#; I WANT FIREWORKS EVERYWHERE

[distopea]

starter for @nezumivc103221

If he ever had a bad opinion regarding gypsies and circus folks - mostly due to his lack of knowledge regarding their mores - Mads had been quick to notice that they were more hard working than any man of his village. Leaving Mika’s trailer in the early morning had become a routine, quite easy to follow, and somewhat reassuring. It was simple to have a sort of schedule; to push aside human emotions, only to focus on hard work. Mads was devoted and silent. He had never been talented at expressing his feelings, most of the words coming from his soul as broken as he was inside. 

Working, at least, was an easy way out. He would push aside his guilt, his secrets, and the burden of having a sick brother when they should have been on the road by themselves. He wouldn’t need to think about how to repay his debts with those strange and colorful people, him, who was nothing but a large shadow with no talent whatsoever. Carrying wood, chopping it, lifting boxes, adjusting the scene for the next shows, giving food to the horses, eating by the firecamp at night… All of his muscles were solicited, and in the end, Mads was slowly becoming a pale version of himself, a ghost in the middle of everyone, but free from his own demons and thoughts. 

What a coping mechanism for an ex-soldier who couldn’t voice his own hell. There were already too many songs within his head after all.

As he was splashing rain water over his face, cleaning the remains of dust, soot and mud over his features, Mads noticed Nezumi from afar. He had watched him perform at night, more than once, secretly admiring his capacity to shift into a different skin and pretend to be someone else. Sometimes he wished he had the capacity to do the same, but alas, he was endlessly walking in his own skin, cursed to the bones by his own misery. Nezumi was a burning light and he was barely just a trail of smoke in the atmosphere.

The camp was truly busy this afternoon, Mads feeling the change in the air like an animal relying on his instincts. Something was different, but he couldn’t grasp the reason. 

“Nezumi,” he called, while he rolled up his sleeves and whipped his face with his palm, walking to meet the performer. His voice sounded raspy; he hadn’t talked to anyone since he had left Mika in the morning. Once he faced him, he remained silent for a while, as he wondered what a man smelling like horse shit could say to someone ethereal like him.

Each time he was eyeing Nezumi he had the sensation they were coming from different worlds, and not only because of the circus or their radically different habits.

“What’s the matter with everyone today?” He eventually asked, and made sure to pick what seemed to be an empty bucket on the ground, ready to get some fresh water from the wheel. “Everyone seems so… unusually busy.”

[butoridesvirescens]

I want to know who keeps breaking all the men named John so that they have no sense of self preservation.

[armandism]

people that are firing up firework three days before new years eve and continue to do so every single night before new years eve should be shot

[fizzywrench]

I bet pete is having a pool party today and inviting all his friends and their families and its gonna be fun as hell and I wish I was having a pool party with all of my family and friends instead of what I AM doing which is nothing

[emotargaryen]

worst part about having no new years plans is not being able to have a drunk cigarette outside a bar with my girls

[homosexualcitron]

Midnight's biggest fireworks are over, my christmas illust is posted, i can now pass out for today yeay

[fireinmoonshot]

death wish love | tyler owens x fem!reader

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader Summary: As members of rival storm chasing groups, you and Tyler Owens have hated each other since the start – well, you were supposed to. Little do you know, Tyler has been head over heels for you for months, and it's only when he nearly loses you that he realises he's done with pretending to hate you. Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, tornadoes (of course), Tyler is actually painfully obvious with his crush but thinks he's not at all. Word Count: 6.7k (I don't know how that happened) A/N: I had this idea for a fic a few days ago and when I was listening to the Twisters soundtrack as I wrote, I realised that the song Death Wish Love fits it perfectly. I did not intend for this to be so long, but it somehow just happened. It's probably one of the longest things I've written on this blog, so I hope anyone that reads it really enjoys it. I had so much fun writing it and playing around in the Twisters universe! I will definitely be writing more for Tyler.

One of these days, Tyler Owens was going to get his shit together and ask you out. There were, however, several things in the way. The most pressing being the fact that your storm chasing groups were rivals and had been for years.

The fact that you hated his guts would be the second. 

He was unaware that you didn’t hate him quite as much as you made out to, though. It was just that you had a reputation to uphold. Being the unofficial leader of The Thunder Team, your friends and fellow storm chasers all expected you to dislike the Tornado Wranglers just as much as they did.

And you had – in the start. 

You were just beginning your PhD, fairly fresh in the world of storm chasing and the rivalry between your teams had been there from the very beginning. To your team, the Tornado Wranglers were nothing more than a bunch of stupid kids who didn’t even have the correct knowledge to be chasing these tornadoes.

To you, they had slowly become something of a wonder. You didn’t think it was necessary to have a PhD or education under your belt in order to storm chase. As long as you loved it, that was enough. And you never doubted the love that the Tornado Wranglers had for it. 

But still, the rivalry continued. It was always a competition. Who could get to the tornado first? Who could get closer? Who had better instincts when it came to choosing which one to chase? Who could get more attention on social media with their photos and videos?

The Tornado Wranglers had an advantage on that one.

That never stopped your team trying, though. Which is exactly what they’re doing as you walk towards them from where you’ve just parked your car. They’re all crowded around the van in the motel parking lot. Robbie, one of your closest friends, is filming Ally talking about something, probably regarding the EF1 tornado you’d chased today. 

You stop far enough away that you aren’t going to end up in the background of the video, and that’s when Tyler Owens sidles up beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not interested in going viral?”

You glance up at him and notice he’s already looking at you with a cocky grin on his irritatingly handsome face. “No, figured I’d leave that to you and your team. Shoot any fireworks up a tornado today? I didn’t see you out there.”

“I didn’t realise you were looking.” 

There’s something strange in his tone of voice, but when you look at him again, there’s nothing in his face to give away the reason. 

“I wasn’t,” you huff. “It’s just that I see your giant red truck everywhere when I’m trying to get good photos of the tornadoes and it’s quite obvious when you’re not there.” 

Tyler smiles to himself. “Why don’t you come chasing with us one day, then? My truck won’t end up in your photos if you’re taking photos from inside it.”

You laugh. “That is the last thing I would want to do.” A lie. You’ve thought about it several times in the past.

“Sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it.”

You narrow your eyes at him but make no move to walk away from him. Your team are still filming and you’d rather stay away until they’re finished, even if it means standing with Tyler Owens until they are. 

“You guys gonna stop by the rodeo tomorrow night?” Tyler breaks the silence. 

You shrug your shoulders. “Depends on how tomorrow goes. You?”

He nods. “Yeah, we probably will, even if tomorrow doesn’t go to plan. You know my team. We love a night out.”

The weather tomorrow was predicted to be a good one for storm chasers – thunderstorms with heavy rain and likely a tornado as well, if the conditions were good enough. You were all hoping that they were. 

“My guys are less likely to go if they know your team is going, you know?” You look at Tyler, noticing the way that he’s watching your team, who are now laughing at something that Ally had said for the video. “We are still rivals.” 

“Did you think I needed a reminder?” He chuckles.

“Why? Am I being too nice to you?”

Tyler grins, one of those ones that makes you feel a little funny in your stomach. Like butterflies – but you don’t get butterflies from people you dislike. 

“Oh, darlin', you’re always a delight.”

You roll your eyes. “Want me to get you a shovel so you can start digging yourself a hole?” 

He holds up his hands in mock surrender and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he grins. “You wanna grab one for yourself so you can help me? I’d love the company.”

You open your mouth to reply about how much you’d love to help just as you catch Robbie’s eye. He’s quick to call out your name, beckoning you over, and you have no choice but to listen to him and leave Tyler. You’ve already stood here talking to him long enough and the last thing you want is your team thinking that you’re colluding with the Tornado Wranglers. 

“Gotta go,” you nod your head towards your group. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Tyler bids you good luck as well and watches as you head over towards your group, all of them eyeing him as you reach them. He tips his hat at Robbie, who is watching him with judging eyes, and turns on his heel, heading back to his own team to get a well needed beer.

—

When Tyler gets back to his team, he realises that they were all watching him. They all give him questioning looks as he grabs a beer out of the cooler. 

“What? I got something on my face?”

“Yeah, it sure is written all over your face,” Boone says.

Tyler frowns. “What is?”

“Oh, don’t try and lie to us, Ty,” Dani adds.

He shakes his head and takes a seat on one of the fold up chairs beside his truck. He’s smart enough to see what they’re getting at – the way he’d been there talking with you for so long. His friends are smart too. But hopefully not smart enough to see through the facade Tyler puts up to try and convince them that he still dislikes you. 

“Her, Ty? Really? She’s from the Thunder Team.” Boone stares Tyler down.

Tyler has no choice. “Okay, no,” he sighs and takes a long swig of his beer. “We were just talking, and I was just messing around with her.” He was also trying to get the courage to ask you to the rodeo, just the two of you, but he’d chickened out at the last second. “She definitely still hates us, judging by her reaction.”

Truth is, Tyler Owens has been harbouring a secret crush on you for the better part of a year now. It had snuck up on him. He’d hated you at first, thought you were just another stuck up storm chasing student, especially when he found out you were studying for your PhD. But after spending so much time around you, something had changed and all of a sudden, you had a hold over him that you didn’t even realise you had. 

It drives Tyler insane. 

The way he feels when he looks at you is definitely not the way he should be feeling about anyone, letalone the leader of a rival storm chasing team. But here he is. 

The passion he’d seen in your eyes when you’d been chasing storms. The way you talked about them in your captions on social media when you posted photos you’d taken. Even the way you made time to learn more about them through school while being on the road so often.

He was well aware that he was supposed to hate you. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it anymore.

“You sure that’s all it was?” 

“A hundred percent, Boone.”

He’s thankful when the conversation moves away from you and the Thunder Team. It lets him sit in his own thoughts for a few minutes until he’ll undoubtedly be brought back into the conversation for one reason or another. 

He’s unable to stop his eyes from drifting over to you and your team. You’ve taken a seat on the back of a truck, watching safely from behind the camera as Robbie films Ally again. He tries hard not to smile at the look on your face as you watch your friends, laughing along with the others. The last thing he needs right now is for one of his team to catch him grinning at you like an idiot, especially after convincing them that there’s nothing going on.  

He realises, then, that he’s already in way too deep.

—

The last thing you expect when you wake up the next morning is to find out that your team made a bet with the Tornado Wranglers when you had gone to bed. 

It’d been raining for most of the night, the ground covered in mud and puddles. The sky was dark and you could just feel that the conditions were perfect for a tornado. You had a good feeling that today would be the day.

Until you learnt about the bet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you guys alone.”

Robbie laughs, nearly choking on the piece of bacon he’d been eating. You’ve all come to a nearby diner to fuel up on both food and gas for your cars before what was supposed to be a long day of storm chasing. You have a feeling that it won’t be now that the bet exists.

“Okay, technically it was their fault,” Ally offers.

“Explain.”

“So, we’d had a few drinks, and they had clearly also been drinking, and Harry and I were heading over to the bathrooms to clean up before going to bed – because dental hygiene is important!” Ally begins, forgetting all about her half eaten plate of food. “We were almost there when they called out to us – I forget their names. The blond guy and the one with the mustache, the cute one. Anyway, they suggested a bet. Whoever could hold their liquor the best gets to choose which direction the other team chases in today.”

You stare at Ally. “And you said yes.”

She winces, and then shovels a fork full of eggs into her mouth, nodding so she doesn’t have to give you a proper answer. 

Your team is usually quite well behaved. But even the best of people could get taken advantage of, and you’ve seen it many times first hand with the Tornado Wranglers.  They can hold their liquor very well and wake up the next day with very little consequences from doing so. You’re honestly surprised Ally is even functioning. Harry, on the other hand, you haven’t seen all morning. Unsurprisingly, your team had obviously lost.

“Which direction are we going, then?”

“That’s the catch,” Robbie interjects. “They choose for us before we go. They get to look at the radar first and decide which way is going to be best. And naturally, they’re going to send us in the direction far away from the best chance.” 

You groan and let your head fall into your hands, beginning to ponder your options. You can either deal with the bet and get sent in the entirely wrong direction, or…

Without a second thought, you’re pushing yourself up from the table and heading towards the door of the diner.

“Where are you going!?” Robbie calls after you.

“I’m going to fix this mess!” 

—

Tyler greets you with a smile that is way too cheerful for both the time of the morning that it is and the situation.

“To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine morning, darlin'?” He asks, leaning up against his truck. He’s holding a coffee in one hand. Good to know he’s human. You’re not surprised that he doesn’t look hungover at all. The man practically resembles a God. 

“Wouldn’t call it a pleasure, honey,” you sigh, deciding to use a nickname just like he always uses for you. You cross your arms over your chest as you stop in front of him. “This bet you made with my team last night. I want it called off.”

Tyler’s breath catches in his throat at the sound of the word honey coming out of your mouth, directed at him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the way it feels to hear you calling him that. “No can do, I’m afraid. We Tornado Wranglers don’t back down on bets.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’m asking nicely.”

“I think you can ask a little nicer. Maybe throw a please in there,” he says. “You know it wouldn’t look good for your team, though, right? Half the other teams know about the bet.”

For a few moments, you simply just stare at him, hoping he’ll budge. He doesn’t. He stands there staring at you, too, leaning against his truck in an effortlessly attractive way, smiling at you in that same way he always does. It’s like he reserves this specific smile just for you. 

You take a step towards him, testing the waters, and notice the way his breath hitches this time at your close proximity. Did he dislike you that much that you getting this close to him set him on edge? Or was it something else?

“Nothing can change your mind?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I already told you. We don’t back down on our bets.”

“Tyler.” It’s a rare occasion where you call him by his first name, but you figure it can’t hurt to try it. You can see his eyes soften a little at the sound of it. “If you do this, you’re going to send us right off the trail and ruin our chase.”

“Who said I’d send you in the wrong direction?” 

“I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

“I don’t know, darlin'. I give you a fair bit of credit for being a genius,” he took a sip of his coffee. “You’re the one with the PhD. I didn’t study that much.”

Something about hearing those words sets off that feeling inside your stomach again. You push it down. “I don’t have my PhD yet.”

“No,” Tyler shakes his head. “But you’re close, aren’t you? That’s more than most people around here can say regarding their education on these things.” He points a finger towards the sky, which is rapidly darkening. 

You sigh. He’s right about that. You are close to finishing your PhD, and not many of the other storm chasers around you could say the same. 

“Just tell me which direction we’re going in, Owens.”

He looks at you for a moment. “I’ll give you a choice,” he says, and for a moment hope sparks in your chest that you’ll get to choose your direction – until he continues speaking. “I’ll let this bet go if you make another one with me.”

“What sort of bet?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Not regarding our teams. Just you and me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear the sound of the van, playing music rather loudly – Harry’s choice – pulling into the motel parking lot behind you. You sigh and turn around to look at them, irritated that this is the second time in less than 24 hours that they’ve interrupted you and Tyler. 

“No luck?” Ally calls out from the passenger seat. 

Behind them, Robbie pulls up in his truck. 

You shake your head and turn back around to face Tyler. There’s no time to make another bet with him now that your team is here and they’re all ready to go. 

“East or west, Owens?”

Tyler turns around and looks at the sky around you. You figure he’s already done his research on the conditions in every direction and that he’s just messing with you, pretending to decide on the spot. Any good storm chaser would have been watching the radars all morning – which you had been, before you found out about the bet. 

“East.” He says, turning back around to face you. “There are two possible formations, so let’s see which one develops. Or, you can ditch your team and come join us for the day. My passenger seat practically has your name on it, darlin’.” 

A small part of you finds yourself wanting to say yes to him. To tell him that you’d love nothing more than to get in his truck and see what a day with the Tornado Wranglers is like. But the reasonable part of you wins out. 

“You’re going to regret making this bet with my team, Owens,” you take a step back from him, giving him his space again. 

“I gave you the choice of another option, but you didn’t take it.”

You ignore him and turn around, heading towards the passenger side of Robbie’s truck – your usual spot when storm chasing. Tyler laughs at your reaction and then gets into his own truck before pressing his hand to the horn, making you jump at the sound, obviously using it to call his team from inside. You shoot him a look over your shoulder and in return, he sends a wink your way.

“May the best team win,” Tyler flashes a grin.

“Oh, we will!”

—

As much as Tyler hates to admit it, he had sent you in the wrong direction. There were two possible formations, that was true. But it looked very clear that the one to the east wasn’t actually going to develop into anything, and he was sure you would’ve figured that out once you got on the road and actually checked the conditions yourself.

He hates disappointing you. He saw the look on your face as you tried to convince him to call off the bet, the way you wanted to make sure today was a good one for your team. But it isn’t entirely out of competition that he sent you in the wrong direction.

Subconsciously, he did it to try and keep you safe.

If you’re out of the way of the tornado, then it’s a weight off of Tyler’s chest. He wouldn’t admit that to his team, but it felt good to think about himself. That you’d be safe. Besides, he had tried to get you out of it by making another bet with you, but he knew that you wouldn’t humour him the second he saw your team arrive. 

He presses his foot down on the accelerator, watching the clouds ahead of them. Something is going to form. He knows it. He just hopes it’s a good one, something worth chasing. 

In the passenger seat, Boone is keeping a good eye on the clouds to the east. He’s filming as well, live streaming as usual. 

“You were right, Ty,” Boone says, pointing the camera out the window towards the east. “That one’s gonna give us nothing. It’s already disappearing.”

Tyler lets out a breath of relief. You’re out of harms way and even though he knows you’d be annoyed at him if you ever found out, he can’t seem to find it in himself to feel bad about the fact. He had felt bad about the bet when you’d been talking to him, but now he realises that keeping the bet was a good idea.

“This one’s gonna be a good one, I can feel it,” he says, eyeing the clouds above them. 

Then, it happens – the tornado forms right in front of them. It’s already huge, bigger than any tornado Tyler has seen in the past few months.

Boone whoops in the seat beside him, moving the camera to film the tornado through the windshield. 

“Just look at that beauty!” He exclaims. 

Tyler can’t keep the smile off of his face as they drive closer to it. He stops the car once they get close enough, anchoring it to the ground as usual, watching as it gets closer and closer to the truck. 

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Tyler yells, straight to the camera that Boone is holding in his face. “Let’s do this!”

It’s only a split second later that his heart drops to his stomach. He watches as the tornado, once coming right towards them, veers off course. It’s heading east. And it’s growing in size. 

He looks out of the passenger window and in the distance, he can see your truck. It’s white, so bright under the dark sky. You’re going to be right in its path.

He sent you in the wrong direction to try and get you out of harms way, and instead he’s sent you in the exact direction the tornado is heading. There’s no way you can get out of its path in time. 

Tyler suddenly feels like he can barely breathe.

“Turn the camera off, Boone,” he commands, and then he’s removing the anchors from the ground and pressing his foot down onto the accelerator before he can even really think about it, even though there’s no way he can reach you in time with how quickly the tornado is moving towards you.

Boone, thankfully, listens, ending the stream, putting the camera down and picking up the radio to try and reach you. He’s realised what’s happening. Tyler tries to ignore the panic he feels when there’s no answer.

He can’t lose you like this. Not now. Not when he never really even had you. Not when you didn’t even know the way he felt about you. He’d been an asshole, a fool, making that bet. If he hadn’t, none of this would have happened.

“Please be okay, please be okay.” He mutters it under his breath like it’s a mantra. He doesn’t care what Boone thinks. If he says it enough, maybe he can make it come true.

—

You’ve seen tornadoes before. You’ve been close to them before. But you’ve never had one quite this size coming straight at you. You hadn’t expected this. 

When Tyler sent you east, Robbie had checked the radar and noticed that the cells out here were much less likely to form a tornado compared to the ones west. You’d gone anyway, figuring you’d try your chances, leaving Ally, Harry and the rest of your team a little further back, trying to get as close as you could before you realised your tornado was going to amount to nothing at all.

You and Robbie had been watching the tornado forming west of you, wishing you had been able to chase that one rather than do what the Tornado Wranglers told you. 

And then, it changed course.

“Get out of the car! We need to run!” Robbie undoes his seatbelt as he speaks and it doesn’t take you long to follow suit, undoing your own and jumping out of the truck.

He takes off at a run ahead of you just as the rain begins.

Your heart is beating faster in your chest than you think it ever has before. Your legs burn at the pace you’re running, your feet sinking into and skidding through the muddy paddock thanks to the heavy rain last night and the rain growing even heavier now. It slows you down, but your adrenaline pushes you faster. You can’t stop, not now. Not when there’s a possible EF4 on your tail, getting closer to you with every breath you take.

You make a mistake, then, deciding to look back at it. 

The sight of it only makes you run faster, but when you turn back, fear strikes through your system as you realise you can’t see Robbie anymore. 

The wind isn’t strong enough to have pulled him back into it, not when he was running ahead of you, but you can’t help but think of the worst possible scenario as your gaze narrows in on a gully just ahead of you. Maybe he made it there before you and now he’s just waiting.

The wind from the tornado picks up trees and branches and other debris, sending things spinning through the air. You feel something slice across your leg and cry out at the sudden pain, but there’s no time to inspect the damage as you slide down the small hill into the gully, the mud going everywhere as you hit the bottom. 

You don’t even have time to scan for Robbie as you press yourself down onto the ground of the gully, covering your head with your hands and pressing your face into the ground. You try to ignore the feeling of the mud and dirt on your skin, the throbbing pain in your leg, the rain pelting down on your back, soaking you to the bone, and try to keep breathing steadily despite being out of breath from the run and the adrenaline. 

You can’t panic now. If you panic now, you’re dead. 

The tornado gets closer and you can hear it. Hear the wind rushing through the air, hear the sound of trees being ripped out of the ground. Hear the crashing sound of the truck being picked up and thrown by it. 

Everything is okay,  you tell yourself, like a mantra. Everything is going to be okay. Because if you tell yourself enough, maybe it will come true.

—

By the time Tyler gets to the place where your truck had been, the tornado is gone and so is your truck. He barely even has time to put his own truck into park before he’s jumping out of it and calling your name. 

Boone is quick to follow him.

Tyler’s eyes narrow in on something in the distance – the remnants of your truck. It’s sitting upside down, the cab crushed in and all the glass broken. Even some of the wheels are missing. His heart almost stops.

No, you would have been smart enough to get out. You wouldn’t have stayed in the truck. He knows that. He believes that. It was one of the first things any storm chaser learnt – never stay in your car, it’s better to take your chances outside of it.

He stops in the middle of the field and takes a long, deep breath to try and calm himself down when he hears the sound of someone yelling out.

“Hey, I need some help over here!”

It’s a male voice, not belonging to you, which is the first sign that makes Tyler realise something is wrong. He recognises Robbie immediately, even though he’s drenched in rain and covered in mud and blood.

Boone runs off towards him and Tyler follows.

“Where is she?” He cuts in as Boone begins asking Robbie where he’s been hurt. “Were you with her? Where is she?” 

He knows he’s being a little irrational. He should be kinder, especially when he’s the reason Robbie was even in this tornado in the first place, but his mind is narrowed in on you, on making sure you’re okay. He’s never been more terrified that he’s lost you in his life.

“I don’t know,” Robbie shakes his head. “She was behind me, and then I jumped down into this little dam and she never came in after me.” 

Tyler doesn’t let him say anything else before he takes off running. He knows Boone can handle Robbie. His only concern is finding you. He calls out your name again and again and again, willing you to respond to just one of them.

He only hears silence.

—

The second you wake up, you push yourself up, getting your face out of the mud and opening your eyes, trying to adjust them to the sudden brightness now that the tornado has disappeared. 

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of someone calling out your name, but it sounds fuzzy, far away. Your head is spinning and you’re pretty sure you could be imagining it.

You put a hand up to the side of your face, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on your hands. Something must have hit your head and knocked you out during the tornado. You can only remember something hitting your leg as you’d slid down into the gully. How long have you been lying here? Minutes? Hours? Days, even?

Looking around, you can see the devastation caused by the tornado. There are trees and branches everywhere, and with the rain, it’s made it even muddier – and probably impossible to climb out of, especially with your injuries. You finally allow yourself to inspect your leg, noticing a deep cut across your shin, ripping your jeans. Your leg starts to throb as you finally allow yourself to recognise the pain. 

With a deep breath, you try and push yourself to your feet. It’s slippery down here thanks to all the mud and rain, and you manage to stand for just a second before your leg buckles and sends you crashing back down. At least it’s a fairly soft landing.

You curse under your breath just as you hear movement above you. Your eyes flicker towards the direction of the sound, and when you see Tyler Owens appear at the edge of the gully just to the right of you, you nearly feel like you could cry.

“Tyler!” You manage to call out to him, though your voice is weak.

His head spins towards your voice, eyes widening as he sees you. You must look like a mess, covered in all the blood and dirt, but you knows he doesn’t care. Especially with the way he slides down into the gully and stumbles towards you, getting covered in mud himself in the process.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and move your head from side to side. He’s quick to check the wound on your head where the blood is coming from. “You’re okay, darlin’, it doesn’t look too deep.”

You can see the panic in his eyes as he scans you, scans your whole body looking for injuries. You can also tell from the look on his face when he looks at your shin that your injury there is worrisome. 

“It’s my fault,” Tyler shakes his head, refusing to move his hands from your cheeks. It’s as if you’ll fade away if he lets go. “I shouldn’t have told you to go east. I was just trying to get you out of the way of the tornado cause I felt that yours wasn’t gonna develop, but then ours changed course and it was heading straight towards you and I couldn’t get here fast enough and god, the idea of losing you, of never seeing you again, of never asking–”

“Tyler!” 

He stops talking, having not even realised that he had let the situation get the better of him and had been rambling on. When he meets your eyes, you’re shocked to see that there are tears in his. 

“You never call me by my first name.”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to get your attention if I didn’t.”

Your reach up and take one of his hands off of your face and weave your fingers between his. You don’t really know what you’re doing, exactly, but all you know is you need to comfort him. That and you’re shaking like a leaf and the feeling of holding his hand is like an anchor to the world. A reminder that you’re alive. 

“I’m still here, Tyler. I’m all right.”

“You’re not,” he shakes his head. “You’re hurt, and it’s because of me–”

You take him by surprise as you reach up and place your own hand on his cheek. It’s only when you touch his face that you remember your hand is covered in blood and mud, but when you try and take it away, Tyler places his hand over the top of it. His eyes flutter closed and he lets out a long breath that feels to you that it’s something like relief.

The two of you stay there like that for what feels like an eternity but is really just a few minutes, soaking in the feeling of each others skin and coming to terms with the realisation that you’re alive. 

“It’s not your fault, Tyler,” you mutter softly. “You couldn’t have known that tornado was going to change course and head straight for us. Just because that bet ended up landing us in the path of a probable EF4 doesn’t mean you’re the one to blame for it. I don’t blame you.”

He blinks his eyes open and stares at yours for a moment. 

“Now, what were you saying about asking me something?” You try to change the subject.

There’s a look of something in Tyler’s eyes that you can’t quite place, but it drops off of his face instantly at your words and he lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t think now’s the right time, darlin’,” he says. “Some other time, when you’re not bleeding and injured. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital.”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that the movement makes you a little dizzy. “I could have just died and I would have never known what it is you wanted to ask me. So I want to know what it is right now.” You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, even though you don’t feel strong at all right now.

Tyler sighs and you can see by the look on his face that he’s giving in to you. “I was trying to get the courage to ask you out, was trying last night actually but I chickened out. You can be quite intimidating sometimes, you know that?”

For a moment, you just stare at Tyler. 

“I thought I was the one who hit my head. Did you hit yours too?”

He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that.”

“You need another reminder that we’re supposed to hate each other?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I think I’ve had enough reminders to last me a lifetime. But I’m done with pretending to hate you. With trying to convince my team that I dislike you so much. I know they know the truth. It doesn’t matter, even though you can’t stand me.” 

You meet Tyler’s eyes and in them, you can see that he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t hate you, nor dislike you, nor anything similar. With the way he’s looking at you, the way he was calling your name, the way he panicked so much when he thought you were seriously hurt… he really was trying to ask you out. Just the thought of it makes that feeling rise in your stomach again, and for the first time you recognise the feeling for what it truly is – butterflies. You don’t get butterflies from people you hate.

“I don’t hate you, Tyler.”

You can see the surprise flash across his eyes.

“You don’t hate me?”

“You annoy the hell out of me and you drive me insane sometimes. But no. You fascinate me, and you make me laugh, and even though every member of my team hates you and your stupid red truck, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be in the passenger seat with you, driving head first into a tornado, and I nearly said yes when you asked me earlier.”

Tyler chuckles. “My truck is not stupid.”

“Does your passenger seat really have my name on it?”

“Embroidered it myself.”

You laugh, then, a real, full laugh, and Tyler can’t help but laugh as well at the absurdity of the situation. You’ve just survived a devastating tornado, you’re injured in more ways than one, Tyler Owens has just told you he likes you and you’ve come to the realisation that you like the fact that he does. And maybe, you like him a little bit too.

“We’re not gonna make it to that rodeo tonight, are we?” You ask, once the laughs subside.

Tyler shakes his head. “Rain check for the next one?”

“That’s how you’re asking me out?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before you both hear your names being called and look up just as Boone and Robbie appear at the top of the gully. Tyler turns around to look at them. They look relieved to have found you both, and you feel just as relieved to see that Robbie is alive and well, only a little battered just like you are. Even if you’re a little disappointed that your moment with Tyler was interrupted. It seems that happens more often than not lately.

“Is she okay?” Boone asks Tyler.

He nods. “Yeah, but she’s injured. We’re gonna need a hand out of here.”

“We got you,” Boone says.

—

“So, when are you asking me out properly, Owens?” You ask.

It’s been a week since the tornado and a week since you found out that Tyler Owens had been wanting to ask you out for months. Boone had stayed true to his word that day, using a rope and Tyler’s truck to pull you both up out of the gully.

Tyler had barely left your side since – even in the truck ride to the hospital. He usually hated letting anyone drive his truck other than himself, but that day he’d thrown the keys to Boone so he didn’t have to take any of his attention off of you. He’d stayed with you in the hospital as well, even when the rest of your team turned up to check on you and Robbie.

You were surprised at how quickly your teams had dropped their rivalry after the tornado. They’d clearly seen the way you and Tyler acted around each other, how things had changed after the tornado, even though both of you refused to give them details on what had happened when Tyler had found you in the gully. 

It was something both of you were glad for.

“You can’t just ask me that,” Tyler says, kicking his legs up on the desk in the small motel room. Luckily, he’d taken off his muddy boots when he’d come inside to check on you. He had insisted you go back home to recover from your leg injury, but you’d refused. 

“I can’t?” You ask from your spot on the bed, resting your leg up on some pillows. It had luckily not been too bad of an injury, just a reasonably deep cut that needed stitching and wrapping. You still had to be careful not to rip the stitches, which meant no storm chasing and only resting for the time being. 

Tyler nods. “You made me admit the truth to you while we were both covered in mud and blood in the bottom of a wet, muddy gully. I’m not going to ask you out while you’re sitting on a motel room bed with an injured leg and stitches in your forehead. I’m classier than that.”

You snort. “You, classy?”

“From time to time,” he shrugs a shoulder.

You jokingly roll your eyes at him. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You know, you never actually explained what the other bet you wanted to make with me that day was. Was that something to do with asking me out as well?”

Tyler’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe.”

“Of course,” you can’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. “Are you at least going to ask me before I get swept up in another tornado?”

“Darlin’,” Tyler stands up and crosses the room until he’s standing right beside you. One of his hands reaches down and picks up yours, weaving his fingers in-between yours. “If you get swept up in a tornado, I’m going to be right beside you. I’m gonna be beside you for as long as you let me. For as long as I get. As long as I get, okay?”

He repeats it like a mantra. Because if he says it enough, he’s certain it will come true.

[bruciemilf]

“Jean is team mom” “Ororo is team mom” SILENCE. Enough of you reducing women to maternal archetypes because you can’t be bothered to explore deeper meanings to their character.

LOGAN is team mom.

“Logan, can you buy us—“ “no” (buys the thing anyway)

Is constantly scolding his kids students for putting themselves in danger

Plans fun activities (life threatening danger room drills)

Handles the rebellious phases. You think Scott has the mental strength to deal with the fury of a teenage girl who can throw fireworks when she’s mad? I think not.

Hank can barely convince Jubilee to do her homework. Charles mentally checked out a long time ago.

Takes Jubilee, Kitty and Laura shopping. If he doesn’t like something, he’ll give them the blankets ‘that’s cute. I wouldn’t buy it.’ In the world

“What do you think, I’m made of money? We’re getting milk and that’s it.” — leaves with half the store

Is the kid’s emergency contact AND attends everyone’s PTA meetings.

No, ELIZABETH, He won’t be staying up all night cooking vegan cupcakes for your precious angel. He’s gonna buy them like a normal person.

Mom Stare (tm) that can turn you to stone

Will assign kids chores, complain they don’t do it correctly, proceeds to do it himself, then says no one helps around.

“You’re EXACTLY like your father” “…Are you talking about Scott—“ “of course I’m talking about Scott!”

Kitty wants to learn how to drive. He’s holding that safety handle till his hands get purple. “Check the mirror CHECK THE MIRROR—“ “it’s CHECKED :(( “ “CHECK SOME MORE”

Laura is his baby. Holds her everywhere. Will talk about her 24/7.

“Logan, do you know Bobby’s birthday? I need it for—“ “June 28th, Tuesday, 10:34:03 AM, blood type A, his nurse’s name was Susan, —“

Is in charge of birthday cakes. No one else.

If the kids feel down, or need someone to talk to, he’s got a 6th sense for it. Knocks on their door, Leland’s against the frame with his arm crossed, ‘wanna talk about it’ on his face.

The most insane lore you’ve ever heard

[theosbaby]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

flashing mattheo during an argument

NSFW content ahead, +18

one second, he's shouting some unintelligible shit at you, and the next one, he's almost drooling at the sight of your pretty tits, naked just for him to see. he's falling silent in fucking milliseconds. but god, they're so bloody perfect... how could he not stare at them?

It's not fair, you know he loves them, and you use that knowledge against him. every. fucking. time.

he can't even remember what you were fighting about in the first place, not that he cares anymore, anyways. your full, round tits have him fucking mesmerised, the only thing in his mind at the moment being his feral need to bury his face in them and never come out again, not even for air.

"baby," he would growl, eyes not able to look away from your boobs.

you swear you can see a faint blush appear on his cheeks as you tell him, "i don't wanna fight anymore." you pout cutely at him while you're still tugging your top over your breasts, the piece of clothing it's so small that mattheo wonders how they were fitting inside it in the first place.

"me neither," he replies quietly, starting to walk towards you, not being able to stay away for a second more. "i'm sorry, a'ight?"

"it's okay... 'm sorry too," you also apologise, a little smile tugging at the corner of your plump lips as you watch him leaning forward to wrap his strong arms around you, lifting you up so your tits are right on his face.

and when he finally gets to bury his face in your glorious tits, he's not letting go. he's dragging you to his bed and dropping you in it without pulling an inch away. he lays on top of you, between your spread thighs, lips kissing your soft, pillowy flesh.

"fuck, i love these," he'd mumble against your chest, his hands squeezing your sides tightly. "so fucking perfect."

you chuckle softly at that, which makes your tits bounce slightly, and god, the sight makes him hard in seconds. he hums contently against the supple flesh of your boobs as he teasingly starts sucking and licking your tits everywhere but your nipples, alternating between the two as if he can't decide which one he wants to focus on.

his hands are roaming over your body, groping and caressing your curves as if he's re-learning them. he's squeezing your thighs, your ass, and occasionally, going up to your soft tummy, rough finger pads making goosebumps erupt in your skin.

you don't disturb him, letting him play with your boobs as he pleases while you run your slender fingers through his unruly curly hair. sometimes, you caress his face tenderly, watching with heavy lidded eyes while he worships your body. you find it cute, how much he loves your breasts. he's always wanting to touch them, lick them, kiss them... and it fucking turns you on so much, because you're so sensitive there.

you moan when finally settles on one nipple, sucking on it hard while his hand kneads the other breast. he'd push both boobs together, his mouth dropping the already hard peak he was sucking on to lick at the other. his hips are bucking against you the whole time, grinding his hard on against your drenched core.

he's definitely leaving marks, which you complain about, but he just looks up at you, pupils blown, and says, "they're mine, aren't they? i'll mark 'em if i want to."

after that, he slips his hand inside your shorts and panties, finding you completely soaked for him and that fact makes him groan as he returns to suck on your perky, reddened nipples. his fingers rub your swollen, little clit, making you whimper and squirm beneath him, but he uses his free hand to grab you and keep you still while he stuffs you full of his fingers, burying them knuckles deep. he's making you cum in minutes, orgasm so good that feels like fireworks exploding inside your tummy.

and then, once he's satisfied you, he rips both of your clothes off and makes you ride him. he'd be such a mess beneath you as he watches you jump on top of him, little whimpers escaping his lips against his will. the sight of your perfect tits bouncing right on his face while your tight little pussy squeezes his cock makes him cum so fucking fast that he's almost embarrassed... almost.

more.

[emmg]

Imagine trying to study in the Memorial Gardens

Just chillin’ with your books, trying to pass your classes, when boom, Professor Volkarin shows up, turning the sky into a goddamn magical light show. Sparkles everywhere. Wisps twirling around like they’re auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. Why? Oh, because he’s spitting mad game at some ridiculously hot 20-year-old.

He’s laying it on thick, throwing out lines like “It is when I will it, my dear,” like he’s the main character in a Wattpad fanfic.

You just want to study and one of his wisps is trying to crawl up your ass

Meanwhile Professor Volkarin is very busy tongue-deep in this rando’s mouth now, mystical fireworks popping off around them, while you’re just trying to figure out how to survive midterms.

Wasn’t he supposed to be on sabbatical anyway?? Like, sir, go be messy elsewhere.

[lalunanymph]

— “𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ when you ignite their raging breeding kinks with the bllk men ! ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, barou shouei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo

┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ the boys are all pro-players, everyone is 21+ here, fem!reader, breeding kinks, creampies, dirty talk, pet names (baby, angel, love, pretty, princess), nipple play in nagi’s, implied dumbification in barou’s, isagi spanks us once, slight baby-trapping tendencies in reo's, daddy kink, use of the word 'daddy' a lot, everyone has baby fever here bc i said so

⌖ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍

a soft grunt leaves his lips from your nails stabbing into his shoulders.

rin expels a short huff, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the feel of your velvet walls around him driving him quietly insane. he’s been at this for what seems like hours now—holding your hips down, drilling his cock over and over into the sloppy heat of your pussy, getting drunk off your little whines and mewls.

your thighs tremble around his slim waist, a silent plea for more.

more of this searing pleasure he was gifting you. more of his kisses. more of him.

in every single way you could have him.

"rinny," you hiccup, drowning in the pools of his teal irises. "n-need you."

he presses a soft kiss to your collarbone, achingly tender with his ministrations as he lifts your hand to his mouth, lips on your engagement band. "you have me."

you shook your head from side to side, hair bleeding out on the plush pillows. "n-no. i need more of you." the meaning of your words hammer in from your next squeak, "need you to cum in me."

for a split second, rin malfunctions. his thrusts grow sloppier, his breathing more ragged as the image of his cum spilling out your pretty pussy gets him fucking throbbing.

"want me so bad, hmm, pretty?" his voice warbles and his hips stutter, the pleasure burning in the back of his mind, going off like a set of fireworks. "want me to give you a baby, love?"

the question sets off sparks of heat down your spine, and you cry out when his thrusts grow more vigorous—literally aching to fuck you into the mattress. "yes!" you wail. "w-wanna give you a baby so badly—nghh."

rin rewards you for your honesty with one of his rare grins, touched with a hint of feral possession at the mental image of you so soft—so round—from carrying his precious seed. his warm cheeks rub against your neck, nuzzling you as the band in his lower belly coils harder.

it breaks when you tighten your arms around his neck, your feverish lips pressed to his ear and you whisper,

"wanna make the world's best striker the world's best daddy."

⌖ 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈

isagi feels like a great beast has overtaken him.

he's no longer gentle with you, holding your hips to keep you wide open as his cock draws out the most ecstatic sounds from your mouth.

"mhmm—'ichi... yoichi... p-please..."

"what's that?" he mocks, using his large frame to his advantage to bear down on you, a touch of lunacy in his wide grin when you cry out at his sudden palm colliding with your plush ass cheek. "what do you want, princess?"

you shudder at the bite of sarcasm in his tone, because as much as he's the sweetest outside the sheets, this isagi was tainted by the enormous ego of having his girlfriend crying out with every bruising slam of his cock against her sensitive spots.

his kisses smudge the back of your neck with hot insistency, and you feel your belly clenching at the overwhelming sensation of isagi everywhere.

his scent of musk and skin stung your nostrils, the rasp of his warm and rough palms down your hips were second to heaven.

"i want you, baby."

isagi grunts, manoeuvring you onto your back, and the look in his eyes could've dropped you down to your knees if you weren't already pliantly taking his cock underneath him. his dark blue eyes were tinted with shades of obsession, his nostrils flaring and mouth pulled back on a pleasured snarl. "m'yours, princess."

his breathing shudders when you rake your nails down his back, hard enough to draw red welts to the surface. "gimme all of you, yoichi," you start to babble, your orgasm so close to drawing you down into the pits of ecstasy. "wanna feel you filling me up, baby."

isagi groans, pitching his forehead close and gently knocking it with yours. "baby... you drive me crazy..."

your thighs hook around his waist, heels digging into his back. literally restraining him in your embrace. your lips brush his cheek, his ear, and you whisper, "give me all of you, 'ichi. want you to make me a mommy."

isagi was a goner the moment those words left your lips; has no choice but to spill his entire load and soul into you, a rough groan ripping from his lips. "ga-fuck... fuck... baby..."

it's lewd, how his seed is spilling out of you. it's even more lewd when you start to rub your clit, drawing your release crashing down and reverberating with a loud, lusty cry of his name.

yoichi doesn't stop pumping his seed into you, even as his cock turns a raw shade of red and a whimper of overstimulation slips out of his lax mouth. he has to keep his promise; has to make you a mommy.

it's what his princess deserves for taking him so nicely ♡

⌖ 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐈

everything about barou screams strength.

from his broad shoulders to his defined muscles, the king of the field makes you his conquest with endless pleasure that has you screaming out his name in the middle of the night.

"shouei... mhmm... right there," you pant, one shaky hand brushing back his long locks from his sweaty forehead. "s-so good."

your whines draw his low, throaty chuckle, and despite how deliciously he's wrecking you, barou makes sure to savour your fucked out expressions while he's at it.

"going dumb on my cock already, baby? got you feeling so g-good, huh?"

his baritone rumbles against your throat, and your back arches when he pins you down, deepening his thrusts and languid strokes.

"p-please, give me—" your voice falters when the blunt head of his cock hits your sweet spots, leaving you starry-eyed and keening.

barou smirks, the action lost in your haze of pleasure as you draw him deeper into your body; letting him sink into your plush embrace of pure, unadultered desire for him. as he deserved, as a king deserved.

"what is it, angel?" he's teasing you, having pushed you on your hands and knees to take his cock better. "what do you want me to give you?"

"cum," you manage to gasp out from the haze settling on your bones, around your lucidity. "please give me your cum, daddy."

look, barou is not someone who has given much thought to his future beyond holding the world cup trophy high over his head. but something about your breathy gasp of that word, that term which makes his head spin... has barou going absolutely feral.

he lifts you up onto your knees, one hand caging around your neck and the other reaching forward to rub your clit, pulling dulcet mewls from your parted mouth. "say it again," he demands, unrelenting in this punishment you fully deserve after making your king lose his composure. "call me that again."

you twist your head from side to side, soft mewls slurring together with your pleas for him to fuck you harder, make you cum, make you a mama...

"daddy!" you choke out. "shouei, w-wanna make you a daddy!"

this time, barou's chuckle is laced with painful incredulity, his cock a throbbing hot steel rod deep inside of you, ready to go off.

"that's what i thought you said," his gruff voice stirs the sticky strands of hair on the nape of your neck. "now make your promise to me come true, baby. make me a daddy tonight."

⌖ 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎

the thing about nagi is that he frankly couldn't be bothered to exert enough energy when he doesn't feel like it.

but, something about the way how you're clutching his shoulders, breathy moans hitting the shell of his ear along with your sweet little yeahs, more—please, please, has him wanting to give you everything.

nagi's cock throbs where its nestled inside you to the hilt, so deep he swears he's almost hitting your cervix. the look on your face is ecstatic; brows drawn, lower lip caught between your teeth and a film of sweat coating your entire sweet body.

his sharp senses tell him something was different about tonight. from your eagerness to your responses, your entire body was much too sensitive for him.

your sweet reactions only drives out his rationale when he mouths at your nipples, suckling them into tight little points that make you mewl out in pleasure.

"sei... more, please," you beg, threading your fingers through his frosty locks. "m'want you... more of you."

"yeah?" he mutters, the wet sounds of both your sexes meeting so fucking lewd in this wide bedroom. with the lights of the city beyond the windows shining on your body, you start to unravel, your back arching. "how much do you want me, baby?"

"so much," you start to breath heavier, lifting his face from where it was resting in the crook of your neck to line your forehead with his. "i want you forever. want your babies."

something thuds heavily in his chest, and nagi swears his thoughts are broken when he recalls you carrying your niece in your arms, all happy and radiant. the possibility of it being his baby, his little one in that image itself, makes both his cock and heart swell.

before he knows it, nagi has you bouncing up and down his cock, his heels digging into the bed, every bit of his energy directed towards making sure he shoots his load far enough so that it scores in your womb, turning your words into reality.

nagi may be lackadaisical in more ways than one, but when fired up enough, he had enough determination to make sure he would never lose the fight to get you all pretty and swollen with his babies.

⌖ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

reo has to fight off the smile that threatens to spill from his lips.

just an hour ago, you were cooing at his director’s newborn son, and now, he has you on his lap, mewling his name so prettily as his mind fills up with endless images of you—naked, belly rounded with pregnancy, positively glowing from carrying his baby.

he snorts inwardly at how hard that mental image makes him throb. it's about damn time you take him up on his marriage proposal.

reo wasn't getting anymore patient and he had to do something—make sure you were glued to his side forever. and what better way to do that than to make you a mommy to his babies?

yes, babies, because in the thrill of knocking you up, reo finds himself wanting to do this again and again and again.

"so good for me," he mumbles, kneading handfuls of your ass until you start to tremble. tears bead your lash line, but reo doesn’t care to go easy on you.

after all, he has to make sure his seed will take tonight.

"r-reo, what's gotten into you?" despite your breathless confusion, your thighs tighten around his waist, and his frantic thrusting turns even more erratic.

he expels one lusty moan into the crook of your neck, and you whimper when the rough strip of his tongue glides across your pulse point and jaw, tangling with your own appendage when he kisses you deeply.

you were so sweet for him, and reo wishes for nothing more than to have you forever.

"gonna have to make you mine," he whispers, as if the promise ring on your finger, his initials on a delicate chain around your neck and his cock stirring your guts were not indicative that you were his in every sense of the word.

but, reo has always been a greedy man and he wants more than that. he always wants more when it comes to you.

you mewl his name, and his smile threatens to spill into a feral grin.

"wanna give you my babies, y/n. wanna make you mine forever."

in the fog of your lust, you don't hear the chiming bells in your head, swept away by his ardour. "mhm, reo, please. give me your babies."

it was enough of a permission for him to snap his hips up, spilling into you with hot spurts of cum, leaving you light-headed and sated. your breathless laugh tickles his ear and you ease out from his tight embrace, his cock softening deep in you. gently pushing aside his lilac bangs from his face, you cup his cheek, rubbing your nose with his.

"you're so silly, reo. m'yours forever, don't you know?"

his grip on your hip tightens, and he tosses you back another one of his signature smirks. "i know, baby, but after tonight, i want more, hmm. can you give me more?"

despite staining you with seed just a few seconds ago, reo's hard again, his veins and determination heated with the idea of completely filling you to the brim with his cum until it takes. until you're finally pregnant and fully reliant on him.

he gently cups your cheek, moving his hand down to your neck where his grip becomes harder. more possessive.

"can you make me a daddy tonight, angel?"

�� all work belongs to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[pupkashi]

gojo can’t wait to marry you, but he will for the sake of one folder in his phone

a/n: i want to marry gojo, sue me!

wordcount: 703

masterlist

satoru would take your engagement ring everywhere he goes with you. he’d have it stuffed in his pants pockets or jacket and you never once suspect a thing.

he’d have so many pictures of you turned around and him holding the ring right behind you, clueless as to what the man you loved was holding a mere foot away from you.

there’s pictures of the two of you at home, making dinner, cuddling in bed, cleaning, teaching the students, at the beach, on a walk, on dates, literally anywhere anytime, and all of them have the beautiful ring in the velvet box, wide open and facing the camera as you stare in the opposite direction, oblivious.

he’d always try his luck, but he was cocky enough to somehow always get away with it, only once almost getting caught when you turned around faster than he thought you would, but you were too amazed with the fireworks to notice him throwing the small box into the bushes next to him (he then had to act like he lost his phone to go and pick the box up again).

there’s a chilly breeze that picks up over the two of you as you scoot closer together under the reds and pinks of the sunset, the grass around the two of you rustling with the wind, clouds floating peacefully.

you’re getting up and grabbing a blanket from the picnic basket, back facing satoru. “thank god we brought these blankets! I didn’t expect it to get so chilly so quickly,” you sighed, fingers melting into the plush fabric of the blanket.

satoru is quick the pull the box out of his sweater pocket, snapping the picture and ready to put it away before you turned around.

time seemed to freeze in the seconds that he took to look at you, radiating and glowing in the suns golden rays, the world painting you in all its colors. maybe it was the sounds of the birds singing or the pair of butterflies that flew past you. or maybe it was the overwhelming sense of love and home that he felt in the moment.

satoru didn’t move, he stayed on one knee, the box wide open and facing you as you turned around.

“i love you, sweetheart,” he smiles, the look on your face knocks the wind out of him as his cheeks begin to hurt a bit from how wide he’s smiling, “i knew after we’d been dating for six months that you were the person i want to spend my life with, that you were all I’d ever wanted and all I’d ever need.”

there’s tears welling in your eyes as he continues to talk, heartfelt words and vulnerability as his hands shake slightly. your mouth is still covered by your hands, mouth slightly agape from shock as your heart beats out of your chest.

maybe it was the swans swimming in the lake besides you, maybe it was the two butterflies from before landing on his shoulder before fluttering off again. or maybe it was the way the sun painted him golden, his blue eyes staring at you, snowy bangs falling perfectly on his forehead, your body warm with love as you nod your head when he finally asks the question.

“will you marry me?” his voice is a lot less confident than usual, a relieved laugh leaving him when you engulf him in a hug, your face burying itself in his neck as before pulling away and crashing your lips onto his.

“of course I’ll marry you angel boy,” you laugh, sniffling a bit as he wipes the tears from your face, taking your hand in his and slipping the ring on.

you can’t help but admire the way it looked on your finger, it was everything you’d ever dreamed of. soon enough you’re staring back into satoru’s blue eyes, giggling as you cup his cheeks and bring his lips to yours, laughing when he grabs you by the waist and spins your around.

he shows you the folder of pictures later that night, and you can’t even be mad at him. not when you realize he had bought the ring the day after your six months.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[lovelyiida]

(NF) Hey lovely, I saw that you want requests. Could I request a iida x fem!reader fluff? I even have a prompt! You know how in MHA it’s winter break and everyone is bored at the dorms? Someone gets the idea to throw a whole fake wedding and invite all first years/the whole student body. The girls of 1A vote the bride and the guys vote the groom and reader is the bride and iida is the groom, which is good because they secretly like each other, y’know the drill. Iida and reader do the ceremony with vows and the rings and the kiss and all that. Also, there’s lots of cake and a huge party at the end with fireworks!!

That’s the cutest shi I’ve ever cooked up and I want someone talented to write it. If you could tag me to, that’d be awesome!

Love, psi kid 🎀

OHHHHHH MY GOD I FUCKING LIVE FOR THIS, this is seriously so cute. God, why can't I think of these ideas by myself??

꧁★𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝟏-𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆★꧂ ��� afab

Snow falls gently outside, the world a picturesque white. The students of class 1-A lounge around, boredom plastered on their faces. It's a snow day, just great.

Ochaco twirls a strand of hair and glances at her friends. Even the lively Kirishima looks lethargic on the couch. Denki was about to sink into the floor if he couldn't find a way to annoy his fellow comrades.

Then, an idea sparked.

Ochaco's eyes spark with a twinkle and her lips curled into an intriguing smirk. "We need to do something fun, how about a fake wedding?"

The class exchanges intrigued looks, murmuring amongst themselves. Mina's eyes spark in excitement at the idea. "Yeah! We can vote and groom for our class. It'll be totally adorable!" She squealed.

Everyone nods in agreement as chatter bursts across the common space for today's event.

The entire Class 1-A along with various first years assemble outside, enveloped by the festive atmosphere. Electricity fills the air as the class has been sectioned into two groups to help figure out who will be the bride and the groom.

And out of the corner of your eye, you noticed IIda standing awkwardly in the midst of all this, glancing quick looks at you with a light blush. You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself and your friends at the act.

Later into the evening, the room now transformed with makeshift decorations and fairy lights strung everywhere (you can thank Momo for that). The class sat excitedly as Ochaco and Tsuyu held envelopes, ready to announce the lovely couple in waiting.

Standing at the improvised altar (standing on top of a table), they spoke with a grin.

"The results are in! The bride-to-be is... Y/n!"

The class erupts in cheers as you sit in shock of the results, slowing picking yourself off your feet, you stand in front of the "altar," as your face flushes in excitement. Tsuyu then spoke:

"And the groom-to-be is...Iida!"

Iida goes stiff, and his face turns crimson. The boys laugh and nudge him forward. Standing from his feet, he nears himself towards you and bows politely. You send him a wink of encouragement before whispering, "don't be so nervous. I bet you'd make a great husband."

Iida smirks at your words before whispering back, "and I know you'd make a wonderful wife."

As so, a makeshift ceremony begins!

Iida and you stand at the altar with hands intertwined. Wedding dress and suit on (thanking Momo once more!), looking like a match made out of heaven. Everyone watches eagerly as the both of you stand awkwardly, awaiting each other's vows.

"Don't chicken out, four-eyes," Bakugo chuckled. Iida side-eyed the blonde before clearing his throat and pushing up his glasses. "Y/n, ever since the first day we met. I knew you were a woman who I could spend the rest of my days with. You're kind, smart, beautifully-spirited, and one of the best teammates I could see fighting with me to the death..."

The class is swooned by Iida's words, you couldn't help but stand there in shock at the blatant confession thrown in your face.

"Y/n, I vow to always support and protect you...in sickness and in health...even in this mock wedding."

The class erupts in cheers as they hear Iida's beautiful poetic vows.

You chuckle, softening the moment once more.

"Iida, you're someone who I trust and care for deeply, you are a pinnacle in everyone's life and without you, I would be nothing. Your presence keeps me motivated and ready to take on whatever is ahead of me...because that's what you are and I deeply admire you for that."

"You're smart, you're hardworking, and super handsome..."

Iida quickly reddened at your words, your voice sounding like music to his ears. Oh, how he wished this was real.

"And I vow to always support and protect you...in sickness and in health...even in this mock wedding, or out of it."

As you finish, the class erupts in laughter as Iida and Reader exchange playful glances. Holding out your paper-made rings, you change and slide them onto each other's fingers. Ochaco and Tsuyu, beaming with joy, declare them fake husband and fake wife.

"You may now, fake-kiss the bride!"

You'd begin to go in for a simple kiss on the cheek, but suddenly Iida grabs a soft hold of your waist and scoops you down. Planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

A respectful man, we love!

Claps were heard around the room, but the moment between the two of you felt as if no one was there and the room was fading into black. As if nothing mattered but the to of you.

Mina teasingly claps before yelling, "I now pronounce you fake husband and fake wife! You may now fake-party!" The room transforms into a lively celebration, with music playing and students dancing joyfully.

Iida and Reader sneak glances at each other, their fake smiles turning into genuine ones. Photos and videos were taken throughout the night of the heartwarming moment between the class.

And as the night grew young, and the slow subsides. The both of you stand outside and look at the breathtaking array of stars that light up the night sky. Your hand tangled into his, as your head fell softly against Iida's broad shoulder.

Iida couldn't help but play with his makeshift ring, smiling to himself about what the future holds, and how he wanted this future to be a potential reality. Your head suddenly moves from his shoulder, which earns a soft hum from Iida.

You look at him with a light blush as you speak, "this was amazing... thank you, Iida." You spoke softly with a warm smile. "No thank you, Y/n, this night wouldn't have been the same without you."

You hum in response before placing your head back on his shoulder.

You share a quiet, perfect moment as the stars illuminate your faces as a "newlywed couple." Only for the moment to be laughed upon in the future, when your real wedding comes to fruition.

When someone who gives me a tenya rec tells me to jump, I'm gonna JUMP!!!!

— 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓁𝓎𝒾𝒾𝒹𝒶 ❤︎︎

[billiesguitar]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐄𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

"Still hate me?"

"S-shit!" I murmured, stumbling backward and landing on the cold, hard floor. The room was spinning, my vision blurred by a sea of faces that all seemed to be laughing at me. I was so drunk it was hard to even make out the words that were being thrown around, the music pounding in my ears like a never-ending headache.

"Looks like someone had a little too much fun," a voice said, cold and mocking.

I looked up to see Billie standing over me, her signature black hair falling around her.

i roll my eyes "Bite me."

"With pleasure," she smirked, extending a hand to help me up.

I took it begrudgingly, and she yanked me up onto my feet.

"Thanks I guess." I muttered, brushing off my clothes.

"You're welcome," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

We hated each other. It had been a long-standing rivalry that had started when we were just kids. But tonight was different. The alcohol had lowered my inhibitions, and the way she was looking at me, with a glint in her eye that I had never seen before, was sending my heart racing in a way that was anything but friendly.

"well, i'll see you around," I stumbled away from her.

"Not if I see you first," she called after me.

I managed to make my way to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face and took a deep breath. "What the hell is going on?" I whispered to my reflection. as I reapply my mascara and lip gloss, all I can think about is Billie, the way she walks, talks, and her eyes.

When I came out, Billie was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "you doin' alright?" she asked.

"Fine," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Just had to take a breather, Why do you care?"

"Who told you I care?" she said, pushing off the wall and coming closer. "I just don't want to see you make a fool of yourself."

"I can handle myself," I snapped.

"Oh, I think we both know that's not true," she said, her voice low and challenging. "But maybe I can help you with that."

Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a nearby room, closing the door behind us.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelped.

"Just what you need," she said, her eyes darkening.

And before I knew it, her lips were pressed against mine, hard and demanding. I gasped in surprise, but she took the opportunity to slip her tongue into my mouth. It was like nothing I had ever felt before, like fireworks going off in my head.

I weakly claw against her chest, but she ignored it. "Billie," I murmured, not sounding nearly as confident as I wanted to.

"Want me to stop?" she whispered against my mouth, her breath hot and sweet.

"No," I found myself admitting, my hands moving to her waist.

"Good," she said, and then she kissed me again, this time with more force.

Her hands were everywhere, roaming over my body as if she owned it. She pushed me against the wall, her body pressing into mine as she kissed down my neck. I could feel my knees giving out, but she held me up, her grip on my hips firm and possessive.

"You like that?" she murmured, her teeth grazing my earlobe.

"Yes," I breathed, arching my neck to give her better access.

"You're so responsive," she said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

Her hands slid up my shirt, and she began to unbutton my pants. "Billie-"

"I said I'd help you," she interrupted, her voice firm. "And I always keep my promises."

Her hands found my skin, and she began to tease me, her fingertips lightly tracing patterns along my stomach and hips. I couldn't help the little moan that escaped my lips.

"See?" she said, her breath hot against my neck. "You need this."

I nodded, unable to form words. She was right. I needed it. I needed her.

Her hands found my breasts, and she began to massage them through my shirt. I gasped as she pinched my nipples, the sensation sending shockwaves through my body.

"Take it off," she ordered, and I complied, letting my shirt fall to the floor. She took a moment to appreciate the view, her eyes lingering on my bare skin before she bent down to kiss me again.

Her mouth moved from my neck to my breasts, her teeth scraping against my sensitive flesh as she sucked and licked. I was lost in sensation, my mind a haze of pleasure.

"Billie," I whimpered, my hands fisting in her hair.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice low and seductive.

"You," I said simply.

"Good girl," she murmured, her hand sliding down to unzip my pants. She pulled them down, along with my underwear, leaving me naked before her.

"Now, get on the bed," she said, pointing to the rumpled mess in the corner of the room.

I obeyed, my legs shaking as I climbed onto the mattress. She followed, straddling my hips and looking down at me with a wicked smile.

"Such a slut, aren't you, hm?" she said, her voice filled with a mocking affection. "Begging for it like this."

"I'm not a slut," I protested weakly.

"Oh no?" she said, her thumb circling my clit. "Then tell me what you want."

"I-I want you to-to fuck me," I stuttered, my face burning with embarrassment.

"That's more like it," she said, and she leaned down to kiss me again. Her hand continued to work my clit, her fingers sliding in and out of me with an expert touch.

I moaned into her mouth, my body responding to her every move. She was in complete control, and I loved it.

"You're so wet," she coos, "Just for me, hm?"

"Yes," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Billie smirked, moving down to kiss my stomach and then lower. She hovered over my pussy, her breath making me squirm.

"Please Billie" I begged. "need you s'bad."

Without another word, she buried her face between my legs, her tongue sliding through my folds and finding my clit. She licked and sucked with a passion that surprised me.

"Fuck," I gasped, my back arching.

suddenly she stops.

"Need you to be quiet ma, can't have anyone one knowing you're gettin' fucked so good by your enemy,can you?"

I nodded, biting my lip to stifle my moans. She grinned and went back to work, her tongue moving with an intensity that had me seeing stars.

I felt my orgasm building, my muscles tightening as she brought me closer and closer to the edge.

"Billie," I moan a bit to loud causing her to stop

"What did I say?" she looked up at me, her eyes dark and demanding. She glides up and wraps her hand around my chin, forcing me to look at her. "Hm, didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

I nodded again, my eyes wide.

"Words."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good," she said, reaching down and lightly biting my neck and then sucking on the spot to sooth the pain. She starts to kiss me again, and I felt myself getting wetter.

Her fingers slid into me again, moving in a rhythm that made me see spots. I bit my lip harder, trying to keep the noise in.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice filled with satisfaction. "Take it all for me."

And then she was moving again, her tongue flicking against my clit as she curled her fingers inside of me. It was too much. I couldn't hold back anymore.

My orgasm crashed over me like a wave, my body convulsing as she continued to lick and suck. I moaned quietly, my eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure consumed me.

"Good girl" she said, moving back up to kiss me, her mouth tasting of me.

I looked up at her, my vision still hazy.

"You're not done yet," she said, her voice still firm.

She climbed off the bed and reached into the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a strap-on.

"What are you-?" I started to protest, but she silenced me with a look.

"I'm going to fuck you," she said, her voice cold and commanding.

"turn around, ass up." she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I did as I was told, my heart racing as she secured the strap-on around her hips.

"Ready?" she asked, her hand resting on my lower back.

I nodded, my voice lost.

"I can't hear you," she says, tugging on my hair to make a makeshift ponytail with her fist.

"Yes," I murmured.

"Good."

And then she was pushing into me, the strap-on filling me up in a way that was both painful and exhilarating.

"Fuck," I gasped.

"That's it," she said, her hand coming down on my ass in a firm slap. "Take it."

Her strokes grew harder, faster, and I found myself pushing back into her, craving more. She slapped me again, and I moaned, my body on fire.

"You like it, don't you my little slut?" she asked, her voice taunting.

"Y-yes," I stuttered, my cheeks flushing.

Her free and snakes it way to my throat ,"You're mine, aren't you?" she whispers, her grip tightening.

"Y-yes," I croak out.

Her hand releases my throat, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Good," she says, her voice softer now.

Tears of pleasure stream down my face as she picks up the speed of her thrusts. It's almost too much, but I want more. I need more.

"Billie," I whine, "I'm going to-"

"Don't you fucking dare, not yet." She says, slapping me again.

I moan, my body shaking with the effort to hold back.

"Look at me," she orders.

I turn my head, and she's there, her eyes locked on mine. They're not cold anymore, but filled with something else, something that makes my heart race even faster.

"Come for me," she whispers, and that's all it takes.

My second orgasm hits me like a truck, my body spasming around her as I scream out her name. She groans, her own pleasure clear in her voice.

"Still hate me?"

____

posted on October 6th 2024 || not proofread.



[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (3 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 804

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Soap stumbles through an explanation when faced with a barrage of questions.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Johnny is a firecracker. The spark from struck flint.

He dives in headfirst, charges forward, his actions led by his head and his heart. Johnny might be high-strung at times. Rambunctious and eager. Sometimes he’s stubborn when it comes to people and things he cares about.

All of that is true. And all of it is also reflected in his six-year-old daughter.

The two of them stand in the middle of the kitchen. Johnny has his hands on his hips. His daughter mimics his movements, forcing all her attitude into it, even adding a single arched eyebrow. Johnny would laugh but he’s trying to be serious.

She looks so much like her mother it’s startling.

He’s trying to keep his demeanor calm under the barrage of questions about his job. His daughter is a curious creature. She wants to know everything, oftentimes asking so many questions at once they start to run together.

Usually, Johnny is indulgent. He loves nourishing that curiosity. But right now, that curiosity is treading on dangerous territory. Of everything Johnny is protective of, it’s his daughter. But more than that, it’s to protect her from the realities of his career.

It isn’t pretty. It isn’t clean.

And she’s asking endless questions. So many that they’re melting together, pushing him toward every bad mission and terrible death.

“That’s not one of the questions,” he replies cooly, nodding toward the piece of paper resting on the kitchen table.

It’s a questionnaire. One the school sends that has her basic interests along with information about family. She’ll use it for projects and to make connections with classmates. It’s a standard thing, something sent out early in the schoolyear as a form of introduction.

His daughter stands mute. Unmoving. She’s trying to be tough, and while it makes his heart warm with pride, it’s also incredibly frustrating.

“I’ll answer the questions on your paper. Nothing more.” Johnny is setting a boundary because it’s all he can do. He won’t lie to her, but he’s not going to swim through rough waters.

Her bottom lip pops out in a pout and Johnny sighs, crossing his arms. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

She takes a deep breath, shoulders softening. “Because I want to be like you when I grow up.”

Because I want to be like you when I grow up.

The automatic response is “no.” That isn’t what she wants or will ever want. All she knows are the friendly faces, of how Simon’s mask is way too big for her head, or Price’s hugs which she loves more than anything.

Those are not the realities. Those are soft things. Pieces that keep her satiated.

“Why do you want to be like me?” he asks slowly, chest slightly tight with dread.

“Why not?” she shrugs, as if that is a perfectly logical stance.

Where is his wife when he needs you? You would help. You would distract and move her on to something else so that Johnny doesn’t have to flounder under all these questions. She came like a fury of rapidly popping fireworks, peppering him until she finally ended her chatter with wide eyes and heaving chest.

Why not?

Because there are dark tendrils that cling to him that won’t let go. She doesn’t need those. She shouldn’t have to carry those burdens with her everywhere.

There is no reason to crush her dreams. There is no reason to smack this idealism down. Not yet. When she’s older, Johnny can be clearer, he can be more upfront about the toll this line of work has taken on him.

Sighing, he walks up to the kitchen table, picking up her sparkly purple pencil. It is rough against his fingertips as he bends at the waist to peer at the questionnaire. She stands next to him, watching intently, leaning on an elbow, peering over his arm as he starts to fill out information on the page.

Johnny takes his time. He is truthful in his answers. He is part of The Special Air Service. He runs covert missions. He vaguely lists out what a day might look like for him when he’s not deployed. His daughter watches on, saying nothing.

 But there is no snarky comment or attitude that he usually expects from her.

“Thank you, Daddy,” is all she says, neatly folding the paper in half to stuff into her schoolbag. Johnny offers her the glittery purple pencil and she takes that too.

He bends at the knees, getting on her level. “Want to help me start dinner?”

“Yes!” she beams.

“Grab a chair,” he says, nodding toward the dining table.

She drags it across the floor, pushing it up against the bottom cabinets. She turns, smile wide, hands clasped eagerly in front of her.

This is the distraction he needs.

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair

[faithshouseofchaos]

Hello! I came here to offer a request for Franco Colapinto (just an idea that popped in my mind, don't mind if you ignore it)

Basically, Franco wants to show the culture of Argentina to reader, and decides to do take them into a football match of Boca, his favourite team

Now, Boca's fans aren't exactly a calm fanbase, with lots of shouting chants, jumping, and many times you can see people with drums (bombos in spanish) and even fireworks some times

This part of me is now apart of you — Franco Colapinto x reader

Word count

Fluff

A/n— I hope I got it right

Tagged— @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @alex-wotton @bieberismysoulmate @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl l @bluebluesoul l @chenlesbitxh @abq654 @sweate-r-weathe-r

The hum of the stadium was already electric as you walked hand in hand with Franco, his face alight with a kind of excitement you hadn’t seen before. “Bienvenidos a la Bombonera,” he said with a grin, spreading his arms as if he was welcoming you to his own home. The stands around you were packed with fans draped in blue and yellow, Boca Juniors’ colors, waving flags that rippled like waves under the stadium lights.

People of all ages surrounded you—families with young kids on their shoulders, groups of old friends with their arms around each other, and older men with well-worn Boca scarves, faces weathered by years of cheering for their team. Everywhere you looked, the fans wore Boca’s colors proudly, from jerseys to hats to scarves. They didn’t just look like a fanbase; they looked like a family, connected by something unspoken and deep.

“Just wait until the game starts,” Franco whispered, leaning close so you could hear him over the buzz. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

As the players entered the field, a roar rose from the crowd, powerful enough that you felt it vibrating in your chest. Franco joined in with a booming shout, raising his fist, while everyone around you chanted with a unified voice, the passion in their cries contagious. You watched as people leaped, jumped, some of them banging on bombos—massive drums—in a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the stadium.

Franco caught your expression—half amazed, half startled—and laughed, squeezing your hand. “Welcome to Boca,” he said, his eyes shining with pride. “Here, it’s more than football. It’s family, it’s life.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, realizing how deeply this mattered to him. Before you could even respond, fireworks burst overhead, showering sparks as the chant around you grew louder, enveloping you both. You felt Franco’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close, his voice joining the chorus around you, and in that moment, you were part of the energy that pulsed through the Bombonera.

The match was in full swing, the ball moving swiftly from one end of the field to the other. Every time Boca’s players got close to the goal, the crowd roared, an ocean of voices swelling in hope and excitement.

Franco leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear to be heard over the noise. “See that player in the number ten jersey? That’s our best guy. Every Boca fan knows him. When he’s got the ball, we believe anything is possible.”

You nodded, watching the player weave through the opposition, and Franco’s fingers tapped excitedly on your shoulder. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible, and you felt it too, a strange kind of magic that seemed to wrap you up in the pulse of the crowd.

Then, out of nowhere, Boca scored.

The stadium exploded. People were hugging, cheering, some even crying with joy, and Franco was right there with them, his face lit up with pure exhilaration. He turned to you, grabbing your shoulders. “Did you feel that? This is what it means to be Boca. We fight, we celebrate, we believe with everything we have.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your voice lost in the wave of chants that rose around you. Franco’s eyes shone as he joined the chant, shouting along with the crowd. He nudged you gently. “This one is easy; I’ll teach you.”

He clapped in rhythm, saying the words slowly so you could follow. Before you knew it, you were chanting along, and Franco looked at you like you’d just joined him in something sacred. “There you go!” he laughed, pride clear in his voice. “You’re officially a Boca fan now.”

As the game went on, Franco pointed out every little thing, explaining traditions, telling you about famous goals scored in this very stadium, the times he’d stood right here as a kid with his family. “My dad used to bring me here,” he said, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “He taught me everything about Boca. It’s like… passing down a piece of yourself, you know?”

The crowd around you started a chant that grew louder and louder, almost deafening. Franco’s face lit up as he joined in, his voice blending with thousands of others. He looked at you, eyes bright and full of pride. “This chant—this is one of the oldest. We sing it to remind everyone that Boca is forever. It’s not just a team; it’s in your blood, your heart.”

You watched him, feeling something warm and deep stirring inside you as you saw how much this all meant to him. “You really love this, don’t you?” you asked softly, taking in his face—his wide smile, the fire in his eyes, the way he seemed so completely at home here.

He nodded, voice steady but thick with emotion. “It’s hard to explain. Boca… it’s family. It’s a part of who I am. No matter where I go, I carry this with me.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “And now, I get to share it with you. That’s something I always wanted.”

The game continued, and as Boca kept pressing forward, the crowd’s energy only grew. People jumped in place, chanting with all their might. Franco turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ready to try something new?”

Before you could answer, he grabbed your hand and led you to the edge of the seats, right where the crowd was most intense. You both started jumping with everyone else, and Franco’s laughter was infectious. He held you close, his arm around your shoulders, guiding you through the motions and claps of each chant.

As the game neared its end, with Boca leading, Franco looked out over the field, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that was both triumphant and serene. “There’s nothing like this,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Moments like this, they remind you why you’re here. Why are you alive.”

You felt his fingers lace through yours, his grip strong and sure. The game was nearly over, but you sensed that, for Franco, this was just the beginning. He had let you into his world, one that ran deep with passion and history. And as the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted one last time, he leaned close, his voice warm in your ear.

“I hope you know now,” he said softly, his words barely audible over the chanting, “that this—this part of me—is yours, too.”