#How much loss can you fit inside one boy?

[completeoveranalysis]

[3]

The details seem slightly muddy here too. The wording makes it sound like her time was stopped on purpose for the sake of preserving the two futures, when Tsubasa describes it as a half-conscious thought that was unfortunately so powerful it stopped time and cracked reality.

I suppose if you read it sideways you could read “It was for the sake of two worlds” as, like, it ended up benefitting the two worlds or something. But still!

Finally a character just snapping under all the abstract details

We love to see it. 

Almost.

But it IS fun that Watanuki hears the plot and is just instantly like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”

In Watanuki gets to be all of us.

We LOVE Yuuko’s genuinely shocked expression at Watanuki’s reaction. 

Somehow this was not what she was expecting his reaction to be and I kind of love that he brings her out of the sad monologue in her final moments. It kind of refocusses the moment away from the grand mystery and makes it a more personal tragedy - it makes it clear that he cares about her and will miss her deeply. 

That’s the element that’s been missing from her ending (on the Tsubasa side) so far, and it’s so touching to see both her and Watanuki overcome with the emotion that he can’t even properly verbalise. 

[cherienymphe]

Camera Shy

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Your brother comes up with a way to make fast money when you've found yourself deep in debt.

warnings: stepcest, loss of virginity, breeding kink, kook!reader, non canon ages

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

⭑

You took deep breaths through your nose as Rafe instructed, lashes fluttering at the foreign and indescribable feel of his cock sliding between your wet folds. Your knees touched your chest, the soles of your feet pressed against Rafe’s own chest, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze focused on where he disappeared into you.

When your brother came up from Kildare County to visit you for the first time this semester…

This was not what you had in mind.

Blood related or not, Rafe had never been anything but the older brother you were blessed with when your mom married his dad all those years ago. He was a little rough around the edges—always had been—and you knew that his behavior with you was the exception, not the norm, but it never occurred to you that his reasoning behind that went beyond familial affection. Why would it?

He treated you like any normal brother would.

He scared off boys who were a little too bold with their interest in you, he sometimes let you sleep in his bed when the thunder outside got to be too much, and he didn’t think twice about picking you up from some party you weren’t supposed to be at. You knew he’d do the same for Wheezie if she asked. Sarah was the only exception for less than enviable reasons.

…maybe Ward’s favoritism of Sarah contributed to your own soft spot for Rafe.

Anyone with eyes could see it no matter how much Sarah liked to pretend otherwise, and there’d been so many times you felt sorry for the oldest Cameron. No, he wasn’t perfect by any means, and yes, sometimes he absolutely deserved the verbal lashing from Ward, but you’d be a fool to deny the absolute disregard Ward gave Rafe even when he did try.

Rafe just wasn’t anyone’s favorite.

…so he became yours.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You blinked up at him, and his gaze lifted from your breasts to meet your gaze.

“Like this?” you breathlessly wondered, a hand on your chest, massaging a hardened bud between your fingers.

“Don’t ask me,” Rafe purred, his free hand joining yours. “Does it feel good?”

The nod you gave him was shaky, and you watched Rafe’s tongue dart between his lips. He dipped his hips a tad when he thrust into you, making you gasp at the feel of his cock hitting something inside of you that you didn’t know was there. When he shined the camera light in your face briefly, you turned your head.

“Sorry,” he choked out, but he didn’t sound all that sorry. “I’ll blur that out.”

His thrusts had your toes curling, and you pushed your feet against his chest.

“I don’t…I don’t want Ward or someone else to find this and know it was me,” you struggled to say, breath hitching when Rafe slammed into you.

Rafe replied after some time.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he whispered. “They won’t.”

Angel.

It was funny how a normal nickname that you were used to hearing all the time sounded so different, now. Of course, all the other times, Rafe had never been inside of you. He’d been dropping you off somewhere or convincing you to do the dishes instead or looking for you the minute he woke up at twelve in the afternoon. Now, with Rafe plunging his cock into you, the sound of it made you shudder.

“It’s kind of crazy how fitting that nickname is,” Sarah said one day. “…because I swear you’re the only one that can actually get Rafe to behave.”

You both chuckled at the comment, but now you were doing anything but laughing.

Your free hand trailed down to touch yourself, and Rafe made a noise of approval at the action.

His hand left your breast to cover yours between your legs, guiding your fingers and rubbing them over your bundle of nerves. The feeling—when combined with his thrusts—made you flutter around him, and Rafe let out a deep moan. It went straight to your stomach, loving the sound, and you looked up at him.

His gaze wasn’t on you anymore, and as you stared at him, you were surprised how weird you didn’t feel about this.

Going off to UNC had sparked varying reactions in your household. Rose was only happy for you, Wheezie too, but both Sarah and Ward held some concerns you never even knew they had. Something about your sheltered upbringing and wondering if you were ready. You’d been offended, of course. After all, going off to college had always been the plan and Ward knew that, so being treated like some child baffled you.

However, you were even more baffled when Rafe didn’t back you up.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked him the day you got your acceptance letter. “You don’t want me to go…?”

Even though Rafe was silent for a long time, you could see it on his face.

He didn’t want you to go.

“It’s so far-.”

“It’s four hours,” you’d interrupted, in disbelief that Rafe of all people was not on your side.

“It’s far enough.”

You remembered thinking how much he resembled a child—pouting—and you’d huffed. You hadn’t been able to stop the tears from kissing your eyes, and you’d folded your arms over your chest.

“Why aren’t you happy for me?” you’d asked in a small voice.

That had Rafe looking up, and you didn’t miss the way his face fell with one look at your own.

“I am,” he’d assured you. “I’m so happy for you, but… What if something goes wrong? What if some asshole gets too aggressive with you? I’m not going to be there to pick you up from parties and hold your hand when a hurricane comes through.”

You’d looked down, shifting on your feet.

“I know that, Rafe…but I’m an adult, now. I have to figure things out for myself.”

You could tell he hadn’t liked that answer, but despite how much Rafe made it clear that he didn’t want you to go, he did help you pack before the semester started. He’d also helped you move in with Ward and Rose’s help, surprising them both.

“Don’t think I won’t be dropping in unannounced.”

Rose had scolded him that day, but you’d only rolled your eyes. You were used to Rafe’s protectiveness, and as much as you desired independence, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the thought of Rafe visiting you on campus.

…and visit you, he did.

It was almost admirable, really, the way he managed to swoop in at some of the most inconvenient times. The night you were considering going to some party or the night you’d gotten locked out of your house or the time your roommate had guys over. The memory of that evening still weighed on your chest, recalling the way Rafe hovered and the way the guy you were supposed to be set up with was forced to keep his distance.

“You were scaring him,” you’d whined later that night.

“…and you want a guy that jumpy?” he’d snorted, taking off his shirt and relaxing on your bed.

Rafe had overstayed his welcome and had no choice but to stay the night. Granted, a hotel was always an option, but you would’ve felt shitty making him book a hotel when you had a perfectly fine queen-sized bed.

“If some chump is that intimidated by your big brother, then he isn’t the one for you,” he’d whispered in the dark as you faced him. “You’re the kind of girl who needs looking after.”

The words had soured in your mind, and you hadn’t responded.

You hated that Rafe saw you that way—that almost everyone did—but it was only some months later when you were forced to admit that maybe Rafe was right. Being so far away from home for an extended period of time for the first time in your life clearly got to your head. You found yourself confronted with so much temptation and opportunities.

Before you knew it, you’d maxed out two credit cards and was struggling to make ends meet with the extra money Ward and Rose were sending you. The day your payment was declined while in some fancy store was burned into your brain, and you hadn’t even realized how much debt you’d collected until you were on the phone with a representative from the company.

The whole situation sucked, but more than anything, it sucked that you proved everyone right.

Especially Rafe.

So, when he unexpectedly showed up on your doorstep this morning, you wanted to be sick.

“Rafe,” you’d breathed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The blond had silently stood at your door, expression unreadable, and it had taken him a minute to finally reply.

“You never know I’m coming,” he’d drawled, brushing by you. “What makes this time so different?”

“No reason,” you’d hurried to say.

You suspected then that he caught onto something being wrong, but you’d forced yourself to write it off. Despite engaging in conversation with you, you hadn’t missed the way Rafe strode about your place, those blue eyes of his taking everything in with an attention to detail you weren’t used to.

“So, why are you here?” you’d wondered.

Your question gave him pause, and you hadn’t missed the glint in his eyes then.

“What…?” he’d asked, nearing you. “I can’t drop in on my baby sister and see how she’s doing?”

He’d held your gaze with an intensity you weren’t used to, and you’d looked away.

“No, of course, you can. I was just…curious.”

You should’ve known that Rafe knew more than he let on when he opened your fridge and merely hummed at the lack of food in it. For obvious reasons, you didn’t protest when he suggested ordering food, and it was when you found yourself leaning against the counter with a handful of pizza did he finally drop the bomb.

“You’re lucky I pay more attention to the mail than they do.”

His biting words were accompanied with the slam of a few envelopes on the counter, and your heart dropped when you realized what they were—credit card statements. His hands on the counter caged you in, but you could hardly move anyway with how much shock you were in, flipping through them all with parted lips.

It didn’t take him long to start tearing into you.

“I knew this was a bad idea. I knew that at the very least, I should’ve moved up here with you,” he’d sneered.

“Are you going to tell Ward?” you’d tearfully asked him. “If he knew how much I messed up he’d cut me off so fast.”

“He probably should,” Rafe had told you with a frown, making your tears spill over.

He’d softened some at the sight of them, and you’d collapsed on the couch.

“I didn’t even realize I’d been spending so much,” you cried to him. “…and I keep trying to get a job to fix this but I just can’t get hired anywhere.”

At your rambling, Rafe had knelt before you, his hands on your knees as he shushed you. You’d struggled to hold his gaze as he wiped your face, trying to calm you down. When your breathing settled some, Rafe took your hand.

“I can’t imagine you behind somebody’s counter, anyway,” he’d softly said, thumb grazing your skin. “Breaking your back and coming home exhausted. You need to be focused on school.”

“…but Rafe-.”

His hand gently landing on your mouth had you swallowing your words, and you’d blinked at him as he traced patterns into your skin.

“Look, I know how to get you money—plenty of it and fast.”

His words had given you pause, making you perk up some.

“…but you’ll have to trust me,” he’d murmured.

You did trust Rafe, with your whole heart, but his next words still made your heart drop.

“Rafe…I don’t think I can do this,” you found yourself whispering an hour or so later, swallowing at his gentle grip on your throat. “

…besides, we… I mean…”

You didn’t have to finish voicing your thoughts, troubled gaze meeting his.

“It’s just a little way to make you fast money. It’s not like anyone will know it’s us…” he’d murmured, lips brushing yours. “…and it’s not like we’ll be running the risk of accidentally having questionable children or something.”

You knew what he meant, understood what he was getting at, but it still felt…wrong to you. Or at least, like it should be. Rafe had never been anything other than the brother you met years ago, and here he was, kissing you and convincing you to let your first time be with him…and on camera, no less.

“People love that amateur porn shit,” were his oh so eloquent words.

Despite how you initially felt about it, you still found yourself on your back and bent at the edge of your bed while Rafe stood before you, phone in hand. His words of encouragement filled your ears as he circled your clit with his thumb, the head of his cock slowly pushing into you. He’d had his face between your thighs for some time before that, telling you he needed to get you nice and ready for him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he’d hissed as he continued to push his way into you.

When he was flush with you, both of your chests heaving, he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“You okay, angel?”

It wasn’t as painful as you always expected it to be—you surmised that had more to do with Rafe than anything—but there was still a dull painful ache accompanied by the burn of being stretched out. At your shaky nod, Rafe merely gave you a half smile, leaning over to kiss you before straightening and starting a torturously slow pace.

“Do you hear how wet you are? Hmm?”

You could, and you might’ve been embarrassed if it weren’t for the look on Rafe’s face.

“So wet…and tight…and all mine,” he breathed, the phone light bright as it shone on where you greedily sucked him in with every thrust. “She’s dripping for me.”

You felt like you were in a blissful daze, lying there and taking his thrusts. Rafe had a way with words and making you squirm from more than just the feel of him stuffing you full.

“They’d pay big money to see me fill you up, angel.”

You slowly blinked at him, frowning slightly and not understanding him at first. However, when his free hand left your clit alone and instead reached for himself, realization hit you.

“Rafe…”

Your tone held warning, but Rafe pulled out anyway, a hand on his cock as he leaned in to press his lips to yours again. What a strange way for you to realize that not only did you like kissing, but you liked kissing Rafe.

“It’s going to look so good on camera,” he purred. “Just thinking about my cock twitching as I come inside of you…pulling out and watching it all drip out of that virgin pussy…”

The thought did have you clenching down on air.

“It’s your first time… You should know what that feels like—to get fucked raw.”

Your lack of protest boldened Rafe, and you felt out of control when the tip of him touched you again, only without latex between you this time. He was slow to slide into you, a groan escaping him the same time you moaned as you both basked in the feel of his bare cock fitting snugly inside of you. You threw your head back, and Rafe told you to keep touching your breasts.

You couldn’t deny the difference as he slowly rutted into you. The camera shined light on your stomach and chest and back down again as he moved the phone. His now powerful thrusts turned you into a wanton mess, absentmindedly massaging your nipples in time with his hips. Rafe’s free hand was on you again, rubbing your mound and folds and clit, occasionally spreading you further to really get a good look at the way his cock pushed into you.

The squelch of your core was loud, and you could feel the way you were dripping around him.

Your bed squeaked under the weight of his thrusts, and the feel of skin against skin was sending you both spiraling.

“I’m gonna come,” Rafe gasped, his thrusts sloppy and rough as he fucked himself into you.

You felt the same, but you couldn’t really voice it, too focused on trying to breathe despite the fast pace of your heart. When Rafe pressed a hand into your stomach, it sent you over the edge, and the feel of you tightening around him and clenching down on him had him coming too, spilling into you with a loud moan.

Rafe’s thrusts were lazy now as he fucked you both through your orgasms, hips slow as he pushed into you. He only stopped when he softened completely, slow to pull his cock out and drop to his knees. His free hand reached for you, a thumb and index finger on your lips as he spread them.

“Look at that,” you heard him murmur while you fought to catch your breath. “You took me so well, angel.”

One of your feet relaxed on the floor, now while the other rested on his shoulder.

“Push it out for me. Show them how well you milked my cock…”

You didn’t quite understand him, but you did what you thought he wanted you to do. To your surprise, you could feel him leaking out of you, and the noise Rafe made told you he was satisfied.

“Good girl,” he purred, pushing two fingers into you. “You take me so well, you know that?”

He leaned in and kissed your sore lips then, a hum escaping him as he straightened. The camera was now off, and the phone was tossed to the side, but Rafe’s lips still found yours with a moan. Your confusion must have been evident when he pulled away, because he reached up to drag his thumb over your mouth.

“We’ll need to make time to practice if we want the next one to be even better.”

[domoriu]

thinking about jaehyun… who just needs to be filled up all the time like the whore he is.

cw. smut mdni ! sub!jaehyun gn!reader, anal play & toys used on jaehyun

the boy was so cockdrunk, no matter what you did he’d somehow always want more. your lubed up fingers stretching his hole out while he trembles under your touch.

“more, more” he pokes his ass out as a way to convince you, you’re already three fingers deep and you know at this rate he’d probably want all of your fingers.

sliding your fingers out of the boy, you decide he’s prepped enough for the dildo you had bought just for him. he whimpers at the loss of contact, burying his face into the pillows while he waits for you to lube up the silicone before pressing it against his hole.

jaehyun loves being filled up. ever since the first time he tried it with you he just knew he’d want to be filled up all the time. and then he started getting greedy, needing more and more — longer, thicker, harder, he doesn’t even need to touch his cock in order to cum when you fuck him, abusing his prostate until he’s making a mess all over the sheets, your hands, and his tummy.

like now, tears fill jaehyuns waterline as he squirms. he can’t move much with the way you have him tied to a chair, stuffed to the hilt with a dildo suctioned to the seat. every time he moves the silicone moves in him, rubbing against his walls so deliciously. the pleasure he was feeling is only amplified with the vibrating cock ring you put on him, bucking his hips into the air. he cant tell where his last orgasm ends and his next one starts, but he can’t complain when it feels so good.

“be a good boy and fuck my hand, hyunnie” your words ring through his ears and he barely hears you, but he’s still attentive even when he’s so overstimulated. he looks down and sees your hand so close to his cock, tip red and leaking and practically begging for your touch. he does what he’s told, raising his hips so his cock fits into the O shape you have your hand in, sliding against the skin before moving back down.

he can barely handle all the stimulation, the drag of his cock against your hand with each raise of his hips mixed with the way he sinks back down onto the cock inside of him, stretching him out so good and deep, and then the low vibrations from the cock ring were just so much for him. he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, and you coo at his dazed state.

“mmph, cum- gonna cum-“ jaehyun bites his lip, trying to distract himself from the way you stare at him and how he can hear the sounds from his skin making contact with the bottom of the chair.

“that’s it, cum all over my hand baby… make a mess for me” and with a tight squeeze around his cock he’s cumming, bottoming out around the silicone toy as he drips all down your hand. he grinds his hips as he rides his orgasm out, slowly coming back to reality through his blurred vision. you tsk when his hips come to a stop, using your free hand to pinch his outer thigh and he yelps.

“ah ah, dont slow down. i know you can take some more, cant you? my little slut can take all that i give him, right?”

for @zynz0 …. im feeling evil rn 🙂‍↕️ this is kinda formatted weird sorry i hope its still good <3 🤓

also !!! do you guys fw gn!reader… i feel like if its focused on the idol mainly then adding fem reader isnt too important :3

[koiir]

LOVESICK LOVER, moments of sweetness with them— reo, hiori, rin, bachira

DOTING REO IN THE MORNING!

Mornings spent with reo is always guaranteed to have you fall deeper in love, such as the mornings you two share.

His new gifts of expensive skincare that is amazing on the skin and beneficial for you. He wouldn’t dare spend money on something that isn’t worth it, especially when it comes to you.

Having him hold you in his lap as his hands meet your face, applying the serums, creams, moisturizers, toners—whatever is needed to take care of that face of yours he loves so much.

Soft hands, caressing your face with eyes filled of adoration resembles one of a puppy, one that is entranced and locked into the person in sight—you.

Of course the last step of his pampering session is a fancy breakfast! The boy will not take no for an answer, happily taking your hand as he is plastered with a smile on his face. He really can’t help it, he cherishes you so much he just has to show you how much he loves you each and every morning.

GAMING NIGHTS WITH HIORI!

Hiori who doesn’t just game over for games, but rather a comfort of food and cute gifts for the one and only—you.

It’s simple, really, you two side by side as you both hold a controller in hand—competing for victory. Though a sparkle of love is throughout the room as hiori still makes affectionate gestures towards you. (he also expects the same.)

Faint kisses after a loss on your or his end, if you get tired then he lays his body on yours, you get the picture.

Taking little breaks to relax and gain energy by eating the food he brought. Boba brought as you both taste the new flavors he brought, savory food shared between each other, and finally sweets at the very end that are eaten between games.

Though it’s a simple night and rather common, these moments never fail to make your heart flutter as the boy whom has stolen your heart only proves just how much he can fit inside of your world. One of love and kindness that will last a lifetime.

WINTER BEAUTY, SOFT RIN!

When winter springs into action, Rin feels a sense of bitterness to his being. Past memories trickle into his brain, though as snow does, it melts away once he sees the smile you bring when you see the snowfall.

His heart swells when you wrap your warm hand around his, caring for the cold hand of his that usually is cold—but he doesn’t mention that. He excuses the faint red on his face from the cold air, though his mind and would know otherwise.

Walking hand in hand, the itoshi smiles softly seeing the way you bring a hand to the snowflakes falling in a soft embrace. He doesn’t dare to you let you see the smile, wanting for once to not having you tease him.

Although he can’t hide it at times, believing your hot chocolate is keeping you preoccupied as you drink the beverage without a care. His lips morph into an agape open, eyes locked onto you as he takes in all of you.

You take notice, smiling at him for admiring you. The boy grows annoyed but he can’t keep the act for long, initiating a form of love by a kiss to your face, face hidden by his scarf that doesn’t allow you to see the red hue on his cheeks.

OCEAN WAVES, HAPYY BACHIRA!

Summer heaps the ideal for cooling activities to take place, such as the beach! Bachira is more than content to unleash his child persona more when water is mentioned.

Swimming to his heart contents, water splashing as he makes you his target. Both of you battling against each other with the waves as your weapon—and ocean the battlefield.

When the both of you eventually get tired from all the running (bachira tries to prove that you can rin while in water and ends up getting knocked over by a wave) you both enjoy cool frosty desserts as he takes bites out of yours (you can not tell me he WOULDNT bite ice cream.)

Sun setting, and the joyous boy still wishes to make the most out of the beach—so he proposes you two float in the water. Its calm at first, but he targets you by pulling your hand down, making you submerge into the water.

a/n; little drabbles of my favorite boys since I’m on vacay again ૮ฅ^ ᵕ ^ฅა ♡

[twinglockrobins]

wildflower

jason todd. f! reader

description. harboring in the loss of your late boyfriend jason, his brother is tasked with protecting you, but he begins to think he crossed the line when the late robin is back from the dead and he already sacrificed much.

warnings. death / grief / funeral / super angsty / violence / fighting [gotham combat] / slight substance use / slightly au-ish [dick attends jasons funeral] / this is so ouch like tear inducing / pre-death to redhood! jason / platonic! dick and reader relationship /

based on wildflower by billie. adjusted to fit the story / blue lyrics match dick, red lyrics match jason and their thoughts

she was your girl, you showed her the world

things had been perfect. Perfect as assuming there were hardly any flaws or cracks surrounding the surface, so you would say that the relationship you shared with Jason was perfect. Who was to argue over movie nights, and watch the Gotham City sky-line off the rooftop under the grey illumination of the moon. Blissful kisses and dinner at the Wayne’s. 

But what you were unaware of, was the costume that was making him sick; from the inside out. Yellow cape behind him waving in the wind almost like a warning and a sign for him to slow down. To take the mask off and face the real him. The Jason behind the glamour and confusion of life yearning for the truth. Little by little robinhood was driving him crazy and his past tickled at the back of his mind. The Joker wasn’t too far behind him either. 

A few days after the two of you had begun dating, Jason bit down his pride. Anxiety bubbling in his stomach as meals were becoming less and less — as well as sleep, and though he couldn’t put a finger on the uneasiness he was having, It was making him bitter and irrational to everyone else. Including you. 

Trudging through the Wayne residence, to pull a fluffy-haired Dick Grayson aside.  Dick could see it all in Jason’s face, the existential dread, grief and sadness in one. His eyebrows furrowed and bags so deep it was leaving dark holes under his eyes. 

So Dick asked if the two of you had broken up? Perhaps he was grieving the loss of your relationship, to which Jason shook his head but snatched Dick up by the collar of his shirt,

“Can you promise me something?” Jason stammered, voice shaking and his knuckles turning white against the blue shirt Dick was wearing

“Look after her, please. I-If I were to die tomorrow and there was no me…make sure she’s okay…please”

Please. 

The six-letter word was something Dick thought that he would never hear out of the boy's mouth, but here he was; late in the depths of the night — begging him — almost on his knees. Dick couldn’t stop nodding his head, hands wrapping around Jason's wrist to pull him away from his shirt.

His brother didn’t really ask for much and a big request for his first ask was a little jarring. 

It itched at the back of his mind seeing as Jason dropped his grip on his shirt and left, almost ghostly in his appearance. 

she was cryin’ on my shoulder, all I could do was hold her, only made us closer until July 

Flowers smelled nice in the rain. But not appreciated when you were front row, looking down at a sleek black casket. White and red roses decorate the top, with a wooden picture stand to the side.  It was bittersweet how time worked. Snatching Jason down as his hourglass of time was shortening and dimming and his lucky nine lives were suddenly zero. 

You, with your mouth agape gripped onto the umbrella as the rain poured down zoned out as his eulogy was being read. 

Jason. Your Jason was in that casket, and his lack of contact suddenly made sense to you. 

Dick paid close attention to how you were moving, tears littering your cheeks and sliding down your face like it would a window pane, and the grip you had on the umbrella similar to the one Jason had on his shirt a few months prior. His eyes trickled down to your hand, that was jerking forward until you consciously pulled it away and balled it into a shaking fist.

The wave of grief you were riding, and Dick right along with you. 

It made the boy cry more seeing the way you were unraveling, the once energetic attitudes you had, dulled and destroyed with dead eyes and despair. 

His hands couldn’t help it as they trickled their way to your forearm. Sending a gentle swipe of comfort and support, to which your body felt light and your head knocked onto his shoulder. Dick froze, Jason’s words playing like a record in the back of his mind as he held onto you. The umbrella for one, becoming an umbrella for two as his loose hand took it from your own. 

Crying together was all you can do. A watchful Bruce at the back of you two, eyes burning holes into the shadow of the umbrella to his face. Guilt riddled in his stomach, was this what it felt like to lose? 

His eyes connected with Alfred who could only stay silent as he watched as the young duo cried together. 

That day, Dick publicly vowed, to you that he’d be there. For you to not be a stranger and that the Wayne Manor was always open to you, and of course Jason’s belongings. That it’s what his brother would have wanted. 

but i see her, in the back of my mind, all the time

Dick was mortified, the heartbroken look on your face replaying in the back of his mind and it’s been years since Jason has been dead. His ears would ring constantly and sleep was becoming harder. Working with the Titans eased the pain of thinking about his loss…well, your loss—

As expected, you pushed yourself away, doing what you knew best. 

It was easy to ghost the bat family shortly as the years came by. Bruce stopped calling but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching and Dick tried to keep you updated on his life — until traveling got in the way. So you bit the bullet and changed your number. 

It settled your brain inside, to calm the panic that would rake through your body when you would get a message from Dick; almost irritated that Jason’s name wasn’t the one at the top of the screen instead— something saying that he wasn’t dead and that it’s just a prank. You would hope and you would dream. 

like a fever, like i'm burning alive, like a sign

Dick respected your silence, and your absence all together. But  it did feel like a slap to the face when Alfred would ask and he’d lie like he knew the answer when he didn’t. Truth is, his heart sank when he realized your number wasn’t the same. His cheeks got warm, his chest was burning and his stomach swirled at the thought of you, and maybe it was the selfish desire and urge to protect you and keep Jason’s word alive; because if he was honest, he was doing terrible at it. 

So he spiraled, digging up everything he possibly could about you, so he could actually sleep at night knowing you were in good hands. He wondered if you were dating again, had you changed your hair or your job? But according to the Gotham City street tv’s you still looked like a spitting image from how you looked when he last saw you. Black from the trench coat at the top of your body to your shoes, it sent a shiver down his body.

But what was he going to say to you?

“Hey y/n I hope you’ve been well?”

“I’m sorry Bruce stopped calling”

“Why did you change your number?”

Dick felt his throat run dry, a cold tough lump every time he swallowed, almost like he couldn’t breathe. Then he sunk into his chair, floppy hair pushed back by his hands as he gripped at his scalp, typing in the nearest florist that he knew. 

That evening, A mix of flowers arrived at your desk; Jason’s favorites. Your hands are entangled in the vase, fingers ghosting on the stem and leaves. Sniffing them almost took you back to standing in the rain that day. Coldness fills your body and the void that hasn’t been filled. You shrieked as your finger sliced a rectangular card of white paper, your crimson blood staining the white as you read the note;  I hope you’re well — D . G 

And you knew that name better than anyone. 

and I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me

Grunts filled the air, alongside the slapping of fist against flesh and scuffing of shoes. The redhood emerged wrecking havoc on criminal business in Gotham and it certainly wasn’t going to go unnoticed. Dick should have known the minute he put his blue and black suit back on as he tussled side to side with the rather buff and tall man in front of him. 

The red-hood shoved Dick off of him, holding onto the side of his mask in between pants “Why don’t we do this with honesty” 

Dick tilted his head in confusion as he watched the red-hood dethrone his mask. Shaking his hair out and rolling it like a bowling ball towards Dick. Jason’s hair was a tad bit longer now, money pieces frosted blonde, and a J scar etched into his cheek, his gaze was hard and so lifeless. Dick felt like his heart stopped beating in his chest, breathes shakier than ever — burning up like he did when he had a fever. The wound was reopening for Dick. To see a very much alive Jason Todd in front of him was enough to throw him off his step. Hand crossed over his hip from the punches to his stomach, Dick doubled over. 

“I’m gonna be sick, how are you…”

“fight me.” Jason spat bitterly as he stared at Dick, ignoring the way the boy was trying to piece together if his death even happened. If the body in the casket was even real, who could he blame?

“Why would I fight you, you’re my brother?” Dick argued taking off his domino mask, eye makeup surrounding his eyes as he stared into Jason eye-to-eye. He couldn’t feel his soul; he couldn’t see through him, and for some reason their meeting felt oddly eerie. He dropped the mask, the thick eye mask landing right next to Jasons mask on the floor. The dichotomy. 

do you see her in the back of your mind, in my eyes?

“Where is she?” Jason poked, but Dick just remained silent his body resting against the wall,

“Dick, where the hell is she?” Jason repeated, this time with some base in his voice as the octave got louder. 

He moved in closer.

“I can’t— I can’t tell you that I’m sorry” Dick muttered as his head hung low. Jason cursed under his breath as his body turned facing away from Dick as he had a hand resting over his mouth. “But I can reassure you, she’s safe”

“So tell me where she is!”

“I CAN’T !”

Maybe this was selfish of him, Dick thought this was the right move, the smarter choice…even; and guilt was chewing him up and spitting him out like bird food. 

“I am sticking to what you said to me, and what you requested. You can’t just go back and play house, she’s hurt!” Dick paused as he tried to gather her thoughts, “let her heal”

His comment sent Jason over the edge, as his body lunged forward, fist in the air to plummet Dick’s face, missing as Dick’s reflexes started to kick in. Dick was doing well, dodging Jason’s punches until he reached in his holster, bringing out a small gun— silencer attached and began shooting at Dick in front of him who was successfully dodging every bullet.

“You can’t find her if I’m dead!”

Jason stopped firing, staring at the boy below him, chewing at his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut. Face filled with contemplation and indecision, Jason held his finger on the trigger firing it anyways, as the bullet traveled deep into the cement next to Dick’s leg — purposely missing by an inch. It did make his heart pang seeing the way Dick scrunched up in terror, with his arms blocking his face. 

did i cross the line

Jason stood in front of your apartment building, fully suited in his suit. It was almost menacing how he looked.  Thick boots on the fire escape, wet from the light dusting of rain as he broke your window seal open to climb inside. 

Jason was immediately overwhelmed, it felt awfully warm inside but your perfume was also everywhere, every crevice of the room. His wet footsteps trickling around the room as he saw how empty your apartment looked. It almost reminded him of his own. Your white sheets, lack of red or color anywhere and that wasn’t quite like you. There was hardly any decor on your bedroom walls, but he didn’t wanna loose hope.

Jason traveled further down the hall of your apartment, the living room and kitchen separated by an island table that was closer in the kitchen, but still…minimalist and lack of pictures. He snickered to himself. It wasn’t you, or the you that he knew that encouraged him to not wear black all the time when he wasn’t out playing robin. He de-gloved his hands reaching for the photo that was facing down on the table— lifting up the glass to reveal a picture of a much younger him, and yourself together. It was taken by Alfred at one of Bruce’s Gala’s and it pained him how awkward he looked, but his eyes were vibrant and full of hope. 

Jason’s body suddenly felt warm and he wanted to rip every article of clothing off his body, he couldn’t recognize himself or what he had become, where he had even been had been a blur. His memories felt every bit of a dream. But you were constant. The memories he had of you never changed, his hand shot up to his chest like the air was suddenly hard to breathe, when he crouched to the floor; knees in front of the mantle.

Jason was planning to get comfortable, his hand reaching up to take his mask off when he heard the jingle of keys outside your front door. Cursing to himself he took off, hiding back into your bedroom with the light off blending in with the dark curtains you had and the wall shadow. 

He heard the front door open, you were walking in after your shift; struggling to stay upright as you shrugged off your coat and purse to the couch. The familiar trench coat that you always wore slightly damp but blobbed as it rested on the arm. You took off your shoes, one by one which made you notice the track of footprints on the floor. It was Gotham, meaning people liked to play on the fire-escape for fun which made you grab a knife from the knife block. 

On the way down the hall, you’ve seen the picture of you and Jason up-right, causing your hands to grip around the picture but you think it could of been the alcohol you’ve been drinking that was making you see things. Flipping the picture over and back face down to the table you followed the footsteps into your bed-room.

Pushing the door open was rather humbling when met with vacancy and silence. You couldn’t even bother to hit the light as the moonlight shined on your face and casted a blue hint into the bedroom. But the breeze of your window was frustrating you. Sobering by the minute, as the knife dropped to the bed. You mumbled words to yourself like — “get it together,” “what’s wrong with you” and it pained Jason to see how you were moving from his stance in the curtain. You’d looked so similar from when he had last seen you, but the lack of color on your body made it clear the pain hasn’t left you. You’d become him, dull and lost.

Reaching the window you finally closed it, noticing that the lock to your window was broken. Groaning knowing you’d have to call maintenance that took forever and a day, so you turned on your heels as you walked out of your bed room and to the bathroom. 

Jason couldn’t move, his feet felt cemented in the floor as he rested his body weight against the wall…He was trying to ignore the dampness of his mask and his face, as the tears cooked an obnoxious amount of condensation. 

He was gone and out the window with the flush of the toilet and perhaps Dick was right about one thing. 

i know you didn't mean to hurt me, so I keep it to myself

©TWINGLOCKROBINS 2025

[bohemianblasphemy]

It's your wedding night and you're a virgin but billy is just holding back because you're so delicate to him. It looks like he is going to chicken out with one of his rare fits of conscience. You huff and tell him to show you what he has. But when he does you panic and say he's too big, won't fit in you down there. He calms you down and then he is inside you. You're ecstatic you're finally not a virgin and you start to make a lot of loud noise at how good it feels inside. Billy clamps his hand over your mouth but he's smirking as you start screaming with the pleasure he is giving you

i hope you enjoy ✨

content: fem!reader, loss of virginity, wedding night, unprotected sex, tiniest angst if you squint, big dick billy

the late night stumble back to the hotel on your wedding night was full of anxious yet desirable emotions. Billy and yourself had finally tied the knot- an intimate yet bustling ceremony, mainly caused by the rowdy personalities of the Boys.

Billy’s mind was clouded as you both walked into your home for the evening- the subject of your virginity running circles around his brain. You were determined for that evening to be the night and as much as billy wanted you too, his thoughts were making him second guess himself.

“billy? can you hear me?” Butcher snapped out of his trance, face to face with you smiling at him.

“yeah love… sorry just thinking there.” he chuckled, trying to keep his cool. your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him in for a longing kiss. his hands reach your waist, pulling you close to him. pulling away from the kiss, you whispered “i want you billy…” eyes flickering up to him, your body fuelled with desire.

his mind filled once again with his self doubting thoughts mixed with a strong sense of responsibility and overwhelming desire for you. His facial expression screamed that he was conflicted, making you question him. “what’s going on? are you- are you backing out of this?” you looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“no no! that’s not it love…” he takes a breath, taking his time to put his words together. he steps forward towards you, placing a hand along your cheek, rubbing his thumb along it.

“i’m scared of hurting ya… i’d hate to see ya get hurt by me.” he voiced his concerns.

“y-you mean… you think that you’ll hurt me when… putting it in?” you looked at him, he nodded in response. “not to toot me own horn but i am… big.” he chuckled, trying to cut through the tension in the room.

“can you show me?” you asked bluntly, looking at him as he stroked you cheek. he was taken aback, but happily obliged as he took a few steps back and began to unbutton his black slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers. your eyes widened as you looked at him.

“billy, i-it might be too big for me-“ you whispered, your brain short circuiting at his size. he came back over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “we don’t have to do anything tonight love, it’s okay if you’re nervous-“ he reassured you.

“no… no i want to, i want to so bad.” you looked up at him, seeing the worry in his eyes. “it’s just intimidating ya know?” you smiled nervously, taking a deep breath to keep your breathing in check.

“don’t you worry love, just breathe yeah? we’ll take it slow… i wanna make it good f’ ya, my lovely wife.” his voice was soothing, an ointment for your nerves. your eyes locked on each other for a while, before you ran your hands over his chest to his shoulders; pushing his black suit jacket off him, continuing to unbutton his white button up. “i want this…” you whispered in his ear.

he exhaled a shaky breath at your actions and whispers as you undid the final button on his shirt, letting him shrug it off his body to the floor. you turned around, letting him untie the knot to the corset on your gown and have it pool to the carpet at your feet.

stepping out of the sea of tulle you faced billy in your lingerie, looking toward him in a vulnerable manner. he drinks in your figure, stepping forward to run his hands along your sides before pulling you in for a kiss. his lips are warm, igniting a fire within you that you hadn’t felt before as he backed you up toward the large bed.

your ankles hit the frame and butcher gently pushed you to the bed; scooting up the duvet as he crawled on top, encapsulating your lips with his once more. the sound of lips smacking and soft moans filled the room as billy’s fingers ghosted over your chest, squeezing one of your laced covered breasts. large digits trail further down to your stomach and hips, toying with the material of your underwear. “please billy… please touch me…” you begged, those sweet words lingered in the air as butcher stretched the material, snapping it back onto your skin. you whimpered from the sensation, causing butcher to chuckle.

“since ya asked so nicely…” in a swift motion butcher pulled the thin material down your thighs and tossing them to the floor, leaving you bare before him. his eyes darkened as he brought you in for another kiss, before his lips trail down your neck and collar, softly sucking marks along your delicate skin.

the soft gasps and moans flowed out of you like a river as his mouth travelled further, reaching your hips and inner thighs. he looks up at you from between your legs, admiring your flustered eyes before looking down at your glistening pussy.

“god look at ya… barely touched ya and you’re already soakin..” he teased his fingers along your folds, desire flowing through your body like lava as your hips bucked for more. lips travelled down your inner thighs before reaching where you wanted him most- his tongue creating agonisingly soft circles along your clit, his fingers teasing your entrance.

“fuck billy… you are-oh… shit that’s so good.” you swore you saw stars, your fingers reaching down to roam through his hair. you felt him chuckle, sending vibrations through your body from your center. “feel good lovey?” he whispered against you, his fingers just inside you, testing the waters.

“god it’s- so nice…” you managed to croak out, feeling his fingers along your walls. your hips bucked forward, needing him deeper which he happily took advantage of, sliding his thick fingers deeper, his tongue still attacking your clit. your eyebrows furrowed as he continued his actions, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter. “please billy, please… i need you, i- i need you inside me.”

Butchers head raised from between you, his smirk appearing on his face, coated in your slick and saliva. “yeah? ya want me?” you nodded, pulling him up to come chest to chest with you. “i want you… i want this…” with a quick nod butcher leans down to share a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips with a groan.

large hands guide your thighs around his waist as he prepared to line himself up with your entrance. “if it’s too much for ya, tell me to stop yeah?” you nodded, anticipating his next actions; his cock slid against your folds teasingly- softly taping your clit with his tip.

he looked down at you, smiling softly as you felt the radiating warmth of his length run through you with a swift but gentle thrust of his hips. a gasp erupted from you- a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain ran through your body, the pain soon disappearing as pleasure took over.

he was gentle with his movements, looking to you to make sure you were okay- seeing your face in a state of ecstasy was enough for him to continue thrusting deep into you. the noises that fell from your lips grew louder and louder, words laced in desperation for more.

With a devilish smirk, Billy clamped his large palm over your mouth. “shhh… don’t wanna wake up half of our floor yeah?” you couldn’t help but whimper against his palm, sending vibrations that only egged him on the go faster, driving you into the mattress- long fingers travelled to your sensitive bud, creating slow circles around it making your body jolt and making muffled sounds against his hand.

Butcher removed his hand, replacing it with his mouth as he continued plowing into you. the knot in your stomach started to unravel, you pulled away from his kiss. “i-i’m so close…” you whimpered. “come f’ me love… please…” he almost begged for it, looking deep into your eyes as you unraveled- your mouth fell open, back arched into the mattress below you as stars appeared in your vision from your orgasm.

butcher chuckles as he watched you come undone around him, feeling your pussy pulsate around him made him shake. his eyebrows furrowed as he thrusted for a moment longer before he followed suit, cumming deep inside you.

stagnancy took over the both of you, relishing in your shared moment of your first time. he slowly pulled out of you, kissing you once more. “was that alright? you’re not hurtin’ are ya?” he questioned, bringing a palm to your cheek, letting you lean into his touch. “that was… more than alright billy, you’re amazing…” you were glowing, feeling satisfaction and relief. “w-was i okay?”

he smiled down at you before rolling to lay at your side. his fingers traced along your bare sides, admiring you.

“my girl… you are perfect.”

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Chapter 4

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

Neteyam is aged up.

CW: size kink, breeding kink, praising kink, inexperienced Neteyam, Neteyam is possessive, creampie, masochism? idk if it counts, exophilia, angst, semi public sex, monsterfucker, yearning, a bit of fluff, loss of virginity, interspecies relationship, Neteyam being careful not to hurt reader too much with his big alien cock, Dom af Neteyam, sub reader, doggy style, Neteyam is a filthy boy, wet-panties-material lol

It can be read as a solo smut or as a part of I wish I could

Everytime a word in italic appears between parenthesis, it stands for the meaning of a na'vi word that was said before.

Example: yawne (beloved)

Chapter 3

♡

"You don't know for how long I waited to feel you like this, my human." Neteyam said out of breath. "To feel your fragile body so close to mine, your skin so warm... I dreamt about this moment for so long. I'm kinda shy to admit it but I would always touch myself alone at night thinking about ruining your little body and making you mine. And, Eywa! I would cum so hard."

Your whole body felt weak and on fire at the same time hearing the na'vi say those beautiful and filthy things to you, looking deep into your eyes. Nothing could be more perfect right now. You wanted to be his forever and you were so happy the na'vi mated for life. It meant Neteyam would never want to leave you. And Eywa knows you would die if he did. You loved him with your whole body and soul.

"I love how soft you are. Love your thick thighs, your squashy belly, these big breasts... Eywa, (y/n)..." he said with furrowed eyebrows, staring at your breasts, covered by the thin fabric of your brown cropped top, some cleavage in sight. "I love your big titties so much. I wanna suck on them so bad. I'm sorry if I sound too eager, I..."

"Don't say you're sorry. I love it. I love hearing you say how much you want me, 'cause I want you so much too. I love that you're so much taller than me. Love feeling at your mercy when you hold me like this." You said, looking into his beautiful big yellow eyes.

"You do, baby? You love how bigger I am than you?"

"Hmhmm" you moaned as an "yes", biting your bottom lip

"You want me to ruin your little hole like I always wanted to? To show you how much I need you and leave a wound between your tiny legs? You know I can manhandle you so easily and make you submit to me and all my desires, right?" He said, lust filling his eyes

"I want you so bad. I'm yours to take, Teyam." You said, with a mix of fear and excitement in your chest and feeling your pussy get wetter with every word he said

"Oh, my yawnetu..." (loved one)

His face softened and he kissed you passionately, so rough you could feel your lips getting red and bruised but you loved every single second of it

Neteyam was dominant and was really going to let his deepest desires consume your flesh but he was still the kind and caring Neteyam you had always known, so he felt his heart melt when you said "I'm yours to take" followed with the nickname that you came up with for him and only you would call him like that. Hearing you say "Teyam" was the sweetest melody to his ears.

He was fully erect already, he needed to be inside you.

Neteyam started kissing your lips in a delicate way but his breath started to falter and his lips started to devour yours, kissing you hard, moving his tongue on yours and he loved how wet and warm your mouth was. He bit your lower lip, making you feel his sharp fangs but not enough to hurt you, and then gave you one last kiss.

"I need you, yawntutsyìp." (little loved one) "Need to be inside of you now." Neteyam said, rubbing his hard cock in your core

You moaned at the friction. He was huge. You could feel it.

"I'm a bit afraid, Teyam. You must be so big." You said with puppy eyes that looked at him

Neteyam smiled and said:

"I think so. Specially since you're so small. But don't worry, my love. We will make it fit. And I'll be gentle at first. I would never wanna hurt you on purpose."

Those words calmed your nerves down a little but you still knew you were gonna go through pain. You were a virgin and the human women that lived in Pandora had told you it was normal to hurt when they would lose their virginity with their human partners, can you imagine losing your human virginity to a na'vi male? His member was enormous compared to the one of a human man.

Neteyam was a virgin too and he was also a little nervous. He wanted to prove to you he could make you feel really good and he hated that he had to hurt you first. But there was nothing he could do about it other than try to be really careful with your small entrance. Thinking of how tiny you are, how tight you would surely feel around his cock made precum start dripping from his big swollen tip.

Neteyam started to take your top off and threw it somewhere. He took one of your breasts on one hand and started to kiss the other one. He licked your hard bud and sucked on it. That made your pussy wetter than it already was. He massaged the boob that was in his hand, squeezing it hard from time to time. He then started licking and suckling on your other nipple. He left little kisses all over both your breasts and, after that, Neteyam went down kissing your stomach, licking and biting the skin, making you whimper at the pain his fangs provoked. It was a good, fucking amazing kind of pain. He used his big fingers to untie the knot that kept your shorts closed, some inches below your bellybutton. You raised your hips, helping him move the small piece of clothing down your legs and then throw it near your head.

He positioned his head between your legs, kissed the upper part of your pussy and it made your body hair stand on end.

Neteyam opened your legs further and breathed deep, smelling your arousal.

"Your pussy smells so good, my human. It's just like your scent gets me in my rut period."

Your mouth slightly opened as you stared at him like he was the most beautiful creature in the Universe. And for you, he truly was.

Neteyam licked your entrance from the bottom to your clitoris. Your pussy clenched at the feeling. Neteyam breathed deep with the sight and started sucking your pussy lips. He would lick it too, tasting you with hunger. You moaned when he started sucking on your clit. He then licked again and again at your already so sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Aaah, Teyam..."

"You taste delicious, yawntutsyìp. I love tasting you, feeling how wet you are for me."

Neteyam spent some more time eating you out but it was too much for him. He was humping on the floor, needing some friction, trying to get some release.

"I need your pussy right now, my mate. Please, I'm so hard it hurts."

"Okay." You breathed deep, with furrowed eyebrows

Neteyam got on his knees and took his loincloth off. Your mouth opened a little when you realized how big and thick he was.

He grabbed his cock in his hand and positioned it at your entrance. It was so big compared to your small pussy that it seemed like it was gonna rip you apart trying to fit.

Neteyam pushed his tip in carefully.

You gasped

"Just relax for me, paskalin." (honey) "Please" He said

You tried to do as he said as you felt his length and girth stretch your pussy. Your eyes filled with tears as you started to feel a stinging kind of pain. Tears were running out of your eyes when Neteyam said:

"I'm so sorry it hurts, darling. I'm being as gentle as I can."

"It's okay. It's not your fault I'm so small compared to you." You said

After some time the pain went away and pleasure started to kick in. Neteyam was thrusting slowly and carefully into you but when he saw that you stopped crying and started to breath deep, in and out, pleasure all over you, he sped it up.

"I wish I could fit it all, baby, but you're so small" He said "But I'm not complaining. I love how small you are. My tiny human. All mine to fuck. I love your little cunt." he moaned "Love it so much, baby" another moan, louder this time, came out of his mouth

You couldn't say anything, you could only concentrate on how good his big blue cock felt inside your pussy. Wet sounds took over the place.

You started to moan more and more as his thrusts became harder inside you

Neteyam flipped you over with ease and put you on your knees so he could fuck you in doggy style. He put his cock back inside your pussy

"You love your mate's big cock, don't you, my human?" Neteyam said thrusting deep inside of you while you moaned loudly at the feeling

"I do, Teyam. I love it so much." You spoke, pleasure taking over your mind

"Do you want your man to give you a baby? I wanna get you pregnant so much, my love. Wanna spill my seed inside your small womb and watch it grow with our baby inside of you. I don't even know if that's possible for us to conceive but, Eywa... imagining you so big and swollen, getting much bigger than our women do, carrying my child inside of you, makes me wanna try. I bet you would look so hot like that. Our baby would be so heavy for your little body that I would probably have to carry you around in the last months of your pregnancy. And I would take you here to the forest and fuck you so hard any chance I got. I bet I would get many with all the carrying you around I would have to do."

"Teyam..." You whispered "Do you really mean what you're saying?"

"I do" He smiled "I thought you might wanna try it with me, even if it would maybe be dangerous for your health." He said, sounding a little sad, thrusting into you slower but holding you tighter, like he was so afraid to even think about losing you.

"Love, I really want you to get me pregnant" You breathed

"Really, my yawnetu?" He said to your ear and you felt his warm breath

"Yes. I know nobody ever tried it before and it might put me at risk but I wanna try. Maybe Eywa will help us."

"Ahh, baby..." Neteyam cooed and started fucking you fast again "I've always wanted to give you a child. I know how much you love na'vi babies and they seem to love you back."

"Then make a little na'vi baby on me, Teyam. Fuck, I want it so much. Wanna feel your child moving inside of my womb"

Neteyam felt a rush of adrenaline come through his body hearing you say that and you could feel his cock twitch inside of you and that was just so fucking good.

"I will, my human. I'm gonna get you pregnant real good. You're my mate, you're gonna carry my child and everybody will know that I fucked your little cunt and came inside of you. It will remind all the na'vi males that stare at you that you belong to me and me only." The tip of his huge cock was hitting your womb because of how deep he was fucking you.

Neteyam fucked you like an animal and he couldn't think of anything other than breeding his little human toy. He was gonna fuck you all the time when you're pregnant. The thought alone drove him wilder and his thrusts became sloppier. He heard you moaning really loud and felt so proud he could make his mate feel such pleasure. He grunted and pronounced deep loud moans. You felt like paradise and the sweet sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his swollen cock just seemed to fuel the fire inside him.

You were drowning in the sound of his big blue balls hitting your pussy vigorously. That was so erotic it had your pussy clenching and Neteyam could feel it, so much it made him moan

"Aaahh, my human... How can your little cunt feel so good? Fuck, I need to fill you up to the brim with my seed. Do you want it, baby?"

"I do, my mate. I want it so much. Give me a baby, please." You breathed, picturing yourself carrying Neteyam's little na'vi baby inside your womb

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum" Neteyam said, thrusting hard into you and his arm holding you tight, under your boobs, to keep you as close to him as he could. The tip of his tail was wrapped around your arm and you loved how intimate and possessive that felt.

Just a few thrusts later Neteyam came inside you. You could feel his hot liquid going into your womb. He came a whole lot, as the na'vi do, the reason why being they're way bigger than human males.

Neteyam still held you, letting more of his weight rest into you but just a bit, otherwise his big body would crush yours. He was breathing heavy into the skin of your neck. When he finally had his composure back, he kissed your neck tenderly two times and then rubbed his face in your sensitive skin, like a cat.

"Nga yawne lu oer“ (I love you) He spoke, out of breath

"Nga yawne lu oer" You said back "So much, Teyam."

He came out of you and his cum started dripping down your thighs. Dear Eywa, that felt insanely filthy but amazing at the same time.

Neteyam helped you lie on your back and lied by your side, supporting himself with one arm resting at the floor so he could rise his upper body a little bit and look at you.

"Oeyä." (mine) "My mate, my love, my human. Forever. We're united until eternity." Neteyam pronounced those words like a prayer. You could tell it meant everything to him.

Life was perfect now. You no longer felt lost. You belonged somewhere, you belonged to Neteyam now. He was your family. Your mate. And you were asking Eywa so hard that she would bless the both of you with a child. That would make you the happiest girl in Pandora.

☆•.°☆•.°☆•.°

Forgive me Lord for I have sinned a lot writing this chapter. 🤠 These big blue aliens turn me into a hoe

Comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome 💙💗

tagging:

@lik0

@behindthearcane

[thecherrytarot]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

pile 1 → pile 2 → pile 3

Pick the photo that you feel the most drawn to. As always, this is a general reading so take what resonates. This is a reading is between the tarot reader and your person so the 'they' here is you!

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏:

The reader would tell your person, "They are someone who is ruled by the planet pluto or have a lot of Scorpio in their chart. They have gone through a lot of transformations to be who they are today and they are very wise because of this. They are very mysterious, intelligent and highly calculated. Oh, you thought you had the upper hand ?! honey they gave you that hand, don't be a fool they are always one step ahead of you but not in a cunning way, it's just the way they are. They are like the flame of a burning candle, constantly changing and never remaining the same. Now I know this PG-friendly reading but your person is very sensual in nature and is not afraid to show the love they have for you even in public. Your physical union iykwim will be very healing for not only you but them as well, don't worry they will take care of all your needs and wants. Be careful with how you approach them and remember 'if you can't stand the heat then get out of the kitchen'. Cause being with them is not a nice walk in the park, they have problems that they know how to take care of all by themselves, are you ready to prove that you are dependable? They have experienced their share of loss and endings and now they know exactly what they want and let me tell you, they won't settle down for someone who doesn't fit their standards. They care a lot about others, it is almost as if it is their second nature. They will go out of their way to help someone but not because they are a people pleaser, they do it just because they can help. They do not expect anything in return. Why does that shock you? There are people like this world and you will be lucky enough to meet them."

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐:

the reader would tell your person, "oh my your person is already manifesting you, how sweet! They have been through so much and for some reason, they have very little support from their family and/or community, maybe they are the same gender as you?! whatever the reason they have had very little experience with real and pure love. They feel alone and may naively even go look for love in all the wrong places. Your person might even feel left out and behind by their friends, how dare they !!!! Poor soul though. I just imagined them and they are on their bed, crying to some higher being to send them someone who will love them the way deserve to be loved. Well here you are, their soulmate or should I say destiny. Oh, how silly of you both to underestimate the blessings of the universe. I won't talk much now and the universe let you meet by chance and mend the bond"

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑:

the reader would tell your person, "quite a character not gonna lie. at first, they will appear as this shy, mysterious and typical 'i don't speak unless spoken to' kinda person but oh boy, the minute you speak it is so adorable how they continue to ramble and then zone out mid-sentence. I just imagined how they will have their resting face on but the minute you go up to them and say a 'hello! what is your name?' you can see how the gears inside their head are turning. very introverted and they love reading books and no they are not your typical nerd the books they usually read are found in the adult section and yes they will ask you to recreate the 'lean on the door' pose. They enjoy their alone because they need to be alone with their thoughts, they won't mind if you are there but please do not make noise, they will kick you out <3 You love teasing them, don't you? love to see them react like that to your advances, don't worry they enjoy it a lot more than you do and miss it when away from you but they will never tell you that. They are your soulmate and a very wise one in fact, they know how life works when to be patient, and when to sacrifice for the greater good. They will help you look at life from a completely different point of view which help you a lot in life and the best part about this they will drop this life-changing advice in the middle of their rambling session. Cherish them they won't show it but they have been through a lot too."

[lottesreads]

Why Me? - Part 12

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, mentions of nightmares, mentions of PTSD, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, therapy (we love), mentions of death/being sick, mentions of limb loss (it'll all make sense),

Word Count: 9500

Summary: Everyone prepares for the storm, and you're left with a lot to think about as some forgotten feelings come back.

A/N: Hiiii guys, I am so sorry this took SO LONG. For some reason it was so hard to write and school started so ya know how that goes. But hopefully this makes up for it?? I love all of you and as always I hope you enjoy. Reblogs and comments feed my life force just btw

p.s. you know I love to hear what you think, so fire away

Masterlist

Bob knows he messed up. He knows that, and as much as he wishes he never put you in this situation to begin with, he can’t undo what he said. Things have just gone completely downhill since he told you how he felt and it just…. feels like it’s all his fault. You’re quiet, secluding yourself, and almost scared at work now. But there’s not much he can do if you refuse to open up to him. He can’t help but worry for you, but it’s up to you now. If you want to talk to him, great. If not, he just hopes you talk to someone else.

The wind has slowly been gaining speed since early this morning when he took Sylvia out for a run. It was his last chance to get her out of the house before the shit hit the fan and he wasn’t gonna keep her cooped up anymore than she had to be. He’s been in a daze since yesterday. Can’t quite seem to focus on anything he puts before him, including the several garden gnomes and pieces of porch furniture belonging to his neighbors.

“You sure all of this will fit in the garage?”, he asks while carrying a chair down from the front steps.

“Oh I’m sure”, Rich replies. His eyes have been more focused on placing their gnome collection inside the house, but he’s been making room for everything else in the garage. He’s skeptical as he eyes the rest of the room, they’ve still got to fit their cars inside, too. He’s sure if he moved a couple of those storage bins to a higher shelf he’d be able to-

“You’ve already done enough for us, why don’t you come inside for some sweet tea, huh?”

“I’m ok”, he tries to brush him off.

“I’m not taking no for an answer Bob”, Rich offers with a raise of his thick eyebrow. Bob gives in, like he does most of the time with these two, and follows Rich inside. Harry sits at the table as he wraps up the rest of their pointy-hat clad lawn ornaments, but pauses at the sight of his husband.

“How’s everything going out there?”

“We’re just about done”, Rich responds from behind the fridge door, “I thought we deserved a water break.” Bob laughs to himself, he really hasn’t done much except move a couple pieces of furniture. He probably could have been finished by now if they didn’t keep offering him water or tea.

“Oh that reminds me”, Harry turns to his husband, “We need to bring the hose from the side of the house in. I forgot when I finished watering the garden yesterday.” Bob isn’t able to take one step in the direction of the door before Rich urges him into the seat across from Harry.

“Don’t you worry about that one young man, I got it.”

“It’s really no trouble-”

“I insist, you take a seat and drink your tea. You can take a turn listening to Harry complain for once.” Rich slides a glass of sweet tea in front of Bob before patting Harry on the shoulder and stepping outside.

“I just wish I could help you boys more”, Harry starts. “But ya know the leg starts acting up whenever a storm is coming.” He emphasizes his point by tapping his metal prosthetic onto the side of the table, shaking it the slightest bit. Bob’s never sure if he’s talking about the actual prosthetic hurting, or what’s left of his leg, but at this point he’s too scared to ask. All he knows is that whenever he gets a call from Harry early in the morning, there’s bound to be a storm before the day’s over. This time however, he got his weather from the news, like a normal person.

“So-”, Harry starts as Bob takes a swig from his glass, “Are we going to be seeing Miss Mitchell anytime soon?” The sweet tea halts in Bob’s throat, sliding down the wrong tube and causing him to choke on the beverage. He does his best to not drop the glass onto the table in order to stop himself from spraying the drink everywhere, but Harry looks like he could care less as his brow raises. Bob clearly was not expecting him to bring you up, and Harry’s squint gives into the fact he’s happy to catch him off guard.

“I’d make an assumption, but I’m not quite sure how to make one out of that kind of reaction.” Bob continues trying to clear his throat by coughing, but Harry waits.

“No”, he chokes, “She uh- she won’t be coming by anytime.” Harry hums to himself as he turns back to the bubble wrap.

“That’s too bad. She was quick, I liked her.” Me too, Bob thinks to himself. He just gives him a slight frown at the news. “Seemed like you were pretty fond of her, too.” Bob’s cheeks heat up at his insinuation, and he tries to make a run for it.

“Ok! I should probably go help-”

“Sit back down”, Harry groans. Bob begrudgingly does as the man says as he begins to toy with the condensation forming on his glass. “All I’m saying is, you both obviously like each other. What gives?” All he can do is shake his head at the thought. There’s too much, but maybe he’ll understand.

“There’s just a lot of other stuff involved.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Well, for starters her title isn’t ‘Miss’... it’s Lieutenant.” Bob’s gaze flicks over to watch Harry’s eyes widen in realization.

“Shit. Is she a WSO, too?”

“Nah, she’s a pilot”, he smiles, “A damn good one.” Harry chuckles as he crosses his arms.

“I shoulda known.” Bob furrows his brows, silently asking him to explain. “She just had this look in her eye…Can’t really explain it.” Bob knows the one. The silent determination he sees whenever you climb into the cockpit. No matter what happens on the ground, once you ascend that ladder… you’re focused. And no one can take that away from you.

“So that’s it then? You're just gonna let her go?” Harry probes as Bob shakes his head. He focuses on a grain of wood in the table, avoiding the man’s gaze.

“It’s against strict rules”, Bob shrugs, “I don’t want to be the reason she gets into trouble. It’s better if we just leave it.”

“Is it?” Bob grabs his glass of sweet tea and takes a sip before Harry leans forward in his seat, “If I know anything about you Bob, it’s that you’ve got a level head on those shoulders. And from what I can tell about Lieutenant Mitchell, it’s that she does, too. But you can’t forget underneath all of that, you have hearts. You can’t leave that out of the equation.” Bob stills as he taps his finger on the rim of his glass. Yeah, Bob has a heart, but you do, too. And who knows if deep down this is what you really want? If he’s what you really want.

His thoughts are interrupted by Harry once again, this time as he finishes wrapping up the last gnome.

“Mitchell, huh?” Bob mindlessly nods. “You don’t happen to know if she’s got any family who served, do ya?”

“Yeah, actually. Her dad just happens to be our captain. Pete Mitchell-”

“Maverick?!”, Harry all but yells. “That cocky motherfucker’s still in service?” The front door slams shut as Rich makes his way back inside.

“What cocky motherfucker are we talking about?”, he asks as if this is a normal topic of conversation for the two of them.

“Pete Mitchell”, Harry tells him as he stares at Bob in awe.

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time”, Rich replies as he grabs himself and Harry their own drinks. Bob pivots in his seat as Rich brings both glasses to the counter, eyes wide in shock. “Don’t tell me-” He’s obviously already made the connection as Harry nods at him. He simply shrugs and continues to pour their drinks, brushing off the fact that Harry seems to be stuck on. Something he thought Rich of all people would want to talk about.

“Did you fly with him?” Bob directs the question at Harry. He rolls his eyes.

“For a very brief time. He’s a few years younger than me, but always acted like he was the best of the best. Didn’t even win the goddamn Top Gun trophy.”

“Well”, Rich chimes in as he sets the glass in front of Harry, “That wasn’t entirely his fault.” Bob’s eyes unintentionally squint as he tries to think back on what he actually knows about your dad. There’s very limited information he sought after Hangman revealed he flew with Rooster’s dad, and- then it hits him.

“Wait”, he stops the two men, “Were you guys here when they had the accident?”

“I wasn’t”, Harry responds, “But Rich was. He was actually one of the-” Rich’s hand claps down on his husband’s shoulder, effectively stopping him from finishing the story. He grants Bob a forced smile.

“I was. It was a… a very sad day.” Rich keeps moving, leaving his glass of tea untouched as he moves the box of packed up gnomes to the living room. Bob leaves it at that. If there was more to the story he wouldn’t want to probe where he’s not welcome to.

After helping move the small outdoor coffee table into the garage, he insists on parking their cars himself. Just to make sure he did leave enough room for everything to fit. And with his many years experience with Tetris, he’s able to pack anything that the wind might sweep away into safe hiding spaces for the night.

-----------------------

If the puffy eyes that greet you in the mirror are any indication that you’d been crying, the wad of tissues scattered around your trash can would certainly do the trick. It was an ugly cry, one that you realized was futile to resist against the snot dripping down your nose. You’d cried more in the past couple months than you had in the past five years. Not to mention you haven’t cried to the point where you kept a roll of toilet paper to use as tissues next to your bed since you were a teenager. But even then you had mastered to cry in silence, to not alert anyone or “bother” someone with the noise of your anguish.

It wasn’t a question that was the reason for your headache. You even forgot you got hit in the face until you tried wiping the sleep from your eyes, only to pull your hand away as soon as it brushed near the red and purple bruise.

“Son of a bitch”, you muttered as you made your way to the bathroom. The wind howls outside your room as you splash your face with cold water, hoping to reduce the swelling before inevitably seeing your father. Gently, you wipe your face with a towel, taking a good hard look at the aftermath from the night before. You huff out a breath before tearing your gaze away from the mirror, gathering the tissues you’d thrown half-heartedly in the direction of the trash can the night before.

Your father is already up and moving as you descend the stairs. Granted, you did allow yourself to sleep in today. He’s sitting on the couch, slipping his shoes on when you make eye contact. He immediately smiles with a grimace upon seeing your face.

“Hey sweetheart”, he greets you, “How you feeling this morning?” You simply scoff and turn to the kitchen. The coffee machine is still warm, your dad already having at least his second cup of the day.

“Like I got hit in the face”, you respond. The machine hums while you let it work, and you grab an emblazoned Navy mug from the cabinet. You turn to lean on the counter, watching him finish lacing up his boots. “Where are you going?”

“Well, Penny’s moving everything at the bar and I figured since I took care of our stuff yesterday, I’d go help out. Plus it’ll be my last chance to take the bike for a spin this weekend.”

“And they say chivalry is dead”, you comment as the coffee seeps into your cup. He chuckles and makes his way over to you. You turn, mug in hand as he walks up. He grimaces again at your face, but his shoulders slump as he notes your puffy eyelids. “How’d you sleep”

“Alright”, you mumble.

“I can stay here if-”

“Dad”, you groan as you roll your eyes, “What am I, five?”

“No- but I’m just saying, if you need me I’ll be here for you.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine.” He seems unsure as he glances between you and the front door. “Go”, you urge him, “Be a knight in shining armor.” He laughs again as he bids you goodbye and leaves. The rumble of his motorcycle tapering off as he exits the neighborhood.

Truly, you are fine. You’re not great, but you’ve been worse. In fact, this is probably the most down time you’ve had in a while. If you were still talking to Bob you would probably text him and see what he was up to, but alas. There’s not much to do except waste away for the rest of the day. Which is exactly what you do. You turn the t.v. on and throw your feet up. They almost hit the large box Bradley left yesterday. You guess you could see what’s in there for you, but you’re already so comfortable and it's just so… far away. And soon enough, your eyes are drooping shut again.

-----------------------

The day passes by painlessly as you switch from folding laundry, to eating whatever is left in the fridge. Your headache slowly dissipates with every bite of food and drink of water, but as it gets closer to evening, the noises from outside get louder and louder. A leaf from a palm tree being ripped from its home and hitting the side of the house, ran pattering, and thunder booming in the distance.

Deciding you’ve had enough of scrolling aimlessly through your phone, you move back to the living room and turn on something you can watch without much thought. The cardboard box Bradley brought over still sits on the coffee table, and huffing out a breath you decide to take the lid off. There’s a bundle of old photos, a couple of dirtied up baseballs, and an old envelope you move to look at, but your phone rings before you can inspect it further. Your dad’s face appears on the screen and you swipe to answer.

“Hey dad, what’s up?”

“Hey kiddo, listen, there was a lot that needed to be boarded up and taken care of at the bar, I just barely got back to Penny’s. I know everything’s taken care of at the house, but the wind and rain are picking up. I don’t want to leave you alone, but it might be safer just to spend the night here. Are you gonna be ok?”

“Dad, I'll be fine. I’d feel better knowing you’re at Penny’s rather than driving your bike in the storm.” You can hear him sigh on the other end. Even with your permission you know he still feels guilty leaving you.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I swear. I’ll be fine.”

“Ok sweetheart. Promise you’ll call me if anything happens or you need me, ok?”

“I promise”, you can’t help but smile through your words at his protectiveness.

“Alright, well I love you, and hopefully things will slow down and I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Love you, too, dad. Bye.” He bids you goodnight, even if it isn’t 8 o’clock yet, it feels like much later with the storm clouds covering up any chance of dying sunlight.

Turning back to the box you pick up the envelope, there’s an unexpected weight to it and you hold your breath at the sight of Carole’s handwriting. There’s one word on the front and it’s simply labeled “Bug”. Your once steady hands shake as you trace the folded edge that has been sealed for almost two decades. You can’t open it fast enough, but at the same time you’re hesitant to see quite possibly what her last words to you could be. Slipping your finger under the seal, you try to minimize the damage as it rips open. As if it were an extension of the woman herself.

Inside sits a lined piece of journal paper, folded neatly into thirds. But your eyes linger on the item weighing it down as you huff out a breath in disbelief. Your fingers reach inside, and once completely taken out of its hiding place, a silver chain with a butterfly pendant hangs from your hand. 

 With the necklace still wrapped around your fingers, your eyes water as you reach for the note, unfolding it. The paper shakes as your heartbeat quickens. And her voice fills your head while you trace the all familiar cursive with a featherlight touch.

My Darling Bug,

Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice this found its way back into my possession? I don’t know why or when you did this, but I thought I told you it wasn’t mine anymore. I gave this to you for a reason, Bug. I wanted you to know that Bradley, your dad, and I will always be with you. I think you might need it now more than ever. It might be a little different, but I don’t want you to look at it and be sad I’m not with you. I want you to look at it and be happy that I still am, no matter what.

I know I made you promise me to be brave. And you have kept that promise, so if you think you haven’t, you’re wrong. But maybe I should have worded it differently, because you don’t need to be brave like anybody else. I want you to continue being brave like you. Because I know you are. Even so, I want you to remember how I got this necklace in the first place. It all happened because Goose was brave enough to ask. He taught me that being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared anymore. It means that even though you are scared, you do it anyway. You don’t run from it, you face it head on. He always told me I wasn’t born with the fear part of my brain intact, but he was wrong. When we lost him, I knew for a fact that part of my brain was there. I was so scared, but I knew I had to keep going. If not for me, then for Bradley and your dad. Heaven knows your dad was scared out of his mind, but that’s what makes him one of the bravest people I know. He kept flying, and then soon enough, you came along and changed our lives completely. And I know I’m rambling, but I just need you to know how much you mean to me- to all of us.

So I don’t want you to live your life in fear or with regrets, wondering the same things, so please; continue to be the brave girl I know you are. It’s hard to take those first steps. But it is so worth the risk, because you deserve everything good this world has to offer.

And this may or may not make it easier, but I just ask that you take this back and wear it with pride. I will always be with you, bug. And I can’t stand another moment having this sitting in my jewelry box, collecting dust when you can wear it and put it to much better use. You deserve it. I love you very much, don’t forget that.

P.S. I know Bradley’s a big boy and he acts like he can take care of himself, but I know he’ll need you just as much as you need him. Same with your dad. Be there for each other.

-Love, Carole

You move the letter away from under your face as you feel the tears start to fall. You’re just quick enough as they hit your lap instead. The necklace is now safely encased in your grip as you take in a ragged breath. All this time- You can’t stomach the thought. This entire time, these past 16 years you’ve been separated from this last piece of Carole you never even knew existed. And the necklace you thought was lost to time now sits in your palm. You hold on to it. Tight.

You still don’t let go as you gingerly place the letter back in the envelope. Deciding you need to put these two things in a safer spot than your living room, you walk up to your room and go to the shoebox above your closet. Inside, you move the velvet box with your Academy ring to the side, making room for the letter. You almost place the necklace in with it, but you’re not going to disobey Carole by not putting it on the next chance you get.

With the silver chain still wrapped in your hand, you put the shoebox back, just about tripping over your flight suit in the process. In everything that happened yesterday after therapy you must have forgotten to put it in your laundry basket, or hang it up at least. As you pick the jumbled green fabric up, your ears prick up at the sound of something hitting the floor. The gleam of a copper coin catches your eye and you drop your uniform altogether, opting to pick it up instead.

Carole’s words swirl through your head as your heart rate picks up. You stare at the penny in one hand, and open your other to reveal the silver butterfly. The memory of Bob’s crooked smile fills your senses and your heart beats faster again. There’s a phantom ache of his hand cradling yours, gently placing that first penny into your palm on the tiled floor of the locker room. Even before you kissed there was this urge to want to get to know him from deep inside the dark recesses of your heart. From places you thought you blocked off and boarded up after your last boyfriend. You left no room for weakness, no room for anyone to have the upper hand, but yet, you feel safe around Bob. You still do, even after it tore you to shreds resisting that same urge to talk to him, to look at him. It scares you, how after only meeting him a few months ago, it feels like he knows the darkest parts of you, and still wants to learn more. To care for you in a way that you haven’t let someone in a long time. And you want to do the same for him.

That urge sends chills up your spine as thunder booms in the distance, the once small patter of rain picking up as it hails on your roof. Clenching the penny in your fist, you delicately hold the necklace in the other, and you swear the lightning reflects off the silver butterfly, almost winking at you. In the glint, you hear Carole’s voice from when she first gave it to you, and again through her writing. “Be brave”, her whisper echoes. And in that moment, your heart beats louder, anticipating what you know you’re going to do next before your brain has the time to catch up. Placing the necklace on your side table next to your bed, your feet sprint down the stairs the moment the chain leaves your fingers.

You can hardly differentiate the thud of your feet  from the thunder that is somehow getting closer by the second. Throwing on the nearest jacket and lacing up your shoes, you grab your keys and head to the garage. Your old faithful Toyota lays dormant as you jump in, and start the engine. Or at least try to. It sputters a couple times as you turn the key again, and again.

“No, no, no. Please”, you plead as you take a deep breath, holding out hope as you try one last time, “C’mon!” With a final twist, the engine roars to life. “Yes! Thank you!” The garage opens and closes with the click of a button as you peel out of the driveway, probably a little too fast, but who would be crazy enough to be on the streets in these conditions?

The rain doesn’t stop on your account, and both hands are white knuckling the steering wheel as you attempt to maintain the little control you have of your vehicle over mother nature. Your windshield wipers are moving as fast as they can, but it’s little to no good as you traverse the streets. You might have been better off with a canoe.

Nonetheless, you’re so close. Your destination is only a couple blocks away, practically in sight as your car lurches forward, sputtering, before ultimately slowing as you pull to the side of the road.

“No, no, no, are you kidding me?!”, you scream as you hit the steering wheel. She was doing so good! What happened? Placing the car in park, you remove the key and try again, but nothing. Squinting through the rain pattered window, you make out the street sign up ahead as it sways in the wind. This is ok. You can do this. Clenching your jaw and ensuring your phone is buried deep in one of your pockets along with your keys, you push against the gusts of wind and open the car door.

Your face is immediately pelted with ice-like bullets, raining down on you without mercy. Even with the hood of your jacket on, it does no good as you run across the sidewalk and turn down the street. A few house lights are on, but you can barely see as the rain washes over you in sheets. A gust of wind almost gets the better of you as you try your hardest to hold the hood to your head, creating any kind of cover you can. You are so close to throwing in the towel. So close to going back to your car and hiding away until the storm is over. But you didn’t come this far just to turn back. You will not give up.

Shining just a bit brighter than every other house on the street, your destination is in sight. Just one block and your feet make the decision for you to move faster. To run like you never have before, because this time you’re not running from anything. You’re running towards something. The rain hits you quicker, but it’s hard to feel it soak through your clothes as your feet pound against the pavement. 

Your shoes slip on the step to the front door, and your fist meets the entrance much sooner than you were expecting. It creates a loud knock, but there’s no sign of life behind the door. Gaining your footing back, you knock once more. Nothing. You knock twice again. Damn it. He must not be able to hear you through the storm’s havoc. You don’t care anymore, you weren’t thinking when you hopped in your car, and you aren’t trying to stay out in the rain all night. Your knuckles are knocking repeatedly on the door, and that’s when you hear Sylvia bark. She’s getting louder as she moves closer to the door and you continue your knocking, hoping he’ll hear you over her.

“Please, c’mon”, you mutter to yourself as your teeth chatter against the words. Your knuckles are going raw from the sheer cold and the fact that you’ve been hitting them against the door for what feels like 20 minutes. The door opens with a rush of warm air and you’re greeted with the halo wrapped face of someone who only feels like warmness and comfort. The light shines around his features as they contort at what stands in front of him.

“Mantis, what the hell?!”, he yells through the wind while reaching forward to pull you inside. “Oh my god, are you crazy?!”, he exclaims as he holds your arms in place. Your teeth are chattering as he tells you to stay put before coming back with a towel that he promptly throws over your shoulders. It doesn’t do much good as you’re soaked to the bone, but he’s frantically looking for more before you reach out for him.

“Bob-”

“What are you doing here?!”

“I- I’m being brave”, you explain through the pounding rain and thunder. He pauses just for a moment, then shakes his head as he stares at you in utter confusion.

“Did you.. run here? Mantis, are you ok?”

“Bob I’m fine-”

“Do you know where you are? How did you get here?”

“Bob!”, you finally raise your voice and he meets your gaze instead of your rain-drenched form. “I will explain everything, but please just let me say what I came here to say”, you breathlessly supply. He looks back to you, hesitant, but nodding to let you continue.

“Ok”, he whispers. You can barely feel your fingers, or your toes for that matter, but your shaky hand reaches into your pocket and grasps onto the single penny you came here with. The only thing that you made sure to bring.

“What did you mean by this?”, you ask as you hold it out in front of him. “When you gave this to Phoenix, what did you want me to make of this?” His eyelashes flutter in a series of blinks as he silently takes in a breath. Without meaning to, the coin shakes in your hand, and he rushes an answer before you have to stand there any longer.

“It means what it’s always meant. I know I messed everything up, but I still want you to feel like you can trust me, and talk to me. Because you can. I know how scary it can be, and it’s…rare to find someone you feel so comfortable to be around and talk to about the nitty gritty parts of your life. And I like to believe I was that for you for a little bit, ‘cause… you were that for me.” Your heart melts at his sentiment as you continue to drench the walkway of his home.

“Now can you please tell me why you drove here in the middle of a hurricane?” You swallow, hoping whatever fears you have fall to the back of your throat to make room for what you need to tell him. Because, here you are: Soaking wet, standing in Bob’s home, with nothing but a penny and the knowledge that even if you’re scared, you can do this anyway.

“Bob”, you sigh, “You have not messed anything up. In fact, you did something I was too afraid to do.” Taking another deep breath, you ignore the lines riddled in his forehead and continue.

“I have been scared for most of my life. I know sometimes I act like I’m invincible, but I’m not. But I am also sick of being scared. I am sick of pretending. Life is too damn short, and for once instead of just acting like I am, I am trying to be brave. I can’t let this be another ‘what if’. I won’t let you be that. You deserve to at least know how I feel.”

“Mantis, you don’t have to-”

“No, but I want to”, you nod with authority, solidifying to Bob that this is a risk you want to take. You take in another deep breath as it fills you with courage. “Bob, it’s hard to explain, but- you make me feel brave. But at the same time you also scare the shit out of me”, you can’t help but laugh as the crease in his forward melts a little bit. “You scare me because you care so deeply for the people around you, and you’re so generous, and kind, and I can’t help but want to be around you all the time. And- and I’m rambling aren’t I?”, you ask as he breathes out a miniscule laugh. And then you’re gifted with the slightest uptick of his mouth. Just enough for you to know that he’s still listening. But when is he not?

“Anyway. I just- it kills me that you think so lowly of yourself, and I need you to know that I care about you. A lot. And if it hasn’t been blatantly obvious by how I’ve kissed you”, he blushes and looks down at his feet as if he didn’t kiss you with just as much passion, “I like you beyond the point of being friends. And- I feel like you see me. Not just as an aviator, not just as a woman, but as a person. But that’s also scary in itself because you’ve seen my flaws, and each time you didn’t look away. You stayed. You stayed and made sure I didn’t stay down.”

“You didn’t need me for that”, he shakes his head. And you smile through your shaky breath. “You don’t stay down long.”

“Maybe not, but it’s easier to get up when someone lends you a hand.” He stills at your words and your mind tracks back to find the courage you came here with. It’s not hard when Bob’s standing right in front of you with Carole’s voice running through the back of your mind.

 “I’ve tried brushing these feelings off, and staying away from you, thinking I was doing what was best for the both of us. And… I don’t know about you, but it’s only been like two days without talking to you- and I miss being around you.” The tell you’re about to cry starts with your throat straining, and at this point you’re trying everything to talk through it. “I don’t want to mourn you while you’re still here-”, you choke out as you clench your jaw to stop your teeth from chattering any louder than they already are.

“Hey”, Bob whispers as he moves closer to you, “It’s ok-”

“I don’t want to lose you when I’ve never even had you”, you breathe a shaky breath as he places his hands on your shoulders, the warmth permeating through your jacket and towel.

“Whoa, where is all this coming from?” Your breathing is rapidly increasing, as he stares down into your eyes, concern painted through the way he looks at you. That and something else you’re too hyped up on adrenaline to identify at this moment. 

“It’s ok, just breathe for me. Can you do that?” You nod as you stare back at him, his hands reaching out to grasp your own, placing one on his chest. Just like he did in the locker room. God, it feels like it was ages ago.

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing”, he mutters as he puts both of his hands atop your own. Your fingers thrum over the soft cotton of his shirt, and you’re almost certain his heart is beating just as fast as your own.

“Your heart’s beating really fast”, you comment as you watch your fingers underneath his.

“Are you sure that’s not your own?” You exhale a laugh, but continue to feel that familiar thump from his chest.

“No, that’s definitely you.”

“Yeah”, he manages a nervous smile, “That usually happens when I’m around you.” Your hand is slowly gaining feeling back under the protection of his own, and your eyes meet his. He whispers your name softly, and this time you don’t flinch. You don’t break away, you don’t blink. Your teeth are still chattering, the noise distracting him from whatever he was going to say.

“Let’s get you into some dry clothes, yeah?” Silently you nod as he gives you a brief smile. He’s seemingly already accustomed to the idea of you staying the night, something you didn’t think of before running out of your own house. Taking your hand in his own, he leads you to the bottom of his stairs before jogging up to what you presume to be his bedroom. You wait as you attempt to clench your jaw to stop chattering your teeth, but that’s when you spot a shiny black nose poking out from the corner of the living room. 

“Hey Syl”, you whisper while bending down. She retreats almost immediately at the sight of you, but reappears at the familiar voice. You realize you must look kind of scary with your jacket hood plastered to your face. In an attempt to get her to come closer, you peel your hood off of your head and tempt her again with your outreached hand. “It’s just me sweet girl”, you whisper as she moves forward to sniff your hand. Her tail starts a wag at the appearance of your face and you smile as she gets close enough for you to pet her head. 

You’re scratching her ears as Bob returns from upstairs, now carrying clothes for you to change into.

“Ok, I’ve got some sweat pants and a t-shirt”, he explains as he sorts through them, “But I do have a sweatshirt in case you’re still cold.” He shifts his attention back to you as you stand and accept the clothes with a quiet ‘thank you’. Without the hood obstructing his view of your entire face, his brow immediately furrows at the shadow just to the side of your eye. He doesn’t get a good look at it before you’re turning to change in the bathroom. He must be seeing things. A shadow from your hair, the dim lighting, it just can’t be what he thinks it is.

Peeling your wet clothes off your body was something you didn’t think about while sprinting full speed down Bob’s street. But here you are, in his downstairs bathroom, admiring the softness of both the shirt and sweatpants he’s offered you. You’re soaked right down to your underwear, and rather than sitting uncomfortably in a wet bra and underpants, you decide to go commando. If you get cold enough Bob did offer you a sweatshirt. Tossing your wet clothes over the shower curtain, you slowly walk out of the bathroom. It’s quiet. Other than the occasional rumble of thunder, or whip of wind and rain against the windows, the only thing you’re aware of is your own breathing. Until you get into the living room and find Bob picking at his thumbs on the couch. He doesn’t notice you, and for the first time tonight, you hesitate. You run your fingers over the bottom of Bob’s shirt, holding it out slightly in front of your body. Just admiring how quickly he offered his own clothes to you. Your hair is slightly damp, but not dripping like it was moments ago, thanks to the towel he gave you when you first came in.

He must hear you shift on your feet, because soon enough his eyes follow your form in his clothes, the pants tight in some places, loose in others, but the large t-shirt does its job. He stops on your face as you give him a nervous smile and make your way over to the other end of the couch.

“Oh my god, what happened?”, he all but rushes out as you sit. His eyes are frantic with worry as you trace his concerned gaze to your cheek.

“Oh that”, you try to laugh, “It was an accident.” He swallows while he stiffens in his seat. Bridging the gap you left between the two of you, he catches your gaze as you look down at his hand.

“Mantis”, his voice darkens, “I need you to be completely honest with me.” He’s staring so intently into your eyes you feel like you’re center stage in a show you weren’t given the lines to. A kind of intensity you’ve never seen directed toward you from the man. “Did somebody hurt you?” You’re stuck in your spot, and without hesitating you answer him.

“No”, you breathe as you softly shake your head, “Bob, I promise you it was a complete accident. I was playing catch and wasn’t paying attention.” He eyes it one more time, and you see his hand twitch in his lap before it slowly makes its way to cup your face, turning it to take a better look. You hold your breath at the movement, but once his thumb strokes lightly over your skin you melt into his warmth.

“Well whoever you were playing catch with knows how to throw a pretty wicked fastball”, he mutters as he takes in the bruising along with the indent of the stitching.

“Yeah”, you sigh, not able to say much as he holds the weight of your face and much more in his gentle hand. “Rooster was a pitcher on his high school team.”

“You were playing catch with Rooster?” You let out a breathy laugh, knowing how confusing this must be.

“It’s a long story”, you tell him. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“And he still threw it at you?”

“I try not to make sense of Rooster’s actions anymore.”

“Next time you wanna play catch, you come to me. Ok?” His eyes are still on the bruise, analyzing it from every angle.

“Are you saying you won’t throw the ball at my face?”

“No. I’ll make sure you’re ready first.” His smile fades the tiniest bit, but his hand has yet to move. It’s quiet again until a particularly loud burst of thunder has him dropping his hold on you.

“Um, let me get you some ice.”

“I’m fine. My face, feet, and hands are pretty much still numb.”

“May I?”, he asks, reaching for your hands. You’re facing him now, and he turns to mirror your own crossed legs as his hands clasp your own. Slowly, without looking back at you, he brings them closer to his face and before you have the good sense to realize what’s going on, his warm breath fans over your dead fingers. Something flips in your stomach as he starts rubbing his thumbs over the back of your palms after each slow and agonizing breath.

The contrast in temperature hurts your fingers down to the bone, but you can’t seem to take them away from Bob. He stops the breaths just for a second as he rubs your hands in contemplation.

“Mantis… Why are you here?” You’re almost certain your swallow is audible as you stare down at your joint hands. He doesn’t push you when you don’t immediately answer. He only continues to soothe your aching extremities. But when he starts breathing on them again and his glasses fog up slightly, that’s when you truly start to feel the discomfort seep from your fingers. And that’s when you know you have your answer for him. Because he will truly put your needs before his own. His clothes on your back, his sight for your warmth, his happiness for your own. But he doesn’t quite know the true extent of your own unhappiness without him in your every day.

Your answer sits on the tip of your tongue, but truly, your brain speaks before you can formulate the words you need him to hear.

“I went to therapy”, you blurt out as you stare at him. God, why can’t your mouth just say what it needs to? Why is this so hard? Bob looks at your face at your admission, blinking away his shock at the volume at which you spoke them.

“That’s- that’s great.” He goes back to rubbing your fingers, ruminating on your words, then stopping suddenly. “It wasn’t ‘cause of me, was it?”

“No!”, you’re quick to correct him. “Not at all.. I mean it wasn’t your fault, but I did talk about you a little bit”, you admit bashfully. He nods, seemingly drawing his own conclusions. “It wasn’t anything bad. Just-”. You’re hesitant to tell him about your dreams, about why your dad called him that day. Why you were so fidgety and couldn’t even look him in the eye. But then you look back at him, and you know everything will be ok. He won’t run, or look at you with pity. He might be concerned, sure, but he’ll still be there for you.

“After Nat’s party, I had a nightmare. I haven’t had one in years, and it kind of rattled me. And then I had another one. They usually happen after I feel like I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. Something that would- make my mother mad at me.” He stiffens at your words, brows drawing up once more. He knows. And you don’t want him to blame himself. “But yeah, I got back in touch with my therapist. Gonna make it a regular thing now… but after my session she asked me to list three people who make me feel wanted. And it was very clear to me you’re on that list. And I hope I make you feel important, too. I know I haven’t this past week- and I’m sorry-”

“Hey”, he tugs your hands toward him just enough to get your attention, “You had enough going on, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“But I do. I can’t help it.” He whispers your name and averts his gaze from your face like he can't even bear to look at you right now. You didn’t think this was news, last time you were here he told you essentially the same thing.

“What?”, you whisper back.

-----------------------

Bob did not imagine even in his wildest dreams you would run to him in the middle of a storm. But here you are, pouring your heart out to him, your hands in his, his old t-shirt draped over your shivering body, but there’s still that tiny part of his brain telling him it’s too good to be true. And in reality, it is. Because what is he supposed to do now? What did you hope to achieve by coming over here? Your feelings don’t change the fact that this is still wildly against rules in place.

It might have been easier for him to deal with it on his own not knowing exactly how you felt, but now? He can’t put you in a position for someone to take your dream away from you. Especially after how much you’ve had to sacrifice to get to where you are. And there’s still so much for you to do.

“What do you want me to do with these feelings?” He finally asks and you’re caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- a few days ago when you came to me you were so sure this wasn’t a good idea. And now?” He searches your face for an answer in your silence. “What changed?”

“I found a letter from Carole. It was meant for 12-year-old me, " you can’t help but release a watery laugh, “but she just reminded me that some things are worth the risk.” You pause for a moment, squeezing his hands for reassurance before continuing.

“Our jobs are dangerous, and even if they weren’t, life is so precious. And I don’t want to continue breathing if I’m only half-living. I already did that, and I refuse to do it again. And I’m not asking you to do anything with what I’ve told you, I just had to let you know. And that might be selfish, but I know running from what I’m feeling isn’t fair. To you or me.”

It’s quiet again, you’re not sure if Bob is looking at you anymore, but your eyes are drawn back to his hands. One of the single greatest comforts you can’t help but indulge yourself in. A flash of lighting pierces the corner of your eye and the boom of thunder follows shortly after. It almost bleeds into the rasp in his voice as he speaks.

“Is it selfish if we both want it?”. Your eyes snap to meet his and you’re hit with that intensity again. It’s slightly masked by insecurity, but you can see how much this means to him. You’re so sure he can hear you release a sharp breath.

“What do you want-” Your thought is cut off by a deep rumble of thunder, almost shaking the structure of the house. You flinch as if the roof were about to collapse on the two of you, but you’re not catching a break as the remaining kitchen lights click off.

“Damn it”, he mutters under his breath. Bathing you and Bob in total darkness, you instinctively squeeze his hands and he squeezes right back.

“It’s ok”, his voice echoes as he tries to see anything around the darkened room. Sylvia whines from beneath her hiding spot as he blindly searches the coffee table for his phone, petting her in the process to calm her nerves. With his phone located, he turns the flashlight on and you wince at the harsh white light. Sylvia continues to whine even as she scurries out from under the table and runs up the stairs. He runs a hand through his hair as he stands and you’re left in his absence. Goosebumps crawling up your arms and legs force you to shiver and Bob sees it out of the corner of his eye.

“Here- you can take my bed. It’ll be way too cold down here.”

“Bob, no. I’ll crash on the couch”, his mouth opens to protest but you stop him before he even starts, “Plus, I think your daughter might need you up there.” He moves his hands to his hips, deliberating his choices until he eyes you.

“I mean- we could always, ya know…”

“What?”

“We could share my bed. It’s not like we haven’t already slept in the same bed together- Not that I’m assuming you want to! But it’ll keep you extra warm if we’re both there, and that way we’re in the same room and-” With a soft smile you cut off his rambling.

“I think that’s a great idea.” That crooked smile graces his face for the first time in what feels like forever, and your nerves are put at ease. You want to be the reason he smiles like that for as long as you’re able.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He silently leads you up the stairs and offers to let you use the bathroom first while he tries to tidy up the mess you hopefully didn’t see through the lens of your phone’s flashlight.

There’s not much, just a couple of dirty shirts he didn’t have the time or energy to throw into his laundry basket. And then there’s the laundry basket of clothes he was going to fold today, but got distracted at Rich and Harry’s. Shoving the basket in the corner of the room, his eyes catch on the rain-pattered window. Palm trees sway in the wind, and thanks to a flash of lightning, he watches the street run like a river. He squints, trying to find where you parked your car, hoping the damage won’t be too bad.

The click of the door opening has him turning to you, brows still furrowed.

“Hey, where’d you park your car?”

“Oh, that. Funny story”, you laugh, “It stopped running about a block that way-”, you point up the street, “And I kinda ran the rest of the way.” His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as you stand there chuckling.

“Mantis”, he sighs, “Why did you think any of this was a good idea?”

“I wasn’t really thinking, I just knew I had to talk to you”, you bashfully admit. A flash of lightning reflects in his glasses, and you’re brought back to your conversation downstairs. Your unfinished conversation. The hairs on your arms raise before Sylvia whines from underneath Bob’s bed.

The two of you glance back and spot her nose peeking out from under the frame. You’re on your knees, petting her head as Bob stands at the window.

“It’s ok sweet girl”, you coo. With the two of you distracted, he takes a minute to finish getting ready for bed. God, he just can’t believe you’re actually here. Granted, he wishes it was under better circumstances, but still. Stepping back into his bedroom, he’s pleased to find you already underneath the covers, your back facing him. His heart speeds up at you already so comfortable in his bed, but he gathers himself quickly before turning to close the door to the room. The bedroom the two of you are currently sharing… with his dog lying on his side of the bed.

“Before you say anything”, you rush out as you sit up, “She got up here all by herself, and I don’t have the heart to tell her to get down. So you’re just gonna have to look into those big brown eyes and be the bad guy here.” He bites down a smile as he pretends to deliberate on what he should do. Not giving in and telling you that she normally sleeps on the bed with him.

“Plus, I don’t think she’ll be as scared if she’s up here with us”, you add. With us. Yes, that word just came out of your mouth. And it might not be a big deal, but you just used that word and Bob is having a hard time not pinching himself to make sure this is all real and not another dream. Clearing his throat, he manages to cough out a “yeah”. Or something akin to agreement.

He starts to settle onto his side of the bed, and you scooch as far away from the middle as you can. Sylvia moves down the bed in between the two of you and you finally lie back on your respective pillows. You can hear his glasses hit his bedside table as his hand falls to Sylvia. There’s an unspoken tension in the room, and you’re not sure if you can wait until morning to break through it. But neither of you say anything. You just lie there like a lifeless body whose heart is also about to burst through her chest.

Another flash of lightning slices through the curtain, followed almost immediately by a horribly loud boom. Sylvia whines again and your hand falls to her. You knew his hand was there, but it doesn’t stop the shock at the feeling of your fingers brushing his. As your hand swoops over Sylvia’s fur he almost moves back as you stop. But that single touch in the dark makes you want more. So with a clear mission, you bring your hand back over her fur and start to slowly trace his knuckles and fingers. His hand turns over, inviting you to do the same to his palm before he halts your motions and instead intertwines your fingers. He’s still so much warmer than you are, and your hand melts in his. It makes you feel safe.

You don’t say anything as his thumb rubs your hand. The two of you lay in the backdrop of rain and thunder, staring at the ceiling as if it had some kind of hidden message you have to decode. Bob must find what his side says because he clears his throat before speaking.

“What you asked earlier, about what I want- I want you to be happy. Above anything else.” Your heart turns over as you face him.

“I want that for you, too… But you should know you make me really happy”, you whisper into the night. His hand flexes as his pillow rustles to your right.

“You mean that?”, his voice is clearer as he turns his head, and although you’re having a hard time seeing through the dark, you can imagine the look of fear and insecurity in his eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“Cause you make me happy, too”, he rasps, his voice somehow even deeper. And you just can’t help the way you move closer to him. Reaching with your free hand, you hold onto his bicep and rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomes it with a relaxed sigh as you get comfortable. Sylvia doesn’t seem to mind being squished in between your legs, and you’re happy for the warmth these two provide you.

There’s still a lot to talk about. A lot to figure out as to what happens next, but right now? You can’t seem to care what happens tomorrow because you’re content to hold onto Bob tonight. And as you feel him kiss the top of your head, you get that deep butterfly feeling in your stomach. The good kind this time. No overwhelming urge of anxiety or doom washes over you and you know everything is going to be ok. It has to be.

-----------------------

Hey Siri, play Fearless by Taylor Swift

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

@itsmytimetoodream

@theamuz

@harrysgothicbitch

@mygyn

@luckyladycreator2

@marve2014

@wretchedmo

@callsignwidow

@finnydraws

@melsunshine

@jostan456

@okiegirl24

@beebeechaos

@eclecticfashionbookszipper

@hunbomb

@nerdgirljen

@knight-of-the-doctor

@smoothdogsgirl

@planetaryempire-blog

@dumblani

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader

genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni

word count: 8.2k

series summary: frustrated by your everyday life, you seek solace at a male strip club. It's your first time and you're instantly mesmerized by the one that calls himself "Whiskey".

chapter summary: you're still heartbroken but that doesn't stop you from attending your friends' bachelorette party— how were you supposed to know the male stripper that she hired would be the one and only whiskey.

warnings: angst, grief, mention of the loss of a child, enemies to lovers ✨ v i b e s ✨, semi-public sex, angst with happy ending, stripping, one time use of good boy (i was in a mood don't @ me), praise kink, oral (fem receiving), piv

a/n: not gonna lie with the trip I took and my laptop breaking when I returned I feel like I've been working on this chapter for months. Hopefully, it turned out okay! Thank you for all the support you've shown for stripper!jack it was much appreciated and made me so happy to see everyone so enthusiastic 💖

[stripper!jack masterlist]

dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

Jack has a lot of regrets in his life. 

The night is warm, yet his skin is cold like ice. His legs feel shaky, his steps echoing and blending with the stretched-out shadows of the buildings. Cars whizz past him, a couple of cabs as well, but he doesn’t hail any of them. He’d rather complete his walk of shame back to his apartment. It’s only fitting after the stunt he pulled. 

He wasn’t expecting you to look at him the same way Vivienne used to. Full of admiration and love. There was a certain blindness to it, like he could do no wrong, but he could. Jack could do many wrongs. 

He shakes his head, the yearning in his heart growing with every painful beat. He misses her. His Viv. When Jack thinks of her, he can only remember their last moments together. Her stomach round with his child—a baby boy, he later on learned—her cheeks glowing, her hair in a high messy bun. She kissed him on the cheek that night. Hugging him tight. Maybe she had a feeling. He shouldn’t have let her go. 

A car honks as it passes him by, screeching laughter coming from the inside. He glares at the taillights of the car, two red eyes glaring back at him. 

With you, Jack thought he just liked the attention. You were shy, clumsy, unfiltered. He could tell what you were thinking just by looking at you. He thought. . . the growing feeling in his stomach would stop if he just slept with you. If he fucked you nice and hard that it would all go away. 

But the deed was done, and his feelings remained. 

Jack could see how badly he’d hurt you, but he didn’t see any way around it. He had to go. He had to leave. He was a coward and he was afraid. Looking at you, so happy and pliant with his spent dripping down your stomach— he just couldn’t stay. All Jack could see was Viv, her smile before she left to go get the milk he’d forgotten to buy because he had an exhausting night of stripping. It was the day before his last. He was quitting, he’d found a job at the distillery, something more stable he could do for when the baby came. And for her. 

He stops and stares. 

He feels sick. His mouth floods with saliva and bile, his stomach churns violently, he sees a tree nearby and leans over, emptying everything. His knees shake. While his throat burns and the stench breaks his nose, images of that night come to mind. How he got anxious after the first hour. How he called and called and called. No answer. How the police couldn’t reach him because he was constantly dialing Vivienne’s number. He remembers the way he stuck his bare feet into his boots to go and search for her, only to come face to face with two policemen. The eyes can be quite loud. Or maybe they were always loud for him. His heart sank into his chest. She was gone. His baby boy was gone. 

He hurls again, the leaves of the tree creating a symphonic backdrop accompanied by the gentle caress of the wind. He didn’t have anything else in his stomach anymore. Only bile coming out. It tastes like poison. 

Jack remains in the same position—half bent over, hand braced against the grooves of the thick tree. His eyes are teary. He thinks it has little to do with his throat burning and everything to do with Vivienne. He misses her. Misses her scent, her feel under his fingertips, kissing her swelled stomach for good luck before starting the day. 

He misses all of that, yet, he aches for you. He feels like shit for leaving you like that. Despite all of what he’d said and done, Jack doesn’t want you to hate him. 

Slowly, he raises. His grief clouds his vision. He can’t see the mess he made even though he’s staring right at it. Some sensible part of him is hoping no one saw. Or filmed him—a fear he had developed with the increasing popularity of Instagram and TikTok and whatever the fuck is popular now. 

His feet start moving again, the sound of his boots clicking against the pavement, but his mind is still at the bottom of the tree. Still lurching over, still vomiting. Thinking of her. 

Jack has a lot of regrets in his life. Now he has added another. 

You. 

Jack is a morning person—normally. 

But not today. Not when his head hurts like hell and his muscles ache in such a profound way that no matter how aggressively he gives himself a rub down it doesn’t go away. The sky is clear and he dares to glare at the sun. Staring until his eyes burn, tearing up right before he pulls his gaze away from the fiery orb hovering in space. 

He’d very much like to be the one hovering in space right about now.

The club is pretty much empty. A couple of guys sitting here and there sipping their coffee while Vodka—aka Steve—hugs the pool and dips down. Jack is not a fan of the poll. He prefers to sensually dance, he doesn’t like the sudden metallic chill that touches his burning skin during a routine. He heads to the bar where Tequila is restocking the fridge. Your seat is empty. Jack's heart clenches at the sight. 

“Hey there old timer,” he greets him. “You know where our firecracker regular is?”

“No,” he grunts, his shoulders raising. “Why the hell would I know?” 

Tequila’s sole eyebrow lifts along with the corner of his lip. His eyes soften with amusement, and just by the look, Jack knows he’s seconds to being incredibly, infuriatingly annoyed with the other man. Before Tequila can say anything, he waves him off, heading towards the dressing room. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Even if he did, Tequila would be the last person Jack would want to converse with about such a thing. He’s still feeling guilty about the whole ordeal. His brain screaming at him to give you a call, or write a letter or something apologizing. 

Of course, he does none of that. 

Instead, he gets ready. His eyes swiftly move over each and every outfit he has. Most of them are cowboy attire. Today he’s not really feeling it. He wants to be someone else and a change in outfit seems like the perfect way to go about it. He quickly tugs off his shirt and kicks off his pants, his chest and legs bare, he looks over the selection of clothes. His fingers graze over a red suit. It’s soft and light under his touch, and to accompany it, he picks a copper and black animal print shirt. It’s way more flashy compared to his usual outfits but he felt like it. He wants to look the opposite of what he’s feeling. 

The shirt is smooth like butter, cool against his sweat-slick skin. His only complaint would be the pointy shoes. It always rubs the back of his ankle the wrong way, leaving it hurting and bloody. 

Looking into the mirror, he slathers his fingers with a generous amount of hair gel and brushes the soft strands back. They curl slightly at the ends, sticking to his nape. When he’s satisfied, he drags a comb through them, making sure that everything is in place and slicked back. 

Just as he’s about to leave, Tequila pops his head through the door. “You have a call on line three.” 

“A’right, thanks, Teq.” 

The younger man promptly leaves and Jack reaches for the landline. The club is probably the only place where landlines still exist. He takes a seat, his palm flat on his thigh. A small sigh parts his lips, his body already feeling drained. Jack swallows thickly before answering. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello!” a chipper voice comes through the speakers of the phone. “This is Whiskey, right? My sister is getting married and we’re throwing her a bachelorette party and we wanted a stripper to liven things up a bit.” 

Jack smiles despite himself, “Of course, don’t know a better way to get a party goin’. When were you thinkin’ of havin’ it?” 

“This Saturday. Is that okay?” the voice suddenly sounds panicked, as if she might’ve been too late in asking. “Also it’s going to be at our house, I can send the address over.” 

“Sounds good, sugar,” the pet name tastes like iron in his mouth. He’s not sure why. “Let me give you my cell and you can text me all the details.” 

You’re heartbroken, poor beating muscle ripped apart and stomped on while still beating. Yet, the world still makes its lazy routes around the sun. The people around you none the wiser of the knot lodged in your throat, the tears that constantly linger in the corner of your eyes, burning. 

Jack certainly left his ever-lasting impression on you. You’re not sure what you could’ve done for a different outcome. He was so soft with you, so tender— then the switch had been flipped. His rage twisted at his lips, swirled in his eyes, and just like that he was gone.

You didn’t tell anyone about it. Just the thought of explaining everything exhausted you. Besides, you didn’t want to listen to your friends bad-mouthing him. You were protective of him. You held on to the hope that there was an explanation there. A reason that would soften your heart and everything would work out.

But days passed. You didn’t visit the club even though you missed Tequila and you never heard from Jack. 

Your anger festered like an irritated wound. The hurt, the sadness, all of it shifted into an emotion that was easier to handle, an emotion that was blinding and made you think of little else. If the world was adamant about moving forward, so would you. 

Your friend, Betty, was getting married in about a month and luckily, she was dead set on having the most unhinged bachelorette party ever. You’d make the most of it, promising yourself it would be the perfect distraction.

The wind blows warm, the trees that surround your friend's house dancing wildly as muffled music echoes into the blue-purple sky. You feel the breeze playing with the ends of your dress, lifting and teasing the fabric up your legs. You suck a sharp breath. Your heart beating in your throat ready to jump out of the bone and skin. Now that you’re here, staring at the imposing architecture —you often forgot that Betty was much more comfortable than you— all your bravado that built in your mind is dwindling. You take a step, then another. It will be okay. You’ll have a good time with your friends and sleep soundly tonight with alcohol lingering in your veins.

You wish, for once, things would go as planned.

“You called for a stripper?” 

In a weak attempt to hide the very obvious tremble in your voice, you swallow, again and again. Betty is absolutely radiant, her shapely brows coming together while giving you a startled look. She shrugs. “I mean. . . It’s a bachelorette party, of course, we hired a stripper. Why the big reaction?” Before you can answer she lets out a overexaggerated gasp and brings her hang to her chest. “Have you been a prude all this time baby?!” 

You snort at the question and shake your head, “No you idiot. I just. . . It’s okay, it’s fine. I just didn’t know.” 

“You’ve been so secretive lately,” she remarks, sucking the cherry of her cocktail between her lips. It reminds you of Jack, a longing tingling at your skin. She chews on the juicy fruit and just as you’re thinking of an excuse to get out of this cross interrogation, her eyes snap to something behind you. Her eyes sparkle, a wide grin stretching across her face. “Wow. . . “ she says wistfully.

You turn to see what got her so worked up, your eyes grow wide and you swear—swear your heart stops beating at that very moment. 

It’s Jack. 

Fucking hell.

Everything comes rushing back. Every ounce of emotion you tried so hard to shove deep inside bursting from every orifice. Your eyes sting, the know in your throat larger than ever. He hasn’t noticed you yet, too busy talking to Rachel, Betty’s sister, and maid of honor. You’re shaking like a chihuahua. What the hell is he doing here and what the hell are you supposed to do about it

“Whatever it is that’s going in with you, I’m sure a dance from that cowboy will certainly help,” Betty says, unaware that all you want is for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

Before Betty can say anything, and before Jack spots you, you disappear between the halls. Your steps echo against the smooth marble. You’re not sure what your plan is since the bathroom was in the opposite direction of where you stormed off to. Some part of you wants to leave, perhaps run away screaming, but you know you won’t be doing that. It’s Betty’s night. And even though she has a habit of peeving you, you love her and want to be with her on her special night. Besides, she seemed really excited when she saw Jack. You can’t blame her, who wouldn’t be? 

He was as handsome as ever. His cowboy hat snug atop his head, shirt hugging his biceps as he strutted inside. You knew that walk. It was his stripper walk, he told you about it once, how he would move differently even when doing something as mundane as drinking water, or walking. 

Your steps come to a halt, the music of the party nothing but muffled, silent melodies now. You want to stay but you’re not sure how you’ll react seeing him dancing again. Memories come flooding back, reminding you of the love and hurt you felt in the short time that you got to know him. You wonder what his reaction would be like when he inevitably sees you. Would he act like the two you never met? Or would he just tilt his hat and greet you as if you were neighbors that barely talked? 

No matter his reaction, you have no doubt that it is going to sting.

You take a breath, furrow your brows, and turn on your heel. If anyone should be hiding it should be him, not you. You ignore the quick beat of your heart and head back towards the party.

There’s a stage, and an actual, god damn squeaky clean stage. 

You knew that Rachel was going all out with the bachelorette party and you knew Betty and her family were. . . Comfortable, but wasn’t this a bit much?

Seated between Rachel and Betty, both sisters gaze eagerly toward the stage as Jack ascends the stairs and positions himself at the center, his back turned to the audience. You hold your breath. It almost feels like you’re peeping on him. Hopefully, he won’t spot you among the crowd, you don’t want to look like you’re stalking him. 

Jack rolls his shoulders and relaxes his neck, tilting his head to one side and then to the other. Betty straightens in her seat, green eyes wide. Finally, he looks up, and with that, the music begins.

Have his performances always been so spiritual? There’s something about the way he moves that is slower compared to his usual routine. He turns and your eyes instantly drop to his crotch, the leather of the belt he’s wearing framing his bulge. You swallow thickly, heat pooling under your cheeks. Your thighs clench together with need. Damn it. You can't help but feel the tender ache he left behind while dragging himself in and out of you.

He rolls his hips and unbuckles his belt, which coaxes whistles and screams from the crowd. In a single fluid motion, Jack pulls the leather from the belt loops and uses it as a makeshift whip, cracking it in the air. His dark eyes search the crowd, presumably for the bride. Your eyes slowly drift to the crown glimmering on top of Betty’s head, your gaze moving back to Jack right after. 

Your entire body stills, your breath catches in your throat.

Your eyes lock with one another, his dark brows shooting up. He’s still moving with the music, hips swaying as he drags his fingers down sensually over each and every button. You press your lips together, wanting to tear your gaze away but also feeling as if it’s impossible. His breath hitches, unnoticed by everyone except for you. 

After what feels like an eternity, Jack drags his gaze from you to Betty, shooting the bride-to-be a toothy smile. 

“Now ain’t this a shame,” he drawls with a wink. “What a lovely woman to be snatched so soon.” 

Betty’s grin widens and you can’t help but feel a bit light-hearted. You’re glad that Jack is at least good at his job. He always makes people feel good. 

Jack begins his descent from the stairs and her cheeks flush. You’re as stiff as a board, some logical part of your brain screaming at you to push your chair back, add some more distance between what’s about to happen. His all-too-familiar scent fills your nostrils and you’re glued to where you are. Jack doesn’t so much as glance at you as he straddles Betty’s thighs, dipping low and arching his back as he comes back up, lips barely grazing her. 

It’s hard not to be reminded of the first dance he’d ever done for you. Your chest too tight for your heart, your body feeling too small to be holding every organ in. You want to tear your gaze away but you feel trapped by the cheering and the clapping. In trance, you lift your hands and add to the noise, a small whoop leaving your lips. 

You swear Jack cringes. It’s such a small movement, just a small jump in the muscle of his jaw and a small sneer turning at the corner of his mouth.

Good, you think, you don’t want to be the only uncomfortable one here.

Briefly, his eyes meet yours, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. You gape at the stare, does he think you clapped on purpose? To annoy him? He’s unbelievable. 

But no matter what your intentions were, his eyes shift back to Betty, finger digging into his shirt with a self-satisfied smirk. He straightens and tears the fabric, the sound of buttons hitting the floors hidden by the loud sensual music. You gape at the sight of his bare chest. Betty seems equally as shocked, her eyes rake his chest, hungry. 

Then, ever so gently, Jack takes a hold of her wrists and places her hand over his pecks, slithering back so her fingers move down his torso.

You weren’t jealous before,  but you can’t deny the fire that suddenly flares in your stomach. An ugly feeling fills your insides, clutches at your heart. Sharp nails bury themselves into the soft, tender muscle. He doesn’t look at you as he shifts on his feet, turning while rolling his hips. Betty laughs, her arms barely caging the width of his waist. Jack sinks down and guides her hands to his crotch, Betty flushes when he feels him, her smile still wide. 

He unbuckles his jeans and the crowd screams, meanwhile, you’re left dizzy, hands feeling numb as you clap. What the hell are you supposed to do in this situation? Leave? Continue to pretend that Jack is nothing more than a sexy stranger? Luckily you don’t have to think too much of it because he steps forward, leaving Betty’s arms to fall limp to her sides. You don’t know how, but as he walks towards the stage, the denim slips lower and lower, until the start of the swell of his ass is visible and his back dimples are in full view. Gifted from Venus herself. 

“I’m gonna need a volunteer,” he drawls into the microphone, the honeyed voice making every hair on your body stand with attention. Jack slowly turns on his heel, eyes glued to the bride-to-be, making it clear to the entire room who the volunteer should be. Your eyes shift to Betty, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth, shapely brows knitted tightly together. 

You realize, with horror, that she’s planning something. 

Before the thought can become something tangible, something that you can mull over, you find yourself being pushed forward. Your wrist yanked upward by a gentle, yet firm, hand. 

“We have a volunteer right here,” Betty calls out cheerfully. When you stare at her, wide-eyed and in shock, she winks at you. She mouths the words; have fun. 

No, you want to scream, you certainly won’t be having fun. Alas, you see no way around it as all the women around you begin to cheer, your ass being edged out of your seat by sheer volume alone. Your eyes find Jack’s as you take the first step. His lips are curled in a wicked smile, an expression that doesn’t reach the darkness of his eyes. You swallow. The noise fades when he extends a hand, a silent ask for trust that you’re not that willing to give. But you do. You lay yourself in the middle of his palm and he wraps his fingers around it, guiding you to the stage. Lights flicker around you, some white, some colorful. 

You stand like a doll in the middle of the stage, his body firm behind you, chest brushing your back. A shudder that you’re sure he won’t miss rolls down your spine. “Relax,” he murmurs into your ear. Involuntarily, you scoff. “You can leave,” he reminds you, nudging your arms to your sides and dragging the pads of his fingers across the delicate skin of your upper arms. His lips touch your cheek. “But that might raise some questions, darlin’.” 

Damn it, he’s smooth. 

You can’t really answer with everyone’s eyes glued on you both, so you make a sound that you hope expresses something along the lines of; I’ll stay but not for you, dickhead. You have doubts he got the message though. You assume you not running and cussing him out is probably a good enough of a sign for him to continue. 

Your pulse skyrockets as his hands find your hips, prompting you to sway along with him. It doesn’t help that you’re stiff as a board but you manage to follow his lead. The thick outline of his cock brushes against your ass, and your cheeks burn. Your body betrays you as it grows hotter and hotter, the seam of your underwear growing damp with every move. He intertwines his fingers within your own, lifting your arm and spinning you around so you face him. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, he dips. Your breathing hitches as he comes back up, mouth an inch away from your body, inhaling as if you were completely bare to him. 

Your knees start to shake. His hands slide down your back and nudge your legs apart before hooking afoot around your ankle. You find yourself sprawled upon the stage, knees bent with the soles of your shoes planted against the smooth floor. He towers over you, intimidating while standing tall between your legs. Jack doesn’t look down, eyes almost predatory as he observes the crowd. With a grin, he claps and hypes them all up. Both worry and excitement entangle around your heart, suffocating and squeezing your lungs. 

Confusion crosses your face when he turns instead, but whatever you’re feeling is short-lived. He drops himself to the floor, long legs threading yours, he flips you both, and suddenly, his body is flushed against your own. Your heart skips a beat, arousal pooling deep in your gut. You feel every inch as he grinds himself against you, fingers cupping your throat, mouth skimming your cheek—he inhales and you feel teeth grazing your skin. 

A moan parts your lips, a moan so silent that it’s drowned by the music and cheers, but not silent enough that it goes unnoticed by him. Every muscle grows tense. He smiles, something wicked and taunting reverberating out of him, another grind provoking you to raise your hips. Which you do, begrudgingly. Because you’ve missed him. Despite the anger. . . you still miss him, miss the weight of his body, the layering of his words.   

“I’ve missed you too, darlin’,” he whispers, his breath warm over your skin. The sentence sends a coldness down your spine that seeps into the very fabric of your being. A whimper shakes your throat. His lips move, but not a word comes out. You’re surprised to notice that you’re disappointed with the fact. 

You're being flipped over again, thick thighs straddling your waist as he comes to an almost plank position, your noses nearly brushing against one another. Jack grins and whips his upper body back, hand pushing back his hat and threading his hair. Thrusting into the air, he slides a palm down his torso. You watch in awe as his hand disappears beneath his pants, briefly grabbing himself before pulling his hand back. With the same hand, he holds your throat, leaning closer. The crowd goes wild. You hear the blood rush in your ear. 

The music comes to a close, the melody fading into the distance. Your eyes meet, and just as it does, a loud cheer bursts from the crowd. 

You’re both panting heavily, two sets of eyes eating the other up, engraving every detail to memory. The color of his eyes are darker than you remember, his lips a bit paler compared to your memory. He looks like he’s about to say something. You beat him to it. 

“Screw you,” you mouth at him, nostrils flared and gaze becoming one of steel. He’s startled but not surprised. You’re basically scrambling off the stage when he moves away, and disappear into the halls. You don’t care if it raises suspicion. You don’t care if Betty demands answers later on. You just want to vanish into thin air.

This isn’t how you expected this day to go. You were expecting to have fun, maybe get a bit tipsy and go home to relieve yourself further with the help of your vibrator. You, in no way, were expecting to run into Jack. It didn’t help that Betty volunteered you to go on stage. There’s an endless pit in your stomach now because of it. 

The halls seem endless. You walk and walk, not really having a clear vision of where you want to go. Maybe you should leave. The sound of the party is still roaring in the background. You wonder if Jack’s still dancing. You wonder if he stared as you left. Some part of you desperately wants to pick a fight, your nails itching to be buried in a soft surface—

You should leave. That’s the logical thing to do. And after everything you’ve been through, you’re not that keen about listening to your heart. 

You turn on your heel, heart ramming wildly in your chest, ribcage barely contaminating the muscle violent with emotion. 

Sadly, something warm and firm presses into your face—hard. Pain blossoms from the base of your nose, spreading throughout your face. You yelp and take a step back, the moment feeling oddly familiar as you rub a palm over your aching nose. 

“Sorry,” you hear him say, and finally your gaze lifts. You see him. Jack. Standing there like a kicked puppy, his hands somewhere between wanting to lay on his sides and reach out for you to soothe the pain. He does the former when your eyes flit between said hands and eyes, a pang of instant guilt overwhelming the color of them. “Are you a’right?” 

“You,” you say, the word bouncing against the back of gritted teeth. You point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t get to ask me that.” 

“Fair enough,” he mutters. “At least let me do this since it was my fault.” 

His hand disappears into his jacket and he smoothly pulls out a tissue. He takes a step forward and your eyes go wide when you feel him pressing the soft material against your nose. You hadn’t felt the bleeding. Feeling slightly disoriented, your fingers curl around his hand, thinking he’ll move away so you can clog the bleeding yourself. He makes no such move. The heat from his fingers seeps into your skin even with the tissue in between. 

“I think that’s enough,” you say with a glare. “I’m fine now.” Jack finally lets go and you detest how cold you feel without his touch. You give your nose one last rub before lowering your hand, peeling the tissue away. At a loss, you stuff it into your purse. 

“What do you say?” 

The question catches you off guard, your brows furrow and he repeats himself. Slower this time. “What. Do. You. Say.” 

“What—” The tips of your ears burn and you swear if you were in a cartoon your air would be forming a spike right about now. “Are you expecting a damn thank you?!” 

“Perhaps,” he tuts. “Or maybe I just wanna talk and I’m lookin’ for a gateway to do so.” 

“Getting me angry isn’t the way to do that,” you inhale a sharp breath. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

He takes a step, crowding you until your back is pressed snugly against the wall. Your breath catches in your throat, your anger and frustrations from earlier dwindling upon feeling his warm breath ghosting your cheek. His hand finds purchase over the empty spot right near your ear. You can almost taste him on your tongue. Involuntarily, you inch closer and your regret is immediate when you see the twitch of his lips. He tilts his head. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something, anything. They’re so dark. Almost black. 

With a sudden jerk of your head, you pull back, a thud echoing where your skull meets the wall, “What do you want?” you hiss. “A quick fuck?” 

The poison beneath your words startles even you. His eyes go wide. 

He doesn’t move away though. 

“That’s not why I’m here,” he rasps, voice dropping. He slips a leg between your own, your spine becoming a stick with the sudden jolt of electricity snapping through your body. His thigh firm and warm against your sex. When your hands grip his arms despite you, he grins. “But it seems like you wouldn’t mind it.” 

No. No, you wouldn’t. Fuck. What the hell is wrong with you? 

“Why?” you gasp as he pushes his leg further up, heat coiling in your stomach. You squeeze his biceps, and when you meet his eyes, he gives you a questioning gaze. “Why are you taunting me? Is it really that fun to string me along?” 

Jack attempts to pull back but your grip constricts. He remains, comes closer even, your bodies impossibly close. His hand slides down to your waist, thumb drawing slow, soothing circles. “I’m weak,” he answers simply. Like it’s meant to explain everything. “I’t not a matter of stringing you along or to taunt, darlin’. I just can’t keep away.” 

“I don’t want you to keep away,” you breathe, voice desperate and hoarse. “I just want you to explain, Jack. I want to understand.”  

You were telling the truth. You did want to understand. You want to see for yourself if he was worth forgiving or not, if whatever had gone through his head that prompted him to leave you in the middle of the night made sense. Even then—Even with the off chance that it does make sense, you still might find it hard to forgive him. 

Time stands still, the air heavy with your unanswered plea. You feel the tremor of his hand. He chews his bottom lip vigorously, contemplating his fight or flight response. It’s brief, but your gaze drops to his lips. So full, the bottom one plump from being abused between sharp teeth. Your tongue darts to lick your own lip, mimicking how you would soothe the ache of the tender muscle. A mistake, you’re quick to realize, because instead of explaining, he tempts your desires, crashing your mouths together, licking where you had just not moments ago. 

You surrender to him quicker than you thought. His tongue slips between your lips, tasting you, urging you to part for him further. You do. He traces every inch of your mouth with the tip of his tongue, pushing deeper. Heat licking the base of your spine, you grind down, the solid drag of his thigh against your cunt a delicious friction. 

“Jack,” you pant, he nips at your chin, his gaze finding your own. “Fuck, that feels nice.” 

“‘M about to make you feel even nicer,” he answers with a sultry drawl. Before your brain can register, he’s on his knees, bunching up your dress. He pulls down your underwear, leaving it dangling just a bit below your knees. You hold your breath as he inches closer. Hot breath ghosting your damp folds. He lays a tentative kiss over your mouth, a bit of tongue poking between his lips. When he looks up you’re mesmerized, dark lashes heavily framing his eyes. 

Jack doesn’t say a word as he begins his feast. He’s a man starved. Mouth and tongue leisurely moving between the delicate lips of your pussy and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves that crown it. Your knees buckle. Thankfully, he keeps your hips firm against the wall, hand splayed wide over your thighs. Your moans are hushed, short gasps of air that fills your lungs rapidly. The aquiline curve of his nose bumps against your clit as he ventures deeper, tongue tracing your fluttering entrance. He retraces your opening, his hum falling on your skin.

You lift your hips off the wall, chasing the warmth of his mouth. He licks you with fat strokes, tongue flat, he follows the seam of your heat. You push your fingers through the damp, soft locks that frame the back of his head. He growls and brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles. The motion sends you into a frenzy. Eyes closing, you thrust against his pointed tongue. You swear he smiles as he fucks you shallowly with it, your orgasm quickly building to something indescribable. You tug at his hair, pulling him off of you. 

The sight takes you by surprise. 

His eyes are glazed over, only lust and need swirling in them. Your gaze follows the opening of his lips, a gasp parting them while his thumbs stroke the heated skin of your thighs. His lips glisten under the dimmed light, mustache soaked with the pure essence of you. Jack clears his throat before he speaks, not breaking eye contact as his tongue swipes sensually over his bottom lip. “Use me,” he breathes heavily, voice nothing but gravel. “Take what you need, darlin’.” 

You note the tell-tale signs of losing control. His words warm your stomach. Something primal and possessive taking over. You bring a hand to his cheek, thumb right above the tender skin that resides right under his eye. As you drag the finger down, you make a point of grazing your nail. His breath hitches and your eyes go wide. Your chest heaves, breathing suddenly the hardest thing you can do. 

“You enjoy seein’ me on my knees, sugar?” he asks, a weak tease to his tone. You don’t answer. 

“Touch yourself,” you say instead, voice soft contrary to the command. Jack obliges, bringing a hand between his legs. He palms himself over his tight jeans, pupils dilating as he holds your gaze. You swallow. “Good boy.” 

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Fuck—” he grinds himself into his palm, frustrated. “Do I make you feel good, darlin’? Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel.” 

The air between your crackles. More slick dripping down the inside of your thighs. He swallows thickly and you notice the traces of fear that you won’t give him what he so desperately needs. Craves. And maybe you shouldn’t give it to him. Maybe you should just pull him back and ride his face until you’re soaking him. But your resolve has already cracked. Been like that ever since you stepped on the stage, giving him that trust again. 

You bring him back, his tongue darting by instinct. He circles your clit, eyes still fixed on you. Your breathing slows. “You make me feel amazing,” you mutter, a bit breathless. “Which is a problem because I never seem to get enough.” 

You expect him to laugh, snort, or at least shoot you one of those mischievous grins—he doesn’t. His eyes flutter closed and he inhales you, signaling the end of the conversation, he buries his mouth deep. His lips tighten around your clit and he flicks at it with the tip, your pulse skyrockets, your breathing coming in short. When your hips move away from the wall once more, he slams them back, a growl reverberating in his chest. He moves his head from side to side, tongue relentless. 

Every nerve in your body is electrified. Skin taut over muscle. Your head falls back, knocking against the wall. He forces his tongue inside and resumes circling his thumb over your clit. Your moans become loud, uncaring as you feel the gentle scrape of his teeth. “Jack,” you moan. “I’m—fuuuck—I’m ‘bout to come—” 

The confession seems to stir something wild inside him. He laps at your soaked cunt and meets your gaze, knocking the air from your lungs a second time that night. 

He pushes you over the edge, your inside pulsing as you come. The halls around you spin and your arms loosely coil around his head, hanging on for dear life. His tongue is still moving. Licking, tasting everything you have to offer. Tingles spread throughout your body, goosebumps rising across your skin at the chill of the hallway. 

Jack gives you one final lick before pulling away and standing. Suddenly, he seems larger than life, you realize you prefer him on his knees, at least for now. 

“What do you want?” he asks, and your eyes drop to where his hand rubs over his hard-on. Memories of his cock splitting you wide open flash before your eyes, your inside clenching at the phantom feel. However, despite you both knowing what you want, you can’t voice it. You don’t have it in you to ask him to fuck you. So, you turn around, your forearms bracing the wall. His palms move up from the back of your legs to your ass, he squeezes gently before sliding up to your waist, taking the ends of the dress with it. 

His lips touch your nape and you tense at the gesture. He must’ve felt it because Jack moves away, slipping his cock inside of you. He slides in with ease. Like you were made for him. A choked-out sound leaves you, his hips flush against the swell of your ass. 

“Feels so good, darlin’,” he mutters, lips hovering an inch away from your skin. “Missed this pussy.” 

Jack doesn’t waste time any time, knowing that your time is limited and someone might walk by at any second. His pacing is brutal. Cock filling the tight fist of your cunt with hard thrusts. Your brows knit with pleasure, mouth hanging open. If it wasn’t for the wall and Jack’s solid presence behind you, you’re positive you’d collapse. His hand slides up your torso and cups your breasts. Your back arches, pleasure rolling down your spine. He traces the column of your neck with his tongue and you shudder at the feeling. 

“You’re loud, sugar,” he warns. “Not that I’m complainin’ but I’m assumin’ you don’t wanna get caught with your pants down. Literally.” 

You shake your head vigorously, words failing you. But the movement of your head is all it takes for him to cover your mouth, moans bouncing off of his palm. The wet sounds flood the hall, deafening to your ears. The heavy drag of his cock is heavenly, your body clenching and begging him not to leave. He makes a choked sound, head falling between your shoulder blades. His nails bite into your skin, pulling you against him, pushing into you harder. 

“I ain’t gonna last,” he groans. 

You’re quick to reply, fear curling at your heart, “Don’t come on me.” 

You don’t think you can handle him leaving you again in such a vulnerable state. 

He rolls his hips and you feel every tantalizing inch. “Okay,” he answers, the previous raps of his tone becoming something somber, bittersweet. “Okay,” he repeats. “I won’t.” 

The pleasure that had been building flickers away like a dying flame. His pacing slows, wild thrusts becoming indulgent, slow. He grinds himself deeper with every push of his hips and your eyes roll. It feels good. Amazing. Breath shortening. But you can’t deny that the previous rush is gone. Time is once again moving, reality becoming the most solid thing around you. He’s going to come and leave. Your vision blurs. 

It doesn’t take him long, he pulls out and you feel incredibly cold and empty. So much so that you shiver as you press your forehead into the wall. You want to turn around. Watch him, see the desperate snap of his hips. Watch him make a mess of his hand. However, you remain in place, refusing to look. 

He grunts and his breath becomes labored. You hear the faint whisper of your name falling from your lips—then silence, only soft, slow breathing. You finally turn then, seeing the tissue in his hand briefly before he stuffs it in his pocket. 

“I—” he starts, meeting your gaze. You raise a hand. 

“I know. You’re going to say you can’t see me again and all that bullshit. I’m leaving don’t worry.” 

You barely fix your dress, swiftly heading towards the exit of this ridiculously large building. He calls out to you, asking you to wait but you refuse. You’re not going to wait for him to break your heart again. You don’t need to see the pity in his eyes. Your poor thundering heart can’t take it. 

The sun is gone. The sky a mixture of dark blues and blacks. You take a deep breath of the crispy air, allowing yourself to stall just a moment before searching for your car. You’re outside, yet you still feel suffocated. Pleasure still simmers under your skin. Already missing, aching for his touch. You ball your hands into tight fists, allowing your nails to bite into the tender flesh of your palm. You welcome the mild pain. At this point, you would welcome anything that provides the bliss of forgetfulness. 

“Get back here!” 

You flip him off without looking. You swear you hear him snort with amusement. The bastard. 

“At least let me explain—” he sounds desperate, his voice grows closer. You shake your head even though he can’t see and hug your jacket, your car should be close. . . You don’t stop. You can’t. A broken hiccup parts your lips and the tears you fought so hard against finally escape. You wipe them with the heel of your palm. 

“I’m sorry!” 

And as if time itself stood still, you stop dead in your tracks. The silence between you grows, his steps coming closer. 

All that hurt, all the anger. It finally boils over. 

“For WHAT?!” You turn around, the wind howling around you. Tear streaks chill over your cheeks. “Are you apologizing for that night, or right now? Do you have any idea how hard it was to force myself to go out tonight?! Are you aware how much it hurts to fucking look at you?!” 

He’s not as far as you thought he was. Only a couple of steps between you two. Your eyes drop to his feet and back to his face again. He stops. For the first time, Jack seems at a loss for words. His brows come together in remorse, lips parted with words unsaid. You shake your head, hands still in fists, you’re not at a loss for words, however, all of it piles up in your throat like a dam. The world stands still. The only giveaway that time is still moving is the wind. Icy whips of air irritating your skin. 

“You hurt me,” you say, surprisingly clear despite the knot in your throat. “Do you understand what that means, Jack? I’m hurt. There’s a bleeding wound in my chest because I stupidly thought—” Your chest caves in and you avert your gaze. “I thought you might actually look past all the fucked up parts of me. Maybe it was selfish of me but it made me happy to think I might be the one you would open up to. That me, being the way that I am, would be enough. But in the end. . . I didn’t even get an explanation. You just left.” 

You drag your gaze back to him. You’re not sure but you think he took a step closer while you were speaking, his hands outstretched like he’s fighting the urge to pull you into a bear hug. His eyes glimmer under the faint moonlight. As if every word you said hurt him just as much as it did to speak them. You shake your head again. “Just leave.” 

“No,” he chokes out, closing the gap. His fingers curl around your wrist. He must’ve seen your flight response starting to take over. You don’t fight the iron grip. “I—I don’t think you’re fucked up,” he blurts, unintelligently. “I don’t think any of that. In fact, I think the opposite, you’re too good for me, sunshine. You. . . I’m a coward, I couldn’t handle the love in your eyes. Couldn’t handle being that for someone again. But. . . I want to try, sugar. I want to try and be that someone for you. I don’t want to run away from this.” 

You stand silent, shocked. You can’t see it for yourself, but you know your gaze has warmed up to be something soothing and understanding. 

“I lost her,” he says. “Viv. . . she was my everythin’ and one day she was just. . . gone. My—My little boy along with—” 

You shatter. All of the anger, the hurt, your icy resolve melting and becoming a puddle at your feet. You cradle his face, catching the first tears with the pad of your thumb. His arms coil around your waist, muscles tight around your frame. He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at a random spot on the concrete. 

“She went out for milk,” he continues, broken. “She was still pregnant, two months. . . two months later I would’ve,” he cuts himself off. “I should’ve left instead but she argued that I was tired from work and that she needed to stretch her legs. I let her go. An hour later the police were at my door, telling me that she got caught in a gun fight between two rival gangs. Shot. Dead.” 

He spat the last words out, his guilt, his hatred for the world laced in every one of them. 

“That’s why I couldn’t. With you. I don’t deserve a second chance, darlin’.” he finally meets your eyes, and for the first time you see him for what he truly is. A good man, broken and lost. Just like you. “I’m afraid of losin’ you.” 

“Who says you don’t deserve a second chance?” you whisper, your thumbs stroking the delicate skin. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I—I didn’t know. And I don’t want to lie and say you won’t lose me, life is unpredictable but. . . I promise that this,” you point between the two of you. His gaze follows your hand as it rests on his chest. “Deserves a chance. I’ve never felt anything like I have with you. You make me happy, Jack. As simple as it sounds. And. . . well. . .” your lips crack into a heartfelt smile and when he sees, he lets out a breath. “I’ve already fallen pretty hard for you. As you can guess.” 

His hands come up to your cheeks, holding you as delicately as one would a rose. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closer and smiling. “I think this deserves a chance too,” he mutters, his breath tickling your lips. “Will you have me, darlin’? Fucked up parts and all?” 

He brushes your lips together, prompting the grin that is quick to form, “Only if you’ll have me, cowboy.” 

Jack’s fingertips trace the contour of your lips before lightly pressing against them. His touch is gentle and warm. His lips come slowly towards yours, and when they meet, it is heaven itself. 

His hands slide down your neck and around your waist. His mouth moves in perfect harmony with yours as his tongue lightly skims across your lips. 

You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. His mouth moves feverishly desire and your body starts to respond in kind. And when he breaks the kiss, you’re surprised to see Betty’s house behind him, completely forgetting where you were. 

“Of course, darlin,” he smiles, brushing his mouth over your forehead. “Of course.” 

[pimosworld]

would you be able to write something about santi and frankie making a tree house for the reader's kids?

her kids have always wanted one and there's a perfect tree for it right in the center of the back yard, but she's never had the time to make it herself or get a professional to make it.

one day, at a neighborhood barbecue, pope is talking to reader's kids (trying desperately to be their favorite uncle) when they inform him of their plan of how to get their mom to make their tree house.

he tells them to draw him up a plan of their dream tree house and tells them he'll see what he can do. with the help of fish, they draw up a real plan of action from the drawing and set out finding materials. reclaimed wood, an old slide that really just needs a fresh paint job, a carpet to go inside, and some old moroccan style tiles for the roof.

they show up, truck bed full of supplies, unannounced and get to work unloading and constructing the thing. how can the reader be so mad when her kids look so happy helping them build it and playing in it once it's built?!

(new anon, sorry that this was so long.)

Pairing-Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary-Your kids find a way to get what they want both for you and for them.

CW-SFW, Fluff, angst, mentions of parent loss, mentions of spouse loss, tf boys being protective, tf boys being great uncles, mentions of insecurities, kids being menaces, dating, cursing, inaccurate descriptions of tree house build time because this is my world and we can build tree houses quickly, so much fluff. The boys being good with their hands.

WC-2.7k

A/N- I’m sorry this took me so long anon. Writers block sucks but it’s only fitting that the anniversary of my first ever fic COMPANY that came up a few weeks ago featuring the tf boys is kicked off with your request for some Frankie and Santi being amazing. I made some adjustments but I hope this is everything you wanted and more.

[Triple Frontier Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

If you build it

“I can tell they’re up to something.” Santi shoots you a look as he flips the burgers on the grill. 

  “They’re kids of course they’re up to something. The question is what.” Santi closes the grill as he looks across the wide expanse of yard at his niece and nephew playing in the sandbox. 

  It looks like the childlike version of an ops mission happening. To someone else it may just look like a little girl playing with a stick in the sand but Santi knows better than that. 

  ****

  It’s such an odd feeling, you should still be grieving right? You most certainly shouldn’t be looking at Santi and his chiseled jaw as he watches your kids play. Or watching the way his muscles flex in his tight tee shirt as he crosses his arms. You’re so distracted you don’t even realize he’s speaking to you. 

  “Can you watch the grill for a second?” He raises an eyebrow at you and you feel flushed for all the wrong reasons. The sweltering heat does nothing to hide your embarrassment. 

  “Ya of course but don’t be gone too long. I’ve been known to burn anything on the grill.” 

  “I’ll make it quick then.” He winks at you as he walks across your lush green yard. Swiftly dodging a football that Benny throws deliberately at his head as he flips him off in return. 

  “You’re gonna burn a hole in his pants if you keep staring.” You jump at the sound of Frankie’s voice and he has the decency to look apologetic at your reaction. 

  You hadn’t really noticed how much they’ve all aged in the last few months. His hair is a little longer as it curls around his cap. His worry lines are just a bit deeper than you last remember them being. Yet he still smiles at you all the same as he pulls you into a deep hug, kissing the top of your head. 

  “I didn’t mean to scare you cariño, I was only joking.” 

  You shove him off playfully as you open the grill again. “I wasn’t staring.” 

  He bumps you out of the way as he grabs the spatula from your hand. “Sure…whatever you say. Your secrets are safe with me.” You watch him as he effortlessly dispatches all the burgers to a plate and sets them aside. 

  You bite your lip as you wait for him to say something but you know he’s giving you time to think. Something he’s always done for you, knowing that your mind is going a mile a minute and if anyone interrupts that train of thought it might be gone forever. 

  He���s just standing beside you like a steady weight as he glances around the yard at some people he barely knows and others he knows like the back of his hand. Now it’s mostly close friends and one or two neighbors, compared to several months ago when he couldn’t pick out a familiar face among the crowd. People tend to forget that your grieving continues even long after you’ve decided not to show up. 

  He shouldn’t feel bad for you because you’re a strong woman. More resilient than any of them could ever be. 

  “Frankie, can I ask you something?” You say with a nervous smile. 

  “You’re allowed to move on.” 

  You glance up at him and it’s intense the way he meets your eyes. “I didn’t ask the question.” 

  “You didn’t have to…my answer is still the same.” 

  ****

  As Santi approaches the sandbox he can see some kind of intricate drawing. Lexi is using a stick practically the size of her to draw it out while her brother Liam watches from the corner. She looks so much like you, especially with her focused face on as she draws another detailed set of lines that he still can’t quite make out. 

  Liam glances up at him and gestures with his fingers to stay quiet. Santi takes a seat at the corner of the box near him as they patiently wait for her to finish. He looks so much like him that Santi has a hard time not getting choked up, he’s grateful that they both have your personality. 

  “Okay.” Lexi throws the stick to the side and dusts her hands off on her white skirt. “I think it’s done.” She looks up and flashes a toothy smile at Santi and he can’t help the way his heart melts. 

  “Can I ask what exactly this is?” 

  The little girl lets out a deep sigh as she looks over at her twin brother and he just holds his hands out in silent communication that she needs to take the lead. 

  “Well…this is a tree house.” She pauses briefly and Santi thinks that’s cool that she can draw but then she starts. In great detail for several minutes animatedly explaining the process of her vision coming to life. 

  Santi has to get up and stand from her perspective to really get a grasp of what she’s talking about. He tries to follow along as she explains the duel ladder system, one on the trunk and another hanging down from the middle entrance of the house. Two doors, one for entry and the other for the slide,that lets out perfectly into the softest patch of grass in the yard. Her and her brother evidently couldn’t decide on carpet or tile so they opted to split it down the middle. Her half would be tile and his half would be carpet. They would obviously need enough room for arts and crafts, the kitchen and naps. 

  He’s never been so impressed with an eight year old in his entire life. 

  He’s so enthralled with the design that he doesn’t notice the little girl standing there staring up at him expectantly. 

  “So what do you think?” She’s wringing her little hands together as she glances over at her brother with an equally curious look on his face. As if a lightbulb goes off in his head Santi is suddenly aware of what exactly they were up to. 

  “Mija…are you asking if I can help?” 

  She nods her head as she rocks back and forth in the sand. 

  “We both have allowances if that helps.” Liam chimes in from the corner of the sandbox and Santi has to try to disguise his smile behind his hand. 

  “Foods ready!” You yell from across the yard and Santi meets your eyes. A look of what are you up to written all across your face. 

  He crouches down waving Liam over and the little boy carefully avoids the blueprints in the sand to join them. “Okay…here is what I want you to do.” 

  ****

  Your kids are being uncharacteristically good. They finished all their food, they haven’t bothered you in over an hour and even offered to help clean up the table after everyone ate. 

  Most everyone has cleared out from the barbecue besides for the boys who seem to be enthralled with something over by the sandbox. Frankie keeps glancing over his shoulder at you and Will has shot you a thumbs up twice. If they thought subtlety was their strong suit they are sadly mistaken. You often wonder how they managed to be special ops and keep things a secret when it’s so obvious they’ve all got something up their sleeve. 

  ****

  The something they had planned despite your initial worry was in fact a much needed day for yourself. Benny was going to take the kids to the zoo and despite wanting all the credit Will assured you he would be accompanying them so that an adult would be present. 

  Over the last several months various repairs around the house had gone undone in the chaos of being a newly single mom. Frankie and Santi volunteered to spend the day getting your house in order while you had a full day planned with Will’s wife Jenna. Brunch, pedicures, shopping…you couldn’t remember the last time you treated yourself to a day that wasn’t centered around your kids. As much as you loved them you knew that at times it felt like the person you used to be was long buried underneath a world of stress and hurt. 

  Dating was completely off the table at the moment…especially since your current situation was all but off limits. Taking care of yourself for once could be a great start in the right direction. 

  ****

  “I told you to get half inch screws Pope.” 

  “Those are half inch!” Santi says as he hears Frankie grumbling under his breath. 

  “These are definitely a quarter inch and that explains another problem.” Frankie chides as Santi flips him off. 

  They’ve been at this for a few hours having completed the tasks in your house in a matter of no time. All this a ruse to get the tree house completed before you and the kids are back from your day out. 

  It’s been awhile since they’ve done something like this. Not just the physical labor but the reward at the end being something that they know is going to brighten a lot of days. They may bicker and fight like brothers but at the end of the day Santi knows how much they both needed this. To have their minds occupied with an intricate task. 

  Intricate doesn’t even begin to describe what’s unfolded before them. With their niece's original design in mind and a few additions when they got to the store this is turning out to be better than some places they’ve slept while in the service. 

  Frankie is putting the finishing touches on the bug screen that he decided would be a good addition to the entryway for the balmy summer nights. Santi’s never felt so large while he sits on the wooden bench that doubles as a reading nook. The wood matching the same structure that he knows could withstand any storm or hurricane. The sun is setting, casting a shadow along the bright yellow carpet they found on clearance at the back of the home decor store. 

  The leftover Talavera tiles Santi had from his home remodel fit perfectly on the half that would be the makeshift kitchen. 

  There are three exits and two entries. The trap door with a knotted rope, the wooden plank stair steps and the slide that leads to the softest patch of grass in the yard. 

  Santiago’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of car doors slamming and children’s laughter. 

  “We should head down.” Frankie grunts as he shuffles over to the slide, reaching for his standard heating oil cap placed on the bench nook. 

  Santi raises his eyebrows at the man taking in the scene about to unfold. 

  “What? How else are we supposed to get down?” 

  “Oh I don’t know the stairs or the rope maybe?” He says sarcastically. “We don’t need you breaking the slide before they even get a chance.” 

  “Fuck you, this slide was built to withstand a hurricane.” 

  His nieces squeal from across the yard interrupts their fifth squabble of the day. 

  Frankie flashes him a wide grin. “Last man down has to ask their mom on a date.” 

  “What?!” 

  “Byeeee.” Frankie slides away, throwing him the middle finger on the way down. 

  Santi had already talked to him about this ad nauseam. It always felt like the wrong place at the wrong time. 

  He opened the latch to the trap door, opting to climb down to spare him the embarrassment of using a children’s slide in front of you. 

  ****

  You pulled up to the house at the exact same time as Will and Ben. You don’t remember the last time you’d felt this refreshed. Your hair and nails done, way too many bags piled in the backseat of Jenna’s car with a new wardrobe. It was exactly what you needed and a much needed conversation with another woman to reassure you that you were perfectly capable of making your own decisions about your love life. You shouldn’t feel guilty about moving on and doing what’s best for you and your children. 

  You half expected your kids to be happy to see you but they both gave you light hearted waves as they raced each other around the side of the house, leaving you in the driveway with Will and Ben with amused looks on their faces. 

  “What’s gotten into them?” You say as the boys shoot each other a look and Jenna takes your hand on hers to lead you around the house. 

  “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission right?” Ben says from behind you and now you’re really starting to worry. Your daughter's screech has you pulling away as you run into the backyard. 

  The sight you’re met with is one that completely knocks you off your feet. Your children are jumping up and down in front of a beaming Frankie and the largest tree house structure you’ve ever seen. This is something out of an outdoor life magazine. 

  You don’t realize you're frozen in place as the rest of the gang join him on the lawn. Santiago perhaps on purpose opted to make your life that much harder by effortlessly climbing down the rope ladder. In all the years he’s been out of the service the man still has an impeccable physique. You will your feet to move as you take in the thing that your kids have been asking you for since they could talk. The thing your husband didn’t make time for and the daunting task seemed impossible for you on your own. Paying someone was out of the question and you were too prideful to ask the boys to help you out anymore than they already did. 

  You don’t even realize you’re crying until Santiago approaches with the most worried look you’ve ever seen on his face. 

  “Look, I’m really sorry if we overstepped. I know we should’ve asked and it wasn’t our place…but the kids-“ 

  His ramblings are cut short when you throw yourself into him. He instinctively hugs you tight as he feels the wetness from your eyes soak into his shirt. 

  It’s embarrassing to admit how long it’s been since a man has held you and right now you can feel your resolve breaking as he soothingly rubs his hands down your back to calm your tears. 

  “I don’t know how to thank you Santi.” You mumble into his chest as you try to calm your beating heart. 

  It’s a moment before you break apart and he really gets a good look at you. Even with fresh tears in your eyes you look stunning. The most relaxed he’s seen you look in ages and just as beautiful as the day Tom introduced you to the boys. 

  With the group and the kids thoroughly distracted he figures now is as good a time as any. He’s far enough away that if you reject him he can slink out of the backyard and disappear to another country for three to six months while the shame dies down. 

  “Listen, I have to say something before I lose the courage to say it.” He nervously rubs the back of his neck as he focuses on some inanimate object behind you. “I understand if you’re not ready or you think this is highly inappropriate and in that case I’ll pretend this never happened.” 

  You can feel the hairs stand up on your arms and you dig your nails into your palm to keep from passing out at this very moment.

  “I know it’s wrong to say but I’ve always thought you and the kids deserved better. You know I loved him but it killed me to see the way he treated you and in another life perhaps I met you first and things would look a little different. I just can’t help but think maybe this can be a second chance and if you’re willing, I’d like to take you out sometime.” 

  The silence is deafening as you try to form words and Santi looks as though he wants to spontaneously combust at your lack of response. In all honesty you were never really good at flirting and now you’re spiraling because what do you say besides. 

  “Yes.” 

  He lets out a huge sigh of relief as he looks up at the sky thanking whoever is watching that he didn’t just make a complete fool of himself. 

  You both turn around to see Benny helping your son climb the rope and Frankie sliding down with your daughter in his lap as she claps her hands. Will and his wife made it inside at some point and they wave to you both from the large open window. 

  “It looks like I may be able to take you up on that offer tonight.” 

[analy-sing-stuff]

HI SO THE SUMMER HIKARU DIED IS ONE OF THE GREATEST MANGAS I'VE RED THIS YEAR, I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER :D

I wanted to yap a bit about how i think it's pretty much important seeing it also as a BL and how so many people are misunderstanding the beautiful relationship between Yoshiki and Hikaru but specially 'Hikaru', who he later on falls deeply in love, HEAR ME OUT OK?

🍉 This contain spoilers 🍉

In one of the first scenes of this series, we can understand perfectly what's happening to both of the main characters. Hikaru is gone, and Yoshiki has to deal with his loss even tho his friend is still there, but oops 😬 it's not really him. It's some kind of weird monster he has never heard before. It's clear that Yoshiki's mental health is taking a deep dive, NOT ONLY because he saw the corpse of his dead friend and has to live with whatever this identity is, but because apparently, Hikaru had a strong impact in his life, considering the divorce of his parents and the feeling of loneliness he felt for being "diferent" (queer in a small town). It's somehow acceptable that whatever he felt about his dead best friend is insignificant in this situation, 'cause no matter what he did, accepting reality meant losing Hikaru forever, and he decides that it's such a ubereable feeling that he wants, no he NEEDS this Hikaru around.

In conclusion, Yoshiki has to deal with grief, the loneliness of the bigotry, the loss of his childhood and the acceptance of his trauma and issues.

And 'Hikaru' is now free. He could destroy most of the village and the people living on it; but he decides he won't, because he loves, OH he loves Yoshiki. To the point He gives part of himself to this boy just to make sure he's safe. It makes sense the original Hikaru had this feelings burried inside him already but it's also clear to me that this thing, this monster experiences feelings for the first time and he can't help but feel everything in a way more intense level. So Basically, his undying love for Yoshiki is the chain keeping him on the ground when he should be this destruction and murder machine.

Do i believe 'Hikaru' and Yoshiki could be lovers?

Absolutely.

Everything on this manga is ahead of what we see, for example, when Hikaru loses his control all of sudden and turns back to his real form

Have you ever felt something so fiercely you felt like pouring your soul, or screaming off the top of your lungs?

Well, the monster revealing himself is a way to let clear how much 'Hikaru' (or rather just queer people) repress their own feelings to "fit in".

It's very meaningful how 'Hikaru' is so open and expressive (especially in a physical way) about how he feels and who he is, and Yoshiki is more of a "quiet gloomy boy" who has the deep desire of hiding himself for who he is truly (the way he keeps his bangs long is probably a manifestation of hiding away, which really makes sense)

So, yeah, Hikaru dying and coming back is this big allegory of how once you're becoming who you really truly are, and bigotry is all around, people are gonna notice something is wrong and when you come out, suddenly you are a monster.

The "old lady" interacting with both of them and specially saying to Yoshiki to "be careful not to get mixed up with him" as if it was, maybe, some kind of disease is craazy, because out of context it really matches well all of the big metaphor of "being queer in secret at a small traditional village".

Also! I wanted to point the BIGGEST allegory in this whole series.

The "Hand in the hole"

I've even seen people compare it to abuse, which honestly seems to me not only untrue, but, as someone with het comp, kind of offensive?

But yeah, that's definitely a metaphor for gay sex or at least same sex intimacy.

The catch is, Yoshiki does seem uncomfortable because, like the insides of a monster, same sex relationships are "unnatural". It gets really easy figuring out he actually likes the feeling of being one with 'Hikaru' since the second time he does it, he keeps telling himself how wrong it is, how he shouldn't be doing it, and then he forgets it, because he likes it. It feels good; However, once it starts "sticking to him" (obvious alegory for feeling guilty or dirty, like he sinned) He gets scared and runs away.

I feel that, at first Yoshiki mourns Hikaru, he Mourns their old relationship of a comfortable friendship and he doesn't understand why did his best friend had to die and become a monster, something so weird, so unnatural; but later on, they learn to accept themselves for who they are, even if they feel different in their own ways and come to terms of accepting the unconditional love they feel for eachother.

ANYWAYS, I LOVE THEM THEY LOVE EACHOTHER, IT'S UNHEALTHY, IT'S DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL

I hope everything goes right for them, or else I'll have one more year of therapy over sad doomed yaoi 😞🩷

[londonlights724]

I’m at a true loss for words, but also feel like I have so much to say? The last 24 hours haven’t felt real. I don’t think the news really sunk in until I saw the posts from Louis, Zayn, Harry and the official 1D account.

I created an account on Tumblr all the way back in 2011, specifically for this group of 5 boys from the UK who had stolen my heart. I can still remember the feeling of hearing them sing for the first time. Funny enough it wasn’t WMYB; the music video for Gotta Be You was recommended on YouTube and the rest is history.

I was a freshman-sophomore when the boys fame started to really take off, and my love for them as well. High school was a very rough time for me with body dysmorphia, anxiety and depression. I would self harm because I had all of these feelings that I didn’t know how to express or who to express them to. Until I found the boys.

It sounds dramatic to say they saved my life.. but they truly did. Something clicked after that first song, and suddenly life didn’t feel so hard and scary. I made friends because of One Direction. My first “adult” concert (aka old enough to get the tickets myself) was their first tour of America - the Up All Night tour. Olly Murs opened and even though I was up in the rafters, it was the greatest moment of my life up until that point.

After that concert, I wore the T-shirt I bought from the merch tent all the time. After a while it got so gross and old, that I didn’t have any real reason to keep it. But I did. Something inside of me wouldn’t let me get rid of it.

Today I pulled that old shirt out and just held it. Lord knows it doesn’t fit anymore but even just holding it flooded the memories back into my brain. Memories of waking up at 3AM for album releases, of waiting in line for special editions of the albums, of seeing This Is Us in theaters many times. The memory of skipping class the day Zayn left to sit with the shock, and the memory of how it felt to hear the word hiatus.

All that’s to say once the boys went on hiatus, I started to drift away from the fandom. I still followed all the boys’ careers loosely, but really only Harry I followed in detail. So seeing the news a few years back about Liam’s substance abuse struggles, I was pleasantly surprised to hear about his sobriety in 2023. Especially after the interviews he had done during the time when he was struggling with addiction (ahem Logan Paul).

To then all culminate into the abuse allegations brought forth by Maya in the last few weeks. It was so disappointing to hear. That someone that I looked up to as a teenager could be capable of the things being reported. I wanted justice for Maya and I wanted Liam held accountable but to also be able to get the help he has needed for years, but doesn’t seem to have gotten.

I think one thing I’ve struggled with is mourning for the person I loved as a teen, who wasn’t the same person as an adult that did terrible things. It’s complicated. But understanding both things can be true, helps make processing this grief easier.

I send all of my love, thoughts and prayers to Liam’s parents, sisters and family. To his son, Bear. To his brothers, Harry, Louis, Niall and Zayn. To Kate. To Maya. To his friends and all those close to him. And lastly, to all the fellow Directioners processing this together.

Please remember to take time away from social media when things feel heavy. If you’re struggling, please reach out to someone - heck, my inbox is always open if you just need someone. Just don’t feel like you have to carry anything alone.

If you’re in the US, calling or texting 988 will put you in contact with someone from the suicide hotline, NAMI (Nat’l Alliance on Mental Illness). If you, or someone you know, struggles with substance abuse, you can contact the National Drug Abuse Helpline at 1-800-662-4357.

Love, Jo. ❤️‍🩹

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 3

Nothing could have prepared me for the life I would eventually lead. I was supposed to be ordinary, inconsequential even. Go to school, be a good girl, and eventually become a good wife to a simple man. He didn’t have to love me or even like me, as long as I didn’t complain and bore children, life was good. At least that’s what I had been told.

But as I was getting older, life was becoming more serious. On my 16th birthday, my mother took me aside and said, “You are a woman now, so act accordingly or no man will want you.” I didn’t know what “accordingly” meant, but I didn’t like the sound of it. “You can’t keep hanging out with those boys anymore if you want to find a good husband,” she said, her sadness barely masked. “I’ve seen the way you run down the stairs whenever they come by. That James is not the right fit for you, and don’t get me started on that Steve boy. How could he ever protect you, looking so frail like that?” But I wouldn’t stand for it. I turned on my heel and stormed out of the house.

I ran to the one place where I always went when everything around me became too overwhelming. I called it my quiet spot. It was a low wall by the river where I could sit and watch the water flow by. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining, and I could hear the laughter of children playing outside. I didn’t know when I stopped being one of those children, but today it felt like that time was gone for good. I lost track of how long I had been sitting there when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Hey, I was at your place, but your mom said you were out. She seemed distressed. Everything alright?” Steve asked as he sat down next to me.

“I’m getting old, Steve. My mother expects me to get married any day now. It feels like that’s all I’m meant to do—to marry a man I don’t care about and have a ton of kids.” Steve was taken aback, struggling to find the right words.

“Maybe you’ll find someone you like or even love?” he suggested tentatively.

“But maybe I want someone who loves me back? Or is that too much to ask for?” I asked, my voice trembling. He took my hand in his and said, “Any man would be lucky to have you, believe me. And if all else fails, I’ll marry you.” I was speechless, just staring at him.

“You know we can’t do that. You deserve to marry someone you love, Steve. Not a marriage of convenience,” I said softly. He let go of my hand and looked out at the river, a sudden sadness in his eyes. After a few minutes of silence, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, handing it to me.

“Happy birthday. I hope you like it. If you don’t, I can find something else, but I thought…” Before he could finish, I opened the box. Inside was a pin shaped like a ladybug. The colors were vibrant, and it glimmered in the sunlight.

“The day you moved here, something changed. It felt like my life was finally headed in the right direction. Just out of pure luck, the most darling and sweet girl moved into my neighborhood. When I saw this pin, it reminded me of you. I hope that’s alright,” he said softly.

I was at a loss for words. No one had ever given me such a thoughtful gift. Steve crouched beside me and asked gently, “May I?” I handed him the pin, and he carefully fastened it to my collar. He smiled at me, and I leaned in to give him a tentative kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He blushed, and his shyness made me blush in return. We sat there until the sun went down, talking about everything and nothing, until we ran out of things to say.

Next Chapter

[st-armand]

Author’s Notes: Ha, yall thought that the Plug!Hobie fic was gunna be posted first, gotta keep yall on your toes. I finished this first so here it is <3 Also any content by me about Hobie his age is 21-24. Im also looking for people to beta read.

CWs: Mention of piercing gone wrong, suggestive, stealing, not beta read

 Random Hobie Brown Headcanons

He has/had more piercings, notably a pair of sub-clavicle piercings, a belly piercing and nipples piercings (I know other people headcanon him as having a prince albert, but god I know that shit hurts so we’ll be skipping for now). He took those out because they kept getting caught in the frayed fabrics of his clothing, and especially worse his spider suit.

His final straw was amidst fighting a foe, he sustained several injuries, but he was horrified looking at the ripped skin of his clavicle, frantically looking for the bar and the flesh still attached, he did, but it was deep in the crevices of his suit and didn’t find it until after repairing it.

That was enough to get rid of all his torso piercings.

Hobie is extremely anal retentive when it comes to the upkeep of his piercings though, every night, maybe except those he’s really incapacitated from battle. He spends so much time in the morning carefully soaking q-tips in saline to clean the puncture holes, if he can take the jewelry out to let it soak in peroxide for a few hours.

You both fight over the real estate of the sink and its mirror, until you ask (threaten) him to get you a vanity so you both can have space to get ready, he does and its gorgeous; a vintage one he found abandoned on a side street.

But this doesn’t stop him taking up vanity space.

“Feel pretty sitting here luv”

Hobie is of Jamaican heritage, I headcanon that his grandmother is his only living relative, and he dedicates so much time taking care of her in her old age, despite their arguments about Hobie being able to be free, and not held down by family. She knows she won’t have many years left, and she may want to embrace him in her love for these final years, but she also doesn’t want him to feel a great heartbreak at the loss.

That being said he visits her every few days, stopping by for some beef patties, jerk chicken, curries of all kind, taking home the bulk containers of sorrell and ginger beer, Grandma Brown doesn’t question how her lanky streetlight grandson has gotten so strong and fit over the last few years, or how he’s able to take the large crates back to his flat.

She has her suspicions and theories, but she would rather not pry if it could end in harm for the both of them.

When he’s off being spiderman, or doing shows and odd jobs, you take up the mantle, visiting Grandma Brown and aiding her around the home, Grandma Brown gets to sit back comfortably as you take over cleaning and seasoning the chicken, she trusts you to remember all the ingredients she uses to make Hobie feel like he’s still a child with how nostalgic the food makes him.

She genuinely loves having you around, but she also loves to tease her grandson, “Don’t know what you see in that boy, he should kiss the ground you walk on darling,”

 

And that’s not to say he doesn’t. The undercurrent of his unruffled attitude, is an adoration for you, he loves you in a way he can’t even put into words for his songs. He thanks whatever cosmic source there is for dropping you in his lap, like a starved dog given shelter, and cared for the rest of its life.

Sometimes you catch him staring at you deeply, teasing the inside of his lip piercing with his tongue causing it to wiggle around, youre locked into his penetrating gaze, you feel critically wounded by his affection, it always comes in sudden frothing sea waves, cooling your body, leaving you to yearn for the warmth of the sun that is his love.

 

Hobie isn’t the type of punk to wear sexually suggestive clothing, but he does use riskier photos of you or the both of you, faces obscured or cropped, and edited heavily with grain to make it look vintage, he takes them to a vendor he works with closely for band merch and has them screen print the design on shirts for the both of you, loves wearing them during concerts especially to ward off erratic fans.

 

You let Hobie pester you about getting a piercing, which you know you can’t handle the pain for, but you humor him.

“Luv ya need some metal on that leng face of yours” He’ll say every few weeks, despite knowing the answer, insanity is doing the same thing knowing the results won’t change, Hobie’s fine with being insane if it means maybe one day your resolve will crack and he can see you two with matching jewelry.

He often ponders about what gems and metals would look best, the color, the shape, the size, and how all these can complement that enticing face of yours.

 

Steals you clothes (duh not original, but considering my taste of clothes…), and I don’t mean a few pieces here and there, he actively searches for things that will compliment your wardrobe, and in the span of a few months together your closet has doubled in size.

One day you say you’re interested in latex, he’s going to barter with some craftsperson to get you a few items to experiment with, maybe a few gloves.

You say you want to be corporate goth (I don’t see people ever adding corp goth to their alternative reader fics) ? He’s nicking the most gorgeous pants and skirt suits he can find, getting accessories and sitting beside you as you customize the outfits together.

Like high fashion, Thierry Mugler or VW? He has no problems with linking up with Black Cat to get into stock warehouses and design studios to steal some, Black Cat teases him by saying ‘You owe me for this bug.’ But she gets compensation by nicking a bunch of clothes for herself.After the fact they bound off in separate directions carrying webbed satchels of merchandise.

You know he stole them, in fact youre proud he was able to do it with ease.

(He doesn’t tell you Black Cat helped him, you wrongly assume they are attracted to each other, but Black Cat is actually a lesbian, he’s seen her in costume as a spectator of a dyke march parade under the guise of ‘watching out for the community’, he doesn’t tell her he’s seen her sneaking off into a civilian woman’s apartment, he’s happy to keep the city safe enough for everyone to nurture love.)

You wear these outfits with pride, sauntering down the street as an orchestra of gawks, and stares fills the area, blown away by the complexities of the outfit, and attention to detail to every complimentary aspects of the look, the essence of slay cunt one could say.

When Hobie’s there walking alongside you, he lets a hand glide to your lower back, urging you to walk faster, whispering into your ear,

“Walk faster luv, don’t you wanna give them a show?”

And scene. Hope yall enjoyed these, I aint great at british slang so be patient and give tips!

Comments, questions, criticisms? Let me know!

Request are OPEN

[icequeenlila]

Runaway Lo'ak fic (Locorro)

Lo'ak x Spider

I want to start a new fic, bc I am depressed and need joy in my life (she said while planning out a new angsty fic).

Don't worry, I'll keep writing 'A Son for a Son'. That story is my baby and I will not abandon it. But I need/want variety.

(also it's just an idea so far)

Working Title: 'Belong'

Plot:

Lo'ak tries to make peace with Aonung, nearly dying in the process, just like in the movie. When he returns home he has the usual fight with Jake, only that Lo'ak doesn't just swallow the "You brought shame to this family.", but fights back instead, trying to defend himself. Things get heated, son and father screaming, until Jake hits. Not too hard, but he hits. He regrets it immediately but the damage is done and Lo'ak decides he can't stay. He doesn't fit. No matter how hard he tries, it's never right and he doesn't want to be a burden for his family anymore. So, over the following days he plans his 'escape'. Payakan is in on the thing and they leave together.

So much for the initial situation.

Lo'ak's 'escape' is pretty much a day (or a few) before Quarritch would have found the Sullys. (He doesn't in this fic. So, Neteyam lives. Yeay!) Lo'ak and Payakan spot the demon ship and go to take a look, just in case this is going to get a real threat to the people at Awa'atlu. Lo'ak sees Spider on the deck and he can't believe his eyes. Of course he decides to go get him. Spider is mad happy and slips away with his best friend without much thought. (No, I didn't forget the tracker inside his mask. I'll deal with that.)

Well, things happen blah blah blah. I don't know the details yet.

Lo'ak and Spider are in love. Oblivious numb skulls, of course. Lo'ak offers Spider to get him to Awa'atlu, so he can be with Kiri and the others, but Spider just wacks him and tells him he's stupid for believing he'd leave his side again. Bc Love, bro.

Spider ends up getting his own Avatar. Again, no details, but I have a rough plan.

Blah blah blah, they grow up, they travel the world, they adopt two sweet children along the line. And some day, when their travels bring them close to Awa'atlu, Spider decides to give old friends a visit (without Lo'ak's knowing).

So, imagine. Jake and Neytiri not knowing what happened to their son, finding Spider in na'vi form with their supposedly grand child on his arm. Hilarious.

Lo'ak and Spider are level A dads by the way. They gonna have a boy and a girl. I don't know the details yet, I only know that the lil boy is gonna be a difficult whirlwind with anger issues. Bc I want Lo'ak to be a gentle parent.

Also, Mo'at and Norm are part of this story (at least they are in my imagination, I'll make things up as I go.) Locorro is gonna stay with the Omatikaya for a while, Mo'at not being as rejecting of Spider as her daughter was. Also, her character is needed, so Spider can get the same ritual as Jake, connecting his soul to his na'vi body permanently. (I imagine Mo'at as a very loving grandma. Lo'ak and her are gonna bond.)

I'm probably gonna do multiple povs. Like the story doesn't just follow Lo'ak and Spider but also shows how the Sully's are dealing with Lo'ak's loss. Bc we need angst and I won't give Jake a rest.

Family reunion and stuff. Do I have your interest? Tell me pls.

I started writing some of it but I know I'll lose interest if there isn't any feedback from readers. Soooo, pls let me know, so I can decide if it's worth investing my time. I know Locorro isn't that big, so maybe the interest isn't there in the fandom.

+

I noticed how all my fics just come to existence, bc of some stupid thing Jake said that pissed me off in the movie.

A Son for a Son: " You've done enough."

This one (Belong): "You brought shame to this family."

That man is my muse.