#you will be blocked if i find out you lied about your age to look at my ns/fw

[luvliewriting]

I just love having to check each account that interacts with my ns/fw ignoring the giant MDNI and having your age somewhere visible

Minors please block tag Luvlie18, I'm not responsible for the content you consume and what it does to your brain

[footygirl114]

Soldado (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

One of the prompts inspired me, so here ya go. It's definitely rusty but please let me know what we think!

Prompt: “Don’t just say that and then walk away!”

Walking up to the front door of the Putella’s home was one the most nerve wracking experiences you have ever experienced in your first 18 years of life. This home had become your sanctuary in the last 3 years, the family had taken you in and made sure you were loved and cared for and in return all you did was ruin the best and only friendship you ever had. 

You had grown up with an absent mother and a drunk father, to say your childhood had been rough was an understatement. You were able to fend for your self by the age of 6 and you knew to hide whenever your father came home after 8pm. When he wasn’t drunk he was a half caring father, but you could never shake the black eyes and bruises you learned to hide. The only good thing he ever did for you was to make sure by the age of 15 you had been a good enough football player to be in the training with the Espanyol team. 

This is where you met Alexia Putellas, she was this young superstar but she still befriended you. It didn’t take her long to see through the lies of where the bruises came from, and one late practice where you avoided going home she got you to spill the truth. From then on she made sure that holidays, school vacations, and everything in between you were invited to stay with her family. 

Her mom became like a mother you never had, and Alba was the sister you never had. But Alexia she just always remained Alexia, you never knew what that meant until you turned 18. You had finally realised that she was more than just anything to you, and that you were madly in love with her. Never being able to keep a secret from her, you confessed your feelings to her 3 weeks ago and you haven’t heard from her since she walked away without responding. 

Which brings you back to today, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door of the only place you would ever consider a home ready to say your goodbyes to the family you wish you still had. The last 3 weeks have been a whirlwind, and it took your drunk father almost breaking your arm and sending you to the ER to finally realise you needed to get out. You had walked the streets of Barcelona aimlessly trying to find a solution, and when the universe showed you a sign you jumped at it. 

Shaking your head you gained the courage to reach up and knock at the door of the house. While you wait for someone to answer you hope that you can get this out without breaking down. 

When the door opens you come face to face with Alba and you say softly “Hola, Albs.”

Alba smiles softly and leans against the door, blocking your way in, and she asks “what are you doing here Y/N?” 

“I need to talk to Ale” you tell her deciding not to drag this out. 

She crosses her arms over her chest and asks “Why would I let you do that? She shut down and hasn’t said anything for the last weeks and we haven’t seen you, you must have hurt her Y/N.” 

Shaking your head you tell her “I never meant to do that Alba, but I promise I just need to tell her one thing and then I am gone.” You know you sound like your begging and you hope the desperation in your voice helps. 

Before she can respond Alexia shows up at the door behind her sister and says “Alba its okay I got it.” 

Alba turns and looks to her and then turns back to you and says “if you hurt her again I will hurt you.” She finishes with a glare and then moves back into the house. 

Alexia steps outside on the porch with you and softly shuts the door. You take a moment to take her in, knowing this will be the last time you may see the women who has your heart. She’s in her most comfortable state, a pair of footy shorts, a soft hoodie (you note is one of yours) and barefoot.

You both stand there in silence for a minute and she finally breaks it and says “I am not ready to talk to you about it.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I came here to tell you one thing and then I will be out of your hair, you wont need to worry about avoiding me” you tell her softly. 

“what? Y/N whats going on?” she asks softly stepping closer to you. 

You take a step back and say “I’m leaving, I quit the team and I joined the army. I know you don’t understand it but I need to not be here anymore, and I need to do something thats for me, and will ensure I get away from him.” 

She stares at you and doesn’t say anything but a soft “Y/N.”

“No, don’t do that, this isn’t about you this is for me. I love you Alexia and I will always be in love with you but I cant stay on the side line of my own life anymore, I need to become the best person  I can be and get out from this dark cloud that is hanging over here. Its for the best, I cant wait to see you become the superstar I know you will be, but I cant do that here, watching it and knowing that you don’t love me back, that you aren’t in love with me. So this is goodbye Ale” 

You slowly move down the stairs and move to wipe the tears under your eyes, and you make it to the end of the walkway when she moves and says “Don’t just say that and walk away from me Y/N! Thats not fair.” 

You pause and turn your head towards her and says “what’s not fair is losing everything I have ever wanted because I have never been able to lie to you, I am doing something for me and you have to understand that.” 

You don’t let her add or say anything else as you turn your back on her and move to your car, you hop in and start the engine driving away to your new life without looking back. 

8 YEARS LATER

After 8 years of being a proper solider and training to better your self, you were finally able to settle down, and of course Barcelona would always have a hold on your heart. During your basic training your superiors noticed how easy it was for you to learn and communicate in many languages, add in that you knew how to fight and take it hit it made you the perfect soldier for a special ops team. 

During your 8 years of active duty you spent 3 tours in Iraq, Afghanistan and other War torn countries. And when you were not on tour you were either in the UK or the USA learning and bettering your skills to be a better help for the team. It was a long 8 years of constantly being on the go and when an offer came up to go back to Barcelona and be no longer on active duty you took it. 

They wanted your skills to help teach younger inexperienced soldiers and you craved the freedom and your bones ached for a stable home for your self. The Barcelona Police force hired you and were more than happy to have you work for them and also assist the army in their training. 

Barcelona was where you had your own personal demons, and you knew after 8 years of running it was finally time to slow down and face those demons head on. It helped you were much stronger and mentally tougher then when you were 18 and you knew you needed to face them head on. 

What you didn’t expect was to have to face one of them only a month into your new life in Barcelona. You had been out on patrol with your partner and were called to an assault at one of the smaller beaches in town. You got out of the passenger seat of the car and did a scan of the surroundings and you noticed a small crowd gathered at the edge of the sand and one person lying on the ground. 

You met your partners eye and you both walked over, you with your military training on high alert, one hand on the hilt of the gun at your hip, your eyes roaming the surroundings. When you got closer to the crowd you almost stopped, when you noticed who was standing off on the edge of the crowd but you pushed through when you saw the guy on the ground get up and start to run at someone else in the crowd. You and your partner both sprang into action and got in between them and the guy you were holding tried to take a swing at the other and you easily subdued him and had him on his back with his hands locked behind his back in the blink of an eye. 

Once he was secure with the handcuffs on your hip you hopped up and hauled him up with you, you turned and met your partners eyes who nodded at you and had his guy also in cuffs. He turned to the crowd and asked for any witnesses to what happened, as you moved your guy to the car and sat him in the back seat. 

You sat him down and asked him his side of the story. After listening to his side you closed the door and left him in the car as a second patrol car rolled up for the second guy. You nodded to them and mentioned the guy int he back of your car and you walked back to the crowd. You took a deep breath and readied your self to face the first of your demons. 

“Who’s next to be interviewed?” you asked your partner as you walked up beside him, and he pointed to the group of 3 girls to the left.

Moving towards them you introduced your self “Hola, I am Officer Y/L/N and I will need to see your IDs and then I can take your statement.” They all handed their IDs over and as you were matching them and recording their names and information you couldn’t help but take a peak at the women who held your heart. 

You hadn’t seen her since that day 8 years ago on her mothers front steps, you had followed her career and you knew she was in the middle of a miracle season and she was on track to win everything. Seeing her on the computer screen through a grainy stream wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. Just looking at her was slowly igniting that spark inside you that you thought you had buried 8 years ago. 

“Can one of you tell me what happened?” you ask them ready to take notes and keep this professional. 

“so basically, we were lying here and the guy in your car came up and started to give us a bit of a hard time, but were used to it. SO we told him to leave us alone, and then the guy there with your partner walked up and tried to defend us, and the other guy just threw a punch at him.” You had their IDs so you knew this was Maria Leon who explained it. 

“they started going at each other and thats when Ale called 911, the commotion drew more people over and they stopped fighting when they had a crowd and then you guys showed up.” Jennifer Hermoso explained the rest to you. 

“thank you, so to be clear, the one in the back of the car threw the first punch and harassed you?” you asked wanting to finish this up. 

Maria smiled and said “I wouldn’t say harassed, we can take care of ourselves, but yes he started it and threw the first punch.”

“And you both agree?” you ask.

“Yep, he did” Jennifer agrees. 

Alexia just nods and remains silent through the whole exchange. You nod and say “okay this clears things up, someone may be in touch but you are free to go.”

The two of them smile and say their thanks and move to leave, but Alexia remains standing in front of you silent. 

“ale you coming?” Jennifer asks her and it seems to shake her out of it and she nods and moves to gather her stuff. 

You nod at nothing and move to go back to your partner, you both agree you to the statement you got from different people and then you move to walk back to the car together. Before you can get half way there you turn back and look toward Alexia and you meet her eyes, as she’s still watching you. 

It takes your partner nudging you for you to break contact and you move to get into the car. before you can fully sit you hear “Officer Y/LN” yelled out behind you and you turn and see Alexia moving quickly towards you, you close the door and step towards her and away from your partner hearing the exchange. 

“Yes Alexia?” you ask her softly as she stops a foot from you. 

“You’re back?” she asks you to the point. 

“I am” 

“for good?” she asks you again straight to the point.

“I think so yeah” 

“okay then.” she says and moves to walk away. 

“thats it?” you ask her confused. 

She shrugs and half turns to you and says “How does it feel being on the other end of someone walking way from you? It sucks, being left to wonder what they mean and what they are going to do.” 

You can feel the pang in your heart listening to how broken she sounds and you ask her “Can we talk about it?” 

“now you want to talk? What happened to talking 8 years ago?” she turns on you half shouting and you know that she’s drawn and scene. 

“ale, please can we talk somewhere not here, and not when I am on duty?” you ask her. 

She looks around and shakes her head and says “you know where to find me, if you even want to.” As she finishes she jogs away towards her friends and you are left standing there wondering if this is a demon you will be able to tame, or if you were doomed to be in love with someone you can never have. 

[itgetsdark-x]

This Heat is Gettin’ To Me

Summary: Beach day’s with your dad had always been enjoyable; the sun, the sea, the beer and now Joel was there, it was far more enjoyable for you.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI plssss!! Public sex, age gap (unspecified but Joel would be mid forties, reader in twenties), unprotected p in v (do better & wrap it)

Characters: Dbf!Joel Miller x (f) reader

Word Count: 3.1k

(Divider by @saradika-graphics)

It was a baking hot day, the peak of summer and here you were; at the beach with your father and his close friend, Joel Miller. Days at the beach had always been your favourite times and now that Joel was here it provided a new level of attraction to the day out. You had been here since pretty early in the morning which luckily meant you had a good spot on the beach, there were people everywhere; families with young children, couples, friends and even a few dogs running around. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if people thought your father and Joel were a couple. 

“Do you not ever get worried that people will assume you and my dad are a couple?” You asked bluntly, peering up over your sunglasses to stare at Joel who was rubbing sunscreen into his muscly biceps. 

“What?!” Joel laughed, pausing his motions in confusion. 

“Well I was sat here reading my book, people watching and looking at all the couples and stuff and then I thought about you and dad.” You shrugged. “I mean, I totally ship it. Just you men never have girlfriends and now I’m thinking it’s because ladies are scared off by thinking you’re a couple.”

Joel shook his head with a fond smile on his features, he went back to applying his sunscreen; you leant back onto your arms and greedily watched him behind your shades. His large palms rubbed over his arms and eventually reached his chest, soft white and dark hairs peppered over his tanned skin and you would lying if you said it didn’t make you wet. You gently rubbed your thighs together, trying to stave off the throbbing as you imagined how it would feel to have his hands all over your body. 

You were ripped from your filthy thoughts when an outline of a man appeared in front of you and handed you a beer, you looked up the sun blocking his features but you knew it was your dad. 

“You okay, sweetie? You look flushed.” Your dad asked and resumed his position next to you, he laid down under the sun shade and rested his arm behind his head. 

“Y-yeah, must be the sun. I’ll go into the sea in a bit and cool down.” You lied, Joel looked over at you with a raised brow but directed his attention back to rubbing the sunscreen into his legs. 

It almost killed you off and you stared into the can of your beer and sipped at it, trying to distract yourself in any way possible. 

“Oh, your sweet daughter there seemed to have an epiphany whilst you were doing the drinks run.” Joel laughed, sitting the other side of you and cracking open his cool beer. 

“Yeah? What was it, sweet pea?” 

“Nothing. Just maybe wondered if the reason y’all don’t have girlfriends is because people think you and Miller are dating or something.” You shrugged, your gaze darting between the two men. 

Your dad barked out a loud laugh, which in turn, cause your own to erupt and soon the three of you were sat there in your own little world, crying with laughter. Your dad recovered from his laughing fit, wiping his tears away with the backs of his hand and shook his head. 

“Sweet pea, I can’t speak for Joel but I’m single because it’s not a priority for me. I go out to bars and see all these younger women with their next-to-nothing outfits on and it just makes me sad. I’m yet to find a woman but that doesn’t mean I haven’t had offers.” Your dad smirked. 

“Gross. So. Gross.” You fake gagged and looked down at your book. “Fine. I’m still convinced people think y’all are a couple and that’s why. But sure. You’ve had offers.”

Joel was still softly chuckling, he looked at you both with adoration and his heart ached softly for his Sarah, she had gone off to college and found herself a nice guy there so she was rarely home anymore, mainly just for the big days like Thanksgiving or Christmas. He watched as your dad joked around with you, his heart bloomed at the thoughts of Sarah but more importantly, he kept staring at you. The way you moved or the way your eyes seemed to sparkle whenever something made you laugh; he could watch you all day with intense interest, he wanted to make you laugh more just to see the sparkle in your features. He certainly couldn’t help the way his eyes followed your heaving chest as you laughed, the red fabric of your bikini top seemed like it could give out any second, somewhere in Joel’s mind he urged it to happen, just so he could catch a glimpse of you, more of you. 

Joel knew his feelings, his lust for you, was wrong on many levels but he also felt like it was mutual at times. He was sure he could see your eyes roaming his body, he could see your mind ticking away at thoughts of him. He tried to be better than his thoughts and not get carried away with them but days at the beach made it impossible, especially when you would walk off to go swim or get a drink; the bottoms of your bikini rose up so high he could almost see all of your ass as you walked. 

-

The day wore on, you had your nose in your book for the majority of it, only occasionally leaving to go get another drink or take a dip into the cool sea to cool yourself off. That’s where you were now, you were in the sea, just bobbing along and swimming casually, more just there to feel the cool embrace of the salty water on your tanning skin. You could see your dad and Joel, still, your father had fallen asleep after a couple of beers and no doubt, the heat. Joel was there, his thick legs outstretched as he watched people walk by; you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop when Joel smiled at a younger woman who walked by, his eyes followed her as she left his line of vision. 

You left the water, walked back over to where your father and Joel were sat and you grabbed your towel from the floor, making sure to bend yourself over in Joel’s direction. He noticed, of course he did. His eyes tracked up the length of shapely legs until his gaze bored into your behind, the wet material of your bikini bottoms clung to your ass. 

“This,” you gestured at your dad. “Is the reason you old men shouldn’t drink in the heat, you can’t handle it.” You teased with a soft laugh as you sat yourself down next to Joel on the beach towels. 

“I’m still standing, aren’t I?” Joel retorted with a roll of his eyes. 

“Barely, Miller.” You smirked and grabbed your sunscreen from your bag. 

You took a generous amount and started to rub it into the soft skin of your legs, stretching yourself to cover every inch of your skin liberally. Joel’s eyes watched you, they watched your delicate hands rub your flesh and he hungrily thought how it should be him rubbing you down like that. 

“Joel?” You said annoyed, waving your small hand in front of his features. “I just asked could you please rub some into my back for me?”

Joel was pulled from his trance, crashing back down to earth and silently, he thanked someone up there for answering his prayers. 

“Of course I can, darlin’.” He smiled sweetly and tapped the spot on his towel next to him. “C’mhere and sit in front of me.”

You nodded and placed yourself in front of the male, as instructed. Joel’s large hands were soon rubbing at the bare flesh of your shoulders and you shuddered under his touch, the sunscreen cool against your burning skin. His hands dipped lower, his fingers rubbing the creamy liquid into your skin; his fingers dug into your shoulders roughly and you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your lips. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he let his fingers expertly massage your tense shoulders, your head lulled forward as you enjoyed the sensation of him massaging you. 

“You wanna stop moaning so loud, your daddy will wake up and get the wrong idea, sweetheart.” Joel chuckled, his voice fanning across your ear as he leant forward. 

“Feels so good though.” You sighed happily, your eyes falling shut as Joel continued to rub your body down. 

“Too bad your sunscreen is applied then, isn’t it.” Joel teased with a smirk. 

You whined softly, feeling annoyed as his hands left your body and you turned your head behind yourself to look at the male. 

“D-don’t stop… please. Feels so good.”

Joel cocked his head to the side as you took his hands and placed them back on your body, you held his hand as you guided them back over to your skin. You slid them slowly down the curved lines of your side, back up and let them draw slowly over your bikini-clad chest until you rested them back onto your shoulders with a soft, contented sigh. 

Joel cleared his throat behind you, he could feel himself almost immediately stiffen in his swim shorts as his palms rubbed over your chest, he could feel the hard bud of your nipples under the thin fabric. There had always been flirtatious jokes between you, ever since you came into Joel’s life you had become this sort of forbidden fruit that lingered over his head. He knew he couldn’t ever have you, you were his friend’s daughter and so much younger than him. But there you were today, in an impossibly small bikini, your smooth skin just begging to be devoured by him there and then. And your hands on his? Leading him over the most forbidden expanses of your body, right whilst your father snoozed by you both. 

“Darlin’…” Joel warned breathlessly, his hands still massaging your shoulders. 

“Joel.” You smirked. 

“What are you playing at?” He asked quietly, his face lingering near the skin of your neck, his lips ghosting over you causing you to shudder. 

“Hmm?” You hummed innocently. “Just putting you to work, your massage feels amazing. Plus you’re protecting my delicate, young skin from the dangers of skin cancer.” You jested. 

“Oh is that right? I forgot you needed sunscreen smeared over your bikini.” 

You laughed softly, you knew you Joel wanted you and you wanted him just as bad. You weren’t sure whether it was a cumulative reaction from the baking sun, the beers or Joel’s heady scent but something was making you bold; your eyes scanned the area to ensure no eyes were on you before you took Joel’s hands once more and landed them onto your breasts. You squeezed his hands this time so he could properly cup the fleshy mounds and you bit back a soft moan. 

“I want you…” you whispered, you could still feel Joel’s lips near your skin and he soon took it upon himself to kiss at the sensitive pulse point in your neck. 

You pressed your body backwards to his and almost immediately you could feel the hard curve of his thick member pressing against your ass; just the thin materials of your swimsuits keeping you away from what you craved. You clenched around nothing, your body throbbing to feel him where you wanted him most. 

“Fuck.” Joel cursed. “Keep making me touch you and I’ll cum in my shorts like a teenage boy.” He laughed, his hands following down the curve of your sides until he gripped at your ass roughly. 

Joel stood up behind you, you turned around to protest but he was holding his hand out for you to take it. You obliged, unsure of his plan but willing to follow him anywhere. 

“Where are we?” You asked and Joel just turned around to smirk at you. 

He led you over to the shoreline, towards a more secluded area and slowly he submerged you both into the water. The ocean came up to around your chest, you were able to stand but the waves splashed around you to hide you both well. 

“Needed to hide away from everyone, need to have my way with you.” Joel said quietly, cautious in case there were nearby people. 

“We are not fucking in the ocean.” You laughed ludicrously. 

“Why not? You scared, princess?” Joel smirked, his hands held your hips strongly as you both bobbed with the motion of the sea. “Thought you wanted me?”

“I swear to god, Miller if I get a UTI from this, you’ll be the one that’s paying for the prescription to sort me out.” You rolled your eyes and let your hand cup at Joel’s still hard member, your fingers squeezed his length and he let out a low groan. 

“Come here and kiss me.” Joel said softly, holding the back of your head to land a bruising kiss to your mouth; his lips moved dominantly against yours, you were entirely at his will as he kissed you. 

You wrapped your legs around Joel’s waist, the water making you almost weightless and your hands gripped either side of his face to kiss him deeper. Your tongue dipped into his mouth and you whimpered as you tasted him for the first time, you had craved him for so long. His rough facial hair scratched at the skin of your face and you relinquished the sting as his tongue fought against yours. 

Joel reached a hand down between you both, his awkwardly pulled his member free in the water and yanked your bikini bottom to the side so he could push himself into your wet hole. He held both your hips once more and used them as leverage to bring your body down until you were fully seated onto his cock. You pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead against his, a breathless gasp falling from your kiss-swollen lips. 

“F-fuck,” you whimpered, your arms looping around Joel’s neck to hold him weakly as he built up a steady rhythm of you bouncing onto his dick. 

To any passers-by you would both be seen cuddling, bobbing in the current of the ocean; just a sweet moment between a loving couple. The thrill of potentially being caught made your body ache and you fluttered your walls around Joel as you somewhat awkwardly worked yourself onto his cock. 

“So tight, never wanna leave you. Should stay buried in your pretty cunt, need you warming my cock forever.” Joel mumbled against your lips.

You couldn’t help but blush at his words, your hands clawed gently at his bare shoulders as Joel nudged his cock against the bundle of nerves buried deep in your walls. You could already feel your stomach bubble with your impending orgasm, you knew you needed to be quick as to not arouse suspicions if your father awoke from his nap. 

“Joel,” you whined quietly, your head still lulling against Joel’s forehead. “God I wish we were somewhere more stable so you could fuck me as rough as I deserve.” You whispered, lips tickling against Joel’s sun-kissed skin. 

Joel let out a breathy laugh as his large hands pawed at the doughy flesh of your ass. He groaned softly as held onto you and pushed his hips up harder and faster. 

“We need to speed this up, baby girl. Don’t want your daddy questioning where we are, do we?” He whispered. “Dip your hand down and play with your clit, need you to cum at least once before we go back.” 

You bit your lip as Joel manoeuvred your hips below the water, you bucked your hips forward as Joel’s thick cock filled you deliciously and you pushed your hand into your bikini bottoms. Your delicate fingers nimbly circled your clit and you gasped loudly, the sensations building throughout your body. 

“Please tell me you’ll fuck me again?” You asked, eyes pleading with the older man as your fingers moved faster. “Fuck, need you again and again and again.” You moaned, the noise louder than initially intended. 

Joel groaned and nodded as he brought your hips down again roughly, the water still slowing his motions. “I’ll fuck you whenever you want, princess. Whatever you want.”

“I-I’m gonna —“ you whimpered, your voice dying off as a high-pitched whimper fell from your lips. 

You clenched around Joel, your spongy walls gripping his cock like he had never had before and he moaned gruffly. 

You removed your fingers from your clit and you knew Joel was close by the way his cock was twitching as he thrust into you again. You giggled as you reached under the fabric of your bikini top and released your tits from the refraining fabric. Your soft mounds bobbed in the water but it was enough to push Joel over the edge. 

He came quickly, holding you in place to take every last drop of him and in that moment, you were grateful that the ocean would at least help you somewhat freshen up before you headed back. Your name fell from Joel’s lips softly as he clumsily thrust up a couple more times before his head fell forward to rest on your chest so he could suck in a few deep breaths. 

“Please never put your top back on, it’s a crime against humanity that you cover your body up.” He laughed, his chest still heaving with the effort. 

You rolled your eyes with a fond giggle and finally unlatched your legs from around Joel’s hips. You redid up your bikini top and ensured your bottoms were on correctly before starting to swim off away from Joel. 

You reached the sand once again and began walking back to the spot where your dad was still snoozing. 

“Meet me tonight.” Joel whispered, his hand resting on the small of your back. 

“What?” You asked, looking back at him as you continued to walk. 

“Come to mine tonight, let your dad fall asleep and I’ll come and pick you up. You’ll be back before he knows. I need to fuck you properly.” 

You nodded, not trusting your shaking voice to speak. 

“And for now, enjoy the feeling of my cum slowly leaking from you for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I’ll clean you up later, I promise.” He smirked, running ahead of you to go back to laying down on his towel. 

You sat down and picked your book back up, pretending you had any interest in the words on the page in front of you. 

-

-

[sinsirellaxx]

Can you do a toxic! Slyhterin boys where they found out y/n is actually pregnant? Cause let’s be honest, they wouldn’t be happy and sweet about getting their girlfriend pregnant

Slytherin Boys – Reacting to you getting pregnant

Warning: Toxic boys, mentions and talks of abortion, toxic relationships etc., not proofread (cause I'm lazy)

A/N: Thank you for the request! I totally agree with the idea that they wouldn't be happy at all!

Hope you'll like it!

Mattheo …

… glares down at your trembling hand holding the offending pregnancy test, his nose pulled up in disgust.

… suddenly views you as this stupid person that is unable to use birth control. If you aren’t on birth control and only use condoms, he’d still think you were the cause for this mess. Did you poke holes into the condoms? Did you want to get pregnant and trap him?

… would be so turned off by the idea of having a child at that age, that he’d project all that frustration and negativity on you – he’d start detesting you. Gone is the obsession he had felt for you and replaced by pure annoyance.

… stared at you coldly as he told you he didn’t want to see you anymore – that he didn’t want to be involved with anything regarding the child – his child.

Theodore …

… stares at his phone dumbly – his mind completely blank as he assessed the situation. Well, fuck.

… immediately blocks you – a poor attempt to push you and his new problem out of his life.

… desperately hopes you don’t try to confront him – he’s an asshole but he doesn’t want to be cruel to your face, duh. But obviously, you did confront him.

… rolls his eyes when you start crying in front of him, obviously scared and overwhelmed by the situation and his apathy.

… rudely interrupts you and tells you to fuck off – that he cannot have a child yet. If you refuse to just leave, he’ll obliviate himself out of your life. Problem solved, right?

Lorenzo …

… would get angry. Not at himself – no, he’d be mad at you. How could you destroy such a beautiful relationship?

… is desperate – he loves you but the thought of having a child make his balls shrink.

… would force you to make a choice: Him or the child. If you want to keep the child, he’ll break up with you – which further angers him, because he still wants you but if you decide to terminate he’d be back to being his usual loving and obsessed self.

Draco …

… enters panic mode. He knows his parents and he knows the chaos that would ensue of they found out, so he begged you to terminate. If you refuse to, he’ll try to gaslight and manipulate you into doing it.

… will hold a grudge if you do not terminate and his parents find out, which would result in you two having to get married.

… would be kind of put off by the thought of you carrying and growing a child and distance himself from you.

… would definitely cheat to satiate his desires and needs because his feelings for you were clouded by hatred.

Blaise …

… laughs in your face when you tell him. He thinks it is a joke. When he takes in the state you are in it quickly dawns on him that you aren’t joking after all.

… groans loudly as a string of profanities leaves his lips – why did everything have to be so complicated?

… suddenly accuses you of cheating on him because no way in hell could he have gotten you pregnant. He’d try to talk his way out of it – spewing lies about his fertility and turning the situation in a way that makes him look like the victim.

… tells you to leave and accuses you of being a filthy cheater.

Tom …

… will demand, no, force you to terminate – because he would not allow any mistakes. He doesn’t want to be a father – especially not out of wedlock.

… doesn’t give you a choice – because you can’t be trusted. He’ll help you through the procedure and ensures that you actually go through with it.

… he’ll not break up with you though but will put you on birth control and watch you take the pills every. Single. Day.

… does not show any remorse or empathy, because he simply cannot understand why you’d be this devastated. If he has to, he’ll obliviate you and make you forget about the whole incident.

[ode2rin]

MAKE YOU MINE .ೃ

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. best friends to lovers | pining | light angst to fluff

content/warnings. 3.1k+ wc | reader is in a toxic relationship with their boyfriend (not rin lmao the bf is unnamed) | characters are aged up to 18 ! | blue lock happened much much later here | profanity | a bit heavy in narration | minimal proofread

in which: rin was never ready, so he watches you go with your boyfriend, wishfully thinking it was him instead.

💭 thank you for the request @/saetorinrin (unaffectionate)!

best friends are supposed to knock some sense into you, that's what they're for. 

fortunately for you, your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, has always been quite good at it. right now, you're hoping he'll at least be kind while doing so.

“i don't know why you keep on going back to him. he looks like a fucking bull reincarnate, and he treats you like what? yeah, like a pup he dogs around.” 

that’s wishful thinking, though. none of rin's words are known for their kindness.

you've known since a tender age of ten that both itoshi brothers have a knack for colorful insults — or rather, they insist it's a form of descriptive artistry. moments like these make you wish you could smack your younger self for befriending your teal-eyed neighbors. you really should have avoided them like the plague from the very first glare they shot your way.

if you did, you wouldn't find yourself sitting on a swing in the park near both of your houses, while rin spends the past few minutes expressing his displeasure about you getting back with your ex.

but what’s done is done. growing up with them wasn't all bad, except for that messy fiasco between sae and rin that left you caught in the middle, trying to mend their broken bond.

in the end, you chose rin’s side. for what reason? that's a reminiscence best saved for another day.

right now, your priority lies in letting rin hear a piece of your mind for his way of describing your ex — or boyfriend? actually, you're not sure anymore.

“you’re being mean, rin.”

“and you’re being stupid, y/n.”

“you won’t get it.”

“won’t get what? that you’re being treated like absolute shit?”

that’s it. he pushed enough buttons now. you stood up from the swing to face the 6-foot tall man in front of you. 

“you won't get it because you’ve never loved anyone before! and you sure as hell have never been fucking loved!”

rin, before this moment, was sure he's accustomed to pain. 

but now, he realized he wasn't.

realizing what you've just said to your best friend, your eyes widen, and you immediately reach out to touch his arm, frustration turning into regret. you didn't mean that — god, you really didn't.

“rin, i... i didn't mean—”

“save it.”

you were right about the latter. but the former? rin wants nothing but to let you know otherwise. if only you goddamn knew. but that's just it for rin too — wishful thinking.

because you're not done loving your boyfriend, and he knows he's merely using that as an excuse. if honesty were to intervene, he wouldn't be ready to let you know.

how many years does one need to be ready to confess to their best friend of more than a decade anyway? he doesn't want to find out.

rin heard your whispered apology, and his heart sank. he watched as you lowered your gaze to the grass beneath your feet, the weight of regret palpable in the air.

“come on, it’s getting dark. let’s go home,” he suggested, voice tinged with concern.

“actually, he’s picking me up here. mom knows already.”

of course. of course, he's picking you up blocks away from your house. is that how things work now? if it were up to rin, he'd personally ask your mom to take you out on a monday evening. you know, like a respectful person would do?

yet again. if it was him. another wishful thinking.

“where the hell is he, then? i am not leaving you here,” rin stated, his frustration once again seeping through his words.

“he's just a little late —”

“or ditching you again?” 

“rin, please. just leave. i don't want to start again,” you pleaded, the exhaustion evident in your voice.

“fine.”

every step rin took away from you felt like chains dragging along, pulling him back with reluctance and impending regret. but he knew he had to leave. 

he didn't have a place to stay here, not in this park, and certainly not in your heart.

it had been a week since you got back together with your ex, and in that time, rin hadn't uttered a single word to you. his silence was a constant presence, weighing heavily on the air between you. in the past, you found solace in his silence, finding comfort in the unspoken understanding that existed between you. but now, it felt suffocating, as if every attempt to say his name would only add to the tension.

you didn't blame rin for giving you the silent treatment. after all, the hurtful words you had spoken had cut deep.

rin had been harsh, yes, but you knew it came from a place of concern. he was your best friend, and looking out for each other was what you do. deep down, you couldn't deny that there was some truth in what he had said about your boyfriend. there had been moments when he treated you poorly, but that was normal, right? every relationship had its ups and downs, and this was just one of them. and perhaps, in rin's eyes, you were being stupid, but when weren't you, in his opinion?

still, you should have known better. you shouldn't have said what you did. not when you know yourself that he’s been loved. even if it was hidden and unspoken, it still counted, didn't it?

but despite the silent treatment, rin never failed to walk you home. even when he was wearing his sweaty jersey after a rigorous practice, he would be there outside your classroom, waiting for you. walking behind you, not saying a word, but his presence was felt. occasionally, he would walk beside you, especially when you were about to reach the busy side of the neighborhood.

every single day of the past week, he had walked you home.

and even back then starting from the days of school, rin never lets you walk alone in the dark.

today, however, you had to tell him that you wouldn't be walking with him. you had a date with your boyfriend, and he was waiting for you outside the school.

grabbing your bag and heading towards the door, you caught a glimpse of rin's duffel bag and his back. he was waiting for you again. rushing over to him, you spoke up.

“rin, i won’t be able to walk with you today. we’re going out. he’s waiting for me outside.”

rin simply looked at you, then nodded. he turned his back to you, but you could swear there was something he wanted to say.

that was the thing with itoshi rin. he never spoke when you needed him to.

rin was right. he had always been right. and you, well, you were just fucking stupid.

as you reminisced about the earlier screaming match with your now ex-boyfriend, tears threatened to well up in your eyes.

i’m such a fucking idiot.

you had known deep down that you had settled, but you never expected him to stoop so low. part of you wanted to say good riddance, but the truth was that time spent with a person would always leave a mark, whether you wanted it or not.

it was past 9 pm, and that prick had the audacity to drop you four blocks away from your own house. you wanted to scream at him, to demand basic human decency, to drop you off at your doorstep. but another part of you, fueled by the remnants of pride, refused to beg for the bare minimum again. so, despite your nervousness about walking alone in the dark, you slammed the car door in his face and decided to walk the rest of the way on your own.

it had only been five minutes of walking when you felt the first raindrops fall on your forehead. the realization of what was about to happen made you want to scream at whoever was watching from above. how dare they make you this unlucky?

great. just great.

the drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown rain, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. a few blocks ahead, you spotted the park where you and rin used to hang out. 

even in your darkest times, he’s still in your mind. it’s funny as it is ironic.

if only you had stayed content with loving your best friend from afar, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this hurt, right? 

maybe you wouldn't have ended up looking for love in all the wrong places when the only place you truly wanted it to blossom had been right beside you all along.

exactly ten minutes before rin’s usual bedtime, his phone rang, your name shown on the screen. and for some reason, he could feel his heart leap out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

something was wrong.

without wasting a second, rin answered your call on the second ring.

“hello?” he said, anticipation heavy on his heart. he needed to hear your voice.

but anticipation was immediately replaced by seething anger and heightened worry as he heard your sniffs on the other end of the line.

“where are you?” 

“rin... i know you're mad at me, but i didn't know who else to call–”

“it's raining. where the hell are you?” rin's voice grew heavy with indescribable anger, each word dripping with his overwhelming emotions.

“he dropped me off near the school, but i'm here by the park now. i–”

"stay where you are. i'm coming. don't end the call. i need to know you're safe." or else i will fucking lose it. 

it’s these times that rin was glad he’s an athlete. within five minutes, he arrived at the park, his strides quick and determined. he would have reached you even faster if it weren't for the umbrella he was holding and the sound of your sniffs and sobs on the other end of the line, causing his heart to sink and his steps to falter.

he doesn't even let a goddamn mosquito come close to you, but that asshole had the audacity to make you cry? how dare he.

the rain had lessened compared to its earlier downpour, it was now more of a drizzle. but if you had been here before calling him, that meant you had been standing under the rain for almost an hour. with that realization, rin thinks your ex should watch his back from now on; he would never know when a ball might come flying straight at him — accidentally, of course.

as rin reached the park, his eyes scanned the area, searching desperately for you. and there, in one of the benches, he saw you. your head was tucked into your knees, one hand hugging them tightly while the other clutched the phone to your ear.

he swore, he fucking swore, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of you.

ever since you entered rin's life, you taught him a lot of things. you taught him everything about how life was better when you had someone to lean on. 

but most of all, everything rin knew about love, he knew from you. 

and when he realized he loved you but couldn't let you know, the love he knew became intertwined with all the pain he learned.

this is hurting him. you, you were hurting him.

maybe you were right all along.

“you're right, y/n,” rin whispered into the phone, his voice barely audible as he stood a few feet away from you, the umbrella slipping from his grasp. he still had his phone pressed to his ear.

rin couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heartbeat and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

how many damn years does it take to work up the courage to spill your guts to your best friend of more than a decade? rin found out that sometimes, all it takes is one look at them in pain to make you throw caution to the wind. screw all the timing and planning.

“rin…” you called out, looking around to locate him.

locked in a gaze, time seemed to stand still as rin's eyes traced the contours of your face. your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked from the rain, revealed what you had endured. your drenched clothes and disheveled hair painted a picture of you running around in this rain. he couldn't help but think that you looked like a wounded soul, stripped of your own heart.

“you're right,” he repeated once more, and he was certain you could hear him, judging by the look of confusion on your face.

it wasn't a “now or never” moment for rin. 

it was a now or never love another soul ever again moment. because to rin, it will always be you and him in the end. and that’s no wishful thinking, but a promise he made to himself.

there will be no after you, but just you. that was it for itoshi rin. 

so he has to let you know. the hell with what happens next.

“about last week, you’re right about that. i would never get it,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “i would never get how someone could ever treat you this bad by someone who claims to love you. because i have loved you since we were kids, and i would rather die than leave you out here alone in the pouring rain.”

if this was what you called love, then maybe you taught him wrong. 

rin could see how your eyes widened at what he said. and right then and there, he prepared himself for the worst.

it’s happening.

rin ended the call. he couldn't bear to hear your immediate response, fearing the rejection he had long braced himself for. with the umbrella in hand, he made his way towards you, his eyes focused on the wet ground, avoiding direct contact with your gaze.

you can reject him later. he needs to get you home first.

“come on, let’s go,” was the only thing rin said. he placed the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain while he stood exposed, allowing the droplets to soak him further.

you gazed up at him, seeking his eyes, “can you look at me, rin?” 

and see the look of pity in your eyes? even at these moments, you’re cruel to him. 

“i don’t want to.”

undeterred, you persisted, “why?”

because i’m about to lose you.

“i made peace with it a long time ago,” rin admitted, “let's just go. you're going to get sick.”

“say it again.”

your gaze held unwavering, demanding more from him. there was a longing in your eyes, a hunger for honesty. you craved his words, his confession – you need rin to speak now or else you will never know peace.

“no.”

“then i’m not going anywhere. say it agai —”

“fine! i have loved you since we were kids and i have loved you ever since i'm yet to even know what it was i was feeling for you! now, please, let’s go!”

silence enveloped the park. but rin could hear his own heart beating in rhythm with the soft pitt patts of the rain.

this was it then? twelve damn years. all those years, now dissipating like raindrops lost in the drain.

the rain continued to pour, serving as a backdrop to the delicate dance of emotions unfolding between you. each droplet seemed to echo the passage of time, washing away the years of looking at you in a lovelorn gaze.

rin knew where this was headed. he may not have watched many romance movies, but confessions like these – he had seen them before. this was yet another addition to the countless stories of shattered dreams lost to the rain.

but then as fate would have it, it will always intervene.

and so, as if a radiant sun had broken through the stormy clouds, a smile bloomed on your face, casting away the shadows of doubt in rin's mind.

“i’ve been waiting for those words my whole life, itoshi rin.”

rainbows really do appear after the pouring rain.

but only for a fleeting grace of moment in the sky.

“but i can’t, rin. not now. i’m too hurt to love you freely.”

the confession escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of past heartbreak and lingering pain. and to rin, it felt as if the rainbows had faded, leaving behind a somber reminder of the scars etched deep within.

it would be a lie not to admit that he was disheartened, but nonetheless, rin understood. 

but rin was no saint; he can be selfish. he wants to be selfish for you. so there he knelt, bringing himself eye to eye with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. 

“i’ll wait. i can wait,” it’s not a lie that the younger itoshi had a penchant for being selfish as he is selfless. 

but he has waited for you for as long as he has learned to kick a ball. so what's a little more?

“are you sure?” the question escaped your lips, a plea for reassurance.

if it means it’s you and him in the end after all, then he’s nothing but definite.

rin's hands on your cheeks tightened gently, his voice a gentle murmur that danced along the edges of your heart, “take all the time you need. by the time you're done, i'll make sure to make you mine.”

the raindrops, cascading around you like tears from the heavens, seemed to pause in reverence as rin's words hung in the air.

as the rain began to subside, rin leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. your eyes closed, feeling his breath mingling with yours, you hear him softly sighed against your lips.

“i’ll treat you so good, y/n. so good. fuck, you have no idea.”

sure, you’re the first person itoshi rin has ever loved. but he can show you. better than your shitty ex ever could.

if there’s anyone who can most definitely show you what love was truly like, it will be him.

for a few precious moments, time seemed to stand still as both of you remained in that intimate embrace, rin's hands tenderly cradling your face, and your gaze locked in the depths of his teal eyes.

“let’s go home?” rin asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“only if you’ll walk with me.”

rin's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at your hushed response. he reached out, extending his hand toward you, a silent invitation. “i've been doing that for the past years.”

and he’ll continue to do it. 

few years from now, he will make sure he’s the man you’re walking with. be that on the way home, or down the aisle.

because to itoshi rin, it will always be you and him.

note. no thoughts, just pure vibes here. just kidding! here's the first request in my milestone event, and i enjoyed writing this despite it being shitty as an outcome. thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

[hijinxinprogress]

The JL finds out Captain Marvels identity and regrets it immensely

JL find out Captain Marvels a child and they start trying to parent him and just being awkward so it’s decided that Captain Marvel will join YJ (Clark started referring to Billy only as ‘son’ and ‘young man’ one time Billy saw an airplane and Clark leaned down and went “That there, son, is called an airplane and it-” “I’ll fucking stab you istg”)

To the public Captain Marvel is just extra supervision for YJ but the hero community knows it’s a way to discretely move Captain Marvel onto a team with people his age and be ‘safer’

But it doesn’t work out the way they want bc Billy’s a chaos gremlin much like YJ so they’re just doing dumb shit in the public eye bc they technically have ‘adult supervision’ (it takes Billy fifteen minutes to convince yj to go against being supervised by green lanterns)

“We’re literally your coworkers??” “I’ve literally never seen you before besides isn’t it illegal for cops to question a minor without their guardian present? 🤨” “Technically, he’s not their coworker bc he’s not in the jl anymore” “Kon” “What? I’m just saying!” “Stfu wait does Marvel even have a guardian??” “He doesn’t”

Anita and Billy are trading magic tips and teaching each other spells they should NOT have access to esp bc they’ve blown up thirteen city blocks and 1/4 of almost every planet they’ve visited with YJ

Cassie and Billy play high stakes games of catch above the earths atmosphere with missiles and shit in their free time and also during missions

Kon and Billy do just plain dumb shit they have no business doing and then playing up the ‘I’m just a baby…and I’m not even really human/I didn’t have a childhood so how would I know that I shouldn’t do that?’ excuse after bankrupting Luthor for the third time this month along with demolishing all of his newly renovated buildings (Which he and Greta repurposed to create low income housing and food pantries)

Cissie invites Marvel to all her Olympic events and he shows up to every single one with an obnoxiously large magical banner

Bart and Billy plan quips, one liners, and trash talk together and everyone hates it bc they only use the good ones on them but villains (along with everyone in their immediate vicinity) are subjected exclusively to shit like “nuh uh” and “make me”

Greta and Billy are taking down shady government operations with zero fucks to give (they had houses built for the people affected but they did also send a very long list of people to the hospital/morgue)

Billy makes Tim a magic skateboard that flies at like Mach 1 with so many magic cameras it’s concerning bc he thinks Tim being unhinged is funny especially it inconveniences or at least stresses out batman

But they’re mostly talking about what lies they’ve told the jl recently so they can plan their lies around each other “I lied to batman yesterday so you gotta back me up” and Tim’s fabricating evidence despite having no other information bc Billy will 100% “Aren’t you a so called ‘ethical’ billionaire? Nonono it’s whatever, I just thought you’d want to look out for the people but-”

And JL tries to lecture Billy about it ‘you should be more mature. I expected better’ and he’s just like ‘why?? I’m baby 🥺 I don’t know any better’ 

And Green Arrow’s so goddamn confused bc ‘Bro?? I’ve watched you do negotiations when Superman’s not available…’ ‘I’m just a little guy’ ‘I’VE WATCHED YOU STOP A WHOLE ASS INVASION IN TEN MINUTES’ ‘little baby man’ ‘But you’re one of the strongest members of the league???’ ‘You do know I couldn’t tie my own shoes like six years ago, right?’ ‘HOW OLD ARE YOU’ ‘Wouldn’t you like to know’

YJ and Billy just do a bunch of petty shit until JL has had enough and they’re like fine whatever it wasn’t a problem before

[ganondoodle]

still thinking about how even just the decision to basically act like the shiekah tech never existed is just ... so baffling to me

bc again you could have done all the sonau tech does with shiekah instead, and they were perfect to be explored more in a sequel, why wouldnt you grasp that potential, the literal building blocks for more??

if you are that tired of shiekah tech .. dont make it a fuckign sequel to the game prominently featuring it???? totk doesnt take place generations after botw in which things could have changed drastically, its just a few years afterwards??

you want to reuse the map and get rid of shiekah tech? ok fine take LINK into the past then and the focus is for you to find a way to return; do some neat twist where its revealed that link was the one who sealed gan bc he couldnt defeat him without zelda or something if you dare (they wouldnt)

want less work than that and still reuse the map and get rid of shiekah tech AND reuse characters? ok then make it some alternate universe thingy like majoras mask in which everythign is the same but also isnt, its weird and creepy how characters you thoguht you knew suddendly dont act like themselves, shiekah tech doesnt exist, malice is now miasma, etc, it would give reason to why you feel so much like something about this world is familiar yet also very wrong

as far as im aware every "sequel" we have had so far were either generations apart from the first one, some alternate universe or a different location altogether- in all of which its plausible that things are different, things seem weirdly familiar but also wrong, or that another continent just works different from hyrule

but totk does none of that, its supposedly just a few years after the first game, same world same character, but its BUILT like some strange jumbled mess of stuff from botw and new stuff out of nowhere that just .. doesnt fit, but feeling a strange sense of otherness, a déja vu of something you know but it acts off, like an imposter, thats NOT intentional and it shows, its a mess of botw stuff, from stuff that people missed from the old games and entirely new stuff; i dont doubt it CAN work but the way it turned out is like a mix of 3 different puzzles forced together and being told 'see it fits!' even tho you can clearly see the pieces dont look right in these places

again it feels like a sequel that desperately wants you to forget the first game happened, that anythign from it mattered at all

and that isnt really ... the sense of a sequel? why insist on it being one when it only creates problems? is it marketing?? just like it was marketing to call age of calamity a telling of what happened before botw but then it wasnt that at all and that is still the sole reason why i dislike it? bc i was lied to? totk is like 10000 times worse than that, its a main title and doesnt even have the excuse of yeah its basically an excuse to play all your fav characters in fun ways and the game beign well aware that being its main appeal; what is totk appeal? a toybox with botw aestethic and none of the flavor?

(on a sidenote; the sonau tech doesnt even .. matter? in botw at least calamity ganon was made of shiekah tech parts and him overtaking other tech is a big point, the sonau tech doesnt serve anything but .. idk minerus useless mech? gan doesnt even aknowledge it, he doesnt care, all it is is toys for the player, not link, but the player. the monsters mining the tech materials? what for? gan doesnt give a damn and they dont work for the yiga either??)

i said it before but it gives me the feeling that the way botw invited you to theorize, to look beneath the surface, the way it intrigued you and laid the groundwork for so many interesting things without denying anything.. was accidental? or perhaps put in the game without the directors noticing? i cant stop thinking about them saying sth like "after botw zelda wondered if the kingdom of hyrule needed to keep existing the way it had been before the calamity, but then totk happens" bc it just feels like they realized too late that botw naturally led into questioning the status quo and they scrambled to fit it back into a flat and boring road we have seen so many times before (or even worse really) with totk

zeldas character naturally leads into her questioning and reexamine their history and set of rules? we gotta teach her a lesson of why she is importante god given monarchy girl that has to keep it bc what if evil brown man shows up again for no reason

maybe im grasping at straws here but looking at it this way the sonau .. make more "sense"; the shiekah were a group that was under the rule of the royal family, and misstreated before (oh no look soemthing interesting) so they dont lend themselves well to be used for teaching zelda that lesson- the sonau however are tailored really to be just that; they are a supposedly godly race from the literal sky that founded this version of hyrule, that had tech even more advanced and better than the shiekah, she gets put in the past to meet the perfect god king of goodness personally, also his very fridgy wifey that zelda later replaces in a way, shes put there and treated like family and then gets to see just how evil that evil big man from the desert is, sonia is falcon-punched to death solely so zelda can feel obligated to take over her role, have her new, better 'family' hurt by gan; similarly so raurus sacrifice, look what a noble and good king he is, he payed the ultimate price to lock that evil man away, now zelda you cannot let their sacrifice go to waste, rebuild that divinely good kingdom like it was!!

and even though they go so much out of their way to put the cart back onto the rails of black and white-good and evil in an even flatter way than the old games, it still doesnt feel right, at least to me, it still feels like zelda shouldnt have gone along with all of that, it feels like even her character from botw was walked back entirely, except for the intro, it made her feel like a stranger to me-

because this is a sequel, i know this zelda, she wouldnt act like that after all that shes been through, this feels ... off

and it all just insulting to anyone who cared about botw more than surface level, or the zelda lore in general, i dont even care much about the timeline, but theres alot of lore and themes beyond it that felt ignored, especially so given that .. its a damn sequel, non AU, not generations apart, directly part 2-

but its not.

it even feels very "corporate", put zelda in a dress again, people liked that, put crazy abilities in the game to flashbang people with how insane it is even if its not the best for the gameplay or the story, put a new asthetic into it out of nowhere bc its 'new' and act like its been there the whole time, put gan in there bc people miss him and find him sexy even if his role is just as flat as that of an evil cloud monster-

*sigh*

you know, i saw a post that said aoc was like a bad fanfic (affectionate) and totk was like a bad fanfic (derogatory) and tbh thats like one of the best comparisons/summaries i have seen ..

[xxsycamore]

"I can't have sex with you Arthur, I don't have enough diamonds!!"

Arthur Conan Doyle x f!Reader • rating: M (MDNI) • tags: Breaking the Fourth Wall; Crack; Implied Sexual Content; Suggestive Themes • wordcount: 580 • masterlist

a/n: I've had this crack fic idea since FOREVER, but I think it's relatable at any given time... Tagging @ikemendood for crack content 👉🏻👈🏻

It has been one of these days, when it feels like you and Arthur have been locked in the universe of some kind of action movie. Bizzare and dramatic things have been happening all day long, some that led to miscommunications between you but quickly got resolved with the power of love...

Naturally, eager as you both are to once again prove your love for each other, things begin to get heated at the end of the day.

And then you gasp panically in realization.

"I don't have enough dia for the epilogue!!"

You find yourself pushed down on the bed, but in the last second you manage to block Arthur with your hands so he can't get on top of you yet.

"Hmm?~What did you say, Luv? You know, I've been waiting to have you sprawled under me allll day..."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you let out an agonizing whine at having to disobey your own need. You turn to your side and reach for your cellphone that has been charging on the nightstand.

Arthur blinks, still perplexed that you're using this thing at all. While you could charge it just fine, he wondered what you're using it for in this day and age.

Not to mention at a time like that. While he's right there, ready to devour you.

"Dear?"

You appear to be tapping hurriedly on the thing, blue light illuminating your face as some strange music is produced from the bizarre piece of technology. Without looking at your lover, you struggle to mutter an answer.

"It's- You wouldn't understand."

Arthur remains frozen in his place, observing as the screen flashes, your fingers dancing on it. He sees... test tubes aligned on the screen. They're ...filled with different colored liquid?

You rush to sort them by color as if you're being held at gunpoint. Arthur has never been so confused in his life.

"Luv, you're right, I don't understand. But you could just say if you don't feel in the mood for-"

"NO! I MUST GET THE EPILOGUE AND HAVE SEX WITH YOU TONIGHT!"

"...?"

The sultry conclusion, the epilogue of your day spent together, he figures. His writer's vocabulary might be rubbing off on you. That's kind of endearing, but...

Arthur sits down on his haunches perplexed. Is this some strange form of bedroom roleplay you're introducing him to?

"I must have you, Arthur, I even saw the preview and it was so hot-"

"The preview? You're saying you had a naughty dream about us making love and you want to see it come true? Dirty girl..."

Arthur's distracting words make you mess up in your game, and you have to restart the level. Just a few more and the game will give you a reward in diamonds, then all you need to do would be to watch those annoying daily ads and then it should be enough...

Seeing that his dirty talk has no effect on you, Arthur sighs and moves away from his position. Instead, he lies down next to you, becoming your big spoon as he looks over your shoulder at the game you're so consumed in, seeing that you're not going to pay him any attention before you're done with it.

"It's some kind of puzzle game, isn't it? Maybe you should leave it to me, Luv... in the meantime, why don't you tell me more about that 'preview' you saw of our intimate time together, hmm?"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @princess-pray-a Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[bijoutarot]

Your Lover’s Hidden Feelings 🌹

Pick An Image

Image 1

“I will wait for a sign from you”

A past lover is thinking about all the ways they should have appreciated you, cared for you, and listened to your needs. They feel that you have had enough of the games and the lies. Deep down inside if they were to say the right things to you you would be unsure how to proceed. You kind of want to talk about the matter without actually being the one to reach out. You feel like they should be the one saying something because they are the one who messed things up in the first place. This person is not only a former lover but a friend as well. Many of you started out as a friendship and then started hooking up. Now they feel like they lost both.

Image 2

“I know I messed everything up”

“You and I were too young”

Your lover is from a former relationship. This person might have been your high school sweetheart or someone that you dated in your teens. Unfortunately things did not work out between you two because they were still very immature. You were more mature than they were even though you guys were the same age when you met. Instead of letting you know the truth about the love triangle you found out in a harsh way. This broke your heart. They still feel terrible to this day because they know you have a good heart. This person regret their decisions but they blame it on their age. You might find this to be unacceptable because they are not taking accountability for their actions. They always had a problem with that. They always made excuses instead of being direct. You are now at a point in your life where you have guarded your freedom that comes with being single. You are abundant and not in a hurry to lock in with someone right away.

Image 3

“I am becoming a better person”

“I love you”

Your person is currently working a lot of long hours. They want to earn more money so they can give you the life you deserve. They see you as someone very precious and deserving of all the finer things in life. They have a business plan that will require a lot of hard work. You have not been seeming them as much as you like to but it is because they want to give you something special. They are saving money to make a big purchase. I see that they are working overtime and going in on their days that they normally be off. This is their season to grind while you will find more time relaxing. This person loves you so much it is clear they are willing to go the extra mile to impress you.

Image 4

“You were the best thing in my life”

Image 4, you have a past person that is running back to you. They miss you so much but they are afraid to contact you.they are longing to hear your voice, smell your signature fragrance, hold you in the middle of the night, and taste your cooking again. They love the way you prepare food, from the presentation down to the flavors and recipes. Life has been very sad without you. Their house is no longer a home since you blocked them. They miss having you in their environment. They do not look forward to coming home to an empty house. They want to make up with you and make it right. They want to take back the things that they said to you in the heat of the moment. Your person is seeking another chance. This isn’t the first, second, or third breakup but this time they are unsure where you stand.

Comment which reading resonated 💕

[romanarose]

All right, I lied I’m talking about it again

CW for mentions of sexual assault, CSA, supposed, pedophilia, fandom, discourse, kink, etc, etc

First, let me explain to those confused, what happened and then I’ll defend myself and then we’ll leave it there because once I go through everything your opinion is just going to be based on your point of view and I can’t really argue you out of that which is fine, so just go ahead and block me if you think I’m a creep weirdo or anything else that Radiohead says

Today as I am in class packing up my shit to leave right after my presentation I get a notification from a Tumblr mutual that said that a Tumblr blog I’ve never heard of or interacted with is posting about me in a harassing way so I go and I check it into my surprisethey posted screenshots of my most recent fanfiction. I miss you Mr. Miller.

The post explicitly called me a pedophile. I’ll share the screenshots, but the username as far as I can tell has been cropped out of everything. If you want to send and ask to this person and say your peace, I can’t stop you, but I ask you not harass this person, and simply report the post, if you know who it is

In one of the re-blogs or an answer to an ask, they called for mass, reporting my blog

No, I don’t say this to say that people who have been through what I’ve been through can’t be pedophiles or abusers, because they absolutely can but I say this to say why I had such a reaction to this and why I write the things I write

I have been a victim of child, sexual abuse was stocked, threatened and sexually harassed by an older man. When I was 17, lost my virginity to rape and 18, and then was raped again at 19 so believe me when I say that throwing around these words is shocking to me to just call me a pedophile. I write the things I write, innocent, reader, virgin reader, daddy kink, because of the things that I have been through sometimes as a reclamation of the experiences that I have suffered, sometimes as coping sometimes as comfort depends on the story.

No, let’s talk the specific issues

1. Shoes. Before I saw any of this, someone had DM me politely mentioning the shoes saying that they looked like child feet and that they wanted to make sure they were adult feet. I responded back that when I found the shoes on Pinterest they didn’t say anything one way or another, but I specifically look at the descriptions of clothing items because I don’t want to use clothing items that aren’t made for adults. If I can help it however, reverse image search shows that those are in fact an adult size and an adult model.



2. The dress once again, when I found the dress on Pinterest, I had already sorted out several dresses that I liked that first glance, but when I look at the description they said, teen or tween. It’s hard to tell right away it was certain styles there’s no model the dress is meant for what age I remember in my young adult hood when I was still dressing feminine and was a much smaller size. I sometimes found clothes at thrift stores. I thought were cute and would later find out they were meant for teens or twins, such as life.

2 Readers. Reader is 21+. Me personally I don’t put reader is 18+ in all my stories or my age gap stories, nor do I expect to see them when I read age gap stories in other peoples works, because I just assume everyone is an adult unless there’s some thing that tips me off against that, however, straight off the bat, the idea of being fucked in your childhood bedroomI feel like implies that she is one no longer a child and two doesn’t live there anymore. A couple chapters in, her and Joel are at her apartment and she was buying a new mattress having an apartment in itself implies at least 18 buying a new mattress is something you do in your 20s lol because no one was still in their name is gonna get excited about a mattress sale on Presidents’ Day. Then she was out drinking with Joel in a bar and yes, minors can get snuck into bars all the time I was a minor snuck into bars, however in this particular context, it just doesn’t make sense because Joel reader were already afraid of being seen together together. Joel wouldn’t want to add buying drinks for someone under 18 and taking them home after the bar to the list of worries and I know that in a lot of countries, the age of drinking can vary but in the US we’re both I live and where Joel fictionally lives the drinking age of 21, hence 21+ no none of the stuff I mentioned guarantees and reader but to me it’s coding in the same way that the people making accusations towards me are saying that reader is “coded“ as a child

3. Sex in the church. This was an afterthought in the person‘s post but I’ll address it anyway because they’re losing their mind that I mentioned having sex in a church for the context of the thick. Specifically, they had sex in a church bathroom, not in the actual sanctuary, or the pews, or anything however, for the record, I don’t got a problem with fanfiction having sex in a church because it’s not real. I would never actually have sex in a church, I try to go up to avoid going to a church as much as possible. The fanfiction isn’t real, it can’t hurt you

Lesson fucking learned, explicitly say reader is 18+ every time or someone is gonna accuse you of being a pedo

In the end, it’s not gonna change anyone’s minds. Because if you think that calling someone daddy, being hyper or liking to be babied, anything like that, makes you a pedophile, then I can’t really ration my way out of this.

However, I want to say thank you to everyone who reached out. A lot of blogs I’ve never interacted with a lot of friends, mutuals and on or blogs that I’ve followed on here for a year. Now I’ve reached out to me and offer their support which I really really appreciate and I cannot appreciate enough.

Hopefully I can still enjoy my cousins wedding this weekend and get my schoolwork done that I need to before going back to classes on Monday and that this doesn’t make more worse my already precarious mental health. But I’ve gotten so much love in so many kind words that it’s hard not to feel grateful for the amount of support I’ve gotten.

Between this and a minor hoopla about my pride even, I’m kinda sick of tumblr sometimes but y’all remind me of the good

Yes, you can re-blog, and if you wanna know who it is then ask someone else that’s fine I don’t really care that much. I just don’t want to be dog piling the person.

However, please report it. Because people are still sharing it, and commenting and liking especially about the shoe size

That’s it that’s my peace

[bohemian-nights]

https://www.tumblr.com/drakaripykiros130ac/732901209272467456/i-am-just-loving-the-so-called-concern-tg-stans

This is how I find out an anti-nettles tag exists of Tumblr people are so shallow minded and miss the point George's original story people really think just because these dumbass show runner decided the race-bend an entire group of characters for cheap brownie points of representation that it means Nettles no longer matters like no, it may no longer be about race just because the writers are trying to force feminism onto Rhaenyra's character but it's still about class. A low born orphan at just the age of 17 was capable of doing what dozens of well trained knights failed to do. She survived one of the biggest civil wars in Westeros history, she had one of the last surviving dragons of the dance (who cares who's the biggest, oldest, most shiny etc etc it was Nettles and her dragon that outlived them all in the end) AND she was capable if creating an entire culture around herself (the tribes could've easily over powdered her but instead chose to worship and respect her) mind you all she had was a dragon, she had no titles just her name. Also, she's a few of the very few characters in the books that show care and remorse, she mourned Jace someone she barely knew and cried for Driftmark despite having lived a life previously where she was mistreated and starving on the streets. I swear these Dumbnyra stans deserve their names (Dumbnyra), and just because some of us are pro-Nettles, it doesn't automatically make use of team Green, Team Green can kick rocks as well because they are such hypocrites, whining and complaining about how their fav characters were stripped of importance and reduced to a singular thing yet they turn around and strip Nettles's character as a gotcha moment towards to Dumbnyra stans, as if her relationship with Daemon is the only thing important to her character. These stans also need to realize the Nettles is one of George's favorite characters whose stories he'd like to continue.

👆🏽That’s for the fact that this racist(who I should mention I’m blocked by for no reason🤣) actually knows how to tag things properly. I’ll give her that, but who exactly died and made her an authority on Black representation?

Dumbnyra stans this is exactly why people keep calling you people racists:

Do tell me how white a** Alys Rivers(no disrespect, but come on) had more purpose than a girl who shows that Targaryen supremacy is a lie? The girl that shows you don’t need Valyrian blood to claim a dragon.

The girl that George himself said he wanted to write a novella on(never heard him say that about Alys, Addam, Alyn, any of the other dragonseeds, Rhaena, and Baela)🤷🏽‍♀️

They are so blinded by the fact that she “ruins” Dumbnyra(which isn’t what they claim it is which is why they are scared sh*tless of her being on a show they claim doesn’t matter) that they make up lies about Nettles being the most irrelevant character in Fire & Blood.

This can never be irrelevant/unimportant/unnecessary/whatever else you want to say to demean her:

That happened long after the Dance boo boo(when Missy Anne’s a** was long dead 😊).

And if the one who wrote that garbage happens to be reading this(because I know you people are stalking me), f*ck you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You've crossed the line.

You’re a bigot. You have no right to speak on Black representation let alone say we are good on representation that doesn’t even affect you and that you have no understanding of.

And you definitely don’t care about representation because if you did you wouldn’t want Rhaena who has her own arc to replace Nettles who according to you wasn’t Daemon’s lover. If she’s just his daughter or his mentee, well then you have nothing to be worried about. Her presence on the show shouldn’t disrupt your putrid little white supremacist ship or make Missy Anne look bad since what happened at Maidenpool was all a big misunderstanding and Mysaria’s fault😊 You shouldn’t give a second thought to her.

Yes, Black people care about this issue(and even if some of us are a part of Team Green because that’s the majority I see from Team Green actually caring about her, then so what🙃).

Do you see how we are portrayed by the media? Do you see what happens to Black characters in TV shows and movies? To Black women characters? Do you see how they are treated by production and the fandom?

What you people are doing isn’t new. Just look at The Bear, Sleepy Hollow, Vampire Diaries, Star Trek, Star Wars, GOT(see how Missandei was done), and Marvel fandoms(there are more than that I’m just too tired to get into it).

The moment there is even a hint of a possibility that a Black woman might be in a relationship with the fandom hottie, hell the moment a Black woman doesn’t have a stereotypical role, all hell breaks loose and you people look for every excuse and spout out the same tired crap on why so and so is irrelevant, is a terrible character, doesn’t need a man, needs to be cut, should be killed off, should be replaced, etc.

So just because you don’t care doesn’t mean we should accept scraps, or our “irrelevant” characters being cut, or swapped out with race-bent characters. Black people aren’t all the same sweetie and we deserve more than what you feel we do.

If that’s too much for your diminutive brain to handle why don’t we just combine Ulf and Hugh? It’s not too late to cut out one of the two’s roles in post-production. After all, they serve the same role and they are both white.

You know what? How about we combine Black Aly and Jeyne Arryn while we are at it😀

Should we view Helaena and Rhaenyra as the same? I have a hard time telling them apart since they are both white and blonde. They should wear name tags that way we don’t get them confused 🙃

Let me stop there.

Sorry for ranting anon, but I’m so tired of the disrespect. Like how does one character who’s supposedly so unimportant cause so much uproar?

I go in on Dumbnyra stans a lot(and that person shows exactly why), but you are right that all sides of this fandom treat Nettles like she’s trash. If it’s not saying she’s a plot device sent to ruin Dumbnyra from Team Black and that anyone Black can replace her it’s how Team Green is so worried about her being abused and how maybe it’s for the best she gets cut.

Their behavior is utterly disgusting. It's anti-Black, but no one takes anti-Blackness and especially not misogynoir seriously.

Nettles may be a secondary character, but she’s the most important secondary character during the Dance. She starts out literally homeless. She claims Sheepstealer by determination, not by blood. She’s the only one to claim a wild dragon. The only non-Valyrian dragonrider that we know of.

She gets the Rogue Prince to fall in love with her to the point where he’s willing to die for her and disobeys his wife’s orders to save her. She survives the Dance with a dragon intake. Becomes a fire witch and is worshipped by a mountain clan in the Mountains of the Moon(she’s still worshipped by them during the main series). Her legacy is cemented.

I love her relationship with Daemon, but she’s so much more than just Daemon’s love. She’s a survivor. She’s the final girl. She would be seen as special as she is if she was white.

A character like her will never not be needed especially in a world where the representation of Black women in media, particularly fantasy stories, is still pretty bleak.

[saelterlude]

lc musical clips pt.5!! can't believe this reaches 5 parts. to be fair, the more i watch the cooler the actors are and the more i love each of their quirks.

funfact before we start, if we exclude CMZ(bcs wtf. you are not 124 y/o CMZ), the average age of LG actors is 28 while the average age of CXS actors is 25 (I didn't take their birth month into account so give or take one)

The oldest being Du Guangyi at 34 y/o and the youngest being Jing Yangqiao at 20 (21 this April).

(pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.6 here)

68. BONUS, the composer for the musical songs, metablue, posted a composing diary/vlog of her making 'forget about it' aka the encore sofa song. It's a really cool watch, and it's pretty short too.

69. 14/03/2024, Wang Minhui made Cai Qi laugh and break character so hard by sliding on the table that they skip rock paper scissors altogether. Thank youu shimmeringweeds for finding this clip, youre a life saver.

70. 15/03/2024, Zi Bowen is really fun/bratty during CX and his mom's song, he's also been really into that hat and his panicked face during 'Dive Back in Time' tutting is gold. Other than that, Ji Xiaokun and Guo Hongxu are fun as usual.

71. Zhang Jiahao short vid, I love how nonchalant he is. Who gives a damn abt rehearsals when you can play basketball. We got snippets of other songs. And where did he get the random card reader??

(ooh, i'm putting the side actor into focus for once. also, i just realized ZJH is the actor who started swinging when WMH mistook director Li Haolin's name lol i love him.)

72. 16/03/2024 day, blind dog Cai Qi is so funny plss and the way Wang Minhui just let him live with the consequences.

73. 17/03/2024 night, Du Guangyi focused but you can hear Teng Chunpeng cutely messed up 'Dive Back in Time' in the background.

74. 23/02/2024, I don't think I've shared this clip of Du Guangyi playing pattycake(?? IDK the english name. I call it mimimi) with Wu Hanglu.

75. 18/03/2024, Bai Zhuoming mic mishap here, aggressive feet flailing with Wang Minhui and Deng Xianling, and also extended rock paper scissors!

76. 17/03/2024 day, I'll be honest I miss Ding Xingchen. That said, him and Xian Dongyue are having the best sibling wrestle.

77. 17/03/2024 day, same performance as above, and there's Wu Yihan doing overhead RPS.

78. 16/03/2024 night, Guo Hongxu fumbles the sofa/leg choreo again (left leg first man!), Shu Rongbo blubbering bcs GHX twist his arm post-RPS, and Wu Hanglu being the teasing big sister ever.

79. 21/03/2024, he once did overhead, now Wu Yihan is doing hip-height RPS, and he cheated. Shu Rongbo being confused. And they once again give the cutest hug, even for a side hug.

(heh, funny how JXK likes to hogs/blocks the sofa to annoy LG meanwhile SRB is always clearing the sofa for LG.)

80. 23/03/2024 day, very fun performance with Wang Yifei, Zhu Hanbin, and Deng Xianling. I highly recommend watching this. It's so fun I wrote a whole post about it. Also, harmonizing.

81. 22/03/2024, very short but look!! A Jing Yanqiao clip!!! I'm happy, I recently brainrotted on him. I wish he could perform more since I really like his voice but unfortunately I'm pretty sure he's still in school and have a limited schedule. But I will make you all love him before his BDay!

Today's bonus clip is a voice reel of Du Guangyi as Enforcer from the game Arknights! It's very soothing, I can fall asleep to his voice. He's so cool, he's an actor in everything. Musical actor, stage-play actor, TV and films actor, voice actor, he was a child actor too.

But since that's not a musical and it's kinda cheating, here's an actual bonus clip of Zhu Hanbin in Dr. Bloodthirsty (? 嗜血博士) musical. A small 3 person play which is giving me Jekyll and Hyde vibes. He's playing Jonathan, a young psychologist called to examine patient 13. It's really cool, please check it out!

(if anyone ever have a request on who the next bonus clip should be (even the side actors) just say so and I'll do my best. i'm always up for exploring new things)

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 6/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma

Chapter Six: When I Grow Up

When Bruce woke up, Jason was gone. He had no idea how old Jason was, so he rushed to Jason's old apartment in his pajamas. Bruce didn't take the time to get dressed out of fear that something had happened to Jason. When he arrived, Jason sat in the apartment, shaking from the cold and smoking a cigarette. His pajamas still had the tags on them. Jason's eyes were half-closed as he mumbled something to himself. "Jason," Bruce called

"I won't be small forever... And by then, he'll be old," Jason mumbled. He hadn't heard Bruce at all.

"Jason, put that cigarette-."

Jason looked at the ceiling. His hair was cut in an entirely different style, and his bangs were unkempt, hanging in his eyes, nearly obscuring the bruises and cuts that covered his face. "How old are you?" Bruce questioned. Jason took another puff of his cigarette and blew smoke out his mouth and nose. He winced and coughed. Bruce crouched down, tapped Jason's foot, and jerked backward, blocking a punch. "How old are you?" Bruce raised his voice.

"I'm eight," Jason answered as he stepped on his cigarette. "Sorry... My hearing's not that great right now. I got out of the ER yesterday."

Jason looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Jason, can I get a good look at your face?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded, and Bruce pushed Jason's bangs out of the way. The only other time Jason looked that terrible was when he died. Jason wrung his hands to stop the shaking. "Shaken up?"

"My dad's in jail... What do you think?" Jason snapped. "What are you doing here? Aren't you rich?"

"I'm visiting a friend," Bruce replied as he examined each cut and bruise. They were starting to heal, so it'd been a few days since he was beaten. "Is Catherine here?" Bruce had to lie to convince Jason that he was safe.

Jason shook his head. "She's hurting... Bad... So, she's gone to get better at a friend's," Jason replied. He turned his face away. Bruce sighed. "So, you know my mom?"

Bruce nodded. "She wanted me to come and get you while she's away. She was worried about you being alone," Bruce lied. Bruce stood up and offered Jason a hand. Jason winced and stumbled forward into Bruce's arm. "It's okay... I got you." Jason held onto Bruce's arm, trying to steady himself. He gave in, making a soft noise of defeat.

"I'm sorry... I need to sit down," Jason mumbled. Bruce helped him down, making sure he didn't hit his head. "I wanted to find my mom... I haven't-. I can't-. I'm too dizzy."

"What happened?" Bruce asked.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Jason mumbled.

"I thought you said you got out of the ER yesterday. They shouldn't have-."

"They didn't release me... I said I got out," Jason mumbled. Bruce sighed.

"Wanna ride on my back? I'm gonna take you to get something to eat," Bruce offered. Jason nodded. Bruce carried Jason on his back to the car, and they went through the drive-thru. "Jason? I'm not with the police or anything... I genuinely want to know what happened to you."

"Everybody thinks my dad did this to my face... Dad didn't do this," Jason defended, "He's in jail because of what he did to the guy that did this..."

Jason was being honest. "I'm sorry for assuming the same thing... Jason, who did that to your face?" Bruce asked as Jason dug into his fries. "Actually, I have a more pressing question. When's the last time you had a full meal?"

"I dunno... I woke up somewhere weird this morning, so it could've been a day... Maybe two?" Jason answered. Bruce frowned. "Did I say thank you?"

"It's alright," Bruce whispered. Jason stopped eating and turned to Bruce.

"No, no... It's not okay. I-. Thank you," Jason whispered.

"You're very welcome. Jason, can we go back to my first question? Who hurt you?" Bruce asked.

"Some guy said my parents owed him money, and he started beating me up... Then, my dad showed up and started hitting the guy with a baseball bat," Jason explained, "My dad coulda taken the guy's head off, but he didn't. And we can't bail him out because he was already on parole for something else... And his PO's a real doofus."

"A doofus?" Bruce grinned. Jason nodded. "Guess there are worse things you could've called him. Do you and your dad typically get on alright?"

"Sure... I mean, he's not perfect... Nobody is, but he loves me a whole lot. I know he can be mean sometimes, but he woulda left a long time ago if he didn't want me," Jason replied, "He didn't have a dad around growing up. He promised me it'd be different."

"So, you love him?" Bruce asked.

"Of course I do," Jason replied.

Bruce rustled a hand through Jason's curls while Jason ate. "Are you still hungry?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded. Bruce could tell Jason wanted to cry but wouldn't allow himself to. "It's okay to be upset, Jason."

Jason turned his head. "Stop it," Jason warned as he screwed up his face. "Stop it." He hit the heel of his palms against his legs as he tried to stop his tears from falling. Bruce realized those words were self-directed.

"Hey, c'mere," Bruce whispered. Jason shook his head. "It's okay... No one's mad at you for crying." Jason wiped his tears away.

"If I keep crying like this, he's not gonna wanna come home," Jason mumbled, "I gotta be tougher."

"Sometimes the toughest thing you can do is let yourself cry it out," Bruce whispered as tears streamed down his cheeks. Jason hugged him.

"Why are you crying?" Jason muttered.

"Because I might've been too hard on my little boy," Bruce whispered. Jason let go and wiped his eyes. "You okay?"

"Mhm... Can I still have another burger?" Jason mumbled. Bruce chuckled and nodded.

"You can have whatever you want," Bruce smiled.

[ashsostrange]

yk what i find funny? 🤭 walk with me! (xxoxobree pt. 2)

if you don’t like drama then scroll along! 💋

let’s do this one last time 😒 yawn frl. bc apparently bree writes smut now!

this specific blogger, @/impeanutsstuff is named bree. she lives in the bahamas. she’s a sagittarius, favorite color red. coincidence? i think not…

let’s observe!:

i came across this account this morning thanks to one of my friends.

@/brees-dreams was liking up bree’s posts whenever we were initially arguing last month, right? right.

this post is from years ago. notice how she says @/brees-dreams is her other acc. i noticed and reblogged, cz i’m 100% sure that account and this one are two of bree’s alt. i reblogged it implying what i was thinking.

i knew @/brees-dreams was her alt so i had her blocked before this, i just never spoke about it publicly. i unblocked this certain alt to see smthn. all of a sudden, she followed me and liked my post?? 😭 why would you like a post where i’m bashing you?! i guess she didn’t notice that she had dropped her @ in her “get to know me” post.

me being me, i pointed it out.

when she realized, she unfollowed me and later blocked me. 🤷‍♀️ why would you block me if you truly didn’t know what was going on?? i came w receipts all around bc i’m not playing w nb 🫶🫶

she later unblocked me but i blocked her again cz i have all i need now!

the post is right here, feel free to go thru the thread and you’ll see this what i’m saying is true.

miss nut then claims then claims that she “doesn’t know me and bree’s beef.” if you scroll back up to the top of this post to my initial reblog, you’ll see how i mentioned that she was liking up bree’s posts. it seems like she constantly misses the vital points i’m making!

look at this bs 😭 but she “doesn’t know our beef” right?? then she acts like she doesn't know bree's handle, which is why she refers to her as "that other creator" in order to sell her lie. this is one of the multiple posts she liked tho... like why do we not try and cover up our tracks atp?? 🤦‍♀️ she’ll never learn bro

idk what’s going on with bros age bc she said she was 16 in 2016 on her peanut acc then she posted her passport on xxoxobree which shows she’s 17 or smthn ion know… we ain’t getting into allat cz irdc!! 😭 she lied about her age, and a bunch of other shit either way, and it caught up to her. i stood ten toes down and now we know the undeniable truth sooo.

also, these are bree’s alts that i know of: @/brees-dream @/averagegirlie @/imleahleah @/impeanutsstuff

so that's that. what more is there to say really? lol. you do clownery, the clownery comes back to bite! and it’s right in your face. now y'all see we were never bsing. i hv nothing more to prove, this is who she is.

i’d really like to see miss munch try and debunk this one! 🫶

[radiowallet]

In the Air

Summary:  7 months later, Frankie and you haven't stopped thinking about your weekend in the woods with Marcus Moreno. But how do you take lightening in a bottle and keep it close forever? And what happens when three people try to decide they're ready for more? A direct follow-up to Like A River.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader x Marcus Moreno

WC: 9.1K

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. References to canonical type violence, military imagery, ptsd, grief, threesome, polyamorous relationship, yearning, cursing, drinking. M/M dynamics, M/F/M dynamics, dirty talk, anal play, P in V, masturbation, frottage adjacent, cum play. Look, this one is...filthy. Please, if I missed something let me know, and I will update.

Series Masterlist II Main Masterlist

It’s a dream. One that seems to start as a nightmare, and Frankie can’t seem to remember that neither one is real.

His rank is high. His uniform is crisp. His hair is short. His face is aged, the years pressed harshly into every wrinkle, each line. Behind him is a line of men. No. Boys. Gangly and wide-eyed and seconds from following him to their death. He wants to scream at them to run, order them away from whatever battle lies ahead, but his lips are sealed shut. A good soldier, through and through.

It’s wrong. It doesn’t fit. This is not where his story ends. It’s barely where it started. 

He was a kid, just dreaming of a way out and up, eyes always trained on the sky above him. A head in the clouds and a heart too big, they would say. He didn’t fit, even when he tried, desperate to have the puzzle pieces fit together. But it only ended with the edges fraying, the mess growing inward, tangling up inside him, impossible to free. Parents – disappointed in a military son, wife – horrified as his pain grew into addiction, daughter – caught hopelessly in the middle.

Then suddenly the nightmare is different. It shifts and shapes around him, leaving him dizzy even in his sleep. And without warning he’s with you, the two of you wrapped together, your trembling lips pressed to his neck, icy fingers snaked beneath his coat, finding warmth just above his heart. Far too intimate for just a friend but still not nearly as much as he dared to admit. 

Frankie knows this place. He hates this place. 

He loves it too. 

You’re cold, wet, the mountains of Colombia surrounding you, a tall cage blocking out everything. It felt hopeless then, just the same now, the fogginess of a dream keeping reality at bay. The road ahead is bleak, the trail behind not much better. A broken marriage waiting for him, another man’s ring for you, neither of you knowing how to settle but so unsure how to ask for more. 

But then. 

Your voice is clear, a sweet reprieve despite the rain, despite the dream, patiently calling his name. 

I can’t marry him, Fish. 

Why he asked. 

He couldn’t see your eyes. Not then. Not now. Here in this dream. But he remembers your tears. 

You didn’t tell him why. Not that night. Not for a while. 

But then there was a kiss. Is a kiss. 

And when it breaks the open air is beneath you both, bright blues melting into soft shades of white and grey, his grip firm around the throttle of his helo. Someone else sits behind you. Frankie knows who it is. He just needs to turn his head to check, and he knows he’ll see a smile, a dimple, a hero. But your voice is still steady in his ear, as patient as ever, asking him to keep his eyes on the sky. 

It’s harder back on solid ground. 

But even on his worst days. Even in his nightmares.

Frankie always feels safer in the sky.

“You’re still thinking about him.”

Your voice floats down to meet Frankie’s ears, your hand making a soothing path through his curls, his head cushioned on the soft pillow of your thigh as you both come down from the rise and fall of your orgasms. The statement sits in the air, mingling with your breath and the patter of rain against the window pane. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he knows it’s little use to deny. Both of you always seem to be thinking about him; a pair of brown eyes and plush lips, watching you from across a small tent, shy smiles mixed with gasps of pleasure. 

“Yeah,” he hums, letting the tip of his finger trail up the inside of your leg, biting a grin to the inside of his cheek when the muscle tremors just barely beneath his light touch. After a beat, he asks, “You too?”

You answer back quietly, your voice steady with the confidence of no secrets. One more benefit to facing hell on earth with the woman you love. 

“Me too.”

It should feel strange, Frankie thinks, lying in bed with you, your body pulled loose and so perfectly pliant, a sated fatigue covering you both, while thinking of another man. There had certainly been other people– that cute girl that used to tend bar down at Sam’s, a guy from that salsa club you had begged Frankie to take you to, Benny one night after too much tequila (of which you still tease each other about, a fond protective sort of care in regards to that night) – but none of them had ever lingered. Their presence was simply a ship in the night; an indulgence Frankie and you allowed yourselves from time to time but never feeling the need to discuss it further than just some harmless fun. 

But that day–

Two days, Frankie corrects himself, allowing himself a smile as he sits in the memory of swimming in a river, the water cold, too cold, just like he had predicted. The three of you found warmth in each other’s arms after, pressing your bodies closer and closer, his lips finding his finding yours as you stroked each other to completion, just as comfortable and easy as it had been the night before. 

Marcus had been quiet after, helping pack up camp with a focused silence, lost in his thoughts and hiding it poorly. Frankie hadn’t found the courage to ask until they were saying goodbye, awkward handshakes and an overly polite thank you that were all together too professional and nearly broke his heart in the process. By then it had been too late and the two of you watched as Marcus Moreno walked out of your hangar, head hanging low and fists balled tight. 

“We should call him.”

It isn’t the first time you’ve suggested it. You both have over the past few months, usually in passing, when something or someone reminds you of Marcus Moreno. A new trendy coffee shop pops up that serves the drinks in camping mugs, one of Mia’s classmates is seen carrying a Heroics lunchbox, someone at the bar makes a joke about being afraid of heights. Without even trying, the man is ever-present. A ghost in their lives despite the fact that maybe he doesn’t have to be. 

Frankie wants to agree immediately, actually has to physically stop himself from sitting up and reaching for his phone, choosing instead to turn his face into your leg, breathing in the overwhelming scent of you, letting his nose sit directly in the still sticky mess of your orgasm. 

They could call him. Should. But the time that has passed is enough to sow small seeds of doubt. Quiet on most days, loud on the worst. 

Did Marcus think of them? Miss them? When he looked back on those days together was it with fondness? Regret? Is he content with an itch scratched or does he yearn for more? More love. More time. Just… more.

The hand in his curls tugs lightly, your other tapping his cheek three times to get his attention, until finally he’s forced to turn back up to face you, a somber smile meeting his eyes, and he’s reminded of the water you love so much, flowing around him, a steady beat that holds him up.

“What has you worried, Fish? You’re usually better at saying what you want.”

He breathes in slowly, trying to calm his nerves enough to speak but when the silence goes on a beat too long he looks away. Your teasing voice finds him anyway. 

“The worst he can say is no.”

Frankie nods, eyes unable to rise from where they trace the patterns of the bedspread, again and again in a futile attempt to slow his racing heart, but it’s fruitless. The tears sting anyway. 

“Exactly.”

Marcus leans back in his chair, letting his head lay against the black leather, eyes closed to the late afternoon sun blasting through the windows. He could get up and close the blinds. Maybe that would help kill the headache blooming at the base of his neck? The one he knows is going to follow him home, some terrible shadow hanging around through dinner and homework and the cooking show Missy had been begging him to watch. But he can’t seem to make his legs move. He’s preoccupied. Mind fixated on one, no, two other things. 

Months. It’s been months. And still all he can think about is that weekend in the woods. Lightning in a bottle. Electricity tingling in the air that, if he had wanted, maybe he could have bottled to keep. The thoughts are constant; Your skin, Frankie’s laugh, your kiss. His eyes, your hands, his smile. The presence of you is constant, overwhelming in the best and worst ways. Two more ghosts to hover just behind him, haunting each step that takes him further and further away. 

Selfishly he wonders, do you think about him too? Do the pair of you lay in bed together and remember that night? Do you talk about it? About him?

He leans forward, elbows braced on his desk, unblinking eyes barely focused on the computer screen in front of him. His cell phone buzzes beside him, but Marcus ignores it, instead turning his head to survey the pictures just to his right. Perfectly framed moments of his life, frozen in time, reminding him of everything he had. Has. Annie. Missy. His mom. He considers their smiling faces, and not for the first time today lets himself sink into the guilt of wanting more. It’s a slippery slope, and he’s quick to shake it away, instead focusing solely on Annie’s photo. It was taken the day after Missy was born, her hair tangled, shirt filthy, eyes tired. 

She was so beautiful.

What would she have wanted for him?

Oh, I think you know.

Marcus barks out a laugh, rolling his head left to right before leaning back in his chair again. She would choose now to chime in, her teasing voice digging in his ear, reminding him exactly what he already knows. 

He does know what he wants.

But what about them?

He reaches for his cell phone, remembering the message from earlier that he had stubbornly ignored, hoping work can, at the very least, be a helpful distraction. It’s probably something Heroics related. A news blurb. Or a problem in need of fixing. Ruffled feathers requiring smoothing. 

It has him instantly exhausted.

He blinks the phone awake, only one text message waiting for him on the screen.

F: Drinks tonight? - 🐟🐦

The table is small, but Marcus thinks maybe you picked it on purpose. Something about the way you’re smiling behind the lip of your beer bottle as he and Frankie squish in around you, looking far too pleased at having their large shoulders pressed up against your own. When your hand lands on his knee, giving a gentle squeeze before resting there for good, he finds he’s pretty damn pleased too. 

The conversation is tense, the three of you dancing around the elephant in the room, but it’s getting harder for Marcus by the second. He’s acutely aware of Frankie’s lips, how they wrap around his beer, head tipping back to drain the bottle, neck on display and the perfect angle for him to lean over and sink his teeth into. Your hand is still on his knee, not moving, not an inch, but the weight is present, a persistent reminder of what it felt like on his bare skin.  

He bites at the inside of his cheek, thumb rubbing at the condensation on his own beer, the paper label peeling beneath his finger. He’s certain the whole bar can hear his depraved thoughts but at this point he doesn’t care. All he can think about is your hand on his leg- did it just move higher?- and Frankie’s lips - why aren’t they on his right now?- and suddenly this bar is too crowded, too loud, too everything and he doesn’t know what to say or do next. 

“Hey,” your voice in his ear breaks Marcus out of his panic, and he clings to it, willing his heartbeat to slow and his mind to focus, but all he feels is unbearable heat, his cheeks suddenly too warm. He wishes he had worn his glasses, if only to have something to do with his hands, but his overactive mind told him that neither of you would recognize him with the black plastic hiding his face.

“Hey,” he parrots back, looking directly at you, then at Frankie, and without warning, the pilot says what all of them have to be thinking. 

“This is fucking awkward.”

And just like that, the bubble bursts, all three of them laughing, shoulders and knees knocking as they lean in closer. 

“It is awkward! Why?” You practically shout, before leaning your head onto Marcus’s shoulder, batting your eyelashes, implying you already know the answer and are anxious to hear him say it. You look so pretty beneath the dim bar lights that he can’t help but play along. 

“I can think of a few reasons. How about you, Morales?”

“One or two, Fullmetal,” Frankie chimes in, the nickname filling his belly with a pleasant flutter. The other man doesn’t miss his reaction, licking his lips and folding his large hands around his beer bottle, devastatingly distracting in how his thick fingers overlap. Things get a little easier from there.

“Did you have trouble finding the place?” Frankies asks, his knuckles knocking on the tabletop, his own anxieties betraying him with that one simple tick. 

“No, it wasn’t bad. Just a little ways away from headquarters.”

The word headquarters seems to dig at both of them, Frankie’s knuckles knocking again on the wood, your grip going tight on his thigh for a beat before loosening again. 

“Have you been back out…in the field, I mean…since…?”

The unspoken words sit heavy in the air, your voice tapering off, and Marcus finishes the questions for you, the ridiculously honest thought inside his head sitting on the tip of his tongue – since we fucked each other in that tent?

Instead he bites the inside of his cheek, taps his fingers an inch away from Frankie’s and says, “I have.”

“And you’re being safe?”

It’s Frankie that asks him, the tap of his knuckles close enough this time too graze Marcus’s fingers. He meets the other man’s eyes, tongue dry and eyes wet, jerking his head in time with his answer.

“As I can be.”

It’s reminiscent of Annie, the fear that would shine in her eyes echoed back at him now; the truth that this is what he does and this is who he is. A hero. There are days where it’s more dangerous than silly and here he is, tangling two more people in this world. Marcus takes a long sip of his beer, swallowing one, two, three times, to drown the guilt before it can rise up from inside him. He shakes his head, smiles, and changes the subject.

“How is Mia?”

“She’s starting Pre-K soon! Can you believe it?”

A second round of beers, a basket of pretzels, and endless pictures of the girls traded back and forth fill the rest of the evening. Your hand lingers along his thigh, never going any higher but the warmth of your touch is persistent, a perfect match to Frankie’s eyes, toffee brown beneath the dingy bar lights. He feels safe, protected, just enough that he sets the question he’s been carrying around in his heart free. 

“So where do we go from here?” 

Marcus wishes he could take the words back the minute they leave his mouth, the neediness in his tone filling him instantly with dread. He turns his eyes back to his beer bottle, wondering if it’s possible at the age of 40 to develop a new superpower. Maybe one that gives him the ability to sink deep, deep into the ground. But just like the text message he sent earlier, Frankie is there to save him from the spiraling disaster of his mind. 

“We date.”

It’s said so plainly. The most obvious answer in the world but still it catches Marcus off-guard. It’s in this moment, this exact moment, that he realizes that’s what he wants. He doesn’t want just one more night or two. He doesn’t want to walk away again. He wants the chance at all the nights. Every night. 

He wants the chance for more. 

“We date,” he parrots back, a small grin cheating at the corner of his lips. Beneath the table he feels your hand squeeze his leg, your head still on his shoulder, your voice in his ear.

“We date.”

You sneak up behind Frankie and admire his shoulders, the bright blue button-up pulling tight across his wide back. He’s fussing with his curls, pushing them up and back and down again and you grin like a mad woman, wondering if this is how he was before your first date. All nerves and butterflies, hemming and hawing over what he wore or what flowers to bring. 

It makes your already nervous stomach flip again, just the same as it did the night Francisco picked you up for your first official date, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his shaking hands, a reservation at a fancy restaurant that you definitely missed. It feels so similar that you can’t help but smile, knowing in your heart that can only mean you should stay the course.

You, of all people, knew what it felt like when that feeling was missing. It was palpable; a wound, gaping and exposed, barely beating with the hollow pain. It had taken you two years, a diamond ring on your finger, and the cold mountain terrain of Colombia for you to finally admit that’s what you had been settling for. First to yourself, then to Frankie, the two of you huddled for warmth and wondering if you’d even get to make it home to see any of it through.

Even now, it doesn’t feel like you’ve yet to make it to the other side.

But you’re getting closer. 

You cough lightly, alerting Frankie of your presence before stepping behind him, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck, allowing yourself a moment to inhale the woodsy smell of his aftershave before you step back to meet his eyes in the mirror. He drops his hands and matches your smile, waiting patiently for you to speak first.

“Hoping to get lucky, Morales?”

He casts a glance over his shoulder, making a show of looking you up and down, honey-sweet eyes lingering where your sundress hits the tops of your thighs. You know he knows– Frankie always knows– that you aren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Could say the same to you, Bluebird.” 

He turns back to the mirror, hands moving from his hair down to the collar of his shirt, tugging at it as if it’s choking him, a truly ridiculous notion with the top two buttons undone, giving you the perfect view of his chest, the smattering of freckles a perfect constellation trailing from his neck down. Finally you can take no more. You still his hands with your own, placing one more kiss, just a hair more pressure, to his pulse point. 

Frankie does you one better, leaning down and capturing your lips, the kiss centering you both where you stand, bodies pressed together in the small confines of your bathroom. He holds you there, one hand cupped gently around the curve of your cheek, the other bunching in the fabric of your dress, dragging it up, the heat of his thigh pressing between your legs. 

Heat sparks warm inside you, swirling low in your belly, his tongue slipping between your lips and curling sweetly around your own. It’s searing and insistent and when the kiss breaks, Frankie leaves a sigh on your tongue and a need in your chest. 

Any other night you would both say fuck it, canceling any and all plans before leaning back in for another kiss and another and another, until the ground was falling out from beneath you.

But tonight– 

“Let’s go Bird. He’ll be waiting.”

Frankie turns his truck carefully off the road, following the dirt path that’s been carved gradually over time. He can feel the shift of Marcus’s shoulder, moving down and away from his fingertips to look out the window, his hand flexing where it rests in an uneasy way across your knee. 

He’s nervous.

Frankie can tell by the way his tongue is poking at his cheek, his brows pinched beneath his glasses– the ones that Frankie hadn’t been expecting when the front door opened. The ones that had sent all the blood in his brain south immediately, just from the perfectly innocent way they framed Marcus’s eyes. 

He was dressed casually, a tan polo, just a shade darker than his skin, stretched across the width of his chest, only one shiny black button fastened, giving them both the perfect view of his neck, his adam’s apple bobbing as he looked them both up and down. 

His eyes seemed to linger around the hem of your dress, a smirk tilting at the edge of his cheeks, and when he glanced at Frankie, it was with a knowing wink. You watched it all, your own smile wide, bouncing on the balls of your feet, a bouquet of yellow petals hugged tight to your chest. When you offered them to Marcus, his teasing grin softened, not an ounce of embarrassment painting his features as he brought the flowers to his nose, his whole body expanding as breathed in their sweet scent.

Your voice only waivered slightly when you explained their meaning.

“Daffodils are meant for new beginnings.”

The flowers sit in his lap now, Marcus refusing to let go of them, the hand not curled around your knee still clutched around their cellophane wrapped stems, the plastic crinkling in harmony with the sound of the truck tires on gravel. He leans further forward, the sunset catching in his eye line as he looks at the road ahead, but he doesn’t ask where they’re headed, trusting them to lead him the same way they did all those months ago. 

It’s another 20 miles down the dirt path, the three of you quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the creak of the crickets. It’s a comfortable night, both windows rolled down, the wind lifting his curls and playing with the hem of your dress, cool enough to encourage your body to fit in closer to his, but not so much that you pull away from Marcus’s comforting grip. It’s easy to settle into, him and you and him, all pressed inside the cabin of Frankie’s old truck, as if the weathered bench seat was made with this exact night in mind. 

The sun is mostly gone by the time he slows to a stop, throwing the gear shift into park and sliding out of the driver’s seat, his boots hitting the familiar patch of dirt, the grass worn away by years of tread. You and Marcus follow quietly, and without prompting you move to the bed of the truck, releasing the tailgate and climbing up, deviously intentional with the way you let your dress ride up, exposing your bare thighs to the open air. Somewhere behind him, Marcus makes a choked off noise, one that already has Frankie’s mouth watering. 

“You boys gonna help or what?” 

You’re standing now, the box at the far end of the truck bed kicked open, half the pillows and blankets stored inside already piled around your feet. The storage compartment is meant for tools, but Frankie learned long ago he could get most jobs done with what fit inside his toolbox, never feeling the need for anything extra. The pillows and blankets came in handy more often than any electric drill or saw ever could, and allowed Frankie the opportunity to keep you out beneath stars whenever the fancy found its way to his heart. 

The three of you make quick work, spreading out layer after layer of blankets, old comforters, and hand knit throws, pillows piled around the walls of the truck bed, and two camping lanterns and a cooler set to the side to complete the set up. It’s been done a thousand nights in a thousand different ways, but the view still sends butterflies curling up inside Frankie’s belly, the feeling only screaming louder at the way Marcus takes it all in with quiet contemplation. 

You're steady in all things, but especially now, pulling them both down into the make-shift nest, eyes sparkling brighter than the stars that have just begun to blink to life. Cheap beers are twisted open and passed around, a cold bite to parch dried throats, and giving all three of you a chance to gather your bearings. 

“What is this place anyway?” Marcus asks, taking a small sip of his beer before setting it safely to the side. His eyes trace the skyline, the caramel of his irises flitting from star to star, losing himself in the wide open space laid out before them. 

The sky is a melting cascade of dark blues that bleed to purple and pink, a smattering of trees in the distance, and hidden behind it, a small creek they take Mia to on the weekends. It’s as close to an oasis as Frankie knows, and he doesn’t really even know how to say it. 

“We come out here to watch the stars. Probably at least once, twice a week,” Frankie admits, his thumb hooking through the loop of an old holiday blanket, the green and red faded to murky hues, the yarn soft between his fingers. “I brought Bluebird here…”

“On our first date,” you chime in, just a breath softer than Frankie, eyes never leaving Marcus, something caught between a challenge and a promise in your words. 

Marcus stills, his brows pinched beneath his glasses, fists flexing at his sides, the levity of it all seeming to find him yet again. He looks at both of you before glancing back at the stars, and then, like a rubber band pulled too tight, he snaps. 

He presses himself into you, lips smashed together, finesse sacrificed in the name of desperation, your bodies molding together in a tangle of limbs. He kisses you again and again, quick and insistent, your cheeks cradled between his hands. He can’t seem to stop now that he’s started, and it’s only when your hand curls around his wrist, thumb brushing gently along his pulse point does he settle into a more relaxed pace, lips parting for your tongue to taste. 

Frankie watches, can’t help but, his jeans growing tighter with every sigh you pull from Marcus. He palms himself, feeling his cock harden beneath the barely there pressure, moaning in time with your own. It’s enough for him now, content to watch you move together, Marcus’s large frame crowding over you, a fire blooming to life in Frankie’s gut, his mouth going dry. 

Marcus slots his leg between your own, one leg hitching up around his hip, the hem of your dress bunching up enough to give Frankie a view of your ass, goosebumps chasing the cold air across your bare skin. Your hand sneaks beneath Marcus’s shirt, and the change is obvious, his face crumpling in at the tender stroke of your hand along the small of his back, and he pulls you closer, somehow closer, breaking the kiss and burying his head into the curve of your neck. 

A hand, then two, reaches back for him, yours and Marcus’s. Frankie goes to them, his front to Marcus’s back, letting the hook of his nose trace his ear, delighting in the shiver that races up the smaller man’s spine. His cock is fully erect, the head practically popping past the waistline of his jeans, straining in the unforgiving fabric. It’s almost painful, and Frankie can’t help but lean in further, rutting his length into Marcus’s ass.

His body goes taut, caught between the two of you, and Frankie watches as Marcus sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his spit darkening the delicate strap of your dress caught in his bite. Your lips find Frankie’s jaw, a nip and a laugh pulling him, and he melts into your kiss, lightheaded at the fact that your lips still carry the taste of the Heroic. The three of you stay that way, tangled together on your knees, Marcus’s lips on your neck, Frankie’s lips on yours, fingertips just starting to sneak beneath layers of clothing. 

“History loves repeating itself,” you murmur between broken kisses, your hand somehow undoing the last of the buttons on his shirt, fingers skating a trail down to the soft swell of his belly. 

“In more ways than one,” he can’t help but tease back, his memory ensnared between two different nights. One years away, in the back of this very truck, your quivering form opening up for him to slip inside. And another, miles away, three instead of two, crowding inside a small tent, each touch less tentative than the last.

Between you, Frankie can feel Marcus take one deep breath in, the release shuddering through him, a ripple effect that starts with his shoulders and slides down the planes of his back. For a second it feels like the answer will have to be coaxed out of him with a soft touch or a gentle kiss, but without preamble he’s looking up, a cheeky smile catching the corner of his lips.

“I think we had our clothes off a lot faster the last time.” 

It’s a challenge – one neither of you are willing to back down from, your dress is gone in the blink of an eye, Frankie’s shirt sliding off with a quick shrug of his shoulders. Marcus is about to follow suit, his fingers already curled around the hem of his shirt, but Frankie stops him, his palm cupping his cheek, his thumb pushing into the black plastic of his glasses.

“Next time,” he warns, “you’ll keep these on.”

The promise is enough to wipe the smirk from Marcus’s face, a blush slowly creeping upwards. Frankie makes the most of the opportunity, slipping the frames from his face, taking care to slip them safely through the open window of the cab of his truck. 

“Next time?”

You’re behind him in a heartbeat, lips in his ear. “Next time.” 

It’s a blur after that, clothes falling away, all three of you suddenly bare beneath the moonlight. Marcus is having trouble focusing, eyes drinking in the pair of you, fingers trembling as he maps inch after inch with his touch. Your breasts fit the curve of his hand, the weight of them wonderful, your smooth skin catching along his calloused palm. He takes care to stroke at the stiff peak of your nipples, catching your sweet sigh of pleasure in a kiss. 

He feels Frankie move in closer, the three of you shifting until you’re on your back, both men hovering over you, your warm eyes tilted up towards the night sky. Marcus takes advantage, lips following the same path as his hands, a flick of his tongue at your nipple. He maps every inch of you, the luxury of time allowing him an opportunity not afforded last time. Each dimple and fold of your skin, every birthmark and scar. Not a trace of you is left untouched by his lips, and when he finally returns to capture your own in a kiss, you’re shaking beneath him.

“Fuck, you’re both so beautiful,” Frankie growls, his large hands just as frantic as Marcus’s, trailing from your ass to your hip to his cock to his neck and back again. He wants to soothe the other man, assure him there’s no rush, but he’s just as desperate, his cock hard, precum beading at the tip and smearing into your thigh. His hips ache, the urge to rut into your side growing with each pass of Frankie’s hand across his back. 

“Scars,” Frankie murmurs into the turn of his shoulder, teeth sinking in with a thoughtful hum. 

“I don’t usually,” Marcus feels the need to explain, his thumb finding another patch of scar tissue on your skin, raised flesh in the shape of the gunshot, a memory he wishes he could have kept from ever existing. Your hand covers his, pulling his touch up, just as Frankie’s fits over the beat of his heart.

And then, the lightest of touches, enough to send him into a tailspin, the tip of one thick finger trailing across his ass. Marcus arches his back, leaning back towards Frankie, just the smallest stroke between his cheeks stoking the already burning fire inside. He can feel the other man’s smile pressed into his temple, a chuckle and a small kiss following. 

“Not out here, sweet boy,” he shushes. But even as he says it, he strokes a little harder, the tip of his finger pushing in, just barely. 

“Shit,” Marcus bites out, fingers digging into your thigh, trying to ground himself through the onslaught of pleasure. It’s not entirely new. There’s a memory, fleeting, like a leaf in the wind, of Frankie touching him that way months ago, but he hadn’t lingered then. Not like he is now, the intent behind his touch much more obvious, the sensation like molten fire up his spine. 

“Please…Frankie. Please.” 

“No,” he says again. “I want to take my time. Want you in our bed. Open you up, nice and slow, baby.” 

Your voice joins in, patient and sweet in his ear, matching the pace of Frankie’s finger where it continues to stroke his entrance gently. You start stroking his length, thumb slipping around the thick head of his cock with each pass. 

“Francisco’s big, Marcus. So big. Need to take our time opening you up for him.”  

“Need lube, baby,” Frankie whispers, his touch growing insistent. “Want you to feel all of it. Savor it. I want to hear you beg for me. Want you to come untouched, my cock in your ass.” 

The thought alone has him moaning, another promise for the future sending his heart rate racing and his fingers grasping, turning and reaching for Frankie’s hip, pulling him as close as he possibly can. Sweat is already beading at his temple, the sensation mixing with the cool spring air, his body heaving out breath after breath, trapped in a fever he can’t shake off.

Why would he want to?

You’re still stroking him, the lightest touch up and down his shaft, kisses peppered across his neck, each one sweeter than the next. 

“What do you want?” He asks them both, the words strangled in time with the grip of your fingers, the urgency to repay their touch with one of his own welling up inside him.

Frankie’s teeth scrap along his jaw, followed by a tender kiss, a soft press of lips to the hinge of his bone. “Want to watch you fuck her.” 

He moans, wanton and needy, already picturing the feel of your tight heat clenched around him. Your touch pauses where it’s still wrapped around him, his cock pulsing in your hand.

“Is that what you want, Marcus?”

He looks down at you, letting his eyes focus on your soft curves, bright eyes brighter still beneath the open sky, and he groans again, an unrestrained sound sitting at the back of his throat, his heart thumping a wild staccato in his chest. 

It’s such an easy question. Is that what he wants? Of course. All of this, every last bit of it, has been all he’s wanted for months now, and it’s being given in ways he couldn’t have ever dreamed. But at the back of his mind he can hear a traitorous thought sinking it claws in and dragging itself forward in to steal the light. 

There hasn’t been any one night stands, any wild nights out, any half-formed connections that lead to the sheets between his bed. 

In the three years since losing Annie there’s only been the two of you, and that night, while filled with so many firsts, never found its way here. 

“I…shit— is that okay?” 

“Of course,” Frankie whispers, the tip of his finger pressing deeper inside him. Marcus gasps, falling forward, his forearms braced on either side of your head, your neck craned to meet his lips in a mismatched kiss. 

“There hasn’t been a-anyone…else…” he murmurs, the pressure of Frankie’s thick finger stealing his breath away. 

“It’d be okay if there had been, baby,” you coo, smoothing back his hair where it’s started to curl over his forehead.

“No, no,” he rushes out, a messy kiss pressed to your lips between his words. “It’s just been you…the two of you…since…”

He’s saying it all wrong. He wants them to know, to understand how important this is, even when the words won’t come, the blinding pleasure of your lips and Frankie’s fingers searing hot iron into his blood. 

Behind him Frankie nods, his curls tickling at the back of Marcus’s neck. He slips his finger out of him, shushing the whine that parts his lips, petting softly at the small of his back. They stay that way far longer than they should, only the crickets keeping time with their breathing, the levity of the night catching up with them. 

Finally, your voice breaks the silence, both men curling in closer to hear you. 

“We all have scars, Marcus.”

He nods, then laughs, leaning in to kiss you, slotting his lips along your own, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. Frankie is moving around behind the two of you, and before either of you can ask what he’s doing there’s the sound of foil tearing open.

“I need to get you ready. I…I need…,” he tries to argue, fingers already slipping down your body to dip between your folds. He groans, greedy in his touch, pushing in deeper, already addicted to the slick heat of your arousal. You’re soaked, practically dripping, and Marcus licks his lips at the phantom memory of you, suddenly desperate to bury his face between your legs.

“You’re so wet, fuck- so wet for me already.” 

You’re scrambling, grabbing at his hand where it’s still buried between the wet folds of your pussy. Marcus only pushes in further, groaning at the way you squeeze around his finger, the pad of his thumb settling heavy on your clit, eliciting a deep moan from the back of your throat. You spread your legs wide, giving him a better view of your soaked center, his finger disappearing and reappearing as he softly fucks it into you. It’s Frankie’s hand that grabs at his next, a growl in his ear to stop.

“She likes the stretch. Likes to feel it.”

Below them you’re nodding frantically, eyes fever-bright, bottom lip caught between your teeth. 

“I do,” you agree, even as you cant your hips up, your fingers taut where they grip at the blankets beneath you. 

“You’re thicker than me,” Frankie teases, his free hand wrapping around Marcus’s cock where it juts out, precum glistening, pearly white and beading at his tip. Frankie wipes it away with his thumb, bringing it to Marcus’s lips, watching with quiet eyes as he sucks the taste of himself off the other man. 

“I want to watch you stretch her pretty pussy open.”

“Please, Marcus…” You beg, voice candy-sweet as it tapers into a gasp as he pulls his finger out of you and up to his lips. He hums, letting the flavor of you mingle with his own, Frankie’s exacting touch gentle as he rolls the condom down his aching length. 

There’s little flourish as he guides Marcus down to your entrance, the head of his cock notching just inside, pulling another one of those breathy moans out of you. He slides into you slowly, inch by inch, watching with rapt attention as your eyelids flutter, your lips parting, looking at him as if he hung the very moon that floats above them. Frankie’s hands find his waist and hold him steady just his hips as are flush with your own. 

His eyes pinch shut, the feeling of you clenched tight around him bursting sparks into his vision. He reaches back with one hand, holding as hard as he can to Frankie’s forearm, the other finding the curved lip of his truck bed, the metal crumpling in his grasp like a piece of paper. He can hardly breathe, the both of you wrapped around him, surrounding him, so much the same and so different from what he remembers. It’s overwhelming in the best way and Marcus can only cry out, your name and Frankie’s mixing together.

“Marcus,” you whisper, a glance of your fingers on his cheeks encouraging him to open his eyes.

At first he refuses, shaking his head and biting his lip, terrified to move, to take, knowing once he starts he’ll be hard pressed to stop. You persist, your stubborn touch more insistent, thumb and forefinger pinching at his jaw. Your legs snake around his thighs, pulling him impossibly closer, Frankie’s tongue in his ear.

“Move, baby.”

His pace is bordering on frantic, his hips slamming into you again and again, the slick of your arousal helping him jam his thick cock deep inside. Again and again, he spears inside you, your hips rising to meet his pace head on, the truck rocking in time with his thrusts. Your hands wrap around his neck, his head falling down, forehead pressed into your own, hot breath traded back and forth in strangled groans.

“You feel so good, M-Marcus….don’t stop…”

He falls in closer, only able to kiss you, tongue licking into the caverns of your mouth, swallowing your gasps of pleasure. All the while, he refuses to slow down, pumping the entire length of him in and out of you, drunk on your mewls of pleasure.

Frankie is a constant presence behind him, his hands on Marcus’s hips, his voice in his ear. 

“--fucking her so good, baby. You look so good, too. Love watching you stretch her open. Does it feel good, Bird? Does Marcus fuck you good? Shit, what if we both tried to fit…stuff you full of us. Shit…–”

It’s a constant stream of filth pouring out of him, his cock hard and leaking where it rests along the small of Marcus’s back. It’s a tease, reminding him of the promise both of you made earlier in the night, and he’s suddenly feeling impossibly empty, even as he stuffs your pussy full. He can’t seem to help the challenge he tosses over his shoulder at the other man. 

“Is this how you’ll fuck me, Fish? Split me open? Make me feel it?”

Frankie chuckles, the sound low and choked, and Marcus wonders how far he would have to push to break the gentle pilot’s sweet demeanor. Turns out he doesn’t have to wonder for long. 

The larger man shifts behind him, his movements intentional, the fat head of his cock catching closer to Marcus’s ass. 

“Our boy is greedy, Bird.”

Every muscle in his body is shaking, his hips still pounding into you, his fingers cramping where they cling still cling too tightly, the possessive tone in Frankie’s voice edging out the last of his coherent thoughts. And without warning, he begins to beg.

“Fuck, p-please…please…I need…I don’t know w-what…I just need you…both…”

Frankie can’t look away, his eyes glued to where you and Marcus join, the glow of the lanterns and the moon providing just enough light for him to see. Your face is twisted in ecstasy, your fingers twisting in Marcus’s curls, lips finding his between your gasps of pleasure. It’s beautiful and wretched and a million other things that barely come close to describing what he’s born lucky enough to witness. Your hips move together, over and over, legs tangled and lips begging. You’re close. Have been. But Frankie knows you’re waiting for both of them, desperate to have the three of you come together.

I just want us to share that, you had whispered to him the night before, your eyes distant, you heart beat steady.

His own cock is painful, hard and leaking, the tip resting on the small swell of Marcus’s backside. He considers again, wonders if there’s a bottle of lube hidden somewhere in the depths of his truck – in the glove box or beneath a seat– but the thought leaves him quickly. He couldn’t dare break away from either of you now. 

Instead he fists his cock, moaning at the instant relief. He could come just like this, stroking himself while the two of you fuck right in front of him, letting his own release drip down Marcus’s backside and down to meet the sopping wet mess of your pussy. He moans again, head falling back, eyes to stars, as he pictures how beautiful Marcus’s ass will look with cum smeared into his tan skin. 

But before he can let himself, another idea springs to life, filthy and half-formed, and he refuses to let it go. With little warning, Frankie forces himself even closer, his knee somehow fitting in between the tangle of your limbs. His cock in hand, he shifts his hips closer, forcing his girth between your bodies. The friction is intense, blinding white pleasure bursting in his vision. It’s constant pressure, the push and pull along his hard length driving him right up to the edge. 

Below him the two of you are practically sobbing, the added weight of his cock between your bodies pushing you past your limits.

“Francisco…what…”

“I d-don’t know,” he grinds out in response to your broken question, his hands grasping wildly, finding purchase in the mismatched pile of blankets beneath you. “You both look so good. I just needed to feel it…feel you…shit-”

“I’m close…please, Pajarito, please tell me you’re close…” Marcus’s voice is strained, the tendons in his neck pulled taut from where he’s holding back, sweat beading at his temple, the dark of his eyes bleeding away all traces of brown. You can only nod, a pitiful whine leaving you, the heels of your feet pulling him in faster, harder. 

They grind into each other, sobs wracking their bodies as their orgasms crash into them, almost simultaneously, Frankie feels crushed, the pressure almost too much on his cock, but he moans loudly, the feeling of Marcus and you convulsing around him enough to push him equally over the edge. He pulls out from between you just in time to shoot his cum down Marcus’s back, thick white ropes of it pooling in the small of his back and spilling down between his cheeks. 

He moans wantonly, his face buried in the curve of your neck, his cock still buried in your cunt. He arches, needy, pathetic, into the mess, and Frankie can’t stop himself, a possessive beast roaring inside him. He takes his time, smearing his release down his ass and into the smaller man’s puckered entrance before dragging it further down to the swollen lips of your pussy, pushing his cum and the tip of his finger in next to Marcus’s softening cock. 

All three of you whine, interest piqued but bodies spent, collapsing together in a heap. 

Your smaller frame is sandwiched between both men, Marcus laying at your front, Frankie curled along your back. Another sigh breaks your lips when Marcus pulls out of you, his head finding the gentle slope of your shoulder, his lips unable to stop from giving one, two more kisses to your bare skin. Frankie is the last to join you, first reaching over to slide the condom away from Marcus, petting gently along his legs as he does, the muscles still shaking from it all. 

It’s easy enough to curl around each other again, Frankie’s arms draped around your waist, Marcus’s just below, his fingers trading gentle circles between his and your hip. 

“Pajarito?” You manage to ask between yawns, eyes already slipping shut, a smile playing at the swell of your cheek.

“Means birdie. Is that okay?” Marcus answers back, and when Frankie peeks down at him, he spots a bloom of pink rushing up his neck.

“‘Course it is,” you murmur, not bothering to open your eyes, instead following your words with a kiss to his temple.

“Just don’t start calling me Pescar or something like that, please,” Frankie begs, only half-joking, burying his nose where your neck curves down and inhaling deep, already addicted to the way the three of you smell on each other’s skin.

“Lo prometo,” Marcus murmurs, his Spanish cloudy and his laughter thick with sleep. “Should we go…or…?”

“Just a few minutes,” Frankie hums, and even he doesn’t believe his own lie, the comfort of the open air too much to resist. Sleep finds him first, comforting shades of black swallowing him up, and when he dreams, he knows that’s all it really is.

The sun is barely starting to peak past the horizon when you blink your eyes open, the cool air warming just enough for morning dew to bead along the bedrail of Frankie’s trunk. Despite the early hour, you smile, eyes tracing the dip in the metal, suspiciously shaped like the grip of someone’s hand, the memory of that same hand bruised into the curve of your hip. It’s the weight of that hand that woke you, Marcus’s arm across your waist, Frankie’s right above it, a nose pressed to the hollow of your throat, lips resting on the crown of your head, two pairs of legs tangled with your own. 

It isn’t often you wake up before Frankie. His time in the military had left him with more than a few unbreakable habits, just the same as you, but the early mornings had been the easiest for you to shake. He was always content to let you sleep in, a cup of coffee and kiss waiting for you when you finally emerged from the kitchen. It was, until this morning, your favorite way to start the day.

Marcus must share a similar taste for mornings as Catfish, the nose along your neck tracing the curve of it, his mustache tickling where he presses a soft kiss. When he speaks, his voice is still scratched with sleep.

“I think I missed this the most.”

“Us too,” you whisper, eyes still watching the horizon, letting the words breathe into the tilt of his forehead. 

You feel the pull of sleep again, Marcus’s warm breath on your skin, Frankie’s arms around your waist, but his voice pulls you back, hushed in disbelief.

“You did?”

“We did.” 

It’s Frankie who answers him, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his arms stretching just enough for the tips of his fingers to graze Marcus’s hip. There’s a finality to his statement, the same tone in his voice from the bar two nights ago, the word date declared with a soft intent and a heated promise.

A strangled sigh leaves Marcus at Frankie’s words, at his touch, and without warning his hips thrust forward, barely enough to push the tip of his hard length between your thighs. You gasp at the sensation, Frankie’s fingers digging into your hips to hold you in place, his own cock pressed along your backside. You can feel the ache of last night in your muscles, their release and yours still sticky between your legs, but it hardly matters. You’re hungry for more.

The thought sneaks up on you, and soon all you can think about is the two of them surrounding you, engulfing you, one single word on the tip of your tongue. You’re about to utter it, let yourself beg for it out here in an open field with the clouds passing above and the uncomfortable truck bed below, when something cold splashes on your cheek. 

“Looks like we’ll have to wait, cariño,” Frankie murmurs, tongue and teeth scraping along the sensitive shell of your ear. “Storm’s rolling in.” 

When you roll over to pout at him, his feral smirk lets you know that he could already see the filthy request rolling around inside your head. It’s probably for the best, you rationalize with yourself.

You want a bed the first time you take them both. 

It’s a scramble to pack everything back up and get back in the truck before the skies fully open up, the three of you only half dressed as you slide across the bench seat. You hum in satisfaction, the twin heat of each man on either side of you, more than enough warmth to chase any chill from the rain. Frankie makes a point to roll the windows down, just enough for the sound of the rain to find your ears through the hum of the engine. He finds your hand and squeezes it one, two, three times– hey Bluebird– before lacing your fingers together and letting them rest on the weathered vinyl between your legs. 

Marcus is quiet, but very much present, his arm resting along the back of the seat, his bicep firm beneath the bend in your neck, the tip of one finger tracing the neckline of Frankie’s t-shirt. The daffodils are resting in his lap again, the petals slightly wilted, but he traces their shape with reverence nonetheless. 

“Not sure I’m ready to head home.”

You grip a little harder to Marcus’s thigh, hearing the last word he still seems reluctant to say out loud.

Alone.

Frankie nods, eyes shifting to his right briefly before flitting back to the road, the hand wrapped around the steering flexing in time with the wiper blades as they whisked away the rain. “How about we take the long way?” 

“That sounds good,” Marcus is quick to agree, the smile in his voice beautifully clear, even with the pounding of the rain on the roof of the truck. You match his grin, leaning your head onto his shoulder, eyes pitched forward, watching for breaks in the rain, happy to catch glimpses of the road ahead. And as they come to the turn that will lead them towards the city, Frankie makes no move to slow, his hand steady and his eyes forward, taking you both forward into the open air.

Dedications

To my beloved @magpie-to-the-morning and @write-and-buried who have been listened to my unhinged horny screaming for weeks. This fic came to me in bits and pieces and my torture of both of you was slow and systematic, and I'm so thankful for both of you. Thank you for always supporting me!

To @astroboots Your love of these three idiots is so so special to me. And it's because of them that we started talking regularly and now I get the pleasure of screeching at you about any and everything. Thank you for loving this story, allowing me to bounce snippets off of you, and for supporting my insanity daily. Please accept this as an early birthday offering. 🖤

And to my dearest @jazzelsaur How do I even begin to thank you? For encouraging me to create this world, to continue with it, to write this sequel as slowly as it came. Your constant support and strength in my DM's has been more than I deserve and I don't know if I'll ever be able to properly say how much it means. Thank you for loving these three idiots and for loving me. I would be lost without you and your avocado hair.

[scalproie]

So. I can't stop.

---

"What's a mother?"

The two souls, previously deeply engaged in their conversation, flinched at the voice of the young hellborn prince, who was peeking just behind their seats, brown eyes huge and eager to learn about the world.

The souls shared a look, and would no doubt be sweating if they still were in a possession of a body.

"Well, um... y-you see, Your Highness-"

---

"There is only me and you."

"You said that already, Father!"

The sparring room always made Jin feel small, smaller than he was anyway. His father only ever trained him in a single corner. Jin had no idea why it was even called that in the first place: Kazuya never granted access to it to anybody, and even then, no one admidst all levels of Hell was even close to be his match.

The room was mainly used for training anyway: it was important to Kazuya that Jin was proficient in their family's fighting style, so he personally took to supervise his son's education himself. Jin loved those sessions, not for the complex forms and stances he had to practice over and over, but because he got to spend time with his dad.

And Kazuya was always more patient with him during these moments, for some reason.

Hence why training time was also synonymous with interrogation time.

"I know it's just the two of us, its just-"

"Mind your feet."

"It's just that everyone I know has a mother. Or had one anyway. Or even is one. Everyone had one except me. Even Hell Embodied acts like your-"

Jin felt the intensity of Kazuya's stare. The Drop it. stare, he dubbed it. Right. However Hell Embodied acted toward its king aside, making any subtle mention of Jin's grandmother, whoever she was, was coming dangerously close to the topic of Jin's grandfather, and that was a big no-no.

Jin closed his mouth and swallowed, until Kazuya's eyes left him to go back to scrutinizing every little movement of his son, dealing him easy blows to block.

"Keep your elbows up."

"I-I guess I just want to figure out more stuff about myself. I mean I don't even know what I'm supposed to be the god of."

"You're my son. That's all that matters."

"Maybe, but if you could just tell me where I come from or how I came to be... I don't know, I just want to know more."

"You haven't earned the right to know more."

Kazuya never lied. Jin knew as much because it was one of the first thing his father taught him: to never lie.

For Kazuya, lying was just a way to hide weakness, and if you had to hide weakness, then you were just weak. And if there is one thing Jin, at his young age, learned that his father hated more than lying, it was weakness.

So, as Jin will find out later in his life, in order to keep the truth away from him, Kazuya simply would not say anything, if he could help it. Coming up with that sentence was a time and lifesaver.

"But you never tell me how to do that!" Jin pouted sadly. It was useless on Kazuya. "What can I do to earn it?"

He barely had the time to finish voicing his question that Jin was swept off his feet and landed hard on his back with a yelp.

"The first step would be not to leave such obvious openings, Jin."

---

"Maybe it's just like for us phoenixes!"

Xiaoyu was sitting on the windowsill in front of Jin, swaying her legs back and forth. Jin lifted his chin from his knuckle and turned his head around to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

Xiaoyu was his first friend his own age. Well, who aged alongside him, however slow they were. Who even aged at all really. She might also have just been his first friend ever.

She started showing up at the House of the Dead not that long ago, she was a young phoenix and, by her own admission, her bubbly happy-go-lucky personality usually gave her quite the issue to stay out of trouble on the surface. It doesn't help that she never really had the fear of death either.

She was still strong enough to climb back out of Hell on her own, though it often took almost as long for her to get out than for her to spend time on the surface before dying again.

Jin loved her visits because she always spoke in great lengths of what was on said surface and whatever she had seen and experienced, and he was always more than happy to listen. Even if his father had the same disdain for her as he would a mere pest, Jin respected her and even bore a bit of admiration.

"When we die, we turn into a pile of ashes, right? Well, if you divide the pile in two and someone very close to you bury half of it in the ground, when next you rise out of your ashes and you dig where half of you was buried, you will find an egg and that's how you get a baby phoenix! No mother involved! At least, that's what my yeye told me."

"I'm... not sure it works that way for us." Jin wasn't sure it worked that way for pheonixes either.

"It could though! You gods are such weird creatures. And besides! It would make us have something in common."

Her honest smile made him smile in return. Maybe she was right, maybe his origin being so vague did not have to matter so much if she could take her own in spades. Maybe he could just enjoy being himself.

The hole in the most profound part of his soul begged to differ.

Still, he appreciated her attempt to cheer him up more than he could ever tell her. With her black and orange foreign clothing and sheer warmth that emanated out of her, she was like a literal ray of sunshine that never would've made its way to him otherwise.

"Or maybe you can count the mother as the one who bury the ashes?"

"Wait, did you just imply you hatched from an egg?"

---

"Can I help you with anything, Father?"

"No."

"Oh."

Jin was pacing besides Kazuya's desk. He was a polite young man, never wanting to impose, as reserved as his father was, but eventually even he could not deal with his own boredom any longer.

"Could you still teach me anyway? Maybe that way I could, you know, fill in for you in case you ever wanted to... take a break?"

"No."

Well that was another unsuccessful attempt at purpose-seeking. Jin paced the halls of his home, having done so more times than he could count. Maybe that was his fate, haunting the House of the Dead. How ironic.

He even considered going chatting with his father's annoying jester, so something was clearly wrong with him.

He found his salvation in two shades having trouble with repairing one of the gemstones counting device, and he happened to have a knack for this kind of tinkering. After the two souls thanked him, they informed him his services might be needed somewhere else, in an adjacent wing of the house that Jin never went to often for lack of anything interesting over there.

He made his way to the location that was way, way more secluded than he expected. To his surprise there was no one but him there. Just him, and a door bearing a busted sigil of his father. Evidently the thing that needed repairing.

Well, nothing he can do about that one, but it meant that whatever door it was sealing was now open, and if it was a storage room for one of his father's fabled collections, then at least he would have some story to tell, and some bets to win.

He barely cracked open the door when his nose was assaulted by unknown and vivid smells.

What he saw inside blew all that he thought he knew away.

He stepped inside shaking like the leaves he stepped upon, not quite believing his eyes. Grass? Plants? Were those... flowers? And that-

Jin gasped. "A tree..."

As he made his way deeper inside, no daring to touch anything, focused on the massive cedar tree in front of him, he felt a weight upon his chest.

Eugh. What was this place?

Neverminding the unease, he kept going forward, toward the tree that felt more and more like it was calling him.

He stopped a moment in the middle of the garden. It felt like.

It felt like he belonged.

He raised his hand without meaning to, like the blood inside it was attracted to the bark. Like it was yearning for it.

It was almost burning at the touch. And yet. And yet it was smooth. It was strong.

He looked at his hand. That wasn't his hand. It was slender, softer.

Then it was like he was projected out of his own body, except it wasn't his body. It was a woman, with long black hair, dressed in white, her back turned to him.

He couldn't breathe.

She slowly turned around, and her face brought back old, old, old memories. Of some place else. That barely lasted a second.

He looked at her eyes.

Dark, rich brown.

Mother?

---

"What happened to my mother?"

All heads turned to Jin as he stormed inside the throne room, the last to lazily do so was Kazuya's.

"I ought to keep you busy if all you're gonna do with your endless time is bothering me with pointless things."

"I found the garden."

Oh, how Jin basked in the pause that information gave Kazuya.

A simple motion of the king's hand was all it took for all souls present to clear the room. Even as people hurried past him, Jin kept his eyes on his father, who was doing much the same.

When the place was empty save for the both of them and the doors closed with a heavy sound, then Kazuya spoke again.

"How did you-"

"She's out there, isn't she? She's on the surface, is she from there?" Jin felt manic. All this time, all this time, at any moment, Kazuya could've told him, all along he could've relieved the void in Jin's heart. Jin never felt such anger, the back of his eyes started to hurt, something threatening to break out. "Does she know about me...?"

Kazuya stayed silent, it was clear on his face that he, too, was wrestling with many many thoughts at the same time. He had many things to say, and he picked the worst option.

"You do not have ea-"

"Enough! You keep saying that! All my life you've been saying that!"

Jin was through with trying to earn. Jin was going to get.

"Father, if you say I haven't earned the right to know one more time I swear I'll-"

"YOU'LL WHAT? WHAT WILL YOU DO, JIN?"

Kazuya slammed his hands on the desk before him and rose from his throne. As much as Jin steeled himself for this confrontation, he could not stop his body to jerk back at the sound. It wasn't that he was scared of his father, no, it's just that Kazuya rarely ever shouted, never really needed to, so to hear him lash out that suddenly was... shocking.

What Jin hated more than his own reaction though, was the strange feeling in his chest upon hearing his father say his name for the first time in what felt like forever.

Unaware, or not caring, of the turmoil happening within Jin, Kazuya continued:

"Tell me how you will succeed in demanding anything of me where even the so-called "strongest" have failed before you? Tell me what you plan to do as you defy your king, your kin? There is only us. There will only ever be us. Are you that eager to write the next chapter of our family's bloody legacy?!"

Jin fell silent.

Was that it? Is that what the neglect, the distance, the privation was about? Was Kazuya expecting Jin to kill him for good eventually? To take his place? Was that all Jin was to him? A future rival? A threat-in-waiting? Did he thought so lowly of him?

Was he scared of his own son?

That selfish fool, that stubborn old...

Kazuya feared that Jin would kill him?

In this moment, Jin just might.

"Why keep-"

"Speak up."

"Why keep me at all then? You could've just gotten rid of me ages ago, threw me away far from this place, and you, there could only just be you" The sarcastic tone Jin wanted to carry gave way to something more coarse, more raw. Neither father nor son were good at hiding their true emotions. "You could've freed yourself from all... this."

Knowing the answer to this emptiness, this missing piece, that Jin felt for all his life was finally within reach gave him the courage to go on, to openly provoke Kazuya for the first time.

"Is that what you did? To her?"

The only thing Jin heard next from his father was a spark.

Then the pain registered. A shock so brutal and intense Jin could feel spasms reverberating throughout all of his body, long after he realized his father's fist was already gone. His fingers kept twitching on their own, his teeth clenched on their own, his eyes shut on their own.

He dropped to the floor, clutching at his abdomen when he recovered the control of his hands, and when he could breathe once more he fully tasted the metallic smell of the surrounding electricity.

Right. The King of Hell was the son of the old Lightning God, first.

Kazuya was now towering over Jin. Has he always been that fast? The fist that was lodged just a second ago below Jin's chest still clenched and shaking at his father's side, his facial traits were sharpened by the ominous red glow of his eyes. His voice was glacial.

"Hellborn Prince, you are to be confined to your chambers until told otherwise. Do not expect to be let out anytime soon."

"I'm going to leave, Father, I'm going to break out of this place," Jin managed as he struggled to get off the floor, his own voice burning with determination. "You cannot keep things as they were, you cannot keep me here, I'll leave even if it kills me."

The massive doors cracked open to let in the previously dismissed servants. Suddenly the silent throne room became loud again as guards swarmed in, their captain Bruce kneeling and lending a worried hand to help Jin up. Kazuya turned around to walk back to his throne.

"Take him."

Jin swatted Bruce's hand away as he got to his feet, eyes boring a hole to the back of his father's head, before following suite and making his own way for the open doors.

Take him? What is this. Is Jin officially a prisoner now? Those are still his chambers. He doesn't need anyone to take him to his own chambers. What his father should very soon worry about is how to keep him in them, that is a promise.

As he was about to exit the room, Jin took a last glare in the direction of the throne. Kazuya had just resumed dominating the room, seated upon it once more. He was also staring at Jin.

Deep brown eyes met sharp red eyes once more.

I will leave, even if it kills me.

Jin walked out.

Kazuya rested his chin on his knuckle.

"It will."