#it doesn’t feel like it does. but I’m old so…

[vmpgothic]

LEON'S GUILTY PLEASURE

SIREN IS TYPING . . writing debut! :33 this is my first ever leon fic, so please be nice! 3: i accidentally went a bit too far and made the word count 9.4k words..um..enjoy! reblogs and replies are really helpful & help me stay motivated so if you have any kind words to share, please do! i would love to hear them! i’m sorry for the really long delay in posting this but UHHH!!! idk ;(( my bae 3k helped me with the plot for the call & i hope i tagged everyone ^_^ i did my best to proofread so hopefully it’s good!

CONTAINS: older man leon! x pornstar! reader — age gaps, alcoholism, mutual masturbation, leon is co-depended with your content, he adores you, hinted erectile dysfunction, leon is lonely and sad, reader is there to put on a show for him, video call sex, dildo use, etc!

SYNOPSIS: a lonely man copes with two things, alcohol and porn, one night he comes across a video that catches his eye, pushing him down a spiral of coping through you. he adores you and your work, his only want in life is to get closer to you, and when you make a contest and offer the winner a chance at a one on one call with you, leon jumps at the opportunity.

slumping down onto his bed, a drunk leon kennedy, sat back.

a small groan left his lips as nausea swirled around inside his stomach, he didn’t have food in his system, and his stomach was full of whiskey.

aerial shoot, his favorite.

but, fuck. he overdid it, throughout the whole evening he had been nursing a new bottle of the bitter whiskey, drinking it down like it was water, not caring about the way it burned his throat. by now it was empty, the drug seeping into his system like a blanket, making his body feel hot.

slipping down onto his bed, leon stared blankly at the roof, the room was dark and quiet.

he wasn’t tired, he was drunk, but not tired. another groan came from him, his large calloused hand moving to his face. he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing sensation in his head. he had always been tolerant of alcohol, but tonight his body couldn’t take it anymore. he thanked a higher being for not being insanely nauseous, he wasn’t in the mood to spew up the alcohol.

he let out a deep breath before he reached out and grabbed his phone.

hitting the power button, his eyes shut immediately as the blinding light of his phone hit his eyes. “jesus, fuck—“ he grunted, quickly turning down the brightness.

looking at the screen, he wasn’t surprised when he was met with an empty inbox. no texts, no calls, no emails.

a sigh left his lips, the reminder of his loneliness brought a heavy weight inside his chest. looking to his side, there was an empty spot next to him, the bed was cold.

he was lonely.

despite what he tried to tell himself, he craves romance, he craves stability. the idea of living a happy married life was something he dreamed about when he was younger, before 1998, before he became what he is now. now he scoffs at romance because deep down, he knows no one would want to be with an alcoholic old man. his prime is gone a distant memory. he feels like a shell of himself, he doesn’t have much to live for now.

the cycle of self-hatred and self-loathing was part of his daily routine, at night, he gets lost in his thoughts.

he can’t go a day sober, it would kill him. at least that’s what he thinks.

the memories of the people he had lost haunt him, no matter how much time passes, the vacant space he has in his heart doesn’t go away. no matter what he does to try and get rid of it.

the dating scene wasn’t for him, not anymore, not at this age.

he could go and pay for hookers and prostitutes to fulfill his sexual needs, but it was never enough. the pleasure was temporary.

he wasn’t happy.

leon hasn’t been happy in a long time, so long in fact, he doesn’t remember how it feels.

his gaze focused on his phone, he wanted to stop thinking. he needed to forget everything, his grief, his anger, his loneliness. that’s why he relied on alcohol, but tonight he didn’t want to drink himself to sleep.

so, that left him with one more option.

opening the internet on his phone, his dull eyes focused as his fingers typed.

pornhub.com

this was pathetic, leon thought to himself. he was pathetic, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from pressing on the top link.

his thumb tapped against the glass screen, entering the website.

he was quickly met with the thumbnails of various sexual acts. from girls with a cock shoved down their throats, to girls getting folded while a man is on top of them. leon was uninterested.

he never liked porn videos made with high production, it was fake, unappealing. the bright lighting, the obnoxious moaning, and the stupid faces the girls make. it was ick worthy, leon always preferred amateur porn. it was charming when a video was poorly produced, with bad quality, and crooked angles. he liked that over other porn videos.

opening the search bar, he typed the word amateur. after clicking search, he scrolled down various videos before he found one that caught his attention.

it was a masturbation video, the title wasn’t crazy either.

college girl masturbates solo :)

it was cute, the little smiley face felt so out of place on a site like this, but it piqued his curiosity. in the thumbnail your hands were between your thighs, and the position of your phone was up — like you were taking a selfie. he didn’t see much of your face, by the angle he could only see your soft lips as you bit your bottom lip. you were wearing a cute set of lingerie, too.

there was something so cute about you, from the cutesy title and your pretty lingerie, his curiosity lead him to click on the video.

the video loaded and the first thing he saw was your breasts as you adjusted the camera down. you were holding it yourself, the camera facing you. as the camera moved down, he saw your hands slipping down to your panties.

he couldn’t see your face, seems like you were shy.

he watched with anticipation as your fingers pressed against your clothed cunt, rubbing slow gentle circles on your clit. turning up the volume of his phone, he heard the way your breath hitched. he could see as your tummy moved up and down with every breath you took.

leon’s stomach tightened as blood began to rush to his cock, his hand moving to palm against his pants as he got hard.

after a minute of teasing, you put the phone down against your bed, leon heard fabric shuffling. after a few seconds, you grabbed the phone again. the angle stayed the same, but now he could see your pretty pussy.

it was slick, glistening.

his mouth went dry as he took in the sight, your manicured fingers gently pressed against your perky clit, your touch was light, and you were savoring the pleasure.

leon heard a soft moan leave your lips, his hips squirmed as he grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants. his hand moving to slowly grope himself.

he continued to watch with eager eyes, his hand moving to unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants. eagerly, he slipped his hand under his underwear, his hand pulling his cock out.

it was standing tall, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

he shuddered, he hasn’t been this hard in what felt like forever. he genuinely thought he lost his spark, he was in his late thirties after all.

his hand wrapped around his cock, a shaky breath left his lips as he squeezed it. his cock was thick, it wasn’t the biggest there was, but it would leave girls dumbfucked. or well, it used to. he hasn’t gone that hard in a while.

his cock was pretty, his tip was reddish, veins adorned it. the ones that made the girls mushy and whimpery.

the mental image of the girls he’s shoved his cock into filled his head. truthfully, he doesn’t really remember faces, but he remembers how they reacted. their bodies trembling and loud moans.

oh, how he missed it.

as he stared at your pretty pussy, all he could think about was shoving his cock deep inside you. have you whimpering and gasping his name as he kept you folded.

his cock twitched, fuck.

you were getting him so hard, he didn’t even think it was possible given his track record in the last few years. biting the inside of his cheek, he let out a breath, he was this hard over a girl on a porn website, but he couldn’t get this hard when he was balls deep inside a hooker’s cunt. god, this was pathetic.

pathetic, pathetic, pathetic..

you’re pathetic leon.

even as the words repeated in his head, his hand was still working on his cock, jerking and tugging on his shaft. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips parted slightly, keeping his gaze on you, he watched as you rubbed your clit faster.

he could hear your small shaky moans, you were close and so was he.

his balls were tightening, his breathing was heavy, small pants leaving his lips as he rubbed his cock raw. chasing for a high he hasn’t felt in years.

a choked groan left his lips as he came, cum spurting out of his tip in amounts he hasn’t had since he was in his twenties. his cum was milky and thick. he continued to gently jerk his cock as he rode out his orgasm, another groan leaving his lips as his head leaned back.

his eyes fluttered shut as he felt his cock softening in his hands.

holy fuck.

his mind was fuzzy, he had almost forgotten about his phone until he heard a moan come from it. he moved his gaze towards the screen and watched as your hand stayed between your thighs before they slammed shut and you began to ride out your orgasm.

leon watched with eager eyes as you rode out your high nicely.

he squirmed and let go of his flaccid cock, his cum staining his hand, his stomach, and his pants.

he moved his hands and they gripped his phone again, he tapped on your username and watched your profile. your profile picture was a shy picture of your chest, a different set of lingerie holding your tits up.

looking at your bio, he shuddered as he read your information.

your name was pretty, it suited you. he saw your age listed, twenty-one, he just had the cum of his life to a video of a twenty-one-year-old? a feeling came to him, he didn’t know how to feel. staring at his screen, his mind still processing that information, should he be disgusted? guilty? ashamed?

he sucked in a breath and gulped.

him, a man in his late thirties, almost forty, just came to a video of a twenty-one year old girl.

it felt wrong, right? she was almost two decades younger than him, when the racoon city incident happened you weren’t even born yet. this had to be wrong.

but it wasn’t, and he knew that.

sure, the gap was questionable, but it was legal. yet, he felt so..wrong.

the worst part was that even after he realized this, he still watched your other videos.

choked moans left your glossy lips, your eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed up in pleasure. your mouth was slightly agape, forming an ‘o’ shape. leon’s cock slamming down into your cunt, his hand was placed on the small for your back as he held your upper body down and kept your ass up.

he let out small pants, his eyes shutting in bliss.

your walls were warm and snug, sucking his cock back inside your cunt with a wet squelch. you were so wet, your cunt practically drooling. it was driving him mad.

his free hand was gripping your ass, holding onto the fat like his life depended on it, his dull nails digging into your skin. he let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy tighten around him, squeezing, milking him. he didn’t have the self control he had back then, he was edging himself to try and last longer.

it was hard, his balls were heavy with cum, cum he wanted to stuff deep inside you.

his eyes shut tightly, he bit down onto his bottom lip, his thrusts got sloppily — fuck, fuck, fuck. “s-shit—“ he choked out, his head leaned back as a whimper slipped past his lips. his cock throbbed no matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his cum spurted out of his tip.

he shook as it spurted in waves, his eyes fluttered open and he panted. “sorry—“ he said, feeling bad for not letting you cum first and filling you up without any form of protection. you hummed in reply, your ass still in the air as he pulled out. his cock getting softer, his lidded gaze watched as his cum slipped out of your puffy pussy, falling in glops onto his sheets.

he felt hot as he watched it, he was about to say something when—

his eyes opened and a shaky breath left his lips, it took a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings. quickly sitting up on his bed, leon was met with the saddening realization he was alone.

you weren’t sleeping next to him, his bed was cold.

not only that, but his pants were wet. he pulled the blanket off his body and groaned when he realized he had cum inside his pants. rubbing his forehead, he slipped off his bed groggily.

it was still dark out, his bedroom was completely dark aside from the natural light of the moon that entered through his windows.

leon hastily took his pants and underwear off, throwing them across the room to where he thought his laundry basket was. he walked to his cabinets and dug into his underwear drawer before he put them on, stumbling a bit before he finished.

running his hands through his hair, he stalked over to his bed and laid down.

reaching out for his nightstand, he grabbed his phone, this time he was mindful of the brightness so he adverted his eyes and quickly lowered it before staring at the screen.

no new messages, he frowned, except an email. it was an advertisement.

he scrolled through his apps and found one, the one you’re most active on.

instagram.

leon was rather clueless about social media, but the only reason he had it was to stalk your account. he opened the app and saw that you had uploaded a new story. he quickly tapped on the bubble and watched through your posts.

you were out that night, you took photos and various videos of the night. wearing a little black dress, your tits were practically spilling out, one wrong move and your panties would be exposed. you looked beautiful though, he adjusted himself in his bed and stared at the picture you captioned ‘fit check! :D.’ he couldn’t get over how cute your little captions were, it was humorous. a cute little emoticon at the end of a text while the picture behind it was you in the sluttiest outfit you could find.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon took a screenshot of the story and continued to scroll by your posts.

you looked so happy, so pretty. leon loved the way you smiled, all teeth, it all seemed so genuine. you were with your friends in the videos, giggling and dancing along to whatever song the club was blasting.

after he finished going through your story, he clicked on your account, no new posts. a deep sigh left his lips as he put his phone back on his nightstand and turned to his side. pulling the blankets up, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep once more.

leon wasn’t sick.

he wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t a freak, he was just lonely.

he was lonely and desperate, that’s what he told himself. he had this lingering guilt that manifested in the back of his head, you’re a sick man, leon. that’s what it repeated, every night, while he re-watched your videos and looked through the photos he had saved, it spoke.

sick. you are sick.

leon swore he wasn’t, he was just a broken man. one that found solace in you.

the age gap was eating him up inside, he had never thought of himself as someone who would find girls in their twenties attractive. yet, where he was.

he didn’t want to imagine what people would say if they found out he jerked off nightly to the thought of you. not just your videos, but the thought of you. he found himself daydreaming about you, not just in sexual situations, but romantic ones.

at the store he finds himself looking at the flower display, thinking about getting you flowers, trying to guess what flowers you would like the most. in public, when he saw couples, a bitter swirl churned in his stomach. jealousy, he was jealous that he couldn’t do the same with you.

this was developing into more of a followership, it was slowly seeping into the realm of obsession. delusion was his best friend.

occasionally, you participated in live streams.

it was cute, you were more talkative there, and you interacted with your followers happily. he was a quiet supporter, he didn’t use the chat room. you were too intimidating, he didn’t want to say something that could make you uncomfortable. he mostly gave you gifts, sending in money for you, he didn’t say much when he donated. occasionally he would type a small message for you to read with each donation, but it was rare.

that didn’t matter though. being able to hear you say his name, albeit his username, made him happy.

in these live streams, he’s been able to learn a lot about you. he knows you’re a college student, he knows you’re studying literature, he knows you’re a good student, he knows your favorite food, your favorite animal, how you like to spend your time, and much more.

he knows more about you than the people he knows in his life.

tonight, you had scheduled a livestream. posting about it on your instagram story.

‘i’m gonna be live tonight at 8 p.m. come by to talk, and i have a surprise too! >_<’ leon was curious, a surprise? so, of course he entered the stream after you started it. he needed to know what you were planning, maybe he could be part of it.

you sat in front of your camera and greeted all of the people coming in.

leon stared at you, you were so pretty, he thought. god, he felt like a teenage boy.

get a fucking grip.

your eyes focused on the screen where the chat box was opened, he watched as your eyes lit up, “welcome back, kennedy!” you said, looking back at the camera. looking straight at him.

his mouth went dry when you addressed him.

he clicked on the chat box, looking through to see if there was another kennedy, he didn’t want to jump straight to conclusions and embarrass himself. but there was no one else with the display like that.

SKENNEDY001

okay, he wasn’t very good at making usernames. he stared at his screen, unsure of what to do. you addressed him, should he say hi back? he’s never spoken in the chat room before. what if this went wrong?

slowly tapping on the keyboard, he replied with a simple. ‘hello, how are you?’ — best he plays it safe, right? his face feels hot, and he feels embarrassed. he’s always been more of a silent admirer, honestly, he never expected you to actually notice him. all sorts of different thoughts filled his head, from negative to positive. what would people think, what would you think if you found out that the biggest reason you’re paying your bills was because of some man in his late thirties who watches your content like it’s the news.

but what if you were into that? he’s heard stories about girls thinking older men were attractive, were you that type?

“i’ve been good!” you replied, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “i’ve seen you around, i think you might be my biggest fan.” you winked.

leon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, he knew you meant it like a compliment, but it felt like you were pointing out how much of a lonely loser he is. “i just wanted to say thank you, your donations really help.” you said with a smile, that same pretty smile that drove him crazy, the smile he adored.

he didn’t know what to say, if he wanted to, he could write a detailed essay about you and how much he admires obsesses over you.

‘you’re welcome.. i like to support you.’ he typed back, after hitting send, he squirmed. did that sound weird? staring at your face intensely as you read through the chat, you let out a small laugh. “thank you, kennedy.” you replied, looking back at the camera. seeing how full the stream was getting, he decided that this was the end of the conversation.

his chest felt fuzzy, a feeling he hadn’t had in years, a feeling he had completely forgotten about.

he was obsessed with you.

the stream continued smoothly, you teased the camera, showing off your body and tempting the men, like him, who watched. by now he needed to rub one out during your streams, who would he be if he didn’t?

the stream was coming to a close, but before you spoke. “oh! the surprise from earlier, i almost forgot.” you said with a small laugh as you leaned back against your chair.

“basically, i was thinking, why not have a little contest.” you said, smirking at the camera. “imagine this is an auction,” you said, “the highest bidder gets to have a private, on one, video call with me.” you said, looking at your camera. “who knows, maybe that call can lead to something else.” you hummed, winking at the camera as you slid your hand down your chest.

leon blinked, a call with you? it was a dream come true. the only thing this lonely man could ask for.

you continued on, opening a gift box for anyone who wanted to get a chance with you.

he ignored how this could lead to poor financial decisions, he needed that call. he needed you for himself, he needed you to address him — to talk to him, he needed your attention like a lost puppy.

the gift period was only open for about fifteen minutes, first come first serve type of thing.

luckily, unlike the other people in the stream, he’s a government agent. with that title comes money, so as a way to secure that call, he sent you thousands.

he watched as you read the screen, your eyes widening as you saw the notification come in that you had received a few thousand dollars from your shy admirer. “holy shit.” you gasped, “okay— we have a winner! we have skennedy001 that donated over a thousand dollars!” you said, stammering as surprise filled your bones. “i’m closing the bid, that’s way too much money!” you said, giggling as you shut the bid off.

the people in the chat were going crazy, some were taking the loss like losers while the others congratulated the mystery man.

not too long after the stream ended, leon shut his phone off and stared at it. a deep breath left his lips, he didn’t know what to expect after being called the winner, but when he got a notification someone had messaged him through the streaming app, he opened it.

what he didn’t expect was to have a message from you in his inbox.

‘hey, kennedy! omg, that donation was insane! i didn’t expect that much money, please let me give you some money back! i really don’t deserve that much!! :,,)) you’re so sweet, and i appreciate it sososo much!!’

leon stared at the screen, double-checking that it was really you that had contacted me, his face got hot, did he overdo it? was that too desperate? oh, definitely it was, but still.

running his fingers through his hair, he began to type back, trying to brainstorm what to say, but after a solid five minutes of debating his options, he finally replied.

‘hello, i’m glad you appreciated it, but no. it’s okay, you can keep all of it. that’s the reason i donated it. spoil yourself.’

he typed back, his icy blue eyes hyper focused on the screen, he watched as in the span of a few seconds a small text bubble popped up as three dots bounced around. you were replying.

‘aww! are you sure? like, a 100% sure? i’m just making sure!! i just don’t wanna feel like i’m stealing from you, or something LOL!’

your text was cute, lighthearted, and warm, you were so considerate. he liked that, and his thumbs began to type out a reply.

‘no, no. it’s okay, really. just enjoy yourself.’

he replied he was trying his best to not seem uninterested. he has been told many times before that he was very “dry texter” — he had been told how uninterested he sounded with his texting habits and how it could make someone want to stop replying, and he didn’t want that. he just wasn’t sure what to say.

‘omg i am so grateful for your kindness! i’ve seen you in my streams a lot, i have honestly wondered about you. i’m glad you won the bid, tbh i wanted you to win LOL it gave me a reason to talk to you!’

oh my god. leon’s eyes widened slightly at your text, you were bold, is this how it feels like to get butterflies? he blinked, how was he supposed to reply? he’s never texted a girl in her twenties, what do girls like? what will keep you interested?

‘oh, yeah?’ he replied, reverting back to his usual dry texts, but you were lively, you knew how to keep the conversation going.

the conversation was sweet and lengthy, you ended up suggesting you move to your instagram messages so she could talk to him more often.

leon’s heart was practically going to explode out of his chest, he was giddy yet nervous. you had told him that you guys could arrange the video call for the next day at night after you finish some college work.

he was stressed, leon wasn’t sure what to expect. he’s seen your pretty face, but you haven’t seen his. his instagram profile is of an old landscape photo he took a while back, what if the camera isn’t flattering for him? he did warn you that he was in his late thirties? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up for a younger man. maybe he should just keep his camera off.

nonetheless, that night, he went to sleep happier than he has been in a while.

≻ the next day, leon was practically counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until he got to see you. in the morning, he had been excited — the people around him noted his giddy attitude, but when asked why, he didn’t say anything.

he couldn’t expose himself.

but as the clock ticked and the hours passed by, leon found himself much more nervous than he’s ever been. he doesn’t want to fuck this up, in his delusion. he thinks that if this goes well, maybe, just maybe, this could evolve to something more.

you were so sweet to him last night, but the more he thinks about it, perhaps it was flattery.

he hadn’t thought about it now, this might just be all an act. something to keep him wrapped around your pinky finger, but he decided to push those thoughts down so he wouldn’t spoil his night.

once he reached his place, leon was angsty, the sun was slowly going down. the sky was a beautiful mix of warm colors: orange, red, and yellow. he could also see a hint of blue mixed in as the night sky began to slowly settle.

entering his apartment, he slipped inside the door and shut it behind him. locking it, a person could never be too safe, right?

he kicked off his shoes and slipped off his jacket, he haphazardly threw his jacket on his sofa before he made his way over to his room. he plopped down onto his bed and slipped his phone and flask out of his back pocket. opening the flask, he raised the metal container up to his lips and took in a quick shot of whiskey.

he couldn’t go into this sober.

letting the flask rest on his lap, he opened his phone and opened instagram. he looked at the messages he had with you. oh, he forgot to reply to your last message a few hours ago. he pursed his lips, fuck he feels bad, leon wasn’t an avid texter, so it was easy for him to forget.

‘sorry for the late reply, i was working.’ he hit send before he could register how “dry” that sounded, he quickly scrambled to text a bit more, so he didn’t seem too boring. ‘i’m nervous for the call.’

why would he say that?

leon shut his eyes, he was really bad at this.

after a few minutes of leon anxiously waiting for your reply, a ping came from his phone. quickly looking down at the screen, he saw that you replied.

‘aww, don’t be nervous! i don’t bite, unless you want me to ;)’

he let out a breath at your words, it felt like you always knew what to say, the number of times you’ve said something sly during the conversation that had his chest fuzzy must be over ten in the span of twenty-four hours.

leon started to type back, but he stopped mid-sentence. he wasn’t sure what to say, he was fumbling over his words, and no sentence he tried to type up made sense.

he saw your text bubble pop up, you were typing.

‘what? did i make you nervous? ;p’ — yes, yes you did.

he felt like he was in his early twenties, stumbling and stammering when a pretty girl gave him attention. jesus, has it really been that long since he’s felt something like this? god, that’s so sad.

leon ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his dark hair back, ‘yes, i don’t know how to behave when a pretty girl is talking to me.’ now it was your turn to blush, leon leaned against his headboard as he stared at his phone.

‘ohhh? is mr. kennedy getting bold? ;)) i’m excited for the call, just give me one more hour ♡’

‘take your time.’

during that hour, leon decided to try and freshen up, at least a bit. he knew he wasn’t going to turn on his camera, but maybe getting refreshed would make him feel more confident in himself.

he changed out of his work clothes and took a quick shower, he slipped on some comfortable sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he typically used when he was working out. as he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the eye bags that hung under his eyes and the stubble that covered his cheeks and chin.

moving his hand up to his face, he ran his fingers through his stubble and sighed as he felt the facial hair scratching his skin. should he have shaved this morning? he didn’t know, he hadn’t been bare-faced in a few years now, as he aged the clean look he used to have didn’t fit him anymore.

reaching over for his flask that he had left on the bathroom counter, leon quickly took another swing of his flask and then sighed as he put it back on his counter.

he was so fucking nervous and for what? he’s been face to face with death before, he’s encouraged over thousands of zombies in his lifetime and yet he’s so nervous at the idea of talking to you.

feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, leon scrambled to take it out before looking down at his screen. it was you.

‘okay! i’m ready, are you? ;)’ — no, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be, but he replied, ‘yes. how does this work?’ he replied, unsure of what you were planning.

he watched as the text bubble popped up from your end as you typed again, ‘its suuuper easy! i’ll set up a voice chat and send you the link, then i’ll turn my camera on so you can see me!’ biting his bottom lip, leon moved out of the bathroom and sat down in his bed, his back resting against the headboard as he stared down at his phone.

‘okay, i’ll wait for you.’ he replied as he tried to relax, letting out a deep sigh, leon shut his eyes for a few seconds before he felt his phone buzz again.

looking back at the screen, you had sent him a link.

‘here it is! ;)’ the text said, his thumb hovered over the screen as he bit the inside of his cheek and hesitated before quickly tapping the link. the link opened up another website, the same one you use for streams. it took a few seconds for it to load, but he could tell his camera was off and his mic was muted.

okay, good.

eventually, the screen loaded and he saw you, you were wearing a cute tank top of a band, he’s seen the band name around before. it was popular back in the early 2000s, you didn’t have any sexy clothes on, it was actually cute. it made you feel even more real.

“hi!” you said as you waved at the camera, “let me know if the camera and audio are working properly, sometimes the app gives me issues,” you said with a smile as you stared at your screen. leon went to open the chat box, but he realized that if he wanted to make the most out of this call, talking to you would better.

taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat and unmuted his microphone. “..it works,” he said, his face feeling hot as he spoke.

leon had always been rather charming and talkative in real life, so why was he so shy? it wasn’t anything like him, did his loneliness really ruin him? your eyes lit up when you heard his voice, surprised he spoke.

he watched as a smile curled on your lips, “i’m glad!” you said, leaning in closer, giving leon a full view of your cleavage, he noticed a black lace bra underneath your shirt. tilting your head to the side, you hummed, “soo..how was your day?” you asked curiously as you stared up at the camera with a small smirk. leon hated how quick it was for him to feel pressure growing in his pants when it came to you.

why was it so easy to get hard for you?

“it was good..you?” he asked softly, his hand slipping down his body to grip his cock through his pants. your smirk turned into a smile, “my day was good too! thank you for asking,” you hummed, “so, what do you want to do?” you asked, leaning back against your chair as you moved your hand to hold your tit, squeezing the mound playfully. “it’s just you and me, no need to be shy.” you winked.

leon squirmed in his bed, “..i don’t know actually,” he muttered, “i never got to decide how i wanted to approach this.” he said, squeezing his bulge and sighing. “..i wanted to just talk and get you know you more, but..” he trailed off, unsure if he should tell you that his cock was hard at the mere sight of you.

you seemed to get the hint when you heard the shaky breath that left his lips, “got too excited, didn’t you?” you teased, biting your bottom lip as you batted your eyelashes to the camera. “it’s okay, let me help you.” you offered, that pretty smirk of yours coming back to your lips.

leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he felt his cock throb inside his pants.

“..a-are you sure? i don’t want to ruin the call.” leon murmured, his voice uneven as he tried to resist the urge to slip his hand under his pants' waistband.

a small laugh left your lips as you shook your head, “of course not,” she said playfully, “you won this call, you get to choose whatever we do.” you said, “what’s your name?” you asked, moving to press your arms together to have them push up your tits.

leon let out a sigh and watched with a hazy look in his eyes as you pressed your chest together. “it’s leon.” he replied quickly, now eager to have you say his name.

humming, you smiled, “okay, leon. should i take off my shirt? i have a new pair of lingerie just for you.” that whole sentence could’ve made leon cum right there without any friction. the way you said his name, it was smooth, like honey. you were hot and you knew it, “y-yes, please.” leon mumbled out pathetically as he stared at his screen intensely.

you nodded and reached down for the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and discarding your shirt to the corner of your room. once your shirt was removed, leon got an eye full of your tits being held up by the new lingerie, it was a push up bra. your tits were rounded and plush, the black lace that surrounded the fabric was real pretty.

“do you like it?” you asked softly as you adjusted your bra strap, leon gulped and shuddered. “yeah, it’s pretty..it suits you.” leon said, you were so fucking hot. he wanted to jack off and cum right there, but that would just show how much of a pathetic man he is.

you only took off your shirt and leon came? embarrassing.

so, he edged himself. deciding to play it safe with palming himself through his pants. his hand moving slowly to not get too eager and fuck it up.

“you think so?” you mused, looking at the camera as your hands moved to squeeze your tits and push them closer. fondling yourself for his pleasure.

leon groaned and nodded, he knew his camera was off and that you couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t help it. “mhm, black suits you.” he said, shifting in his bed to adjust his position. “want me to take it off?” you asked curiously, looking at the camera with an amused smile. “i think my tits are pretty, it would only be fair for you to see.” you teased as you squeezed your mounds.

leon’s throat felt dry, he felt parched.

“yes,” leon shuddered out, looking down at the screen. you laughed and stood up, you adjusted your camera for it to catch your body as you stood. leon saw you were only wearing some cute little panties that brought out your ass.

turning around, your back faced the camera before you moved your hair out of the way and moved your hands to the clasps of your bra.

you were quick to unclip your bra and take it off, throwing it off to the side, to a place the camera can’t pick up. by where you threw your shirt, leon assumed. your movements were always so smooth, hypnotic almost. leon was convinced you were perfect, made with no flaws.

turning around, you held your tits up in your hands before you stepped closer and let your mounds drop. leon got a screen full of tits, you let out a laugh and moved your body in a slow sway, your tits moving around as you did so. “like ‘em?” you mused playfully before reaching up and squeezing your nipple.

leon’s head leaned back as a small groan left his lips, his hand moving down to grip his dick through his pants. “yes, fuck.” leon said with a pant.

you moved back from the camera and sat down onto your chair before adjusting the camera stand so leon could see you better.

“are you jerking off?” you asked, smirking at the lens, leon let out a small whine. “no, n-not yet.” he mumbled, his voice straining as he tried to sound level headed, but of course it didn’t work given how he stuttered. leon cursed at himself mentally, he sounds like a fucking pussy right now.

you let out a small laugh at his stutters, “what? you don’t wanna jerk off to me? you’re hurting my feelings.” you said softly as she tilted your head, leon’s eyes widened. oh shit, no, that’s not what he wanted to do.

“wait, shit—“ he tried to explain, “i didn’t mean it like that..i just want to savor the moment.” he said, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.

you smiled, “yeah? why not savor it while jerking off? i have my tits out just for you.” you teased, pouting as you did so. leon paused, you were right, your tits were out and you were willing to do anything for him and he was just edging himself?

a small groan left his lips, “yeah..okay.” he mumbled, his hand slipping under the waistband of his pants before he gripped his cock. his large hand wrapped around his shaft, his cock throbbing again due to the pressure, leon put his phone down and used his other hand to shimmy his pants down. once the waistband was wrapped around his knees, leon leaned back against the headboard and sighed as he gripped his dick.

reaching out for his phone, leon fumbled with it with one hand before finding the right position to hold it. unbeknownst to him, while he fumbled with the phone, he had pressed against the camera button.

his camera turned on and he had no idea.

you, on the other hand, were met with the sight of the mystery man that had been supporting you the most.

he was hot.

like really fucking hot, your interest on this man peaked after you saw his pretty face. he was resting his phone on his thigh was he held it up, you could see the stubble on his face, his dark black hair. he was older than you expected, but if anything it added to the appeal.

this man seemed to be seasoned, he was staring down at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed as a small sigh of bliss left his lips. he was jerking his cock, you noticed by the way his body moved, there was an arm that wasn’t getting picked up by the camera that worked on rubbing his cock raw.

you noticed how his icy blue eyes focused on you, staring at the screen of his phone with a lovesick look on his face.

he looked so pathetically hot, it wasn’t something you thought you’d find attractive, but seeing how desperate this older man was for you made you unbelievably horny. you squirmed in your seat before your hand slipped down, you moved and slipped your hand under the fabric of your panties. letting out a sigh, you felt your middle finger gently toy your clit.

“leon?” you mused, leaning your head back and spreading your legs for the camera to pick up how your hand was shoved under your panties. you reached over to your desk and grabbed a dildo, showing it to him. “wanna watch?” you offered, moving the silicone cock in a playful manner.

leon’s eyes widened in surprise, but nodded.

he gulped and you watched as his adam’s apple bopped up with the swallow.

leon watched as you slipped off your panties and grabbed a bottle of lube. you quickly coated your pretty pussy and dildo with the thick cream and leaned back once more.

your pussy was on full display as you pressed the tip of the dildo against your puffy folds. “ready?” you asked softly as you bit your bottom lip.

this whole scene that was unfolding in front of leon felt like it was going to kill him. he’s seen your pussy before, he’s seen you fuck yourself before, but there was something different this time. it was all dedicated to him.

only him.

“yes,” he shuddered as he gripped his cock tightly, you smiled at him and slowly slipped the dildo inside of you. a soft sigh left your lips as your warm pussy sucked in the silicone, leon watched eagerly. like a kid in a candy store, he would kill to be the one inside you.

your squirmed and rolled your hips against the dildo, looking into the camera as your free hand moved to grip your tit. “oh, leon.” you moaned out, smirking as you watched your screen to see his reaction. “you feel so good..” you teased.

leon’s eyes widened when he heard you moan out his name, were you pretending it was him fucking you? did you want to send his heart into cardiac arrest?

this cock throbbed against his hand, begging for attention, pleading for leon to let it cum.

leon’s balls were heavy with cum, it was unbearable to keep teasing, but he couldn’t help it.

a small whine left leon’s lips as he slowly stroked his cock, watching as you fucked yourself with your dildo. “you think so?” leon replied back, his face felt hot as he spoke, he’s never done dirty talk through the phone. he was embarrassed, was he doing it right?

you nodded, smiling hazily at the camera, “mhm..” you trailed off as a small gasp left your lips, the dildo focused on fucking your pussy. your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the filling feeling of your dildo, the silicone ridges and fake veins pressing and molding your walls. your pace was steady, your head leaning to the side as you continued.

leon was getting the perfect view of your pretty face and your stuffed cunt. he could hear the soft squelches coming from your cunt as it sucked the dildo back inside eagerly. he watched as your pussy glistened with slick, his body aching, he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to feel you.

but the world was cruel towards leon, and all he could do is watch and pretend he was the one fucking you.

“you’re so big.” you babbled softly, watching your computer screen, watching his reaction. he shuddered and trembled, moving on his cock slowly.

leon shut his eyes and grunted, his head leaning back desperately as his body ached. he occasionally looked back at the screen, looking at you with such admiration behind his gaze. like he was admiring a beautiful painting.

he was so cute.

“y-yeah,” he groaned, his body feeling hot, it was overwhelming. he felt the thinnest sheet of sweat coat his body, a swirling feeling coming to his lower tummy, it felt like a tight pressure. “—am i making you feel good?” he whispered out, his eyes shutting as his hand continued to jerk his cock.

each jerk felt like a rush of electricity went through his veins, an electric shockwave whose only purpose was to bring pleasure.

you moved your hand down and gently began to toy with your clit, pressing on the puffy bud as you fucked yourself. “no one has ever made me feel like this, leon.” you teased, moaning out his name softly. it was like music to his ears.

he couldn’t take it anymore, he physically couldn’t hold back, he should’ve gotten a cock ring to try and make him last longer.

“m’gonna cum, i’m sorry—“ he babbled, feeling bad for cumming so fast, he just didn’t have the self control he used to have on his prime. his hand began to jerk his cock in a fast, sloppy pace. his chest was rising and falling rather quickly, unable to catch his breath as he chased his orgasm.

leon moved his phone, he kept it by his lap, but by the position you could see his aching cock.

“it’s okay, baby.” you mumbled out, watching as he neared his orgasm. his dick was pretty, the size was okay, the thickness was there, and his tip was bright red. his hand gripped his shaft, he had pretty hands. large and masculine, you even saw an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. you knew he had money, how else would he be sending you such high donations, but something in your stomach fluttered when you noticed.

you continued to fuck your dildo into your pussy, trying to match his sloppy pace. “cum for me.” you hummed, your tone playful and laced with lust.

this was so hot.

leon shuddered and moaned, his hand continued to rub his cock raw, he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly as he focused on cumming.

the pressure in his lower belly was so tight, but after a couple of more harsh jerks, the tight knot inside his stomach burst. his balls strained and tightened as cum began to spurt out of his tip. it was thick and milky, staining leon’s stomach and hand.

while he came, leon’s body trembled, his toes curled, and his back arched slightly as a loud moan left his lips. he didn’t mean to moan out like that, but with the circumstances he couldn’t help it. this was pure bliss, his body felt lighter and his head felt fuzzy. he continued to slowly stroke his cock as it throbbed, he rode out his orgasm, his cum still spewing out of his cock for a few more seconds before his body relaxed.

leon shuddered as his cock began to go soft in his hand, he grimaced as he looked at the cum that stained his hand before wiping it off against his sweats.

panting, leon looked back at his phone, his face was red and his whole body was hot.

“shit, i’m sorry, i wanted to wait for you.” leon said breathlessly, you shut your eyes and continued to toy with your clit as you shook your head. “don’t apologize, it was really hot.” you moaned out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at the monitor, eyeing him up as he laid back panting.

your clit was puffy and slick, aching for more.

rolling your hips up, your hands continue to work against your cunt, making your legs twitch and tremble. putting on a show for the lonely man in front of you.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon watched desperately, if he was younger he probably would’ve gotten hard again as he watched, but his cock didn’t have enough strength to stand. it didn’t matter, now leon could finally appreciate you, your pretty face, your pretty body, and your pretty pussy.

he loved the faces you made, they were so genuine.

if he was fucking you, would you be making those faces too? god he hoped so.

by now, a specific heat blossomed by your clit as your finger toyed with it. your touch was gentle and light, it felt like your clit was burning in the hottest way as the nerves went on overdrive.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—“ you whined, your voice strained as you focused on breaking the tight knot inside your lower tummy.

leon shuddered, seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you bit your bottom lip, you were so cute. leon wanted to say something, but it was like his brain was a blank slate. he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he just watched as your glistening pussy throb.

it didn’t take long for the knot to snap, and once it did, your body jolted as a loud whine of his name left your lips. your thighs clamped together while your hand stayed pressed between your legs, the silicone cock was nestled nicely inside you, warm and sticky.

your body trembled as you panted, your head leaning back against the seat as you regained your thoughts.

god.

leon has seen you cum various times before, sure, but there’s something so different about it here. it was mind boggling and his head felt dizzy, a shiver going down his spine.

this was all a private show, all of this was only for him. no one else was as lucky as he was, he felt like he was getting spoiled.

watching you unravel and cry out his name had leon’s brain oozing, he felt demented, like his brain had melted and he was left as a zombie. he could tilt his head over right now and watch as his melted brain would come spilling out.

metaphorically, of course.

you reveled in the afterglow of your climax, your pussy felt like it was pulsating and throbbing. slowly, your hazy gaze focused back on the screen and you locked eyes with leon.

he let out a breath as he looked at you, it felt like you were really looking into his eyes.

he still had no idea his camera was on and you could see how enamored he looked.

slowly, with a long, soft squelch, you pulled the dildo out of your sticky pussy. you moved the silicone up to your lips and leaned in closer to the camera before you licked off the slick that coated the toy.

your tongue moved slowly, and occasionally you would glance at the camera, making eye contact with him as you cleaned up your dildo and the only thing that ran through leon’s head as he watched was: i wish that was me.

squirming, leon felt like his mouth was salivating at the sight.

eventually, you finished licking off your dildo before you placed a gentle kiss on its head before you put it away, hidden away from what the camera could pick up. “liked that?” you mused, tilting your head to the side with a cute little smile. it was almost funny how cute you looked after you fucked yourself in front of him.

“yeah.” leon said quickly, gulping back saliva as he looked at you so dearly, “um,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “..is it okay to talk more? if you have the time.” leon mumbled, because deep down, he still wanted to talk to you — to carry a conversation with you, to try and charm you.

looking at the time displayed on your monitor, you hummed, drawing it out to tease him slightly. after a few seconds that felt like an eternity for leon, you looked back at the camera and nodded. “of course, i have time.” you said, winking at the camera before you stood up and slipped your panties on. you left the chair for a second before you picked up your band shirt off the floor and slipped it on.

plopping back down on the chair, you smiled and looked back at the camera.

“so, tell me more about you, leon.”

≻ the call ended not too long ago, leon rested his phone down on his bed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. his chest felt fuzzy and he felt giddy.

the two of you had spoke for a few hours and now that the call ended, leon yearned to hear your voice again.

he felt silly like this, but he couldn’t help it.

he missed your voice, your face, the way you moved your hands when you spoke, the small gestures you made when you talked about something you were passionate about.

he missed you.

reaching over for his flask, leon quickly popped it open and took another long swig. swallowing back his beloved whiskey like he was a dehydrated man drinking water, throughout the call, he hadn’t drank to try and not get drunk and ruin the moment. but now that the call ended and he had time, leon was happily swallowing back the whiskey.

hearing his phone buzz against his bed sheets, he reached out for it quickly, a swirl of excitement coming to him as he saw it was you that texted.

it was two attachments, a photo of your perky tits and another one of your computer screen — that’s where he saw it. he was on the screen.

the photo you had taken was when he had his phone down, getting a good angle of his side profile from the bottom. for the eyes of someone else, it was a good picture and he looked good. his hair was messy in just the right way, his adam’s apple was on display and given the fact his phone was down, the picture also captured his waist, chest, and shoulders. showing off his body underneath the shirt he wore.

it was a good photo, but leon’s heart dropped to the floor when he saw it.

had his camera been on the whole time? is that why there was a small red dot next to his selfie camera? clicking out of the photos, he read your text nervously, but after reading it, his face flushed.

taking back another swing of his flask, he shuddered.

‘you looked really good today ;)) wanna call again tomorrow? <3’

╰ TAGS: @gor3-hound @rigorwhoring @nilpill @ottermarbles @argreion @angelstargel @lysa1201-saucy @dilfsmaid @sweets3rial @doja-rat16 @bababsthings @frillyyyy @nyxxoxo @admirxation @gcldtom @ashrillvenheim @seraphicsuicides @altissia-09 @ghostier0t @biohazard-4ever @leonsgirl-111 @th3lma @squazmine @dakotali @neverg0nnagivey0uup @brblnc @emodanoriddler @v1ccc @dear-satan @skydisneylover @calansic @acidaciruela @vkurtmien @shiawaseorii @fxnfandxmmp4 @valentin78pon @antagonize-me-motherfucker

[the-froschamethyst4]

Young Gf and Older bf

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Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

SFW & NSFW

————

————

SFW

Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste

Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl

Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house

Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man

“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.

“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”

“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”

“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”

Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military

Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about

Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was

“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.

“I’m…40”

“40!!”

“Y/N?!”

“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”

Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks

Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend

NSFW

Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties

Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it

“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.

“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”

“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her

Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex

“Fuck you!”

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.

“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.

“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”

“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks

Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt

DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe

Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face

Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it

Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen

He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously

Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk

Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny

“Simon what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.

“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans

Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace

Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike

[aloesarchives]

Father's Day Special(JJK Oneshot)

Tags/Warning: AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Domesticity, Fluff, Unhinged Crack(Especially near the End), Mention of Balls but not Smut(I promise), JJK OC(but not main X Reader)

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader

Reader Pronouns/Usage: (She/Her), Mama, Mom, Doll, Baby

So I know I'm three days late for Father's Day but I couldn't help but write this out. It's been busy and absolute hell with getting ready for Uni. But by July, things will slow down and I can focus more on getting shit down and stop procrastinating. I hella miss writing, I needa get back into the grove of it.

Also, forgot to mention, this fic was based on a true event. Dramatization was an all time high but loosely based on an interaction I had with my own mom lol

“What do you think Dad wants, Megumi?”

“Honestly, I have no clue. I thought Mom was hard but it’s actually Dad.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because he never buys anything new. Even if he does, it’s either meant for the house or us. Dad still wears the same black t-shirt since we were kids. He doesn’t have expensive taste either. No cologne, no wrist watch, no shoes, nothing.”

Tsumiki and Megumi feel more empathetic to Toji than either right now. Father’s Day is tomorrow and the two are out trying to get their dad a gift. But just like Toji, they feel stuck on what to get him. With you, their mother, it’s more subtle and personalized. Tailored to your taste and personality, seems hard at first but gets easier once getting the smaller details. Is it more on the pricier side? Yes, but you are their mother and do so much for them that you deserve anything and everything good to come your way.

But Toji, he’s a different story.

Growing up, the two saw how laidback their dad was. No putting much effort into keeping appearance or staying with the latest trends. They learned early on that Toji only dresses decently, or at least looks presentable, because of you. Outfit coordination was all on you, you always picked out Toji’s outfit or had the final say on what he’s wearing. Obviously over time, he’s learned the art of dressing himself up but he always asks you for the final say.

Anyhow, clothes are out because Megumi and Tsumiki know Toji wears them until they are rags. He still wears the same basketball shorts around the house since they were babies.

They’re teenagers in high school now.

Toji’s old shirts and shorts just get converted to loungewear and home clothes. Some of them have holes but Toji seems to care less about them. Toji also has no expensive taste or an interest in creating one. He believes you pay for the quality but that’s on certain things like a wrench or drill. He never understood the whole throwing your money to look high class. Pointing out that things can stick out like a nail and look out of place. He grew up in a family with money, he knows.

Then Toji literally has everything he needs. That’s what the kids always hear.

“I have (Y/N), my kids, a nice house with space to work, food, and my equipment. The hell I need anything else when it’s all right ‘ere.”

People’s dreams and aspirations are different. Having a family is a common one many have. But Megumi and Tsumiki could clearly see the fond and tender nature their dad somehow exhibits, and it’s only exclusive to the family. They didn’t think much of it until they asked you. Upon explaining Toji's life up until meeting you, Tsumiki and Megumi finally let it sit why their dad acts the way he does.

“Your Papa…didn’t expect to have this type of life—To have a home, a wife and kids. He’d never imagine himself to get this because he didn’t think it'd happen to him, especially how he grew up. But it did and he never took it for granted since. Your Papa has treated me beyond the means of well over the years, it’s only fair I do the same for him. I’m not forcing you two to follow suit. But at the very least, try to understand your Dad and his circumstances. That’s all I ask of you two.”

With that, no wonder they’ve never met anyone from Toji’s side besides Maki and Mai. That and an explanation to your fierce protectiveness towards Toji at the mention of his “family”. So here Megumi and Tsumiki are, along with their litter sister Mayumi, concocting an idea on what to get Toji. They were going to call you but ditched the idea to not inconvenience you as you were busy yourself. Currently in Shibuya walking in one of the shopping districts, they searched high and low for anything that would make a decent Father’s Day gift.

Tsumiki threw up some ideas but Megumi shot them down because it’s not practical for their Dad.

“Megumi, at this point, we can’t get Papa anything! What do you have in mind that Papa will actually use?”

Megumi thought for a second before shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ve got nothing, Tsumiki. I’m drawing a blank here.”

Tsumiki sighs before looking around again. Meanwhile, Mayumi’s curiosity was becoming impulsive. She wanted to look at anything and everything as long as her pretty little eyes laid on it. Holding onto Megumi’s hand, she tries to keep pace with her older siblings in the busy street. However, after walking for a few minutes, Mayumi came to a stop as she stared at one of the stores. Feeling his arm be pulled back, Megumi looks down to see Mayumi staring off.

“Mayumi, what are you looking at?”

Tsumiki also stopped when she noticed her two younger siblings weren’t behind her. Crouching down, she wanted to see what had caught her baby sister’s attention.

“Is there something you want to look at, Mayumi-chan?”

Mayumi looks at Tsumiki before nodding and pointing to the store that has captured her attention. Megumi and Tsumiki look to see that the store that has captured her attention was Uniqlo. Surprisingly enough, this was a clothing store that mostly made up Megumi AND Toji’s wardrobes. Tugging Megumi along, Mayumi walks into the store with a mission. The two look at each other with curiosity, wondering what their little sister was so dead set on finding. They watched as Mayumi’s eyes scanned the racks and shelves, head darting up, down, left, and right. Megumi makes a decision to let go of her hand to see what she’ll do. Upon feeling her hand’s release, Mayumi speed walks away to the Men’s side. Megumi and Tsumiki made haste to not lose sight of her. Now it’s their turn in trying to keep up with her as she continuously searches for what she’s looking for.

Megumi starts to panic when Mayumi seemingly vanishes before him. He swore he only took his eyes off of her for a split second, and now she’s gone. He was close to going into search party mode when he spotted Mayumi standing before one of the shelving displays. Letting himself breath again, he walks over to where she was before picking her up.

“Mayumi, you can’t run off like that! You know you’ll get lost and separated from Tsumiki and I. You have to make sure you can see us close behind before going on your own.” Megumi lightly chastised her. Though, he never could get mad at her no matter what she did.

Mayumi pouts slightly at Megumi, understanding what she did was dangerous.

“Sorry, Gumi-Nii. Didn’t mean to do it to you and Miki-Nee…But! I found Papa’s Father’s Day gift!” Mayumi excitedly exclaims, pointing to the rack.

Megumi looks to see what she means and by then Tsumiki caught up to the two. Tsumiki also follows to see what the two were staring at. The section she was pointing at was the Men’s section for underwear and socks. Tsumiki chuckles while Megumi becomes both confused and a little embarrassed. Mayumi squirms in Megumi’s arms, signaling him to let her down. Once safely on the ground, Mayumi grabs a packet and holds it up to her siblings.

“Mayumi-chan, why do you think this can be a gift for Papa? You think Papa would need this?” Tsumiki gently asks her, hoping to understand what she meant.

Mayumi nods quickly, continuing to hold up the boxer packet.

“Yes! Because Papa needs new ones!”

Tsumiki and Megumi looked at each other surprised before Tsumiki looked back at Mayumi.

“How do you know, Mayumi-chan?”

“Mama said it when she was folding the clothes after drying them! This was when Papa was out with Uncle Shui! She said why does Papa keep wearing his underwear even though they have holes in them. I saw what she was talking about because Papa does have holes in his underwear! So, why not get Papa new underwear?”

Tsumiki found this amusing and a bit funny at Mayumi’s enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Megumi had a furious blush painted across his face. He didn’t expect their shopping trip to go this way. Let alone, the deciding gift was the most plain and not so well-thought out of. Though Megumi felt his embarrassment burn his entire being, he’s not complaining about the gift choice. He knew it was a practical gift for their dad, especially knowing Toji’s track record when it came to clothing.

As strange as it is to admit, Megumi couldn’t deny that a go-to gift to give to any guy is a pack of brand new underwear paired with a fresh pack of socks. He knew there’s nothing you could do wrong with that combination. He even witnessed it firsthand when Yuuji was way too excited when he got a box filled with pairs of socks and boxer briefs for his birthday. And knowing how lax Toji is, Toji probably would like this more than anything. So Megumi stays quiet and lets the girls handle it.

“I think that’s a great idea, Mayumi-chan. We should get some of these for Papa so he doesn’t have to keep wearing his old ones.”

“But I don’t know Papa’s size…Maybe Mama knows! We should call Mama, Miki-Nee!”

Tsumiki nods while pulling out her phone, hitting your contact. The phone buzzed once before your voice was heard on the phone. Mayumi decides to talk on everyone’s behalf and ask for Toji’s underwear size. After a bit, Mayumi hands the phone back to Tsumiki and the two of you talk. Once hanging up, it was settled.

“Gumi-Nee, Mama said Papa only wears black and dark blue boxers! And also said Papa is a size large!”

Since he didn’t want his sisters to look awkward, Megumi took it upon himself to take the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks to check out. The socks were a last minute decision but again, practical for someone like Toji. After Tsumiki gave her half of the total to Megumi, he bought them and left with his sisters. After getting home, Megumi decided it would be best if he kept the gift in his room to not raise any suspicions if Toji had any.

“So, did you three buy your Dad his gift?”

Mayumi runs up to you and fervently nods while pointing at the Uniqlo bag Megumi’s holding. Megumi gives you the receipt for tax purposes and so Toji doesn’t see the price for it as he’ll definitely take it. You grinned while looking at the receipt, something Megumi and Tsumiki believe would be akin to playful or mischievous.

“Nice job, you three. Now, go change and clean up a bit for dinner. Your dad will be home soon.”

Speak of the devil, not even five minutes later, the front door is opened and a gruff “I’m home!” can be heard. Toji was already home. Hearing his voice, Mayumi dashed to where he was and was immediately picked up by him. His iconic DILF chuckle and the giggles of your youngest child can be heard getting closer to the kitchen. Something you never get tired of hearing and hope to hear more of every time.

“Glad to hear you had a good day, Princess. Now go with your sister to change and freshen up.”

Mayumi nods before being put down, dashing towards Tsumiki who then holds her hand as she takes her upstairs.

You were finishing cleaning up the dirty dishes when you felt a warm presence on your back.

“How are you doing, Doll? Looks like you got dinner all figured out, didn’t I tell you my food prep made things easier?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at the feeling of your husband wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Toji wants to be all over you no matter the hour.

“Yeah yeah, don’t let that ego get higher than it already is…But thank you though, Hon. It cuts down cooking time by a lot. I appreciate it.” You tenderly answered before giving him a simple kiss on the cheek.

Wearing a victor’s smile, Toji pulls away. Crossing his arms with his chest all puffed out as his pride builds up.

“If that’s all that takes for some of your kisses, I’ll keep on doing it. Only for you, Doll. Glad it makes things easier for ya.”

Even though it said because of his pride, there was an undeniable softness on his features many would believe was impossible for him to make. But here he was, doing exactly that like it was any normal day at the Fushiguro household. The fondness he exhibits to you is both a blessing and a honor because you knew you were a part of the few people that bring it out of him.

Smiling back, you mirrored your loving softness on your face as well.

“It does, Toji. Now, go change and shower. I don’t know what Shui and you did today but you smell like outside. I don’t want that in our bed so go upstairs and shower, Hon.”

Toji smirks but nods at your command. Taking himself upstairs to wash away the smell. Dinner goes on as normal. Silent but pleasant as it lets everyone decompress from the day. Toji does the dishes since you cooked dinner and the kiddos clean up the kitchen table. Everyone retires into the night without issue and Toji has his arms wrapped around you as you sleep on top of him.

It was 7:30 A.M. when you heard voices coming from downstairs and the slight clanging of metal. You groggily blinked the sleep from your eyes while feeling the sun brightening up your room. Hearing Toji’s faint and calm breathing, you knew he wasn’t waking up anytime soon. After successfully slipping away from Toji’s grasp, you were able to change into your home clothes before going downstairs. Upon reaching the kitchen, the sight before you was a pleasant surprise.

There was Tsumiki and Megumi, wearing aprons, and using the kitchen while Mayumi was drinking her juice from her sippy cup. Albeit very sleepy but that changes when she hears footsteps and sees you walking in with a warm smile on your face.

“Mama! Gumi-Nii and Miki-Nee are making Papa breakfast! I’m here for moral support!” She excitedly whispers to you as you hold her up.

You look over to see your two eldest working away prepping their Father’s Day breakfast. You hum while inspecting their handy work, peering over their shoulder to see.

“It smells good, you two. Though, I’m surprised you’re able to get up at this time, Megumi. Normally, you would sleep in until another two hours or so.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the rice balls he’s making, but his tone is less irritated and tense compared to most mornings.

“Well, I feel bad for letting Tsumiki do all the work in cooking. So I woke up earlier than normal to help out. Plus, Mayumi woke me up and asked me to help Tsumiki make breakfast because she couldn’t.”

Mayumi’s soft giggles were paired with your own. Softly patting his hair, you offer Megumi a grateful smile.

“I’m happy to know you helped out, Dear. Good to back up your sisters.”

You pat Tsumiki's shoulder comfortingly to not let her lose focus on her cooking.

“Call for me if you two need any help.”

The two nod before you make your way upstairs with Mayumi, making your way to your shared bedroom where your husband is sleeping. Mayumi writhes and squirms in your hold, begging to be let down to wake up her Papa. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she quietly and firmly opens the bedroom door. B-lining towards the bed with you following suit. She climbs up onto the bed and crawls to where Toji was sleeping peacefully. Your youngest stares for a few moments at her Papa before gently pounding his chest.

“Papa…Papa…Wake up!”

After a few tries, Toji stirs a bit before blinking slowly. Toji motions his head to face the culprit that woke him up from his restful sleep. Seeing Toji waking up, Mayumi beams down at him along with you softly smiling at the side of the bed.

“G’morning, Papa! Happy Papa Day!”

“Morning to you too, Little Lady~.”

He takes Mayumi in his arms while steadily sitting up. Her sweet sequels and giggles echo throughout the bedroom as Toji kisses all over her face and tickles her sides. Grinning down at his youngest daughter, he carries it when his eyes meet yours.

“Morning, Beautiful~.”

The morning rasp and gruffness in his voice made you want to scream at the sky while death-gripping the ground below. You desperately thanked any and all divine pantheons for blessing you with such a man. But alas, you couldn’t allow yourself to fold so easily. Especially in front of Toji, knowing you’ll never see the end of his teasing and salacious, but consensual, advances. You just light-heartedly roll your eyes while shaking your head, but your smile never ceases.

“Good Morning to you too, Handsome~. Happy Father’s Day. Breakfast is ready downstairs.”

Toji temporarily sets down Mayumi as you pass him a shirt to wear since he was wearing his gray sweat shorts. He picks up Mayumi again before making his way out and into the kitchen to satiate his morning hunger. Just like you, he reacted with surprise seeing a fully set table before him. But this is Toji we’re talking about. So the most we’ll get out of his reaction is his eyes which went wide.

He was about to ask if you made all the food as you passed by but you tilt your head to the side and he sees Megumi and Tsumiki cleaning up the kitchen.

“They helped you with making breakfast, Doll?”

You shake your head while taking Mayumi in your arms to place her in her chair.

“I didn’t even touch the kitchen this morning. They were in here this whole time.”

Sitting down, it finally clicked with Toji. He just grinned as he took his usual seat at the edge of the table. Once everyone was seated and began eating, so did he. Toji never thought of himself as the sentimental type. But he couldn’t help himself in allowing this particular feeling to wash over him. If he went back in time to tell his younger-self that he’d become a husband and a father of three kids, he most certainly knew his past-self would scoff and think he’s a liar. Toji won’t lie because he has a hard time believing it himself sometimes. Even after almost two decades of being married to you and 15 years of being a father, he’s in awe of how his life ended up to the present day.

Sneaking glance as he eats, he sees his two oldest kids having their usual sibling conversation. 16 and 15 years old, first and second years in high school. It would only be a few years until they would graduate high school.

‘Geez, they’ll be legal adults in less than five years…Fucking shit, man…’

Toji then sneaks glances at you, which he sometimes catches your gaze as well. There was a certain feeling of your smile every time you sent it his way. But it was not until he reminded himself that your particular smile you always gave him was of contentment. But not in a sense of bare minimum, no. Toji knew it came from utter satisfaction and gratification in this domestic life you two shared.

No, the life you two created together for each other.

Watching you interact with your children just fills him with life’s satisfaction. He thought it was impossible for someone like him to experience something like this. But here he is, sitting down eating breakfast with his family in their home on a Sunday morning. Damn, he didn’t blame you for giving him that smile because he gets it.

After eating and cleaning up the table, Megumi said he forgot something in his room and went upstairs to get it. Meanwhile, Toji was reading the morning paper while simultaneously listening to the news that was live on the tv. Mayumi was chilling in Toji’s lap with her Cinnamoroll plushie because she had nothing better to do. Meanwhile, you were teaching Tsumiki how to use the coffee machine and the set up for Toji’s usual.

Once Megumi came back with the familiar Uniqlo bag, everyone shifted their attention to Toji and gathered around him. He looked confused by the sudden change in behavior. Placing his paper down, he suspiciously eyes everyone.

“Okay, something’s up. Did I do something I don't know about?”

You shake your head at him, making it clear he wasn’t in trouble. Mayumi jumps off Toji’s lap, pattering over to Megumi who hands over the bag. She races back to her papa with an eager smile on her face, holding the bag up to him.

“Oh, what’s this, Princess?”

“It’s from Me, Gumi-Nii, and Miki-Nee! We got you a present for Papa Day!”

Feeling both astounded and touched, he takes the bag from her before ruffling her hair. Mayumi lets out a little squeal before running towards Tsumiki who picks her up. The bag was small, specifically eight inches by six inches. But what’s inside filled the bag up to its capacity so Toji was intrigued to see what his kiddos got him. He shakes the bag for good measure, causing Megumi to become impatient.

“Dad, just open it up. I promise you we didn’t put a spider or a cockroach in there. This is your real gift from us.”

The man chuckles out loud, shooting a grin his son’s way which made his impatient grow.

“Alright alright, I hear you, Megs. I was seeing if I could guess what you bought for me. Nothing wrong with checking things out. Reel yourself in kid.”

Megumi groans out causing his sisters and you to giggle at this usual interaction. Eventually, Toji opens the gift and reaches inside. His eyebrows furrowed and pushed themselves together, trying to figure out what he was touching. Suddenly, his brows released themselves from being tensed as he pulled out the three packs of boxers and one pack of socks. It was silent, a little too silent. For a second, Megumi and Tsumiki held their breaths while you anticipated his reaction.

Then, out of nowhere, a hearty laughter filled the kitchen as Toji held them in his hand. Amusement was all he felt looking at the packs in front of him. He let out a content huff, holding up one of the boxer packs.

“Wow, this is how you give gifts. You guys are just like your mama, you all have gifting skills people dream of.”

“Wait, you actually like it, Papa?”

Toji let a bemused look pass over him before it went back to amuse.

“Oh yeah, I sure as hell love it. I keep forgetting to buy some and your mother has been on me for God knows how long about getting new ones. You rascals killed two birds with one stone for me. And socks too? Now that’s being generous to your old man.”

The two were finally able to breathe since they second guessed themselves.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa!”

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

Toji gets up to give Megumi and Tsumiki his love squeezes. Tsumiki giggled while Megumi begrudgingly accepted his dad’s affection. Though, he doesn’t resist or push away when his dad hugs him.

As this was happening, you wore a grin that stretched wide with eyes that shone with mischief. Toji catches your expression, fully knowing something is brewing inside.

“Babe, you’re making that face. Spill it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hon~.”

Oh, there’s definitely something now and Toji’s gonna get it out of you.

“Don’t be so coy, (Y/N). You got that grin plastered on your face and eyeing me like that, you got something to say. I see those little gears in your pretty head of yours moving.”

You were trying to hold in your laughter. Key word was try though. The moment you made your thoughts be known will cause endless oxygen-depriving laughter from you. But you needed to say it in full. No stutters, no mistakes, no slang, dead set on getting those words out. You can’t fumble yourself right now.

“I’m just saying, I have been telling you to get new ones for years! Some of your underwear have holes in them! You have to get new ones every five to seven years, Hon!”

He playfully scoffs.

“Doll, just because they’re old doesn’t mean I need to throw them away after a few years. If they can still do their job in covering up my junk, I don’t see why I need to get new ones. I only needed to know one because of you.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you still held your grin and waited for the right moment to strike.

“Hon, you don’t understand. I’m not saying you need to buy new ones after a while! I’m saying some, as in most, of your underwear are worn down to the bone! You have to put them down, Toji!”

“Babe, again, if it still works, it still works. Yeah, some of my underwear have holes in them but they’re still wearable. Not my fault they have holes in them! Plus, I never wear tight-fitted pants, so I don’t get how my underwear chafes when I wear joggers, sweats, and cargo pants!”

Bingo, everything is in position and there’s a clear pathway. You can’t mess this up when you have a clear shot. Crossing your arms still grinning, you stare down your husband.

“Oh but it is, Toji! The reason why you got holes in your underwear is because your balls are rough! If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be breathing down your neck about them. Don’t you even notice when you fold the laundry?”

For a few moments, the silence fell over the Fushiguro house. Toji was bewildered, taken aback by what you said. You were one to never be crass in front of the kids or in general. Thus, this was the closest thing to you being vulgar.

For the teens, they stood still and frozen in place. However, for different reasons. For Tsumiki, she was stunned. Heavily skilled in the art of not being or feeling awkward. She’s not bothered or offended by your words. Rather, she didn't expect you to say something like that when they’re around. She knew it was bound to happen, just not with this conversation and those words. For Megumi, he was straight up flabbergasted. Never in a million years would he hear something like come out of you. Given, you’re known to have sufficient self-control when it comes to speaking in such a manner. Reserving that language for anyone 18 and over, and their dad. Right now, he’s growing frustrated because now he knows what people mean with you and Toji’s marriage has top tier chemistry. Megumi slowly realizes that both his parents are rat bastards and of equal humor. Noting that you were better at keeping it under wraps while his dad bore no filter at all. Meanwhile, Mayumi was just existing and cuddling her plushie. Becoming oblivious to the whole matter as her toddler brain couldn’t comprehend the words being used. But it was a good thing, much to both Megumi and Tsumiki relief.

“Did Mom just—?”

“Say what I think she said…?”

With their minds broken, the two were trying to process what just happened. You said it, made it be known. Something that probably should be said when they’re not present or only with their dad. Thinking about how you said them too: saying them with your chest, locked-in, hyper-focused, 10 toes down on the ground, no stuttering whatsoever. It looked like you were thinking about this for a long time and needed to get it off your chest.

To which you did, and successfully as well.

Just when the teens thought they were in the clear, they were thrown another curb ball. This time, it was from Toji.

“Doll, why are you complaining about them now? You never did beforehand, how do you think I gave you Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi? You took them and everything else. I’m not letting you throw me under the bus like this.”

Silence came back as soon as it left. If the two thought your words were absurd, their dad’s beat it and took your place with his own. Now Megumi’s petrified because he didn’t know what else would come out of either his mom or dad’s mouth. Fearing the embarrassment and possible vulgarity to over take what the two of you said prior. He didn’t want to hear nor wanted to know anymore. Just when he was about to drag his sisters away to leave you and Toji to your own devices, he sensed something that made him stay.

All at once, the silence was broken by you and Toji bursting out in laughter. You were holding onto his shoulders, gasping for more air to put in body but it was futile as you continued laughing even harder. Toji has his arms crossed but his sturdy broad frame shakes as he can’t restrain his uncontrollable laughter. The kids watch on, once again thinking this was finally done.

But the next thing they knew, they felt a gust of air pass by them followed with another. In a turn of events, you were being chased by Toji throughout the Fushiguro Estate. Yet, your laughter and squeals that were accompanied by your husband’s playful threats made it known this was all fun and games for you.

It went on like this for several minutes. Your two teens would’ve cringed but let it pass over when they noticed Toji carrying you over his shoulder from the house towards the large Saucer Magnolia tree in the garden. Plopping himself on the grass with you in his lap, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Now, Doll, where’s your present for me? I don’t see it.” Toji says, feigning hurt as he whines fakingly.

You roll your eyes at his performance. Though, instead of a grin, a smile was all that was left. Highlighting the blissful expression you wore.

“I know you, Toji. You just want me to baby and give you all my attention.” You huffed lightly.

“Yeah yeah, but you’re still gonna give it to me. You won’t deny me, Baby.”

Shaking your head, you let yourself be at your husband’s mercy. Indulging himself in your warmth in presence. It was a peaceful moment until you heard a little giggling coming closer. Both of you look up to see Mayumi running this way followed by Megumi and Tsumiki who held a blanket to be laid on.

Toji unravels one arm to catch his youngest and sits her on his free thigh across from you. You never noticed until now how beautiful and relaxed Toji is. While he was known for his laid back personality, you knew it’s from not wasting his energy on matters that don’t concern him. The reality was, Toji used to be tense and rigid. Forcing to stay on guard whilst putting on that lax facade. It wasn’t until he met and married you was when his stiffness and strained body began to disappear from his body. He was relaxing, loosening himself up because of you.

Although your shared life with him wasn’t easy and had its share of hardships, you felt honored Toji allowed himself to rest and find comfort in you. To see him finally have a sense of peacefulness after knowing what he’s been through, you only wish to love, care. and protect him for as long as you’re on this plane of existence.

Seeing how much contentment he has in interacting with his children and you, he was undeniably beautiful and sublime both physically and mentally. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you immerse in the loving family atmosphere you’re grateful to be a part of. Mayumi rambling and talking Toji’s ear off while your husband entertains her. Meanwhile, you watch your two older children talk and spill the gossip in their school lives to each other.

You wallowed in this domestic bliss, savoring it as there will be nothing else like it. You’re not the only one as Toji joins in basking in this domestic bliss as well. He would never say this out loud, but he didn’t think he’d live this long. He thought he’d died young due to his reckless and careless behavior, getting himself into deep shit that would ultimately be his grave. The voice in his mind reminds him that this may be a one time thing, that he’ll never get this in the next life. But he pushes that thought away to deal with it later. For now, he’ll be present here with you as you both happily entertain your little Mayumi and her current interest.

As for Megumi and Tsumiki, they can rest easy knowing they won’t have to hear you or Toji saying those appalling words again anytime soon.

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[poppy-metal]

dad’s best friend!patrick letting you stay at his apartment when you get into a fight with art…. i’m thinking you snuck out and returned to find art sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come back. just screaming and yelling at each other, you’re throwing things at him. he calls you reckless and a child and idiotic. all things he’s called patrick before. banging on patrick’s door after you drove your car 20 miles over the speed limit from your house to his apartment building. he opens the door all angry because who the fuck is banging his door down at one in the morning. he’s less angry when he sees it’s you but he still says “why are you here????” in that gruff just woke up voice. when you stutter and look up with him with those big wet eyes and say “i just… i need you right now” he can’t find it in himself to be angry anymore, just pulling you into this apartment and wrapping you up in his arms when you cry into his shoulder. the same arms that held you like this when you scrapped your knee when you were eight, the same arms that held you on his shoulder at one of your dad‘s matches when you were six. just so familiar and comforting and warm. crying and saying that art just “doesn’t understand me.” he “doesn’t get me.” but patrick does. you may be his best friend’s daughter but he sees you and he gets you. he’ll hide you in his apartment for as long as you want, saying that you’re not there when art inevitably knocks on his door a day later.

anyway.

- ⭐️

he really is just a sap for you :((( can't turn you away even when its the one thing he should do - should call art right away, because he'd be worried sick by now but. he sees himself in you, he remembers being called immature and reckless and all sorts of stuff by people who just didn't understand that he wanted to live life to the fullest - because what was the point of feeling all that shitty stuff, of slowing down just to appease other people and stop you from doing what you wanted - yeah, he was more responsible now, but still. at your age, it should be all about impulsivity and the rush of being alive.

and then there's the worse part of him that cant turn you away because you're just..... you came to him. you had to have a bunch of other friends you could go to that would be better, but it was him you turned to. it was him you looked up to. admired. it was inappropriate and wrong, the way you felt about him, but fuck. it felt good. it felt good to be needed.

he lets you stay. puts up less of a fuss about it than you thought he would, but that's probably because of the tears. he makes you a spot on the couch and when you pout and say its ungentlemenly for him not to give up his bed he just looks at you. says, "we both know you want to be in my bed for alot more reasons than comfort.", and well. he's not wrong. you definitely would have touched yourself if you had slept there. humped one of his pillows.

still, you manage to haggle one of his shirts from him - claiming your clothes were to uncomfortable to sleep in - and he'd tossed you one of his old tennis academy shirts. the fabric stretched out and worn. it dwarfs you when you slip it on, reaching your knees. its not as good being in his bed would have been, but you still drag the fabric over your nose in the middle of the night and inhale his scent while you touch through your wet slit - stroking and petting. you suck the fabric into your mouth too, imagining he just wore it and you could suck his sweat from it - pull it into your mouth. you imagine him in his bed just a couple doors down from you - sleeping on his stomach in just his boxers - fuck, maybe naked? - the strong expanse of his back, the thickness of his thighs. you imagine how he'd react to catching you masturbating in his shirt - if he'd get angry and call you a bad little girl. would he flip you over his knee, beat some sense into you? would cant stop from pulling the shirt completely over your head as you drench your fingers, pumping them in and out of your wet pussy as you think about being completely covered by patrick - pressed down and pinned with nothing to do but take in his musk and let him inside your tight body -

you cum sticky and wet all over your fingers. the bottom of his shirt damp with your juices. the apartment is quiet. you wonder how long you can take being around patrick zweig and not break - you feel like if he doesn't fuck you soon, it'll kill you.

[lionhanie]

han taesan ; end up here

maybe a tad angsty (taesan is an overthinker), fluff at end!, campus crush (he's literally in love with you), college au, reader is a baddie mhm yep yep

word count: 2.2k wtf

warnings: cursing, implied insecurity (taesan), alcohol usage, alcohol + weed mention, party setting, i'm literally so cliche but idgaf

this work is part of my boynextdoor as old 5sos songs series! ↳ if you want to listen to the song, here u go!

a/n: everyone rejoice... other members are mentioned >:D ok i lied. i tried to fit everyone in but it's mainly riwoo & leehan. and it felt wrong to find a way to include woonhak in a college party where there are Drugs and Alcohol buttttt hope u enjoy mwuwhuwhuh

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

taesan really didn’t want to go to this party, but riwoo and leehan had insisted it would be more fun than staying in his dorm room writing song lyrics the third weekend in a row. not that he doesn’t want to party, but he’d rather spend his time doing something he’s /actually/ interested in-- and right now, it doesn’t include making awkward small talk with strangers he will probably never see again in a sweaty led-lit room with mediocre music in the background. 

“taesan… come on! i understand that you love making music, but don’t you think it’s time to come out with us? just this once?” riwoo pleads with him, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. reluctantly, taesan spins around in his chair, turning to face his friend properly. 

“ah, i knew i shouldn’t have turned around. it’s so much easier to say no to you when i’m not looking at your face. put those puppy eyes away, i’ll go change.” he gives in a bit easier than he initially intended to, unable to hide his smile at the way riwoo does a dance of celebration at his successful convincing. 

leehan, currently leaning on the doorframe, chuckles at the sight. “i don’t think it’d be bad for you to go out with us from time to time,” he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before continuing his thought, “maybe you’ll find some more song inspiration while we're out.”

taesan rolls his eyes and ushers the two out of his room, quickly changing into one of his favorite shirts and fixing his hair in the mirror. after grabbing a couple of accessories and checking himself out in the mirror one last time, the trio make their way to the house in question. it’s only a party, it shouldn't be too bad... 

“wow, the weather’s perfect tonight.” leehan admires, hands in his pockets as they walk through campus, warmly lit by the streetlights scattered around. the crisp night air only seems to give taesan cold feet, as he feels the sudden urge to turn around and walk back to the laptop waiting for him in his dorm (despite being only a couple seconds away from their destination). almost expecting this to happen, riwoo stops in his tracks, causing taesan to bump into him.

riwoo crosses his arms, ready to give the best pep talk of his life. “i swear i can hear your thoughts. dude, don’t overthink this! it’s just another one of jaehyun’s parties, nothing crazy. we’re gonna have fun tonight!" riwoo frowns at taesan's doubtful expression. "leehan, help me out here.”

“i’m sure you’ll recognize at least half the people there. plus, you look cool.” leehan pats him on the back as a means of reassurance before putting his arm around taesan, practically dragging him through the door. 

upon entering, taesan is immediately reminded of the last time his two friends convinced him to go out with them-- it reeked of cheap weed, the music absolutely sucked, and to top it all off, someone spilled their mystery drink (?) all over his shirt. never again, he told himself that night.

but here he was, red solo cup in hand as he followed his two friends around while they greeted various people around the room. taesan actually could not recognize anyone else except his classmates, sungho and jaehyun, who were sitting on the couch against the wall. the concoction in his cup was barely touched, disgustingly sweet because of the various juices in it, and alcohol too strong to enjoy it in the slightest. maybe he should’ve stayed home.

“you walked in, everyone was asking for your name / you just smiled and told them trouble” 

“no way…is that y/n? y’know, i was convinced you’d never show up to one of my parties, but here you are!” jaehyun nearly jumps up from his place on the couch, hugging you at the entrance before shoving a cup full of who-knows-what into your hand. no way, indeed.

never did taesan think he would end up seeing his campus crush as close as he is now. this is crazy. he finds himself straightening his posture suddenly, even going as far as taking a big gulp of the drink in his hand, despite its unappealing taste. he'd noticed you early into the semester, finding you sitting with your friends out in one of the common areas outside his classes. he didn’t think much of it-- that is, until he kept seeing you. like, everywhere. he'd never admit it to himself, but he soon found himself looking forward to seeing you around. eventually, it got to the point where he started dressing a little nicer on the days he knew you’d be there, in hopes that you might notice him too. 

“i think some of your friends are here already, y/n. oh, a few of my friends from class came too, you'll love them!” jaehyun encourages you to introduce yourself on the spot. while slightly flustered, you look around the room with a smile as you wave to the various people.

“shit, how many friends do you have?” you joke, taking a sip from your cup before properly introducing yourself to a room full of, well, strangers. “nice to meet you everyone, i’m y/n!” you do a little twirl, which earns a couple whistles from around the room. taesan swore he felt the room brighten up with your arrival. your presence felt like a breath of fresh air in a stuffy room full of people. he moves to take another gulp of his drink as the two of you lock eyes briefly, making him cough before he could properly swallow. 

“y/n…who’s that? you know them?” leehan questions from next to him, pointing his cup in the direction of the front door. taesan only hums and shakes his head ‘no’ in response, his eyes glued to you as you dance along with the friends you’d just greeted. 

“my head spins / i’m pressed against the wall just watching your every move / you’re way too cool / now you’re coming this way” 

despite his sudden reluctance to drink when he first got there, taesan found himself with a freshly replenished cup planted in his hand as he leaned against the wall. the alcohol was starting to get to him; he could definitely feel the buzz with the way the room felt like it got a couple degrees hotter. or maybe it was just you being there that was making him warmer than he was ten minutes ago. he was vaguely listening to the conversation his classmates were having next to him, but his eyes always found their way back to you. he’s seeing you in a completely different light. normally, he’d be one to briefly admire from afar as he walked out of his lecture hall; now, you’re here. 

and all of a sudden it’s a little too real, because what do you mean he gets to see you laugh and dance around with your friends…? you’re just supposed to be the campus crush he never gets the chance to make a move on. wait. this is his chance to make a move, isn’t it? oh god, what if he doesn’t get another opportunity like this to talk to you without looking like some weird dude who’s been looking at you across campus-

“how did we end up talking in the first place? / you said you liked my cobain shirt”

“cool shirt. kurt cobain, yeah?” oh shit. and now you’re in front of him. riwoo elbows taesan, which was his way of telling him ‘good luck.’ the action snaps him out of his thoughts, eyes widening ever so slightly before he clears his throat.

“yeah, it is. you know nirvana then?” he scratches the back of his head, noticing his friends moving their conversation away from the two of you out of his peripheral vision. he mentally curses them out, because now this conversation feels like he needs to make sure he doesn’t make a fool out of himself, and now there’s no one there to butt in and save him. 

“obviously! you can’t say you know kurt cobain if you don’t know who nirvana is.” you beam at him as you finish the drink you were holding in your hand. his campus crush listens to one of his favorite artists, surely this isn’t real.

“taesan,” he blurts out, “i’m taesan, by the way. and you are..?” he waits for your response, as if your name wasn’t the only thing floating in his mind the second jaehyun welcomed you inside. (this is his attempt of being nonchalant btw)

“i’m y/n!” you look down at your empty cup briefly before looking around the room aimlessly. “do you want to get out of here?”

“what? you want to… leave?” with him? like this? now he’s almost sure this is some sort of prank or something. he’s taken aback at the bold request, clearly confused at what the hell is going on.

“it’s hot in here. and loud. you don’t want to step outside for a minute?” you placed your cup down on a random table, already making your way towards the door. you look at taesan, extending out your hand for him to grab so you can drag him through the crowd. 

oh, you just want to get some fresh air. okay. that makes a lot more sense. he’s glad the lighting is so bad in there, as he’s almost certain his ears are red as he looks at your waiting hand. he mimics your actions, putting his cup down on the counter before finally placing his hand in yours and letting you lead the way. 

“now we’re walking back to your place / you’re telling me how you love that song about living on a prayer” 

the two of you sit side by side on the curb outside the house, slowly getting more used to each other as you go on about random topics-- first, it was music... then clothes... eventually turning into a never-ending stream of conversation topics neither of you wanted to put an end to. he’s in awe of the situation he’s currently in: you look so beautiful under the streetlights, and you keep laughing at his jokes, and maybe the weather really is perfect tonight, just as leehan said earlier.

...taesan doesn’t exactly know how he finds himself sitting on your living room floor, but he vaguely remembers you complaining about how your outfit was too uncomfortable and you desperately needed to change. he instinctively offers to walk you back to your apartment to get some comfier clothes on; you even offer him one of your bigger hoodies for him to change into. it was still a little small for his liking, but he accepts your kind gesture happily.

much to his satisfaction, the conversation never dies. hours pass as you two continue talking about anything and everything. the things you miss from your hometowns, embarrassing childhood stories, outrageous things you've witnessed at past parties you've been to-- and it all flows so naturally. taesan swears he is in love, because even though he was lucky enough to find a great group of friends at uni, he’d never clicked with someone like this so fast, let alone the person he's been crushing on for weeks now. 

“my friends say i should lock you down / before you figure me out and you run away / but you don’t and you won’t / as you kiss me and you tell me that you’re here to stay” 

taesan is disappointed when he wakes up. damn it, he knew it was a dream. he blinks a couple times before reaching for his phone on his nightstand, only to be met with… carpet? and you, his campus crush, the person he spent the entire night talking to until you both eventually fell asleep on the apartment floor next to each other, laying on the carpet two feet away from him. sitting up almost immediately, he covers his mouth in disbelief as he takes in the situation, desperately looking for where his phone is without making too much noise.

→ 6 missed texts from The Boyz groupchat! riwoo: taesanieeee did u go back to the dorm without telling us :(  leehan: Wasn’t he talking to y/n? leehan: Check outside sungho: yeah, he’s still out there talking to them sungho: leave him be lmao jaehyun: actually? this isn’t really y/n’s type of crowd jaehyun: i’m surprised they haven’t gone home yet LOL keep up the good work taesan ;)

he puts his phone down on the floor, letting out a sigh as he places his head in his hands. oh god, and they’re already on him about this. he can’t help but let the last message jaehyun sent get to his head. not your crowd, huh? yeah, makes sense. after all, you shone so bright last night, it’s only reasonable for them to think that you probably wouldn’t get along with a guy who practically hugged the wall the whole time.

“he’s just trying to psych you out, you know.” you ran your hands through your hair as you stretch, taesan’s phone in hand. he shoots up immediately, in shock at the realization that you were awake and that you read the texts on his phone. “sorry for taking a peek at your groupchat, was just curious about what had you sulking so early in the morning.” you pass it back to him, his cheeks visibly flushed in embarrassment; the sunlight shining through the blinds only illuminating his current flustered state further. 

“i wasn’t planning on coming to the party last night, by the way. i only showed up because he told me you’d be there. you think i haven’t noticed you around campus too?” you smile at him from your place on the floor, moving over to give him a peck on the cheek. he thinks it’s insane how charming you can get, even if you just woke up. “stop worrying so much-- i’m here to stay, taesan. only if you treat me to breakfast though.” 

taesan doesn’t exactly know how he ended up here, but he was almost certain he'd found his new muse.

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! I would love some more rarepair dot/jack and miss fisher's murder mysteries. You write them amazingly 💚

Dot feels guilty for agreeing to go on this date. Her divorce from Hugh has only just been finalized, never mind that they’ve been living separately for the last year. She’s grateful it’s over with now – she doesn’t know how she would have felt if they’d been separated for longer than they’d been married under one roof, and that’s exactly what would have happened if everything had taken a couple more months.

It still feels too early, and it’s not like she’s ever dated before, Hugh having been her first relationship. But her neighbor Andrea had insisted that this would be good for her, and that her brother’s friend was perfect for her, and Dot is running low enough on friends that she hadn’t wanted to offend her and risk this new friendship collapsing in on itself.

She’d kept Jane and Mr. Butler, and Burt and Cec, of course, but all their other friends had landed firmly on Hugh’s side in everything, which she can’t even say is unfair, considering. But it is a little lonely. There’s a reason one of the first things she’d done was move back to Melbourne, toward the people who still liked her and away from everyone else. Her mother is appalled, but her priest is excited enough at having her back that he’s apparently willing to overlook the whole divorced bit.

She resists the urge to smooth back her hair again, wonders if she should have chosen a dress with a longer hem, but being a divorced woman provides so few benefits that it seems only fair that she take advantage of them.

“Dorothy?”

She looks up, breaking out into a smile at the familiar face. “Detective! How are you?” She gets to her feet, although she still has to crane her neck to look up at him. She forgot how tall he was. “You look well.”

“As do you, Miss Williams,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

She flushes. She never would have worn anything like this a few years ago, but lots of things were different then. Besides, Miss Fisher is always encouraging her to take risks in her letters. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” he says, lips pulled up on one side. On a second look, it seems like she can figure that out for herself. He doesn’t look old, really, but he does look tired, something weary about his eyes and shoulders that he didn’t have when she saw him last.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, cutting off whatever answer he would have grave.

The relief on his face makes her think she made the right decision. “I’m meeting someone, actually, although I’m not sure who. Andrea wouldn’t even give me her name.”

Dot blinks once, twice, then raises her hand to her mouth, heat crawling it’s way up her neck. “I’m going to kill her.”

It only takes Jack a second to catch on. “Ah. But,” his eyes flicker down to her hand, “I see.”

Hugh hadn’t told him, then. He’d called her Miss Williams, but that could have been habit more than anything else. Maybe they don’t talk. She assumed they did, but she’d assumed a lot of things.

Jack’s hesitating. If she lets him, he’ll make some sort of excuse and she won’t see him again unless she starts stalking crime scenes again.

“I’ll tell you the dirt details, if you like,” she offers, sitting back down looking expectantly to the chair across from her. He takes it, some of his hesitance bleeding away as he leans forward. “It’s not that exciting, I’m afraid.”

He smiles at her. He really is very handsome. “I bet I can guess.”

Dot raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“You outgrew him,” he says. “He was always struggling to keep up with you.”

It sounds so cruel put like that, but it’s also entirely correct. Hugh’s a good man and he’ll probably be a good husband – to someone else. To someone like she used to be, perhaps, but not at all for who she is now. “Well, I wish someone had told me that.”

“It didn’t seem appropriate,” he says, almost apologetic, and his eyes start to dip lower before guiltily jerking back up to her face.

“No,” she says, almost breathless. “I suppose not.”

[myfairkatiecat]

legacy keefe, letting it happen

that sounds like he doesn't actually care, or at least not enough to actually do what's right.

'But he also knows that it’s seriously wrong because Sophie is with fitz and even if Sophie doesn’t realize what they’re doing, Keefe absolutely does. He does, and he wants Sophie to be better, but he also doesn’t want it to stop.'

that's not a good friend

he can be conflicted or whatever, but that doesn't change that he doesn't really care about fitz- at least not anymore

Hmmm no I disagree.

Because keefe really did do everything he could short of stopping seeing Sophie altogether, that’s literally the reason he felt guilty about it. He wanted Sophie and Fitz to be happy and he didn’t want Sophie to be emotionally cheating in Fitz. He really wanted their happiness.

Where it gets messy is that they both liked the same girl which isn’t their fault by the way. Keefe isn’t a bad friend in any right for liking Sophie.

The thing that makes his situation in legacy tough is that he knows that without realizing it, Sophie really is emotionally cheating on her boyfriend, but he can’t tell her that without telling her her heart emotions actually like him, which he doesn’t want to tell her because that isn’t fair. She should get to figure out her emotions on her own. And of course he’s going to want to keep hanging out with her.

But he’s also very clear that they need to be good friends to Fitz. He tells Sophie she needs to be honest with Fitz about their project—Sophie just ended up forgetting cause she had so much on her plate. And he makes lots of jokes whenever they’re around about how happy they are together and how great Fitzphie is even though he still wants Sophie.

He’s in this really difficult situation where he really likes a girl who he knows really likes him, but who also really likes his friend and is technically dating his friend. So every time they hang out, even as friends, Keefe feels a little guilty about it because he knows what’s going on with Sophie’s emotions—which ALSO isn’t his fault by the way.

But naturally there’s a part of him that’s happy his feelings aren’t unrequited. That’s to be expected. And it only adds to his guilt in legacy because of course he secretly hopes Sophie will eventually choose him and can tell it might be an actual possibility. He really, really likes her. But of course he doesn’t want Sophie to be a bad girlfriend—and he clearly cares about Fitz in legacy, telling Sophie to reach out and wanting them to communicate and be happy.

Keefe can simultaneously care about Fitz and wish the girl he is dating would choose him instead. Honestly, your ask kind of sounds like you’re calling Keefe a bad friend for simply having his own feelings outside of wanting the best for his friend. I’m sure it isn’t your intention, but keefe can both care about Fitz’s feelings and also want something for himself.

Like I mentioned, the messiest part is that keefe knows all of Sophie’s emotions all the time, which he can’t even turn off, so that’s not his fault! He wants to hang out with Sophie, and he doesn’t mind that she has these feelings for him… he actually WANTS her to have those feelings… but he hates that it’s during her relationship with fitz and wishes Sophie would either be happy with fitz and go communicate and be a good girlfriend or break it off with fitz entirely and maybe start talking with keefe with those little flutters in her stomach then. And you know what? It’s not keefe’s job to make that happen. It’s Sophie’s, and she’s a little confused and oblivious in legacy, which isn’t keefe’s fault at all.

So… yeah no.

The situation is complicated. Of course keefe feels conflicted in the position he’s in. He doesn’t have a lot of right options—or any—and he’s a seventeen year old with a lot more on his plate.

Of all the issues in the Keefe and Fitz friendship (which I’d love to see worked through in canon), them not caring about each other has NEVER been one of them.

Sophie didn’t handle everything perfectly—but she didn’t realize what she was doing.

Keefe didn’t handle everything perfectly—but he really, really tried his best, and didn’t do half bad of a job either.

Fitz didn’t handle everything perfectly either. What can I say. They’re teenagers.

Hope you have a good rest of your day anon :)

[anthotneystark]

Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face

It doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

It’s a long time coming because it’s been coming his whole life. It’s been coming since the first time someone looked at him and said “it’s a good thing you’re pretty”. It’s been coming since the first time he heard someone say “beauty over brains”. It’s been coming since he was old enough to know that his dad was already planning on having to make connections to get him into a school of his choosing. He’s always known his book smarts were lacking, but it always hurt when he was reminded of it.

But it’s been more recent than that too.

It’s been coming since he felt that slick tail wrap around his neck. It’s been coming since Robin helped to change the bandages on his back. It’s been coming since the first date after everything ended with him going to bed alone because “I’m just not in the mood anymore” followed him pulling off his shirt.

It’s been coming since forever.

His looks have been his biggest asset his entire life, the only thing he could really use to get attention. And now there’s scratches in the paint.

After everything, when they’re finally safe, everything changes.

He doesn’t change, or he doesn’t think he does, because his habits are the same and his thoughts are the same and his nightmares are the same. But life slows down. And with it slowing down, he changes anyway.

Where once he was all lean, taut muscle, he softens. It’s still there, his daily runs and exercise are proof of that, but it’s a little more insulated.

(Robin tells him it’s because he’s been living with the stress of monsters for years, that feeling safe has pushed his body out of survival mode.)

It’s been coming though. With each comment from his mother about how he’s clearly eating too much junk food. With his father’s comments about how long his hair has gotten. With how girls’ eyes just skim right over him and move on.

It’s not all bad, of course. The kids, surprisingly, don’t comment beyond their usual teasing over things within his control – “stripes again? Don’t you have any other patterns?” or “why do you have to wear those shorts while you’re cleaning the pool?” which is usually followed by Eddie smacking whoever said it. Max makes exactly one comment, quietly, when it’s just the two of them still awake during a movie night.

“You’re a better pillow these days.”

Maybe it’s a joke, maybe she’s just being nicer with her teasing, but whatever her reasoning he likes it. When he thinks about it like that, being different doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

It doesn’t usually last long though.

So it’s not a sudden thing, until it is.

He’s not even totally sure what causes it. Some comment, sure, but the words themselves are in one ear and out the other. His parents are leaving for another trip, his mother comments about eating healthier while they’re gone, his father makes some dig that’ll lodge under his skin with all the other barbs he’s thrown at him for all these years.

All he really remembers is that a comment is made. The rush of heat and sour bile in his throat. The door shuts and all he can hear are overlapping echoes of all the comments that have ever been thrown at him. All he can feel is the tightness of the tee shirt he’s wearing the weight that no longer rests on his shoulders, but which is spread over his entire body. He finds himself looking into a mirror and suddenly cannot look at that any longer.

His hands shake and he doesn’t trust himself, but he knows where he can go.

It should scare him that he doesn’t remember the drive. It should scare him that he’s here but doesn’t fully know how he got here. But he doesn’t have room for more panic in his head. They’re past the point of knocking, of waiting to be let in, so pushing through the doorway of the trailer is a familiar motion. Eddie looking up and smiling where he’s strumming his guitar is a familiar sight.

The way his smile faulters and turns into a frown is less familiar.

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” He feels like he can’t breath, can’t possibly explain everything in his head, but he can’t just expect Eddie to read his mind. He’s not Robin after all.

“I need it gone. Off. I can’t…I can’t,” he manages, one shaking hand sliding into his hair and tugging, the pain grounding for just a moment. Eddie might not be able to read his mind, but he understands him these days more than most people. It’s an unlikely friendship founded in terror and fortified by countless hours in hospital rooms and new homes.

“Oh sweetheart. Are you sure?” He knows it’s extreme, but he can’t help what he needs, even if Eddie is concerned. He nods, swallowing hard. Eddie doesn’t try to talk him out of it, just pulls him to the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the tub.

“Lets start small, okay? And we can go as far as you need from there.” He wants to argue, but at the same time he knows it’s reasonable. And it’s Eddie. He trusts Eddie. He can’t make any words come out, but he manages a little nod. Eddie, doing what he does best, just starts talking. He’s not really paying attention to the words, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel the chill of the metal scissors, the soft rumble of Eddie’s voice, the too gentle fingers pushing and pulling him into whatever position is best. Eddie pauses now and again, a question in his eyes, but continues on when he sees whatever he’s looking for still lingering.

It's not until Steve feels his shoulders slumping, his hands loosening where they’re clenched at his knees, the chill of the breeze from the open window hitting skin that no longer feels boiling hot, that Eddie sets down the scissors. He feels lighter, doesn’t even care about the itchy feeling of stray hairs clinging to his clothes and skin.

When he finally looks in the mirror, his hair is shorter than it’s been in years. It’s not gone, not buzzed off, but it’s not the same as it was.

Neither is he though.

Eddie’s giving him a knowing look, one that says he’s got something to say but is holding off.

The cut itself is a little rough, but in a good way. It’s clearly not a professional sort of thing; he likes it more because of it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, exhaustion and relief hitting him in equal measures.

“You know, when I buzzed my hair, there were a lot of rumors,” Eddie says softly. “Stuff about my dad punishing me, about looking too girly before, that sort of thing. But really, it was just…so much going on all at once. My dad had just gotten arrested, mom took off, Uncle Wayne was stressed over having another mouth to feed. I felt like I couldn’t breath and just-” he makes a buzzing noise and mimes shaving through the mop of dark hair, which he’s got tied back today now that Steve can actually see it.

“Just had to get it off?” he asks.

“Yep. Needed it gone. Growing it back was a pain, but it was good too. Felt like a fresh start even if it was a little like trying to get back to where I used to be,” Eddie explains. It makes sense, at least to Steve. “So, you know, I get it. But I also know you’d have another breakdown if we shaved it all off completely,” he jokes. It’s enough to drag a laugh out of him.

It’s very Eddie, baring his soul while he’s helping to bandage a lost sheep, and Steve wishes he had the words to say how grateful he is. Instead, he just takes the towel Eddie throws at him and the soft, well worn clothes Eddie sets on the counter. He showers, pulls on a shirt for a band he doesn’t recognize, and breathes out a sigh of relief when the vice around his body finally, finally, comes loose.

Eddie doesn’t wait long once he sits down on the couch, immediately flopping back to use his thighs as a pillow while he goes back to strumming along to the music in his head. It’s a quiet moment, a safe moment. He doesn’t even notice as his head drops back to rest on the cushions, his breathing slowing as he finally feels light enough to rest.

Later, he’ll wake up with their positions reversed, with Eddie playing with his hair in a way that’ll make his brain turn into mush. Later, he’ll gather the courage to finally stop toeing that line of friendship and more that he and Eddie have been dancing on for so long now. Later, Eddie will hear everything that’s been in his head and will hold him down while he kisses every last insecurity and promises that it’s only made him more obsessed with him.

Maybe that won’t fix the insecurities, but that doesn’t mean Eddie isn’t going to make it very clear just how happy he is loving Steve exactly as he is at every point in time.

Because it doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

[coco-loco-nut]

Choices - Part Two

pairing: multiple

key: orange - pato | blue - logan | green- no one

lmk who you chose/your fave ending in the comments 🕺✨

masterlist part one

—————

Choice One: Pato

Logan knows as soon as you hesitate.

“You need to go. I can’t be the one who stops you from being with your soulmate,” Logan pushes down the bitter feelings inside.

“Lo, I’m so sorry,” you hold back the sobs as tears prick in your eyes.

“Don’t be, I would want someone to do the same if I was in your shoes. I’ll be okay,” he silently accepts his fate as you hug him.

“You are a great man, Logan Sargeant. I hope that you find the right girl for you,” you hate that you are rushing to leave, but it would be more awkward if you didn’t. You both need to protect yourselves in the moment, making for an awkward environment.

“Thank you for being a great girlfriend while it lasted, minus today,” he laughs awkwardly.

“Don’t be a stranger, yeah? I need my fellow American,” you smile and he nods.

“Enjoy San Antonio,” Logan closes the hotel room door behind you, quickly texting Oscar about the situation.

You feel awful, but that feeling disappears when you see Pato in the lobby waiting for you.

“Hi,” you whisper under your breath as you stand in front of him. Pato looks at you with a huge grin.

“Hi,” he replies, grabbing your bags and loading them into his car. Everything feels natural, like you were transported back in time, before you left Indycar.

His family welcomes you with open arms, happy to see you again. Pato shows you to the guest room, promising that you’ll talk about everything in the morning.

You lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling and out the window, unable to fall asleep. With a small huff, you get out of bed. Sliding on slippers and padding down the hall, you knock softly on Pato’s bedroom door. He opens it and the two of you don’t speak for a second. He looks incredibly good, messy hair, shirtless, and shorts hanging low. He feels the same way about you, hair slightly messy, large t-shirt hanging over your shorts.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, opening to door wider.

“No, I uh, I don’t even know why I am here,” you take a small step back, unsure of why you even came to his room in the first place.

“Because you love cuddles when you can’t fall asleep. I know you, princesa,” Pato steps aside and you allow yourself to enter his room. The room is virtually unchanged from the last time you were in it, even if you and Pato have.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say, laying on the other side of the bed from Pato. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into him, before looping a finger under the chain around your neck, pulling it out from under your shirt.

“Sure, amorcito, then why have you been wearing my ring since you left?” Pato says, lips brushing against your ear. You hate the way you can’t think, body alight everywhere he touches.

“Pato,” you whine, moving closer to him.

“We will talk about it tomorrow, go to sleep,” he whispers, seemingly not as affected as you are. He is, but he isn’t stupid enough to try something when you just broke up with Logan.

You allow yourself to settle in his warmth, an old comfort that helps you fall asleep. Pato squeezes you tightly, happy to have you in his arms again, a perfect fit against him.

In the morning, Pato takes you out to his favorite coffee shop. You both need to hash out everything between you, starting from just before the proposal. You spend hours in the cafe discussing everything, both doing your best to keep an open mind.

“So, where does this leave us?” you ask Pato, looking in his chocolate brown eyes.

“I’d really like it if you were to be mine again. We are going to have to relearn each other, and it isn’t going to be easy with us working in separate racing series, but I want to fight for us,” Pato reaches across the table to hold you hand.

“I want that too. I don’t think I can lie and say that thing haven’t felt natural and right when I’ve been with you,” his smile grows with each word.

“Someday soon, I’ll have to replace your necklace, because that ring will be around your finger, like it always should’ve been,” Pato rubs his thumb over your ring finger, picturing the ring on it.

“Easy there, we’re basically starting from scratch,” you smile, turning your hand so you can hold his.

“We’re gonna make it this time, I just know it,” Pato declares, making your heart flutter.

The first year together isn’t smooth. It is full of a lot of late night video calls and Pato flying out to you when there was an opportunity. You gave him the necklace after the Mexican Grand Prix.

After that things got easier, Oscar made the tough decision to take a better contract with a different team. You, Lando, and Oscar spent time on the couch with ice cream coping with that. Pato was signed to replace Oscar, and while you were thrilled, you were going to miss one of your first friends from the team.

“There is one last gift I want to give you,” Pato says, handing you a small rectangular box from across the table. You were celebrating your birthday at a fancy restaurant in London.

“You didn’t have to, babe. This dinner is enough,” a small blush tinges your cheeks as you take the box and open it. There is a beautiful necklace with your birthstone beside Pato’s birthstone, but underneath it is your engagement ring.

“We don’t have to start planning a wedding now, but will you say yes to marrying me this time?” Pato asks looking at you hopefully.

“Yes, of course I will,” you say, a little choked up.

“It is just how I imagined it,” Pato beams as he takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your ring finger.

“Me too. I never wore it as a ring before this moment,” you admit, admiring the way it fits just right.

“I can’t wait to start this new chapter in our lives,” Pato squeezes your hand, nothing but love in his eyes.

“It will be wonderful, because we will be together, forever.”

Choice Two: Logan

“Lo, I want that more than you know, but I have to go. I need the closure, but you are the one I want,” you run your hand through his blonde locks as he swallows the lump in his throat.

“You deserve that, and I trust you,” Logan pushes down the weird feeling in his stomach.

“Thank you. I don’t deserve that trust, not after hiding what I did,” you don’t realize the tears forming in your eyes until Logan wipes them away.

“We all make mistakes, and yeah it was pretty fucked up, but I understand why you did it. I’m not happy about it, but I can’t keep you from getting closure that you need,” Logan admits, you snuggle closer to him, holding him tight.

“I love you, Lo.” you whisper, not expecting a response.

“I love you too,”

“What if, uh, what if I go to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow. I’ll get my closure, then come to you,” you propose, looking up at your boyfriend.

“It’s up to you, but I would be more than happy if you were to do that. I’ll buy your flights,” Logan tells you and you squeeze him.

“Okay. I have to go, but I’m going to text you as much as possible,” you promise, trying to reassure him.

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” Logan drags himself out of bed, a rare feat seeing as how he loves rotting in bed post-races. You sling your backpack over your shoulder as Logan drags your suitcase behind him. He notices you wearing one of his shirts, his logo subtlety placed on the sleeve.

“Thanks Lo, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you place your hand over his on the handle as you stand in the lobby.

“Travel safe, sweetie,” Logan kisses you softly, trying not to delay you further.

Pato watches from his car, feeling like he’s been stabbed in the gut. You do seem happy, and he’s starting to feel like a home wrecker.

“Hi Pato,” you greet him, your voice soft as he helps load your suitcase into the back.

“Hi, amorcito,” Pato greets back, causing you to cringe a little.

“Pato, I can’t stay through tomorrow. I can’t do that to Logan,” you say, looking at the person you used to call home. The one who feels like a stranger and it scares you a little.

“I was scared of that, but I understand. You -we- deserve closure,” Pato’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. The car ride is filled with awkward small talk, trying to break the tension. In your pocket is the necklace that you stashed in your backpack.

Pato’s family greets you with open arms, making you feel guilty about what you are going to do. Pato leads you to the backyard, to the spot you would sneak out to and watch the stars.

“I should start. I really did love you, and if McLaren’s deal hadn’t been what it was, I would’ve said yes. If I wasn’t scared about the future, I probably would’ve said yes even though it would be long distance,” you say, fingers running through the cool grass.

“I feel a but coming,” Pato says as you grab the necklace.

“I’m with Logan now, and I love him. All of us deserve better than being stuck in the past,” you pull out the necklace. “I wore this every day since then, and you deserve to have it back. I can’t move on when there is a piece of your heart with me,” you fight the tears as you hand it to Pato.

“I wore a hair tie you left in my car around my wrist every day too. Even though I’m heartbroken over your choice, I’m happy that you are happy,” Pato gently inspects the necklace. The ‘P’ beside the ring pulls on his heartstrings.

“Thank you, that means everything to me,” you lean over and hug him. He slides the hair tie off his wrist and puts it on yours. You look at Pato, both of you unable to hold back the tears. He pulls you into a tight hug as you both allow yourselves to cry.

The past year changed the both of you, you aren’t the same people that left the relationship. It’s time to move on, however painful it may be.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, choked up.

“I am too,” Pato rubs your back.

You spend the night, after awkwardly explaining to his family what happened. They are surprisingly supportive, saying that you will always be welcome should you and Pato remain friends. You tell them that when he makes it to Formula One, you will be his biggest supporter.

Pato takes you to the airport in the morning, making sure to stop on the way there for coffee and a pastry. He even gets out of the car to help get your suitcase from the back.

“I hope that he is the one for you,” Pato kisses your cheek as you give him a quick hug.

“Thank you, Pato. I’ll see you in Mexico,” you tell him before dragging your suitcase behind you.

“Lo!” you practically jump into your boyfriends arms.

“How was San Antonio?” Logan asks, grabbing your suitcase. Pato would’ve made you drag it to the car, Logan wouldn’t let you even think of that.

“It was okay, it feels nice having the closure. I’m just happy to be here. We never really got to have our post-race nap,” you smile. Logan takes hold of your hand, walking a little faster out of the airport.

When you get to his family home, he drags you straight to his childhood bedroom. You notice how tired he looks.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” you ask, sliding off your shoes.

“Not enough. The only reason I could sleep was because of your texts updating me,” Logan admits, pulling you into bed with him. You feel your heart flutter and your chest tighten, like a blushing schoolgirl.

“Well, we can’t have a sleepy driver, can we?” you snuggle in closer to him. Logan relaxes at the feeling of your body weight on him, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep.

When you get Mexico, things feel changed for the better.

“What happened?” Lando asks you over coffee.

“Logan and I decided to make it work. He asked me to stay behind and not go with Pato, and I found a compromise so I could get closure. Things didn’t feel the same when I was with Pato, it felt like we both wanted the versions of ourselves from before, but we changed. I’m not ready to give up on my relationship with Logan,” you shrug, a small smile playing on your lips.

“He is wearing your necklace now. It has your initial beside his and the stones were removed from the ring and put on the chain,” Lando says, trying to describe what Pato did with the ring.

“If that’s what he feels he needs to do, that’s on him, Lando. He said that he wants me to be happy, and I want the same for him. Hopefully we can be friends eventually, but I think he needs more time to heal,” you say, standing up to go to a meeting. Lando nods, staying seated as he mulls over your words.

“I’m glad you are happy. Oscar wouldn’t lead you astray,” Lando says from behind you, giving you one last thought.

It took a lot of work between you and Logan, both of you making an effort to be open and honest with each other. You celebrated the small milestones, like making it through winter break together, him signing a contract, and every month.

It was clear the two of you were making a conscious effort to stay together, and it worked out. After two years of being together, you move in to his place, and another year later you are engaged. It isn’t easy -nothing ever is- but you are it for each other. Sometimes finding your soulmate isn’t as easy as books make it seem.

“I love you so much,” you turn your head to look at Logan. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I’m so glad that I chose to stay, you’re my soulmate, Lo,” you tell him. The party around you seems to not exist as you look at him. Your wedding reception is amazing, but this moment between you is perfect.

Choice Three: Neither, you don’t need a man to be happy

“I can’t, Logan. I don’t even want to go with Pato anymore,” you say, pulling away from Logan.

“What do you want?” he asks softly, as confused as you are.

“I don’t know, but what I do know is that I can’t hurt you anymore,” you move to your bags, packing the couple things you have left out.

“Y/n,” Logan pleas, sitting up and getting out of bed.

“Lo, please. I’m not right for you. I feel like I’m in relationships with two different people. I never got closure from Pato, and I am dating you. And you deserve so much better than what I can give you. You deserve someone who can support you from your garage every weekend, and not have a company contract between you. I really do like you, and I hope we can be friends after this,” you zip up your bag before Logan pulls you into a hug.

“You deserve better too. You deserve someone who isn’t a driver and can make you the time you deserve. I want to be friends with you, because you are a great friend,” Logan says. “Do what you need to do, and let me know if I can help. I think we both knew we were meant to be friends,” Logan steels himself as you walk to the door.

“Thank you, Lo. I might need a little time, but when I’m ready, we are finding an American bar and getting shitfaced,” you say, taking a deep breath and leaving the hotel room. It feels like cold water splashed you, like you’ve been thrown into the deep end.

You walk through the hotel lobby, to the other side where Lando and Oscar’s rooms are. You notice Pato’s suitcase and backpack beside him as he checks out. You slip the necklace with the ring into the backpack before heading to Lando’s room.

“Y/n? I thought you were going with Pato?” Lando asks as you stand in the doorway of his hotel room. You shake your head, tears in your eyes.

“I couldn’t do it, Lan,” you hold back a sob as he ushers you inside.

“I’ll text Osc to come over and order hot chocolate from room service,” Lando says, closing the door behind him. You sit on one of the unused queen beds. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lando rubs your back as Oscar rushes in, holding a cup carrier.

“I intercepted the room service, who do I need to fight?” Oscar asks, setting the carrier down and passing out the cups.

“Me, I am an awful person,” you sniffle.

“Y/n, it can’t be that bad,” Lando says, giving Oscar a wary side eye.

“I broke up with Logan and I ditched Pato,” you admit and Oscar instantly feels torn. You know you just put him in an awkward position. “I’m really sorry Osc, but if I stayed with him, he would’ve been hurt more,” your eyes plead with the driver who has become your friend.

“It’s okay, I’ll talk to him later. You are both my friend and you are clearly distressed,” Oscar pushes down the initial bad reaction.

“So what are you going to do about Mexico? Pato is going to be traveling with the team for the rest of the season,” Lando asks and you shut your eyes.

“After Mexico there are four races. I’ll lay low and keep my head down. I also need to find a new job,” you say, Lando and Oscar look at each wide eyed.

“What? Just because you broke up with Logan doesn’t mean you need to leave McLaren,” Lando stutters, shocked at your decision.

“Lando, you don’t get it. I’ll be done with my program in two weeks, and there is nothing keeping me here other than you guys. I don’t know if you noticed, but I have been pretty miserable,” you say, mulling things over in your head.

“I’ll set up a meeting with Zak. There’s gotta be something we can do for you,” Oscar says and you shake your head.

“I can’t do the driver facing jobs anymore. I love you guys, but I just can’t. I miss focusing solely on the car,” you reply, sipping the hot chocolate.

Oscar leaves a few minutes later to go to his best friend and comfort him. He hates seeing you and Logan hurting, but Oscar knows it’s what both of you needed in the long run.

You travel with Lando, keeping to yourself and your unit. Oscar does manage to get you a one-on-one with Zak.

“Is there anything we can do for you to stay? We can send you back to Indycar, or maybe to Formula E? What about more pay?” Zak asks, pulling at straws to get you to stay as you discuss your resignation.

“I’m sorry Zak, but I have to move on. Papaya will forever be in my blood, and I am incredibly grateful for everything the team has done for me,” you shake your head.

“I appreciate that, and I appreciate all the work you’ve put into making the team successful. Based on what we discussed, I might be able to help you find another job. Let me talk to some people. If we have to lose you, I want you to land on your feet, and you will always be welcome back,” Zak says, standing from is chair. You follow his motions and shake his hand.

“Thank you, Zak. I will obviously respect all of the NDAs and team secrets. I hope that one day I will rejoin McLaren,” you thank him before stepping out.

A couple of weeks later, you land the job at Ferrari, focusing on car development and advancements. The best part is that it is located in the factory headquarters and you won’t be required to travel with the team to every grand prix. Zak wasn’t lying about wanting to help you, and you weren’t lying about your integrity.

The one time you were required to go to a GP was Imola, but that was due to the close nature of the race. You are walking through the paddock, Ferrari red helping you blend in, when you hear your name called out.

“Y/n!” Lando’s voice is unmistakable.

“Lan?” your eyebrow is furrowed as you look ahead. he pushes past some people to get to you.

“I missed you,” Lando pulls you into a hug. You don’t waste time hugging him back. “It’s been so long,” he pouts.

“Yeah, I’ve been in Italy,” you chuckle.

“Come get lunch with me,” Lando demands, you don’t have much to do today, so you take him up on the offer. Lando pulls you into McLaren hospitality and leads you to where Oscar and Logan seated.

“Y/n?!” Oscar gasps, quickly standing up to hug you.

“No offense, but Ferrari red is not your color,” Logan grins, staying seated.

“I know. But the job is perfect for me,” you smile back, taking a seat.

“No drivers?” Logan asks, the two of you talk a lot, your friendship in a good place. You are taking him to the Indy 500.

“No drivers. I get to do what I love without you guys distracting me,” you tease.

“You seem a lot happier. Don’t forget about us when you are surrounded by beautiful cars,” Lando grins, handing you a plate of food.

“I’m sorry, I was so busy during the winter,”

“Don’t even worry about it. It seems like you needed that time to settle in and work on yourself. That’s what matters, plus, we know that it’s a busy time of year for you,” Oscar reassures you.

“So, any secrets you can share about the Ferrari car next year so we can beat them?” Logan asks, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Nope, just like how I didn’t share McLaren’s secrets, I’m not sharing Ferrari’s,” you shut the joke down.

“Lando! Are you coming golfing on Monday? Oh, who is this?” Carlos turns to you, trying to figure out why you are wearing Ferrari team gear.

“I’m Y/n, an engineer for Ferrari. I help work on car development,” you extend your hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, you are the person i can complain to about issues,” he jokes.

“Unfortunately, I cannot fix strategy,” you reply with a small smile.

“She got you there,” Logan laughs.

“Logan, you drive for Williams, and she’s making fun of her own team,” Oscar says, leaning closer to his friend.

“I need to go. Let’s plan something soon,” you stand up and turn to Logan. “See you soon for Indy,” you say, waving goodbye.

“Indy?” Lando quirks his eyebrow.

“Arrow McLaren invited her and a guest. We are visiting our families while there,” Logan explains.

“Do you think Pato asked them to invite her?” Oscar asks, Lando shrugs as Carlos takes your abandoned seat.

“Pato? What is the whole deal with her?” Carlos asks, eager for the gossip.

“She’s our friend who came to McLaren from Indycar, Logan’s ex, and she was almost engaged to McLaren’s reserve driver, Pato. She seems like she’s thriving at Ferrari though, and she’s definitely not dating another driver, Carlos,” Lando sums your story up.

“And you are still friends with her?” Carlos looks at the blonde American.

“I mean, yeah. We took some time for ourselves, but it’s nice to have a friend who is also American and knows F1 well,” Logan brushes it off.

Logan meets you at the airport, he paid for the flights since you got the tickets for the 500. You are surprised at how natural your friendship feels now that the stress of a romantic relationship is over. The week passes quickly and soon enough the two of you are at the track, waiting for the 6:30 am cannon fire. You both make your way inside to start drinking, and a couple hours later you head to the paddock.

“Are you okay?” Logan asks, sensing your apprehension.

“I didn’t really think about having to see him again,” you admit, Logan leads you to the side of the path.

“We can leave, we don’t have to visit Arrow McLaren,” he offers.

“No, that would be rude. I’ll just be a big girl and deal with it,” Logan gives you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, but you are his friend so he decides to trust you.

“Alright, lead the way,” he sighs, walking closely behind you.

Pato notices you as soon as you walk into the paddock, of course he does, he knew you’d show up if invited. He wasn’t expecting Logan to be with you though. He stays with Alexander Rossi, biding his time to approach you. Pato knew you weren’t in the McLaren employee database anymore, and he needed to invite you here so he knew you were okay and figure out why you never showed up.

You are immediately greeted by some engineers that you used to work with.

“This is my friend Logan, he drives in F1 and is also American,” you introduce Logan who stands closely beside you.

“Weird way to introduce me,” Logan gives you an amused look and you introduce the few engineers near you to him.

“Want to see what’s new?” they offer, leading you to Pato’s car. You eagerly accept, your old Arrow McLaren gear helping you and Logan blend in.

“So, how is being a McLaren F1 engineer?” the one ask as you look closely at the car.

“It was fine, but I didn’t like the traveling too much so I left. I work for Ferrari now,” you say, leaving out some details.

“How did you meet Y/n?” the engineer asks Logan who happily watches you nerd out.

“My best friend, Oscar, drives for McLaren. He thought that he should introduce us, we’ve been friends since,” it is an unspoken rule between the two of you to not bring up the relationship.

“And Pato is okay with it?” the engineer asks yet another question, you brush off the bit of irritation in you since you haven’t kept close contact with the team here.

“I broke up with Pato when I left here,” your eyebrows furrow.

“We assumed you were still together, which is why he was mopey when you left and why he invited you,” the engineer says and you turn to Logan.

“He wanted to see if you would bring me, that way he would know if we were still together,” Logan realizes, speaking so only you could hear him.

“This is a mess,” you groan.

“Pato sent the passes? We assumed it was the team as a whole,” Logan says, letting you collect your thoughts.

“Admiring my car?” Pato approaches your little group, unable to stay away any longer.

“More like figuring out how the car changed since I left,” you hum, looking at some of the smaller details. The car is enough to distract you from the tense awkwardness.

“I see you brought a friend,” Pato swallows the lump in his throat.

“I’m Logan, I got close with Y/n before she moved to Ferrari, we met through Oscar. I drive for Williams, but Oscar and I are very close,” Logan extends his hand to Pato who shakes it, both of them pretending they don’t know who the other is.

“Nice to meet you. You never said you moved to Ferrari,” Pato turns to you again, he can feel your ring burning his skin as you fight the urge to sink in a hole and die.

“It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I got the offer and took it,” you stutter.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” Pato senses your discomfort. He doesn’t miss the hesitant look you share with Logan before following Pato to a quiet spot nearby.

“I-“ you start to speak, not sure what to say, but Pato cuts you off.

“Why didn’t you come with me to San Antonio? Why did you bring Logan here with you? God, Y/n, you confuse me more and more,” Pato run his hands through his hair, stressed. You take a careful step forward, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I was scared, Patricio. You appeared in a moment that was one of the lose confusing times of my life. My relationship with Logan was deteriorating, I was unhappy with my career, and then you showed up. You showed up, Pato,” you take a deep, shaky breath as Pato’s eyes meet yours. “You wanted a version of me that I no longer was, and I couldn’t do that to you, so I hid. I resigned from my job, I broke up with Logan, and I quit talking to most people. It was only after winter break that I began to feel myself again. And Pato, I’ve hurt you more than I ever should have, you deserve so much better than that,” your voice cracks.

“You could’ve talked to me about it, I still love you and I always will love you. Even the new version of you,” Pato says and you feel the frustration grow in you.

“Patricio O’Ward, listen to me! I am happy. Happier than I’ve been in a while, and you need to understand that. You aren’t Logan, we can’t just be friends after spending time apart. Maybe you are that one true love, but I am happy with my life right now. You aren’t going to leave Indycar and move to Maranello, and I’m not quitting my job for you. It’s time for you to move on,” you say firmly, needing to stop Pato’s begging.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m not as ready to let go. I’ll take you back,” he says after a few seconds, processing your words. You talk with the engineers as Pato stands beside Logan.

“Take care of her for me. I know she’s a strong woman, but not all of us are lucky enough to remain friends with her after dating her,” Pato says, watching you with a longing look.

“She never needed a man, and she doesn’t now. Y/n is going to do amazing things,” Logan looks at you with a particular fondness, one that admires his friend being nerdy about engineering.

Logan is right, and as you advance in your career, you attend more races, but you don’t feel as out of place. You secretly helped Logan improve his driving from an engineering perspective, and you watched as Pato replaced Oscar when Oscar went to another team.

You chose your career over men, and you were better off for it, you are happier and more confident in yourself than you ever have been.

[suzyblue0292]

Rewatch - Dead Boy Detectives S1E2 - The Case of the Dandelion Shrine

Is this a functioning cannery?

Edwin being their diplomat is both horrifying and hilarious, but yeah, he is actually the best choice. 

I always knew if my cat could talk he’d be an asshole.

I can’t tell how much of the seduction is real and how much is a play to get the bracelet on…

The fear on Edwin’s face as he backs off. 

I’m not sure it’s consensual if you smack a caging spell on someone first…

I wonder if the cat king returned him hours later on purpose to screw with them - it makes Edwin’s story so suspect to Charles because - how could that be all that happened - you were gone for hours!

Edwin is so stressed out and striking out at everyone. Also this makes 2 times he has mentioned hell. 

Poor Jenny does not get paid enough for this shit. 

Obviously they have not traveled much if they don’t know the mail gets forwarded.

And the sad moment we all realized it was not psychic lesbian love. 

“You’re a cursed walrus. That’s cool.” Oh Charles.

Charles does smile a LOT.

Esther was totally planning revenge before she knew they were stuck. Oh, deary me. I love her so much. 

Where do doctors still make house calls? Is it because he really is such a crap doctor?

I don’t think Edwin doesn’t care - he’s trusting Charles to handle Crystal - while he observes and puts together evidence. 

Honestly, Edwin a simple “We can’t talk to the living, you can.” Would have sufficed. Yes, Charles, stop being so nice. Western doctors refuse to treat women with any seriousness even when it’s not a magical malady so let’s not give Dr. Dehydration any props here. 

Married bickering. 

Crystal, while I don’t begrudge you poking through someone else’s library, those letters are not your business. 

Edwin’s repetitive use of “hysteria” cracks me up.

More married bickering. Right until it looks like Edwin could hurt himself, then Charles is so soothing.

Also, which one of them is more obsessed with the Cat King?

Poor Charles. Also, when you consider that Edwin’s calmness is because he’s seen so much worse, poor Edwin.

Crystal, all you do is talk about it.

Boarding school is a theme in this show. 

Everyone was staring because of the sprites, so she had to drop out of school. 

Where do all of Crystal’s clothes come from?

Niko looks so delighted at the prospect of Crystal being insane. She really is delightful.

So much of Edwin’s rudeness comes from a place of concern.

Are those women twins?

A dead child causes more trouble than a live one. Tell me how you really feel about children, Nurse Lady.

Such a cute map Niko.

I think Edwin liked, or at least respected his father. He is quoting him a hundred years after his death. I wonder if he didn’t have a better homelife than Charles and that is why he looks so stricken when Charles says “lets not talk about dads.” He doesn’t really understand that Charles was abused - in part because Charles hasn’t shared that and in part because our idea of abuse has changed over time. However - it should be noted that when Edwin himself was a small child there were reform movements, and anti-child abuse laws passed in England, so it isn’t fair to assume he was abused or would have no understanding of the notion. 

I love the relationship we’re seeing between these two. Charles’ gentle comments about Edwin’s “old-timey insults” immediately elicits a promise to be nicer from Edwin. 

Then his comments about liking Crystal because she’s like Edwin get this soft smile from Edwin and he breaks down and admits he isn’t upset with Crystal but himself. Charles is so quick to put the blame on the Cat King - even though he could scold Edwin for trapping the cat.

How does a ghost break a bone on the mortal plane? 

“I went with grab it.” Charles I love you.

“ANOTHER discussion about your impetuous behavior.” “Sure, mate.” Charles does shit like this all the time, clearly. 

The teacher in me feels such kinship with Jenny.  I wish I could say “cut the weird shit.” God knows I think it a lot. 

Me too Edwin. Me too.

I think we all sleep on how brilliant Charles really is. While Edwin and Crystal are bickering he’s reading the book and coming up with a solution.

Why does the jar float in thin air but not the book?

Edwin does care about Crystal. 

Okay Crystal’s speech to the sprite’s is so sad, but does anyone else expect a lion and hyenas to start a musical number when she says “you’ll never go hungry again”?

So rude that the sprites could just always “exit the body” this way but instead explode people. 

Love the sprites.

“But also dangerous and unprofessional. Do not do it again.” Is Edwin for “I care about you and you frightened me. Which Charles damn well knows. I suppose it would embarrass Edwin (and probably Crystal) for him to point that out though.

Charles please stop. We’re all in pain here.

Love Niko’s confidence.

Charles is so happy to collect new friends. 

Oh my god. So many ghosts.

Esther, my queen. 

The spellwork sequence is so cool. 

I know Monty comes off all sweet later but his grin is evil. 

[florianniss]

Dungeons and Drag Queens

RatedE, Identityporn, Drag Queen Eddie

“Gah!”

Steve has a tight-knuckled grip on his ‘Oh shit’ bar and his brake pedal is pressed all the way to the floor. He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the crunch of metal, the crushing of glass, the impact that throws him into the windshield and puts him in the hospital in a full-body cast.

It never comes.

“Jeezus, Steve. Lighten up, will you?”

Somehow, miraculously, Dustin has managed to swerve and miss the parked delivery van and is tooling proudly down the street like he didn’t almost send Steve’s life flashing before his eyes.

“You’re not my Dad, you know.”

Dustin turns the wheel back and forth, like he’s in one of those grocery store ride-ons that you put quarters in to make it move. He comes up on a stop sign way too fast and slams on the brakes at the very last second. Steve has to throw his hands on the dash to stay in his seat. 

“That’s right,” Steve says, pulse rapid and thready, and he’s sure his veins are popping out all over the place. “I’m your Mom. And you’re a menace.”

Dustin rolls his head dramatically and steps on the gas. The old fake-wood-grocery-getter he’s borrowed from his folks spits up gravel from its back tires. Steve wishes he’d ridden separately, taken his bike instead.

“Why are you such a chicken lately, anyway?” Dustin whines. “You used to be fun.”

Steve bristles. “I’m still fun.” It comes out as a growl, like a cantankerous old bear woken way too early from slumber.

Dustin laughs and lays down another screeching halt. Steve swears he can smell the brake pads burned and disintegrated into dust. He grins like he’s done it on purpose, takes a corner and heads out of town, and Steve forces himself to relax. 

He would never admit it, but he has become rather — conservative — these past few weeks. Like, his body is still twenty-two but his brain is thirty years older.

“Do I need to run through any rules with you before we get there?”

Steve gives a long-suffering sigh. It’s Saturday, and it’s the first day he’s had off in two weeks. And, like the soft-serve (coward) he is, he’s agreed to stand in for Dustin’s girlfriend, Suzie, at their little gang’s weekly board game. 

“I got it.”

It’s not true, of course. He has no idea what the hell he’s getting into. What he does know is the second he found out Dustin and Mike and Max and Lucas and Will were secretly meeting in some random guy’s garage, his Mother Hen transformed into Mother Lion.

“OK.” Dustin doesn’t sound convinced.

He picks up the other kids and they pile into the back two rows, punching the back of Steve’s seat playfully as they pass. They pair off naturally, Mike with Will and Lucas with Max. Steve’s chest twinges a bit when he thinks about how Suzie rounds out their little group nicely.

Meanwhile, he’s the third wheel. (Or rather, the sixth? Seventh?)

Dustin and the others have been trying to get Steve to come for weeks. He explains nicely that he’s an adult and he has responsibilities: job, rent, groceries. Recuperating from life. The kids try to make him feel guilty by telling him everyone they invite always says ‘no.’ So, of course, he’s got to prove them wrong.

He also wants to meet this guy whose garage they meet in. What if he’s a creep or a kidnapper? Or a killer. The kids don’t even know how old he is.

Steve intends to find out.

Dustin pulls into the trailer park and Steve definitely gets Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes from the place. He kinda wishes he’d brought his Leatherman. Or his bat.

The kids spill out of the car and hurry down the dirt driveway toward the mandoor on a faded puke-green metal building. Behind it, there’s a trailer in the same color and condition. A rusted van is parked crooked near the garage, an old Chevy truck has been pulled right up to the front porch. Steve notes the plate numbers in case he needs to report a crime.

He opens the station wagon’s back door and lifts the cooler. He’s packed healthy stuff like string cheese and peanuts, a bag of grapes and a few apples. It’s not just for his wards; it’s for him too. Ain’t no way he’s eating some serial killer’s pork rinds. No sir.

Steve follows the rest into the garage and isn’t half surprised to find it smells exactly like a garage. Rubber and oil and musty rust and something sweet — radiator fluid? He takes in the large open space, scanning the boxes and tools and spare parts before settling on a large, heavy, claw-footed dining table that looks like it belonged to somebody’s dead grandmother.

The boys pull out folding chairs and begin to set them up around the table, all talking as loud as they possibly can to make sure they’re heard over the others. Max smiles and hangs her gray tote bag with the rainbow straps over the back of her chair. Steve is pretty sure she’s wearing a Care Bear shirt, and he loves her for it.

Steve sets the cooler on the floor next to the table and realizes he’s forgotten something.

“Oh, shit, guys! I forgot the pop!”

Groans circle the table and Steve feels horrible. He’s about to volunteer to take the wagon to the 7-11 and pick up Slushies to make up for it, when a voice behind him offers another solution.

“I got drinks in the trailer.”

Dustin cheers and Steve spins around, hair prickling on his arms because this guy sounds much older than seventeen. And when he lays eyes on a very adult face, his stomach does a very convincing leap off a highrise. It’s nothing like he expected.

Apparently, neither is Steve, because the guy drops the opened box of dice he’s carrying in the crook of one arm and they clatter onto the floor like hailstones and roll under the table. A stunned set of dark eyes pop out of a narrow, handsome face, and his mouth falls open. For a second, Steve feels embarrassed for the guy.

Dustin, however, flies in from the side and hugs him. “Thanks, Eddie! We’ll just run in and —“

This Eddie shakes himself like a wet dog, and a stern frown creases his forehead as he narrows his eyes “Not you, Henderson. Or you two.” He points at Will and Mike. “Max. You and Lucas grab some and haul them out.”

Lucas grins at Max, who returns the smile with something mischievous. Eddie catches it and shakes his head. “And no beer. I ain’t serving minors, here.”

Steve watches the whole exchange with a little jealousy. He’s supposed to be the only one who gets to boss these kids around. But he can’t possibly say anything; the guy’s logic is sound, and even if he’s just covering because Steve is here, it’s one less thing to worry about.

Because there’s definitely something about this Eddie that has sent Steve’s pulse racing.

He realizes he’s staring and quickly crouches to help the others collect the escaped dice. Down on hands and knees, he notes how sweaty his palms are, the nervous shimmy behind his navel.

What the hell is wrong with him lately?

When everything’s been collected and he crawls back from under the table, Eddie and Dustin are standing in the same spot. Except Dustin has a shit-eating grin on his face. And Eddie is looking like he’s been hit with a baseball bat.

His eyes are – well, they’re captivating.

“Uh,” Eddie says, and he folds both arms over his chest, hugs himself tightly. “I’ll go check on Max.”

He spins on his heel and high-tails it outside, like he’s seen a ghost or something.

Dustin continues to smile as he approaches the table and chooses a chair. He carefully spills out his little figurines and bag of matching dice, and Steve wants to throttle him for how smug he’s being.

The conversation returns to the volume levels from inside the car. Everyone is going on about what happened last time, all of them trying to fill Steve in. He tries to listen to each of them in turn, catches phrases like, ‘That demon was so sick, man!’ And ‘I can’t believe you tried to open the chest with a shovel!’ They were really getting into it, saying, ‘OK, then, next time you open the damn thing!’ and, ‘But nobody’s got lockpicking!’ when the door opens, and Eddie and Max and Lucas walk in.

Steve’s eyes flit over the Mountain Dew piled in both kids’ arms (they’re gonna be a handful on the ride home) and settle on the fact that Eddie has changed his shirt.

It’s long-sleeved, less wrinkled, and newer-looking. It’s like his hair has been combed; all the tight curls have separated and they seem softer somehow. He swaggers, yes, swaggers, across the floor right up to Steve and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. Jeans that hug his frame a little too well.

“I’m Eddie Munson. Hey.” It’s cocky.

Steve stands so quickly that he almost knocks his chair back. Someone at the table snickers.

He slips his hands in his own pockets. “Steve Harrington. Hey.”

They exchange hard-focused glares and brief nods, and then Eddie moves away to take a chair at what’s clearly the head of the table. It’s directly across from Steve.

Eddie sits, and Steve sits, and he tries not to think anything at all. Tries to clear his brain and make it an empty space. Because, if he doesn’t, he’s bound to think this guy is threatening him in some way. There are some pretty territorial vibes coming off him.

Chaos ensues. Everyone scrambles to spread things out on the table. They lean over it, sometimes standing on their chairs to reach. And they argue, of course, because they always argue.

“That’s not where the garden was! It was over there! Next to the rowboat!”

“No. That’s where the temple statue was, remember?”

Steve tears his gaze away from their host’s and finds the tablecloth he thought was a honeycomb-themed covering, is actually the mat they’re playing their game on.

He checks to see if Eddie is still watching him, and, he is. Looking over the top of a large manilla envelope as he slides white sheets of paper out, one at a time. It’s eerie, really. The way his eyes seem so deep. As if he’s some sort of —

Well, Steve doesn’t know.

Eddie passes out character sheets and Steve’s instructed to read his. He scans through it, reading about a man who’s a noble who worships some kind of dragon god. He doesn’t understand all the stuff on the front; it’s a lot of reading. More than he’s done since college. Even then, he needed a quiet room with no distractions to understand what he was reading.

Eddie’s garage is far from that.

Dustin leans over and hands him a velvet pouch. “You can use some of my dice.”

Steve leans into him. “You’re gonna have to help me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Dustin laughs, but he does help. All of them do, actually. More than enough. At one point, when his character “Rodrick” is standing on a half-sunken pirate ship, and it’s his turn to decide whether he should investigate a dark, dank, waterlogged room, even though apparently he can’t see into it, Max pats him reassuringly on the back and says, “Don’t worry. We’ll cover you.”

Steve isn’t worried about some fictional character in some fantasy game, who can’t die anyway because he’s got a biblical laying hands spell. He’s worried about making a fool of himself in front of –

Yeah.

Eddie’s murder stare eases eventually. He lords over the board, hunkered down behind a makeshift barrier he’s set up on his end. Steve catches on that he’s not playing, he’s leading the game. He’s sarcastic and loud, swears like a sailor, and it’s clear he knows his shit. It’s like he knows how everything is supposed to play out ahead of time, and he lures the other players into his trap.

It doesn’t go as he expects either, because Dustin challenges him on everything. He argues that in real play some character wouldn’t really do that. He corrects Eddie on how many hits someone gets, or whether spells can be used in certain instances. They bicker like a couple of old, long-married people, while the rest of the kids dive into notes they’ve taken, share each other’s sheets and basically work together to overcome and defeat monsters. And if Steve hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, hadn’t been there to watch the playful back and forth that was actually whimsical and light-hearted, he wouldn’t have believed it.

After Dustin throws a fit when an undead monster stays dead by Max a second time, when it should have resurrected once more to be killed a third, Eddie loses his cool. He picks up the suspect monster and hurls it across the garage, where it slides over the concrete floor and ends up in a pile of junk.

“He’s dead because I say so, got it?”

Steve watches fire dance in the guy’s eyes, but he’s not fooled. He understands, just like the kids do, that he’s not really angry. He’s enjoying this.

They’re a few hours in when Steve dies. And it’s not the fact that he’s dead, really. No. It’s the humiliating way it happens.

“Why the hell did you do it that way, you idiot?” Dustin shouts at Mike, who has made the decision to take a fancy bow-and-arrow shot between his legs, aiming for the space under Steve’s character’s arm where it sits on his hip. Unfortunately, it hits Roderick directly in the ass, and the following roll of the dice lands on the ‘twenty’ side. And the table erupts into shrieks and complaints in every direction. 

“You killed him!”

Steve sits back in his chair, shocked and not quite understanding what happened, when Eddie begins to laugh.

It’s not your typical everyday ha-ha funny thing. This is a full-bodied, chair tipped on two legs, clutching your stomach because you’re about to piss your pants, raucously mirthful and fucking joyful laugh.

And it goes on. And on. And on. It continues for so long, in fact, that Steve finds himself grinning. Dustin has his head in his hands, Will is defending Mike, and Max and Lucas are looking over Steve’s shoulder at his sheet to see how they can bring him back to life (because apparently, nobody else has healing spells).

Eventually, Eddie sets his chair back on four legs and gets out of it. He steps away from the table and motions for Steve. He walks right out of the garage.

Steve follows, because how can he not?

The trailer house is filled to the gills with old-people stuff, trinkets and wall hangings and lots of Catholic mementos. It smells like cigarette smoke, but it’s basically clean. Small and cramped, well-lived in, but not the kidnapper’s lair Steve imagined.

Eddie is in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, just his backside showing. He slams it closed and comes out with two PBRs. Eyebrows raised in question, he waits for Steve to open receptive hands before he tosses it over.

“Thanks,” Steve says. 

Eddie cracks his open and leans sideways against the counter, crossing one long leg over the other. He lifts his beer as acknowledgement and tips it back, watching Steve as he pops his open too. A grin lingers at the corner of his mouth.

“How do you know Dustin?” he asks once Steve has had a chance for a swallow. “Believe it or not, he hasn’t told me that yet.”

Steve imagines the breakneck speed at which Dustin talks, especially with someone he’s just met. And he hadn’t even considered that Dustin would have told Eddie about him.

“His mom knows mine. We went to the same school.”

Eddie tips his head slightly, like he needs a different angle to be able to understand. “How old are you?”

Steve considers the beer the guy tossed him and figures he must have an idea. “Twenty-two.”

Eddie smirks, eyes glinting. “Seems kinda suspicious for two guys to live together. Especially when you’re so much older than him.”

And Steve gets it. Eddie is making sure Steve isn’t hurting Dustin, just like Steve’s been trying to do with Eddie.

He counters with, “Well, how old are you? People might get the wrong idea, seeing as you’re an adult, and all, and these kids keep coming over to your house.”

Eddie’s smile widens and he takes another sip instead of answering. Steve decides to push the envelope a little.

“How do I know you’re not giving them drugs?”

Eddie chokes on his beer, but catches himself before it spews all over the kitchen. He coughs as he’s smiling, wipes his mouth off with a towel that’s threaded through the oven door handle. And when he looks at Steve, there’s some self-preservation bleeding through.

“Why do you think I invite them to play DnD here, huh? All sorts of shit goes down in this community that no one even knows about. They’re good kids, Steve. I just wanna keep ‘em safe.”

It’s the first time he’s said Steve’s name, and it feels – well, it feels, strangely intimate.

“I just didn’t realize they already had a babysitter,” Eddie teases, and the tense atmosphere lifts.

They share a look and a smile and it goes on for far too long.

That’s when Lucas slams the screen door open and leaps into the hallway. “We figured out how to save you!”

Steve catches Eddie’s eye before giving in to Lucas’ incessant tugging on his elbow.

“I’ll be there in a sec. Gotta take a piss,” Eddie says, burping into the back of his hand and crushing the can against his thigh. It’s something that shouldn’t make Steve’s brain fizz out. But it does.

Steve is bombarded when he enters the garage with a plan the group of them worked out together. It seems Will is still mad at Dustin, scowling over Mike’s shoulder, but the rest of them are enthusiastically escorting Steve to the table while explaining their plot to resurrect him.

Eddie strolls in, not five minutes later, with more beer. This time, instead of tossing it, he sets it on the table at Steve’s elbow and smiles down at him. Steve smiles back because he’s honestly over his head here.

They continue on, successfully completing that quest and jumping headlong into another, until Steve’s ass is sore and he has to pee, and he steps out into the now-night air to piss behind the garage.

Two beers in and his thoughts are making connections he really doesn’t need at the moment. Like how twice now he’s become completely enamored with someone the first time they meet. Like how he’s a sucker for a big, wet, expressive pair of eyes and an intelligent mind. Like how it doesn’t matter that Eddie’s a guy, because he’s not picky. And he’s suddenly sinking into the horrifying feeling that he’s cheating on –

But that’s ridiculous. He’s not going steady with anyone to be feeling that way.

When he returns, Eddie is telling a gory story about some chick in space who’s encountered alien things with acid blood. The kids are ‘ewing’ and ‘grossing’ and Dustin is on the edge of his seat listening to the tale. Eddie eyes Steve and winks, then dives into a graphic description of something called a ‘chestburster.’

Eddie laughs at their disgusted groans. “Ellen Ripley is fucking badass, and I love her.”

Steve feels a strange swoop in his gut. He doesn’t know who this Ellen Ripley is, but he’s suddenly jealous of her.

“I have an idea!” Max shouts over the din, waving her hands to get everyone’s attention. “We should go see the movie. All of us. Together. Suzie too”

“What movie?” Steve asks, and everyone answers in unison.

“Aliens!”

Steve makes eye contact with Eddie, who is watching him with amusement. He’s heard of the movie, but isn’t sure it’s the type of thing the kids would enjoy. He doesn’t even know what it’s rated, and if they can even get in to see it.

But the kids are already making plans for the following weekend. Dustin rounds on Steve and says he absolutely has to go with them.

“Yeah, Steve,” Eddie says, teasing from across the table. “You just have to go.”

Steve knows a challenge when he sees one. “Fine. I’ll do it. But you have to go, too.”

And that’s how Steve Harrington drives a carload of kids home, hopped up on caffeine and sugar, wondering how he’s gotten himself a group date with a bunch of teenagers and Eddie, of all things.

Read on AO3

[hopingforbrain]

idek why I’m obsessed with phoenix mountain wangxian, but I am

didn’t wwx briefly imagine that some lusty mountain beast was the one that kissed him? we could go that route, or - hear me out, scum villain style papapa plant pollen, with the added bonus of bringing one’s true feelings to the forefront of the whole ‘pls dick me down’ thing that’ll be going on as well. ah yes, mt baifeng, the home of lusty beasts and suspiciously convenient sex plants.

anyways, you can’t tell me that wwx didn’t have at least some very un-het and un-platonic things going on for lwj in his first life.

i want all of that shit to hit him like a goddamn truck.

so. wei wuxian, having had his fill of the sunshine, jumps off the tree and meanders around, accidentally stumbles into a pile of nice-smelling flowers. like, really, unnaturally nice-smelling, in ways that flowers shouldn’t be. more specifically, they smell like sandalwood, which is, obviously, wood and not flowers. strange, isn’t it? and if wei wuxian also happens to be getting weirdly hard from the scent - well, he’s a healthy young man in the middle of a hunt, isn’t he? things happen! dicks happen! it is what it is.

lan wangji, who has been following behind him like the cute little repressed creep that he is, sees wei wuxian sitting unmoving in the flowers, practically coated in a thick layer of dusty ass pollen, two fingers close to a mental breakdown about the state of his dick. and so, understandably a little concerned, he walks closer. when wei wuxian remains unmoving, he does the gentlemanly thing and calls out a regular-old, lan wangji style, not hot and not cold, exactly like room-temperature water, ‘wei ying?’

wei wuxian hears him and. the truck hits. strike one!!!

immediately, he knows who it is, but what surprises him is the way his thighs clench together at the sound (sex pollen let’s go) and more importantly, the sheer amount of feeling that surges into his chest (feelings pollen let’s really go) an all-consuming mix of admiration, joy, desire, and the straight-up burn of love. no running, no hiding, my homegirl pollen lets him know exactly what he’s been repressing, and wei wuxian chokes under the weight of it.

if lan wangji was a two on the scale of concern before, he’s now on a solid eight. hurrying forward, he drops onto his knees next to wwx, reaching out and calling his name again.

(now, sure, the pollen can affect lwj, as a treat, but this ain’t about him. he’s already pretty horny for wwx all the time, plus he’s so aware of his feelings that the pollen is a step down in intensity, actually)

wwx knows that seeing lwj right now is a Certified Bad Idea, but he’s too high on pollen to care much, pulling off his blindfold and springing onto lwj. cue uncontrollable love confession as wwx practically vomits his messy feelings all over the poor guy, who, on one hand, is absolutely elated and also horny bc the way wwx is gripping him is Not Subtle.

But. lwj being lwj, quickly realises something is wrong, figuring out that the pollen is mad suspicious and telling wwx that he doesn’t know wtf he’s saying, let’s just all calm down now and get some help (while horny gripping, lwj u freak)

of course, wwx has to debunk him asap, so he pulls out every embarrassing receipt out of the vault in an effort to get hanguang-jun’s pants off, logically and methodically. their first meeting? wwx was so thrilled that he didn’t actually mind losing his emperors smile. library pavilion days? all the better to see lan zhan’s pretty face with. waterborne abyss near-death experience? heavens, lan zhan’s arms were really…

qishan discussion conference? it was all wwx’s fault. accident what accident. he knew what he wanted, lwj’s attention and his ribbon - even though he didn’t know lwj would get so angry, he just wanted lwj to look at him, okay! you think his hand could slip?? please!! he’s more likely to shoot himself in the foot with an arrow!

xuanwu cave? don’t think he’s weird, lan zhan, but it was kinda nice to spend some time alone together, even if their third wheel was a giant murderous tortoise…

not to mention the sunshot campaign - you think wwx liked leaving lwj in the dust every time he brought up his cultivation? no!! don’t blame him, lan zhan, he just didn’t wanna be dragged to gusu for punishment, nor dirty lwj with all the corpse fumes!! (wow this guy is embarrassing)

after this verbal thesis, lwj is left blinking. wwx, who is about to lose his mind, pounces again. lwj, having all avenues of resistance exhausted, just. does not. resist.

in fact, he is equally if not more enthusiastic as wwx.

yes they get freaky in the flowers. yes lwj has to confess as well, and gets wheedled into a matching play-by-play of wangxian’s greatest hits with wwx being the prompter. yes they get married live happily ever after and lwj gets to fuck a new core into wwx. the enddddd I’m just so so so normal about these two.

[dodorimo]

something old, something new - part 2

continuation to this. Raphtav. 1.6k

Raphael actually appears here. Car sex ensues.

· · ──────  ❊  ────── · ·

“Can we expect little ones soon?”

The coffee spews out of her mouth in a perfect arch. For an instant, she must’ve looked like one of those tacky, fish-like water fountains you often see in gardens.

Did Astarion wait until she took a big sip so she would make an even bigger mess? The bastard.

Tav quickly assesses the damage. Her new clothes have been spared, thankfully. The same couldn’t be said for the restaurant's table.

Their shopping spree had been a success. Somewhere along the way, Astarion convinced her she was in dire need of new jewelry, which brought up the matter of her complete lack of proper beachwear, and so on. There were almost too many bags to carry, all of them were from different brands: Hermès, Tiffany, Dior, Sephora (that last one was a little self-indulgence of hers).

“We’ve too much on our plate to worry about kids,” she said, grabbing a napkin to clean up her mess.

Raphael as a father? Hell would first freeze over.

“When you say ‘we’ do you mean ‘we both individually’ or ‘we’ as in ‘I don’t want it’?” He emphasizes his point by making quotation marks with his fingers. “With how quickly he put a ring on it, you’d think he’s plugging you full every night.”

And there goes the last sip of her coffee. Out of her mouth.

The lewd picture he conjured aside, she had to disagree that it was really that fast. Four months of dating is a perfectly reasonable amount of time for people over 30. Right? … Right?

“‘We’ as in ‘we’ have no vocation to be parents.”

“Hm. A shame.” Astarion makes a face. “Some would argue you two are too pretty for your union not to bear fruit,” he says and takes a bite off his ice cream… A bite. With his teeth. She’s pretty sure this is the first time she’s seen anyone do that.

“What’s your excuse?” she deflected. “You should’ve an army of nose-pickers by now.”

That managed to shut him up.

She seizes the opportunity to lazily scroll through her social media feed. All afternoon, she and Astarion joked about all the ways Raphael would get back on her for her (presumably) dress transgression. They had plenty of ideas: he would send her a text (signed with his initials, as he usually does), then come pick her up in his limo to give her a ‘stern talking to’. All meaningless jest, of course. With no basis in reality. None.

That's why when the notification pops up on her screen, she thinks it's her mind playing tricks on her. But the more she stares at it, the less likely it is to go away.

[17h14]  ❤︎ Million Dollar Man ❤︎ said: I’m outside - R

“Guess you're going to have to hitch a ride on your own now.” She tilts her phone so Astarion can read the message too. “Mine just arrived.”

Astarion sends her a look over his silver-rimmed sunglasses. He doesn’t seem fazed. “Oh my. Speak of the devil.”

They say their goodbyes (and in his case, good luck) and then she’s off to search for her fiancée. It doesn’t take long. In fact, it doesn’t take time at all. Parked at the front of the street and taking up most of the space is a black limousine.

Why the limousine today and not one of his many sports cars? She would’ve more luck making sense of a physics problem.

The car takes off the moment she gets in. She holds on to her seat to keep from tipping over. Gods, she forgot how fast those things were.

She remembers her first ride. The giddy smile on her face. Do you see me now, mother? It seems almost banal now.

Sitting across from her, Raphael is a sight worthy of a magazine cover. He’s dressed in a three-piece black suit today, with a burgundy tie and a golden watch on his wrist.

In other words, he’s looking every inch the filthy rich man he is.

Tav almost feels bad about her waist-high jeans and loose ponytail. Almost.

“You have coffee on your shirt,” are his first words to her.

And, just like that, all her goodwill goes out the window. She tactfully adjusts her hair so it covers the offending stain. “Hello to you too,” she mumbles.

Something is plaguing him today. His fingers drum on his thigh in a frantic staccato. Whatever he wanted to say to her, he didn’t like it at all. Thankfully, she finds out soon enough.

“I need a plus one for today’s inauguration party.”

“But I thought that was…”

“Taken care of?” He waves a dismissive hand. “So did I. Change of plans. Out of my control.” Annoyance reduced his usual flowery language to a series of short sentences. That bad, huh.

Today is her day off. He’s in big trouble.

“You’ll be thoroughly rewarded.” This is the closest he’d come to pleading with her.

The effort is good enough. She nods, a small smile playing on her lips.

Raphael lets out a sigh and it's as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. She’s still staring at him expectantly, though. Was that really all?

“So… you didn’t come for the dress?”

For some reason, he found this hilarious. “Why? Is there something you wish to tell me, my dear?”

She doesn’t have to answer. The car slows down; they’ve arrived at their destination. His penthouse, by the looks of it. The one on the main street, to be more specific.

“Daniella will brief you on the details when you get there.” The mirth he showed earlier is gone. He’s all business now.

“You’re not staying?”

“I have other matters to attend to before the party. I’ll meet you there.” He moves to open the door.

“Wait.” She holds his wrist and looks at him in the eye, hoping her pouty lips and pleading gaze would convey her meaning.

Fortunately for her, it does.

Raphael tastes like whiskey and freshly picked cherries. The kiss starts slowly, a mere touch of lips, before evolving into something more intense, passionate. She gets lost in him, in the feeling of his body pressing against hers and his hand cupping her breast.

He pulls away suddenly. He almost seems angry at her, with his ragged breath and furrowed brow. She hears the door closing with a soft click.

“Ten minutes.”

Then he kisses her again.

Tav smiles against his lips. This is a lot more than she was going for.

Raphael parts from her just long enough to check if the privacy screen that separates the car from the driver’s seat is closed. It is.

As with most things where he was concerned, she struggled to wrap her head around his bed habits. He had all the pomp of a man who wanted to be in control, while sparing none of the effort.

But there is an appeal in the challenge, in the idea of bending him to her wishes. Just as she knows he would be doing the same to her.

With practiced ease, she pulls out his cock from his trousers and kneels in front of him. The car is big enough for her to do so without issue.

Tav knows by now just how much he enjoys a show. Almost as much as he enjoys the feeling itself. So she gives him what he wants.

She starts by teasing the sensitive skin at the base of his cock, her hand fondling his balls. He sucks in a breath. He doesn’t want to let her know how eager he is already. As if she couldn’t tell.

He's not idle, in the sense that he talks her through it. Praises her at every move, telling her how good her tongue feels on him, how pretty she looks with his cock down her throat, what a naughty little whore she is who couldn’t wait until they’re out of the public eye.

Tav wasn't completely honest with Astarion. Raphael is good at this. At telling her what to do. On most days, his voice alone is enough to get her off.

He commands her to pull up her shirt, move faster, put her little fingers between her legs. Where are the manners he showed her just now?

She kisses him and takes him whole and makes that little wet noise halfway between a kiss and a suck that he likes so much. She even gives her tongue a few taps with his cock. In a matter of minutes, he’s close to the edge.

“Get up.” Sweat runs down his temples as he struggles to keep hold of himself. “I’m finishing inside you.”

“I…it’s that time of the month.” She swears she told him.

For a frightening moment, he seems to be weighing his options, before deciding on sinking his fingers into her hair, pulling her to him. “Finish what you started.”

Gladly.

The hand at the back of her neck gives her little choice. She swallows everything he has to give, little tears pricking her eyes and, when it’s done, she sticks out her tongue for his perusal. Not a drop to be seen.

His smile is wide as he gives her cheek a playful slap. She is being dismissed.

She watches him as he fixes his clothes. His hair is disheveled in all the places her fingers touched. There’s a hint of pride in knowing she was the cause, in knowing she was the one to make a dent in his perfectly manicured facade.

It is only for the sake of her rebellious womb that she doesn’t guide his fingers to her wet cunt so he can finish what he started. Disgust be damned.

“Later then.” 

She gives him one last look before the door closes. His voice is husky when he finally answers, evoking a pet name coined long ago.

“Until later, little mouse.”

[saphronethaleph]

I'd Have Two Credits

The field was silent, and Mara Jade Skywalker was almost invisible.

She would have been completely invisible, hidden in the long grass, but her red hair was sort of a giveaway… still, it was close enough.

Then she shifted slightly, and fired her blaster rifle.

The skeet she was shooting only appeared after she’d pulled the trigger, and skeet and blaster bolt converged before vanishing in an explosion.

“Not bad,” Kyle said. “What does Luke think about this kind of thing, by the way?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked that before agreeing to help?” Mara replied, firing again. A second target flew across the range and exploded, and Mara smirked slightly.

She was sure her husband wouldn’t have a problem, not really. He’d grown up a farmboy using a blaster to protect himself, after all.

“Aunt Mara?”

“Safing the range,” Mara declared, flicking the safety onto her rifle.

“Confirmed,” Kyle agreed, from inside the bunker, and Mara rolled over onto her back.

“Hey there, Young Ben,” she added, smiling up at Ben Solo. “What brings you out here?”

The teenaged trainee Jedi looked serious.

“Aunt Mara, I’ve got a problem,” he said. “I… don’t know who to ask, but… can you help?”

Mara picked up her comlink.

“This sounds private, Kyle,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Copy that,” Kyle agreed. “I’ve got some training of my own to do, anyway.”

Mara flicked the switch off, and sat up.

“Okay,” she said. “What’s the problem?”

“I’ve got… suspicions,” Ben answered. “I feel like people are keeping something from me.”

“Yeah, probably,” Mara agreed.

Ben blinked.

“Huh?” he asked.

“You don’t know everything about my past,” she pointed out. “That’s because some of it is private. You don’t know everything about Kyle’s past, either. I don’t know if Kyle knows everything about his own father’s past… but what you’re actually saying is that you think people are keeping something important from you. Is that right?”

Ben nodded agreement.

“It’s something to do with me,” he said. “It’s when… Uncle Luke is talking about me. When my parents are talking about me.”

Mara frowned, thinking.

“I do know what it is,” she said. “And I also know why you haven’t been told yet, Ben… and it might have been a mistake, but here’s why you haven’t been told.”

She patted the grass next to her, and after a moment Ben sat.

They looked out together towards the skies of Ossus, and the Jedi Temple some kilometres away.

“It’s because they don’t want to put too much pressure on you,” she said. “There are some things which are too much strain to comfortably put on a child… and I say that as someone who had too much strain put on them as a child.”

“You turned out all right,” Ben muttered, almost accusingly.

“Eventually,” Mara conceded. “Eventually. But it took a long time, kid, and it’s an ongoing process too. I still wake up sweating in the night, because of the person I used to be… because of the weight that was put on me, by someone who wanted me to be a tool. Rather than to grow up as a child.”

“I still don’t think it’s fair,” Ben said. “I’m old enough to know.”

“Maybe you are,” Mara allowed. “But maybe you aren’t – and once you know something, you can’t unlearn it. Your family is keeping this from you, but it’s out of love… and Luke didn’t take it well when he learned something similar, and he was over twenty at that point. So it’s partly about making sure you learn in the right way.”

She shrugged. “But, hey. I’ll keep a close eye on you, and see if I come to a different opinion, okay? You are my favourite nephew.”

“I’m your only nephew,” Ben objected.

“Makes it an easy choice, doesn’t it?” Mara asked. “Doesn’t make it wrong, though.”

They sat in companionable silence for another minute or so, and an insect buzzed past with wings that droned deeply and resonantly.

“You’d never know there’d been a supernova blast hit this place thousands of years ago,” Mara said, then saw Ben’s expression.

“Aunt Mara,” the teen began, sounding like he wasn’t quite sure if he should ask. “What should I do if I hear… voices?”

“Voices how?” Mara asked.

“Talking to me,” Ben answered. “Suggesting things. Telling me things.”

“Well, in my experience, a voice in your head is usually Emperor Palpatine,” Mara told him. “Persistent bugger, too. Took five years after he died to finally get rid of that voice… but, fortunately for you, Ben, I’ve got experience in how to deal with that kind of voice.”

Ben didn’t say anything, but his expression looked relieved.

“If it’s about something horrible happening,” Mara began. “Like, an injury, or hurting yourself, you just think… yeah, that would suck. And then you keep going. If it’s telling you to do something, you think… do I actually want to do that? Will I still want it later?”

“And if it’s telling you something?” Ben checked.

“Then… best thing you can do is ask someone about if it’s true,” Mara replied. “But, you know, Ben… if a voice in your head tells you something that’s true, something you didn’t know, you know what that means?”

“...no?” Ben replied, frowning.

“It means you have every reason to think there’s an actual person, trying to manipulate you,” Mara said, her voice suddenly firm and her eyes very much like her maiden name. “And if it turns out that someone is trying to manipulate my nephew, I would very much like to know about it so I can ask them to stop. With a lightsaber.”

Ben was silent for about fifteen seconds.

“Is my grandfather Darth Vader?” he asked.

Mara promptly stood up.

“Right,” she said, and flicked the comlink on. “Kyle!”

There was a crash sound.

“What?” Kyle asked, sounding distracted. “I was getting the skeet shooter into position for testing my defence, and dropped it!”

“Never mind that now,” Mara replied. “Contact your friend Jan, we’ve got a force-user to track down and kill.”

“Right, right, on it,” Kyle replied.

That done, Mara crouched down again.

“Yes,” she said. “I wish you didn’t have to find out this way. Like I said, Luke didn’t take it well and he was over twenty at the time…”

[venjamyra]

Lyrics – Same Shade as Concrete by Circle Takes the Square

WOLFWOOD WEDNESDAY (～￣▽￣)～

feels a little funny to be making fanart of a manga that started before I was born with music that came out when i wasn’t even one year old yet…

lineart and various inane ramblings (manga spoilers ahead) about this comic that haunts my mind below the cut (its a lot…)

Okay, here’s the line art for anyone who wanted to see it without spoiler talk:

wow, so cool. Sometimes I like the lineart better in some ways and the colored version in other, different ways… I wonder how to find a good middle ground…… such are the mysteries of life

Onto the brain rot!!!

Okay, so this whole piece is kind of showing Wolfwood’s journey toward ‘accepting’ that he is an assassin. He has killed people. And his belief that he is irredeemable, this is just who he is now, stained with blood.

I’m gonna talk about panels 1,2,3, and 4. Those are just in order from top to bottom, so panel 1 is him firing the gun, and panel 4 is him in the river of blood.

So panel 1 is establishing that this is teenage Wolfwood, and he’s killing someone. YES I used that one painting as a reference (The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel). I don’t know anything about it, but it looks cool and I like the idea of an apparently evil character crying dramatically. Throw a gun in the mix and you have me curled up in a ball crying about Wolfwood. Wolfwood isn’t crying here, but I hope the reference shows the implication that he’s crying internally.

Panel 2 is directly contrasting with panel 4 with the volume of blood. I chose the blood to just barely cover his hands on purpose, NOT just so that I didn’t have to draw more hands lmao. Lots of blood on his hands symbolism throughout, because he has his whole thing about it. Anyway, this is like, the specific amount of blood where Wolfwood finally feels too far gone. It’s reached his hands, he can’t come back from this.

shout out to the people who helped me find this panel earlier 😅 @markcampbells @grymmdark

The crosses are there to establish his being surrounded by the Eye of Michael, trapped into this pool of blood. I know with the three crosses there’s some heavy crucifixion symbolism going on. It was honestly unintentional, but if I had to come up with something for it, I’d say in Wolfwood’s mind in this moment, he is the one crucifying people (Jesus, whomever). Again with that ‘too far gone’ stuff. He ‘knows’ who he is now, and it is not a savior. I’m not Christian as an adult and the only thing I did in Sunday school was question the adults or quietly judge them for their logical fallacies so idk if this makes sense in Bible-lore 😭 lol sorry.

Panel 3 hits home on the bloody hands thing, big motif. And then the gun pokes through the panel to give us this connection to the final panel, where we see a second drop of blood, coming from Wolfwood’s own hand, presumably filling the river he’s in. So the entire river is made specifically of blood from his hands, not just blood he spilled.

Panel 4. The big one. Okay, I heard that willow trees represent peace. I don’t know if this is bullshit, but I guess they can mean whatever I want ✨. Wolfwood is not fighting the flood here, just floating along, basically. He’s not relaxed, he hates this. But he’s come to some kind of acceptance. He feels (false) peace that this is just who he is. If he doesn’t get to control who he is or what he does, at least he knows that. This is not the time or place that I’d like to talk about themes of control and bodily autonomy in Trigun--we’d be here forever lol--but its totally that stuff. The willow trees contrast with the crosses here. It is no longer the Eye of Michael holding him in, trapping him in this pool of blood. Now, the willow trees (peace, acceptance) that are grown from his own mind/coping methods are what keep him trapped. I like to imagine the crosses are still beyond the trees, causing the trees to serve as both a wall keeping Wolfwood in and a wall keeping the antagonism of the Eye of Michael out. This is also visual because willow trees look much nicer than mysterious creepy crosses.

The comic basically ends where Wolfwood begins in Trigun. Yeah, he’s got his silly moments, but on a deeper, less superficial (sub-superficial…ficial…?) level, he really believes himself to be stuck in life, unable to change. In the last panel, he’s naked because he’s vulnerable; this isn’t the suit and a charming smile, this is him as he sees himself.

This idea of Wolfwood feeling acceptance with his shitty life drives me insane. In volume 8, after he kinda does his normal assassin work again, he is so fucking sad and angry. I think he tries to tap back into that idea of acceptance, but he can’t. He’s been through so much and seen so much with Vash that he just can’t accept it anymore. Like with the song lyrics as they’re used in this comic, is someone (Eye of Michael, Chapel) goading him into standing in this pool of blood and staying there even as it rises. And then here, he gets a little taste of freedom and just fucking pulls himself out!!! If I feel inspired I could make a part 2 one day where he’s pulling himself out of the blood river or something idk.

All manga panels are courtesy of Trigun Manga Overhaul!

Oh and some fun drawing things before I go. Important disclaimer: I do not claim to know what I’m doing.

The first pic has the guidelines I used to create shape and draw attention. I saw someone say that using simple shapes helps with composition so I’ve been trying that? It seems cool, I like it. And the second one has my lines to remember where my light source is. I kind of shade based on vibes, which I want to work on, but for now is fine. But the idea is that even though each of these panels has days/weeks to years between them, they all have one light source that extends across the comic. It comes across as a ‘lower’ source relative to Wolfwood in the first panel, which feels dramatic. By the time we get to the last panel, it comes across as the sun, high in the sky. I did this because it felt cool.

okay love and peace and go listen to the emo music my older brother showed me yippee!!!

[comfymoth]

idk if i’m just incredibly lost or if you have posts that already talk about it but what’s the “situation” between leon and milo (like they’re history with each other)

you have to imagine my face when i saw this in my inbox, ok, you have to imagine my evil sinister grin, rubbing my evil little paws together, Evilly. yesss. YESSSS finally an excuse to ramble about my guys, ohoho, today is the day!!

i mean the easiest way to summarize it is just. they had the kind of childhood friendship a lot of gay kids have, the kind that’s overly intense and not fully understood, so eventually it just imploded. and then they kept trying to be friends, over and over again, and it kept being overly intense, and it kept on imploding. multiple times throughout high school. because they Never Learned.

the starting incident, though, was in middle school.

or, really, the starting incident was in first grade, when milo kissed leon while playing house. just as part of the game, he was just mimicking what he saw his parents do, but that was the catalyst for the whole stupid thing. because years later, in middle school, that would be his excuse for why they should totally kiss each other “as practice”— they’ve technically already done it once, so one more time wouldn’t matter. it’s basically like it doesn’t count!

it’s terrible logic. the kind of nonsense excuse only an infatuated twelve year-old can come up with. but leon is Also an infatuated twelve year-old. so he goes along with it.

it isn’t just a one time thing, either. milo keeps finding excuses to do it again, and again, “for practice,” or “as a joke,” and eventually without any justification at all. it’s just a weird game they play, and it’s fun, for a while. but eventually leon gets frustrated with it. because the more common it gets, the harder it gets to pretend that this is something normal friends do. at least, for leon it does. milo never acknowledges that there’s anything off about this at all. which is weird, right? because he’s always the one asking for it, it’s always his idea, and yet he acts like it means nothing. he never wants to talk about it. he never acknowledges it when leon tries to hint that maybe he does. leon genuinely isn’t sure if milo understands that this isn’t a normal game, or if he does and he just doesn’t care about what it might make leon feel. so he kind of starts resenting milo for it. he stops playing along, and he starts getting distant.

and that freaks milo out! because he has no idea what leon’s feeling— from his perspective, leon agreed to this in the first place because it meant nothing, so he’s acting like it doesn’t because he’s terrified of ruining things by taking them too far. and now despite how hard he’s tried to play the game by what he thinks are leon’s rules, he’s somehow ruined it anyways! and leon won’t tell him what he did. he won’t tell him anything. no matter how milo tries to fix it, leon just stays closed off, so milo starts to resent him for that.

when milo finally gets fed up and accuses leon of being a shitty friend, leon has the exact same thing to say to him. everything just blows up, they have the worst fight they’ve ever had, and the entire time neither one of them brings up what it’s really about. they end it swearing they’re never going to talk again, and still not knowing why the other one was really upset.

they would attempt to become friends again at multiple different points over the years. never Actually sorting any of this drama out at Any point. and instead consistently falling into the same fucking pitfall of insane gay tension mixed with zero communication over and over again.

in fact, they will not finally sit down and get closure on this specific event. until they are in their twenties. because they are morons.