A few days ago, we got pretty drunk at a friend’s housewarming party. A and I live together, and as soon as we got home, he suddenly started rambling about how he wishes his boyfriend cared about him the same way I do.

Legit felt like I was in some dumb romance movie for a moment there. I felt a little uneasy and asked him to elaborate. In short, his boyfriend essentially treats him like a doll instead of a person with real emotions. He feels as though his boyfriend just uses him to get his daily fix of physical affection and sex, that’s it. The only positive thing his boyfriend can say about A is that he’s cute, which boggles my mind. It’s true but there’s so much more to him as a human being.

A is an incredibly talented artist, super kind, super emotionally intelligent, and has a plethora of interests he loves to infodump about. I’m trying my hardest not to make this entire post about how amazing he is. He’s helped multiple friends clean their depression apartments and took them out to get fresh groceries etc. because it’s basic decency to him. He has such a big heart and holds so much love in it for everyone in his life. Being around him is just so easy and makes life worth living.

He’s just an incredible person all around and every single person that has him in their life recognizes that, except his boyfriend. They’ve had issues in the past because they’re not sexually compatible, which led to some miscommunication and made A feel like he was coerced into things he didn’t want to do. He just did them to make his boyfriend happy. He does a lot of things for his boyfriend, actually. He’s constantly buying little gifts, remembering what he likes, and plans cute dates for them to go on. His boyfriend does none of these things.

I want to mention that A has bpd and avpd. He has an intense fear of rejection and will do everything in his power to appease others so they won’t leave him. I always take the time to reassure him that I love him for who he is and not what he can give me. Basically just making sure he feels loved. Keep in mind, his boyfriend is aware of this but he just gets annoyed when A seeks reassurance from him. His behavior has made my blood boil several times in the past already, but I always kept it to myself for A’s sake. If I was vocal about disliking his boyfriend, it probably would’ve caused A a lot of distress and emotional turmoil.

Still, I don’t think this relationship is healthy for A and I know him well enough to know he won’t break it off on his own. It’s just his combo of personality disorders that makes it impossible for him. I told him about my concerns and he agreed, but said he feels bad for his boyfriend since he apparently doesn’t have any friends outside of A. From my POV, it just looks like his boyfriend knows A is out of his league and is grasping at straws to make A stay with him out of pity.

This is where I might be the asshole. I got a little frustrated and raised my voice, which I severely regret. I don’t want to blame it on the alcohol but it definitely had a hand in it. I finally told him about all these grievances I have about his boyfriend, how much I dislike him and how A deserves so much better, etc.. At one point, I essentially gave him an ultimatum. It’s me or his boyfriend. I didn’t really mean it, it was just a heat of the moment thing I spat out. I would never leave him like that.

A started crying and begged me to calm down, at which point I realized how shitty I was being and immediately began apologizing. We hugged, I comforted him, and we spent the rest of the night cuddling and talking about how he could approach the breakup.

Now that I’ve sobered up I feel like absolute shit. I know it’s not my place to tell A what to do with his romantic relationships, even if I’m his best friend. Plus, I want to be 100% honest here and say I might have romantic feelings for A. I think I have for a long time, but I always wrote it off as intense platonic love. So I may be biased in this whole conversation about his boyfriend.

I didn’t say these things because of that. I genuinely think his boyfriend is a huge dick and full of shit, no matter how sweet and loving he pretends to be. It’s all in the way he treats A. He’s one of those guys that paint their nails (nothing wrong with that but you know the kind of guy I’m talking about), pretend to be feminists, and steal their romantic partner’s personality to seem cooler. He even asked A to stop taking testosterone because he didn’t like how hairy A was getting or some shit like that.

He’s pansexual but has only ever dated girls and started dating A before A began medically transitioning. There’s obviously nothing wrong with that and changes nothing about the fact that he’s pansexual, he just pisses me off when he criticizes A for being 'too masculine'. You can have a preference for feminine people but don’t make that shit your partner’s problem when they just want to pass.

I feel like A’s boyfriend just thought A would always stay the smooth, baby-faced twink he was before going on testosterone and now makes him feel guilty for looking like a grown man. Some people don’t know how to appreciate hairy tummies.

Sorry for making this so long but I just want to be as honest and informative as possible to get proper opinions on the issue. A is now dead set on breaking things off because he now knows that I actively despise his boyfriend and he always puts my opinion above everyone else’s.

Was I in the wrong for doing this or am I just protecting my best friend? I’m glad he intends on ending things but I feel a bit like a conniving snake considering everything. It feels like I’m taking advantage of his mental state even if I’m not doing it consciously.

[chaos-chloe]

Back Seating in Action-Pezzy

Summary: Chat back seating on a game, inspo from his clip. There will be a link at the bottom of the post. {2nd POV or if you were watching the stream...}

TW: Screaming, cursing, established relationship and a mention of a gun {an emote from Twitch} lmk if I missed anything :)

“Guys let me show y’all what I see in chat, with back seating.” Pezzy takes off his headset while getting up from his “gamer” chair.

“You’re sitting at your computer having a good time, right?” Pezzy sassily fixes his clothes as he leaves the room while leaving his door cracked slightly for a hot minute.

Then, his girlfriend, ____ slams the door open, while wearing her signature red and plaid, fluffy pjs pants and a muscle tank top, and her hair up in a messy bun, stomping her way to the computer. She slightly trips on his shoes in the walkway and laughs it off, Pezzy walks in behind her watching in suspense to see what she will do. She grabs the mic and starts ranting and screaming into the mic.

“HEY, this is how you do everything! You do this part, you put that pipe here, and the other part there. You need this code, here’s the code by the way. 45826 and then it's these colors {Pink, Purple and Gray}, and this what; and this is what happens at the end of the game ... .That's what happens by the way, but enjoy your game.” _____ cried in pain at the stupidity of chat,  she then moves away from the camera to sit on the edge of Pezzy’s bed. Then Pezzy walks into the middle of the camera frame. He lifts his arm up to his side in an angry questioning state.

“LIKE WHAAAT?!?!” Pezzy screeches as his voice cracks from the stress on his vocal cords.

“Babe, you have really stupid and young people in your chat if this is every stream occurrence.” ____ comments as she shakes her head, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh, trust me baby, I know.” Pezzy snarkily agrees, walking back to his chair putting his headphones back on. 

“Welp, Imma head back to the couch make me a mod for this stream, so i can ban those spoiling fuckers. Just ask for me to help and if anyone else tries or does help I will time them out for 3 minutes or so.” ____ suggested walking away.

“I got you and thank you babes.” Pezzy throws his answer over his shoulder to make sure she heard him clearer. 

“SEE chat, y’all better be careful. She's ruthless and hot, no wonder she's my girlfriend. Unlike y’all fuckers, can’t even get a girlfriend” Pezzy teases his chat while laughing. 

“Be Careful chat, I'm here and lurking. I don't miss my shots, Chat PepegaGun” 

“Now you, assholes are gonna Pet the mods, huh?” Pezzy questioned the chat. 

backseating in action - Twitch

Pezzy Plush (1ft) – Youtooz Collectibles < GO BUY HIS PLUSH ONLY AVAILABLE FOR 2 WEEKS

I do NOT own the banner/divider, The artwork belongs to the artist which has been linked. Nor do I own Pezzy or any of his content that is all him and his work.

[velchronica]

pov. ♬~*.°₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ itoshi rin

i wanna love me the way that you love me

for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too

i’d love to see me from your point of view

or, itoshi rin loves you, infinitely, even when you’re struggling to find reasons why he should

content: insecurity (physical & emotional), hurt/comfort, pro footballer!rin, gn!reader, non-celeb!reader, established relationship, sfw

wc: 1.4k

rin always holds you close and let you cry into the crook of his neck when you need him the most, rubbing soothing circles onto your back, comforting and warm. he doesn’t complain about the tear stains on his shirt—instead, he stays there with you in his arms for hours on end. it’s as if there isn’t anything in the world that could move him until you’ve had enough of him.

rin is always understanding. he’s had his own depressive episodes—(often sae-related) symptoms of his unresolved abandonment issues, the fear of not being good enough. yet in those difficult moments, the one who’d worked through all of it with him had been you. so it’s only natural rin plays his part to repay you, to show gratitude for the fact you’re in his life.

life can be cruel, and the world can be cold. people can be both, even if they don’t mean to be. but rin is neither when it comes to you.

some days are better than others, and others may be worse than most. but no matter what’s led to your subsequent breakdown, rin doesn’t question it, he simply lets you cry it out. and if you’re willing to let go of him for a short moment, he’ll be back in no time after making some hot cocoa and getting your favourite sweet snacks, and he’ll carry you—clinging onto him like a baby koala—to your shared bedroom.

once you’re both comfortably sprawled across the bed with a variety of scrumptious delicacies on your bedside cabinet, you muster up the courage to speak up. rin is attentive: his eyes never leave you once while you rant, but his gaze never grows bored, nor does it show signs of it being childish indulgence or empty support. no, rin will sympathise, and never does less than his best to help you through it.

insecurity is not linear, nor is grief or worry. most of the time, there’s no trigger, nor is it a culmination of many miseries. it isn’t straightforward at all, not something that can be ‘fixed’. you’re not ‘broken’ for feeling that way. you’re human, that’s all there is to it.

to be honest, when you tell rin that you sometimes feel unworthy to be by his side, he doesn’t understand. “you’re the itoshi rin, and i’m, well, this,” you say, scoffing a little at the end.

he doesn’t get how you can undermine yourself like that, how you don’t see all the things—whether they’re as easy to spot as the sky above or a miniscule thing even you’re unaware of yourself—that make you so beautiful. to rin, you’re divine. heaven on earth is your feather-light touch, your smile when you look at him, your laughter whenever rin makes a sour face as if he’s just bitten into a lemon because someone’s annoyed him. heaven is every moment he spends with you.

somehow—god knows how—you don’t see that.

sometimes loving rin is all you know, but other times you know he’s so gorgeous that he catches the eye and captures the hearts of all who pass him by. in your eyes, you’re by no means special, but he is. rin’s beautiful in the way his brows furrow when he wakes up in the morning, thick, dark lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as they begrudgingly blink up. the world knows rin’s beautiful, too, because you see it under every post he makes on social media. you know the world loves rin (maybe just not as much as you do) when they scream his name as he walks onto the pitch. he’s like an idol, the way they treat him, with the name banners and the feral fans.

you don’t blame them. who can resist itoshi rin?

you don’t understand how rin can love you, when your ‘imperfections’ are all you can see when you look in the mirror. when you compare your body to that of the celebs that rin’s fans ship him with, or nonsense gossip magazines photoshop him with, because you can imagine rin with someone else—someone more beautiful, more talented. surely there’s a million other alternatives. surely someone as beautiful and special as rin deserves someone equally beautiful and special, someone who can match him, someone deserving.

“sometimes i think you deserve better than me. you’re too good for someone like me.”

when the truth you’d buried comes tumbling out your mouth one night, rin simply cannot comprehend how you could possibly think that. if anything, you’re the one who deserves better than him, right? you simply just settled for him, when you could’ve done much better.

“how could i ever want anyone who isn’t you?” rin says, gritting his teeth. “how can you say you’re undeserving?”

and he pulls you into the most devastating kiss, his hands roaming your beautiful body, every edge and every curve, warm and strong. your hands claw at his shoulders, grasping, and you’re breathless as rin’s lips leave yours momentarily, before they’re slamming back into yours once more.

“you’re beautiful,” rin confesses against your lips, before drawing back. something warm falls on your cheek. when your eyes refocus, rin’s crying. “i love everything about you. all that you are. i can’t explain it. i don’t need to pinpoint your best feature when everything about you is the best. you don’t need to be perfect. i don’t believe in that shit anymore. i just want you to be yourself. i want you to be proud of who you are, and i want you to be happy when you’re with me.”

you reach up to wipe rin’s tears away, feeling your own eyes sting with the telltale warning of your tears’ return. however, rin simply takes your hand in his own, and holds it against his cheek.

“i could spend the rest of my life telling you all the things i love about you, because i’d have to talk about everything about you,” rin says, and your breath hitches in your throat. your boyfriend is a man of few words, he’s always been a patient listener when it comes to you. confessing that he’s willing to talk about everything he loves about you for the rest of his life isn’t a small feat.

the day you broke down rin’s walls and entered his monochrome world, he began to believe in love again. and now he’s learned to simply love again, he’s not going to stop loving you.

and now you’re tearing up again. “i wish i could love myself as much as you love me,” you whisper. “there’s so much i hate about myself.” the words don’t roll off your tongue easily—they’re hesitant, reluctant, like a secret.

“then let me love you,” rin says. “i’ll love all the things you love about yourself and the things you hate about yourself. i’ll love you so much that you’ll learn to love the things you hate about yourself. i’ll remind you of how much i love everything you are, every day, whenever you need me, always.” his turquoise eyes are ablaze, and they look like blue-green flames, scorching with passion and love. “if you don’t want to face your fears alone, i’ll be with you. if you want time to yourself, i’ll wait for you. i’ll keep loving you, even when you’ve forgotten how to love yourself.”

when he pulls you close again, you rest your head against his torso, and you can hear the racing rhythm of his beating heart. in his arms, you feel warm, complete.

“i love you, rin. thank you. i think i really needed that today.”

rin exhales shakily, and you feel the vibration of his chest. “i love you. so damn much.” his hold of you tightens slightly, gentle but protective. “i love you because of who you are. if you decide to change for yourself, i’ll still love you. if you can’t love yourself, i love you for all the self-love you’re missing. and i’ll never stop loving you. don’t you dare forget that.”

© velchronica 2024

[delphi-shield]

a lover's guide to defusing time bombs // leon s. kennedy

Leon x afab!Reader Smut wc: 5,661 mdni - 18+

i'm having technical difficulties help why is this fic such a problem child. bout to give up and send it to the dumpster. shout out to tumblr support for fixing this yay my stupid smut is in the tags now. loosely proofread and edited. merry christmas xoxo

summary: Leon doesn’t love crowds. He hates them, actually, but he’s braving the annual Christmas parade for you. Ever vigilant, he scans for threats, ensures the giant clydesdales aren’t secretly agents of chaos, narrows his eyes to be absolutely positive that Santa isn’t concealing a weapon. You have got to find a way to make him relax.

content: afab!reader, mindless fluff, leon’s pov, vague depiction of an anxiety attack, discussions of leon’s mental health, established relationship, secular celebration of christmas, chestnuts roasting on an open fire (literally), leon’s dissociating through a lot of this, fingering (reader receiving), piv (reader receiving), doggy, a singular spank (reader receiving), use of toys (reader receiving), creampie, switchy leon & reader. the smut starts about halfway through if that’s what you’re here for.

Life with Leon can be divided up neatly into ‘Can't’ and ‘Won’t’.

He had crawled home to you at five in the afternoon, fresh off an assignment in Manhattan. He can’t tell you the details, all wrapped up in red tape, and he won’t let you get acquainted with the new ghosts that will haunt the darkened corners of your apartment. You're dozing so soundly in the living room. Prettiest thing he’s ever come home to, curled up under a blanket, colorful lights of the Christmas tree warming your skin. His hands are cold and battered when they brush against your forehead, smirch your warm skin with the grime that never washes off his skin.

He’s torn between waking you and letting you rest. He needs the rest himself, and it would be so easy to pick up your sleeping form and lay you back down against his chest, to drift off into a nap in the glow of the Christmas tree.

But he won’t break a promise to you, not if he doesn’t have to. He promised to take you to see the Christmas parade - and for once, he’s actually back in time to make good on his word.

Leon checks his watch. Back in time, but not by much. The parade starts in an hour. He rouses you, a strong hand gentle on your shoulder. It’s almost meditative, watching the way you wake. The way you take your time, curling into yourself like a cat before you finally unfurl, the slow blink of your eyes struggling to focus. You’re here. You’re safe. You don’t jolt awake the way that he does. You don’t jerk at his touch. You’re safe from the monsters that stalk him. For once, he’s kept something safe.

Leon came back from Spain a little different, but he can’t- and won’t - tell you jack about shit, as usual. He’s not sure if he’s changed for the better or the worse. There’s moments where the light is back in his eye, where all his jagged edges seem to soften. It’s the first time he’s ever come back from a ‘business trip’, as he likes to call them, and been able to say he’d done something good. Something worthwhile, beyond the nebulous concept of his servitude - something tangible. A life saved, not a country served.

The light’s dim today, but it shines when your eyes lock onto him. You light up, every ounce of weariness fleeing your body at the sight of him. You rocket forward. Your arms are tight and warm around his neck, and he rocks backward at the force of your affection. A laugh passes his lips, pressed into the top of your head along with a kiss.

“I could get used to that greeting,” he says when you part. Not all the way, of course. Your hand rests on his wrist, desperate for the contact. Like you think he might float away if you don’t keep him grounded.

“You better not,” you warn him, the seriousness in your tone as convincing as it is menacing - not at all.

He urges you to get up and get ready. You’re going to miss the parade. Probably missed most of the craft fair already, but he’s privately glad that you hadn’t gone without him. An ache opens up in his chest to think of you going alone.

“We don't have to go,” you assure him. It must be the fifth time you’ve tried to give him an out. You’re hopping on one foot, trying to stuff your feet into your warm boots, but he still recognizes the guilt in your eyes. He’s felt it many times himself, and he’s tired of seeing that part of himself reflected in your eyes. He won't make you feel like you’re stealing time away from him ever again.

“I promised.” He adjusts your scarf for you once you’ve stopped hopping. There was nothing wrong with the way you had it done. It’s just another excuse to touch you. He needs those. He needs reasons, real or invented. Touch has never been easy for him the way it has been for you.

Ushering you into the car is easy. You don’t put up any real resistance, other than babbling about how you don’t mind driving, honest, because he must be so tired. What he feels goes so far past tired that it wraps back around into restlessness, but he won’t tell you that. It seems like the sort of thing that would make you worry more, not less. Besides - he wants to watch you from the corner of his eye while he drives. He wants to see your head sway gently to the Christmas carols on the radio. He wants you to point out overdecorated houses and coo over Christmas decorations.

Leon needed this. He missed it, the peaceful quiet between the two of you. It doesn’t last terribly long. When you see how awful the parking situation is downtown, you burst into complaints. He doesn’t mind those either, the ghost of a smile glued to his lips while he drives circles around every parking lot in a four block radius.

He has to parallel park - something that makes you so nervous that you grip his arm while he wedges into the parking spot. Sure, he turns a three-point turn into something closer to a 36-point turn, but the important part is, he didn’t hit anyone. Besides - he kinda likes it when you cling to him like that.

He likes it more than the way you’re watching him, that’s for sure. You look like you’re waiting for him to fall apart. In fact, he’s not sure you’re even trying to hide your worry this time, got your heart bleeding on your sleeve for everyone to see. You take his hand clumsily, your movements big and ungainly in your mittens, and guide him through downtown.

It gets worse when you actually arrive at the parade route. The whole damn city must be out tonight. Families with gaggles of children, some sat on their father’s shoulders, carolers struggling to be heard over the noise of the crowd. Your hand squeezes his. He fights down his irritation. He knows it’s irrational. He doesn’t want to take it out on you.

It’s just a lot.

Leon likes to walk around with his head held high, pretending that he has no long-lasting quirks from his career. He can handle it. That’s the kind of man he is. He doesn't think less of you for how little you can carry in return. His shoulders are broad, he reminds you. He can carry what you can’t - hell, he feels useless when you don’t let him.

You can see it in the way his eyes never stop roving, the way his fingers curl near his hip – he knows you can. You’re more perceptive than he gives you credit for. Might wear your heart out for everyone to see, but you’re observant as all hell. He keeps a hand glued to the curve of your waist, keeps his head on a swivel for all threats, real and imagined.

He’s just being cautious, he tells himself. There’s nothing wrong with being aware of your surroundings. Especially not in a big crowd like this. His trained mind whirls. It throws him off-kilter. He’s not on the clock, but he’s acting like it. Big celebrations like this are perfect targets for terrorists looking to make a statement.

There’s a rolodex in his head filled to the brim with the kinds of intel that would make you never want to step outside again. He can’t tell you that - not just for the sake of national security, but for the sake of your peace of mind.

You say something - something about a vendor, your hand pointing across the street. His head moves first, humming acknowledgement he doesn’t mean, his eyes following slow to see what you’re looking at. No clue. You’re looking at him expectantly, arm tucked in the crook of his, so he just nods, agrees aimlessly.

Leon’s all wrapped up in his head, standing shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the crowd, staring down at himself from above. Float after float goes by - horses, a flock of sheep decked out in festive trimmings, shepherded by a gaggle of men and boys dressed in anachronist robes - and he’s pretty sure he saw an actual, honest-to-god reindeer, but the static spreading from his mind to his limbs turns everything around him into a nauseating blur.

“Hey.” You nudge him with an elbow, tucking your scarf below your chin. “C’mon.”

Your words seem so muffled. He’s starting to wonder if that action hero lifestyle is already catching up to him. He’s got to get his damned ears checked. You curl your hand around his bicep and urge him away from the crowd.

He’s too slow to think to protest. You had wanted to see the parade. He can’t take this away from you, not when you had been so excited. The guilt claws at his heart. He tugs your hand to pull you back toward the crowd, but you dig your heels in and give him this stern look that all but forces him to yield. You drag him down a quieter street, where vendors are packing their things up, the crowds having fled to watch the parade. 

If he could know your thoughts, he’d know you wished to press your thumb gently against the well of his eye and swipe away the darkness that hangs there, press a kiss to his bruised skin and watch his blush paint over the hurt. You press a hot chocolate into his hands instead. The warmth spreads through his gloves.

For a long moment, Leon just holds the drink in his hands. He rolls the paper cup back and forth, back and forth, walks with you as you pace the street. You pause to speak with a woman standing over an open grill.

The scent pulls him back to earth. He lifts the cup of hot chocolate to his face and inhales deeply. Sweet and chocolatey, Leon knows it’s probably Swiss Miss bought in bulk for the sole purpose of being handed out to parade-goers. He takes a sip, lets the cheap, watered down hot chocolate warm him. The noise of the parade is far away now, not just in his mind but in reality. The bells and the carols, the clop of hooves on cobblestone, it stays muted, but it doesn’t threaten to overwhelm him anymore.

His hand squeezes yours. You don’t stop speaking with the woman, but your eyes cut towards him, and your smile bright - a beacon that says welcome back.

For the first time, he realizes how cold his hands are. He slips the hand not holding the hot chocolate into the pocket of your jacket. He knows you’ve got a handwarmer in there. Lo and behold, he’s right. Your pocket may as well be heated.

Another scent stands out to him. His eyes focus on the dying embers still glowing faintly in the belly of the grill. An earthy, nutty smell drifts up to him. You’ve got something in your hands, he realizes - round little balls, their dark brown shells split and cracked, light golden interior peeking through.

You wave, say goodbye to the vendor, and tug him down the street - in the vague direction of the car, he realizes. Another stab of guilt. You’d wanted to see this parade so badly. He knows why you’re leaving.

“Try it,” you chirp, cheeks darkened by the cold air. You tip your hand towards his, drop one of the little nuts you're carrying into his hand. You smile so brightly, like you don’t realize that he’s ruined this for you. “It should be cool enough now.”

“What is it?” He asks, rolling it in his palm.

“A roasted chestnut. S’really good!” He looks over at you, fighting the urge to laugh. You’re already chewing the damn thing. He watches you slip the shell off of another chestnut.

“What are you, five? Close your mouth when you eat.” He bumps your shoulder with his, no heat behind his words.

He slips the shell off the chestnut, the way he had watched you do moments before. He pops it into his mouth and makes a noise of surprise. He’d expected it to be hard and crunchy, but it’s soft - buttery, almost. Sweet, in the same way as a sweet potato. He holds his hand out for another, and you drop it into his palm, chuckling triumphantly to yourself.

The walk back to his car is near silent, trading chestnuts and jabs back and forth. The restlessness that had filled his limbs earlier has melted into a sleepy, dull-edged tiredness that wears at his bones. He opens your door for you, guides you inside with a hand at the small of your back.

He wants to apologize. It’s all Leon can think about while he’s trying to get out of this goddamn parking spot. It takes him long enough. He’s crafting a script in his head. He knows exactly what he has to say.

But when you’re finally back on the road, he’s speechless. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, laden with the sweetness of the chestnuts and oily against his teeth. He can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips again, the road melting away as he guides you home by muscle memory alone.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

God, you’re an angel, breaking the silence like that. He glances over at you, the pounding of his heart quieting in his ears at the sight of your smile, your eyes soft and your hair messed. Your hat lays in your lap, your mittens peeled off and tossed to god-knows-where for him to find later on.

Leon nods. He feels like kicking himself. How the hell did he ever pull you? 

After a too-long silence, he says, “No problem. Sorry. For, uh –”

For making us leave. For ruining this. For not having my shit together.

You’re too nice to think any of those things about him. He knows that. That doesn’t mean Leon doesn’t think it about himself.

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun. Besides, I kinda wanted to spend time with you, anyway. Just you.”

He looks to you at a stoplight, tries to gauge if there’s any irritation hidden under your expression. You settle your hand on his knee. You smile blithely out the window, your eyes catching his in the reflection, crinkling at the corners when you smile wider. His heart pounds again - not panic, but a warm, comfortable squeeze.

He can’t believe he’s this lucky.

“We could watch a Christmas movie,” he offers. A small balm for the hurt he feels he’s caused.

You hum. Indifferent. You turn your head back to him as the light turns green, your hand sliding up to his thigh and squeezing. It sends a thrill through his gut, his breath catching. He wasn’t away that long, but it felt like forever without your touch.

“I was kinda thinking we could just hang out,” you say, your voice deceptively innocent. “I missed you.”

The car behind him honks. He wrests his thoughts out of the gutter, forces himself to actually drive. Your hand stays on his thigh, drifts even higher, your little laugh flushing all the blood out of his head.

“That’s, uh – yeah. Fantastic.”

The drive home is a blur. He tries to make conversation, honest to God, he does, but you’re so damn distracting. You know it, too. He can see that sadistic little twinkle in your eye. He’s lucky you’ve got enough mercy in you not to tease him while he drives. You’ve already got him wrapped around your finger, you have to know that by now.

Leon practically jumps out of the car. He should be embarrassed by the way you have him hopping around like some horny virgin. You slip out of the car with much more grace and press yourself to his side. His arm wraps around your waist, finds a way to tug you even closer while he fumbles with his keys.

The door is barely open, and you’re on him. He doesn't even have time to strip his jacket off before you press yourself against him. You urge his back against the door, shutting it with a thud. Your hands roam all over him, shucking his jacket off and letting it pool on the floor. Your lips press to his, trading the taste of hot chocolate and chestnuts. You move to his neck. His gasps are barely restrained. His pulse races under your touch. His head rocks back, smacks against the door and he groans. You chuckle, take his hand and pull him further into the apartment.

The backs of your knees hit the couch and he takes the invitation to tip you over the edge, his body covering yours without a moment of hesitation. Your lips are back on his skin, tongue laving a hot path wherever you can reach. Greedy. He shudders against the hands that grip his sides. 

"Not too tired?" You ask between kisses. Your teeth nip at the thin skin of his neck and his breath damn near stops. He should tell you to quit. It's not professional. He's gonna show up to his next briefing covered in hickeys and then everyone will know how good Kennedy is getting it at home. He's not sure he minds. He thinks he wants everyone to know just how fucking good he's got it.

"No way," he says, his voice lighter than he meant. He wanted to sound gravely, masculine - instead he sounds like he's about to cum his pants. Goddamn, the things you do to him.

"How do you want it?"

Oh, so it's up to him now? He wishes you'd take the choice from him. You press your hips up against him and, fuck, he wishes you'd take everything from him.

You pull back, your lips leaving his skin, and the chill settles over him again, the distance between you too much for him to handle. His hands grip your hips, slide under you and tug you into him so you can feel the way his cock fills out his jeans. It's hot and tight and goddammit, he wants to be in you - in a better kind of hot and tight rather than this denim prison that's fucking killing him.

You press your hand to his shoulder, force the distance. You level him with a look, like a school teacher discipling a naughty student. (Hot. Gonna have to keep that one in mind, if he ever works the nerve up to ask you to try some roleplay. He’ll bet you could really wreak havoc with a ruler, rap it across his knuckles -- better yet, his ass, let the sting spike over his skin. Make him indignant or obedient - he won't know what sort of mood he's in until he's there.)

You're waiting for an answer. That much is clear. No more love bites until he speaks up. You're a dead weight in his arms and he knows how to make you come to life again.

He sits back on his thighs, hands turning you. "Face in the cushions."

"You got the energy for that?"

You don't even mean to be a brat, he’s sure. It's not an honest challenge. You just sound genuinely surprised. He nods. He's got all the energy for the world if it means being with you.

That gets you moving at least. You squirm under him, limbs awkward and trapped between his thighs. He peels you out of your jeans and rolls his eyes when he sees you've got a second pair of pants underneath.

"It was cold out!" You protest, raising your hips to help him get the layers off.

"It's not that cold out. You got long johns on under these, too?"

"Keep this up and you won't find out."

That shuts him up.

His stomach lurches, arousal hot and tight from the way you're swinging your hips at him. He fumbles with his belt, unwraps himself and tosses the packaging off to the side, where it lands under the tree with the rest of the presents. His fingers tease along your slit, nudging the wet patch you've left along your panties. He wants to bury his nose in you, surround himself with your scent and your taste, shake his head and burrow as deep as he can get.

But when his fingers curl under the elastic of your waistband, you click your tongue. He stills, frozen by your directive.

"Can you ask nicely?"

He wants to scoff. Impatience and irritation are bubbling in his gut, but your demand makes his cock twitch and he could have sworn he felt his fucking balls draw up.

"Please." He drones, fingers tugging at your panties.

"You can do better than that."

"I could just leave you here."

He's not going to do that. You both know that’s an empty threat. Leon grips the fullness of your ass, squeezes it under his palm. His hand draws back quick, a sharp smack filling the room. He hears you muffle your squeal into the cushions. He sees your fingers clench, sees you drag the nearest pillow closer, hugging it to your chest. So easy.

"Ask." That's not a request. It's a demand. You're doing your best to sound tough, your face buried in the pillow, ass still wagging at him like a bitch in heat. He hums, weighs his options.

"Can I fuck your pussy?" He presses his chest to your back, lets you feel the weight of him. You've told him so many times how you like that- you like the feeling of him surrounding you. You like being trapped under his weight, the way he pins you down. His cock strains against your clothed pussy. He wraps an arm around your waist, skims his hand up your chest, in the valley between your tits. His thumb strokes over a peaked nipple, plucks it to a point, and pinches. "Please. I'll make you cum first."

If the way your back arches is any indication, that may just have been the selling point.

"Gonna cum inside?"

"We'll see."

That must be your final straw. He's pushed you too far. You turn your head, cheek cushioned cutely against the couch.

"You cum inside or not at all." Your voice is firm, dark. He wishes he hadn't been so adamant on pressing against you, because he knows you felt the way his cock kicked. He sees your lips twist into a smirk.

Leon's in no mood to wipe it off your face. His baby wanted him to stuff that pretty pussy, who was he to argue? Give him five minutes to recharge, he'll paint your back, too. Maybe your chest.

His lips press to the back of your shoulder. The fingers pinching your nipple relent. He strokes your breasts reverently instead.

"Okay," he agrees, breathless. "Inside."

Your eyes linger on him, watching to see how serious he is. He does his best to look honest. His fingers smooth over his harsh touches, the devotion pouring from his fingertips. You grab his wrist, bring his hand to your mouth and wet his fingers for him, drink it down.

He leans back just enough to squirm his hand underneath the soaked fabric of your panties, slick fingers parting your folds again and again, pressing deeper each pass.

The way you sigh makes his gut tighten and squirm. He dips his fingers in you, the first sliding in so smooth that he adds the second after the first pump. His mouth lathers the nape of your neck with kisses, his breath hot and terse against your skin. Try as you might to seem unaffected, he sees the way that your skin pricks. 

Leon sets a steady pace, works you up to three fingers. Gotta get you ready for him – though the way you moan and rock, you clearly needed this more than you let on.

"Vibrator's in the drawer." He knows a command when he hears one. Doesn't have to be told twice. His superiors always liked that about him, and you appreciate it too. He commits the way your voice quivers to memory, banks that one for his nights away. He leans back, opening the drawer of the side table. He doesn't even question it until it's on and humming in his hand.

"The side table, huh..?"

Leon’s voice wobbles with laughter. That's not where this little guy usually lived. His fingers resume their pace, pumping into you steadily. He presses the head of the vibrator just above your clit, watches the way that you squirm. He can't take much more of this, not when he sees your pretty, kiss swollen lips part and hears you moan like that.

“Got lonely without you,” you admit. Your voice drives him insane, heat pulsing through him with every pump of his heart. Got that airy, whiny quality to it, your thighs quivering like you aren't sure whether to squirm away or chase after all the sensation.

He crooks his fingers inside you, feels you squeeze him and pulse. His cock aches. You bury your face into the pillows to smother the way you moan his name. He needs another hand. He needs fist his hand in your hair and drag you up so he can hear you cry his name over and over.

Not now. Later. Focus, Leon. Your pussy's got him high, lost in the pull of your body. He keeps the vibrator firm to your body, doesn't let you run from the way he’s making you feel. Your back bows, chest pressing to the couch, and he chases you down, lips smattering you neck with sloppy kisses, nipping at your skin, encouraging you with sighed praises – “There you go, baby, just like that, let go, I got you, just let go, cum for me –” and the pride he feels when you shake under him, squeeze his fingers to hard he’s surprised he still has circulation, has him panting.

Goddamn. You’re dripping down his arm, pussy squelching so obscenely around his fingers. He lifts the vibrator away from your clit to give you a break, turns it down just enough to keep you wound up. Doesn’t want it to hurt - not this time.

"I have to be inside you," he groans. You whine, legs spreading wider. Your knee slips off the couch, and rather than put it back up, you brace your foot against the floor to stay spread for him.

"Yeah," you breathe out. Poor baby. That's all you can manage, isn't it?

He shoves his boxers down mid-thigh, fingers drawing out of you. He sits back and lifts his hand to his face, makes a show of licking your mess from his wrist and fingers. That little whine you let out drives him fucking crazy. His fingers curl, sticky with remnants of your juices and his spit, against your hip, leave a tacky wet splotch against your skin. He draws the head of his cock through the wetness of your pussy, slow and torturous. The glide is effortless. He hasn’t prayed in years, but thank god for your cunt.

His hips nudge, head teasing your messy hole, and – Jesus Christ – he just meant to tease you, but your pussy pulls him in, warm and wet around the tip of his cock.

He pulls out, his body and his brain screaming at him – traitor – for pulling away from you. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Blow his load then and there? Hell no. You’d never let him live it down.

You whine again, needy and insistent. The noise is  muffled and frustrated in the press of the pillow. He needs more hands. Wants to pull your hair, force your head up from that pillow so he can hear you properly - but he's got to keep hold of your hips. He presses the vibrator back to your clit, and it’s got you squirming away from him. Leon was trying to buy himself some time to calm down, but this isn’t helping. He’s got to be inside of you right now, or he’s going to explode - and he promised he’d do that inside of you.

He positions himself at your entrance again, almost frantic. The first rock of his hips is clumsy, has him sliding up through the cleft of your ass. He tries again, slides through your folds again, the weeping head of his cock nudging at your clit. The vibrations ripple through his cock, and the whimper he lets out is humiliating. He swears under his breath. He doesn't have the control to pretend that was on purpose. 

His hand drags from your hip to guide himself into you in a series of quick, jerky thrusts. Leon sighs, stairstepping, relief flooding his veins, when your walls finally take him. His pace evens out into something slow and steady. It's a struggle to remember to keep the vibrator where you like it, the way his brain is so fogged with the way you squeeze him. He leans back, hand on the globe of your ass, spreading you apart to watch the way you take him. So wet and messy, sloppy noises driving him crazy. This is the kind of shit that keeps him up at night, that has him fucking his fist and cumming on his stomach in some remote corner of the world, painfully far from you.

He tosses the vibrator aside, the way it skips and jitters against the floor lost to him in the chorus of your moans and the slap of his hips against your ass. Leon feels what little hold he has over himself slipping from his grasp. He can't control the way that his hips rut against you, the push of his cock against the velvet walls of your cunt. He could lose himself in you, spend all his days buried to the hilt in you, balls slapping, teeth wearing at your shoulder, burning memories of this moment into your skin.

His breath comes quick and hard, his forehead buried in the crook of your neck, his moans a litany of your name. He wants you, needs you, can't stop the way his pace has quickened to a frantic beat. His teeth find your earlobe, tugging insistently just to hear your moans sharpen into a keen.

You tighten and pulse around him, a gush of fluid slicking his cock, and he's not certain that he's still on this earth. Your voice breaks on his name and his vision blurs. His fingers find your clit in the haze of pleasure that clouds his mind. It’s a clumsy replacement for the vibrator, but they're his, warm, rough pads that press against you, send your head spinnin. Leon doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. He wants you panting, breathless, boneless, wants you limp in the cushions below him while he pounds into you gooey cunt.

It doesn't take him long. You're whimpering and soft below him, trying fruitlessly to match his thrusts, your fingers clenching and unclenching against the pillow. He's lost in the haze of your body, and his orgasm almost takes him by surprise. He slows to a grind, rolling his hips deep into you again and again, the head of his cock pressing deep, his load spurting against your walls. His moan is broken, high-pitched - a whimper that will burn into your memory, your name sweet on his tongue.

Leon collapses against your back, his chest heaving. He tries to keep his weight off of you, but his limbs are too heavy. His hands slip down your sides, grasp your hips, and turn you, press your back to the couch.

"Good boy," you murmur. He huffs a laugh, kisses that teasing smile on your lips. You pat his shoulder limply.

Good, he thinks, still catching his breath. Got you all fucked out.

His hands slip back up your sides, craddling your ribs. His thumbs trace gentle arches across the curve of your ribs, his head nestled in the valley between your breasts. Your hand returns to his hair, much softer, petting him gently.

It feels like home. He's made it back. He won't leave, not for a while. He's not sure that he can. His eyes slip shut, the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights and the warm pull of your body lulling him into security. Dully, he remembers grab the vibrator from the floor and click it off. The silence that floods the apartment blankets over the both of you.

He doesn’t want to break the serenity of this moment. Your hair pet his hair, nearly lull him to sleep then and there. All his grand plans of round two, of making a mess of you, are slipping through his fingers in the warm glow of your apartment.

“You wanna open your presents now?” You ask him, voice heavy. Another swell of pride. It sounds like he’s worn you out. Maybe he could go for another round.

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I know,” you whine, “but I’m too excited.”

“I haven’t even wrapped yours yet.”

“Don’t care. Just open yours.”

He feels you squirm under him, trying to shuffle off of the couch. No doubt you want to fetch his gifts, force him to open them. Leon presses his full weight down onto you, pinning you under him.

“Nope.”

Your protests fall on deaf ears. He’s won’t give in, not this time. He already messed up the parade, he’s not messing up the gifts. He wiggles his fingers against your ribs, trying to silence your bargaining by making you squirm.

Your laugh fills the apartment. Leon smiles against your skin. That’s the sound that makes this place home.