#all brian wanted was to feel special.......

[kabr0ztrousers]

Similar to the portal one. But reader is a chubby witch in a house full of diffret species (not picky on the type). Anything with a big size differance is chefs kiss though. She has a crush on one of them. So she puts a portal spell on a toy and leaves it out for him to find. And he does but what she didn't realize was how many of her roommates share there toys. And now she has live with the consequences or for some the reward

You can even do a continuation were they figure out what she did and they give up on the toy and just start to use her instead

Kabr0z Writes episode 68: Toying Around

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: infidelity via deception; dubcon via deception; public sex; free use; autocunnilingus

A/N: Ah, my two great loves, portals and free use... Whatever would I do without them.

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You finally figured it out. You'd had the hots for Andy for months, ever since he moved in with you. You were already living with Debbie, and the pansexual lupines Paul and Brian couldn't object to the new housemate; they were fucking practically every night, and weren't quiet about it. The only problem is, Andy only had eyes for Debbie, and you weren't about to fuck up the flat dynamic by stealing her man.

But what a man he was, the very ideal of a minotaur. Eight feet tall and as wide as a doorframe, 150 kilos of pure muscle and sinew, with biceps thicker than your plush thighs. The time you walked in on him in the shower (totally by accident, you understand) sealed it. He was equally huge down below, a cock as long and thick as your forearm. You got wet just thinking about burying that flared monster in your cunt. You just had to get around his obnoxious fidelity first.

That's where a little bit of magic comes in.

Magical study can be understood as ten domains, or spheres, interacting with one another. Forces is the flashy one for tossing fireballs, entropy is the scary one for making things degrade, life is the one for healing wounds or changing your shape, if you can think of it, there's a sphere that does it. Your speciality was a little more esoteric: correspondence. Correspondence is the magic of spatial relationship, specifically the realisation that distances are an illusion and can be subverted with a little know-how and just enough gumption. Theoretically, correspondence lets you teleport too, through a process of literally not being here and being somewhere else, but when that goes wrong it's not uncommon to accidentally become part of a building or worse, so prudent mages only pull that trick in times of direst need.

This trick was almost too easy. You'd get his usual cocksleeve, take out the insert, and link the end of it with the gusset of a pair of knickers. Barely a party trick, it's the same mechanism for pulling a rabbit out of a hat, though with any luck there wouldn't be any pulling out happening. A few magic words, and one exsanguinated mouse later, a hazy film lay on the top of the toy you'd pilfered. You pushed a finger into it, and watched it come out of the inside of the underwear you'd used for the other side. Pulling on the panties you tested again.

Yep, you could feel your finger stroking your pussy lips, a hint of wetness coming away on your hand as you did. You'd always been curious of this. You brought the tube to your face, smelling the warmth of your cunt through the portal as you licked yourself through it. Damn, you taste good. Too good, and god does it feel right. Your tongue explored your nethers, running up and down your slit, lapping up your wetness and circling your clit. Either you're a natural at this, or you're getting far too turned on by the idea of being able to really fuck yourself.

It wasn't easy to stop, but you knew if you let yourself cum like that you'd be there all day, and you wanted to be out of the house before Andy came home from work. He was always pent up when he came back, and modifying his normal cocksleeve into your enchanted pocket pussy was a simple job. He probably wouldn't notice, at least not until he was already balls deep into you. By that point, he might not care.

Replacing the toy, you slipped on a sundress and made your way to the park. You weren't going to risk being caught in the flat while he wanked off with you. There's a quiet spot under a weeping willow, right near the river, about a mile into the park where nobody goes, not even the dog walkers.

That's where you sat, channeling the power of the river and the forest, recharging as you waited. Getting fucked here would probably help, if anything, sex carries powerful magic. It's just a pity he wouldn't be here in person.

Something touched you. A gentle fingertip slid some lube over your pussy, coating your lips in a cold, slick film. The finger pushed in, rubbing the lubricant around the inside of you, feeling the texture of your inner walls. It pulled out. Moments passed. Seconds felt like hours as your mind raced. Of course he'd figure it out, he'd have to lube his toy before fucking it otherwise that huge bitch-breaker would rip it in half!

Or not. The flare pressed against your hole briefly, before forcing its way in. You groped a tit as it pushed in, filling you slowly before he started fucking himself properly. He was going fast, faster than anyone could fuck. Every push made you yelp, your eyes rolling back as it hammered into you, getting deeper and deeper with every push. Your yelps and whines reached a crescendo, the hammering cock driving you to orgasm hard against it.

You felt yourself tensing, gripping the flared beast inside you as your toes curled and your body shook. The force of the orgasm almost made you fall backwards, your arms catching you as your back arched, your hips pushing up against a man who wasn't there as you groaned.

He wasn't far behind. The flare flattened against the entrance of your womb as he pulsed into you, delivering his cum right where you wanted it. The thick liquid steamed through your cervix in a river, filling you in an instant before threatening to spray out around the sides. He held the toy down, keeping you hilted as he pumped you to bursting.

At last, the flare started to recede, he pulled out. You felt the still too wide tip pulling on your entrance before popping out in a fountain of thick cum. You lay, panting on the sparse grass, shielded from passers-by by the fronds of the willows above. It's another simple spell to prevent pregnancy, a handful of river water mixed with a little ash and daubed over your belly neutralises the semen filling your womb. Life magic wasn't your speciality, but a witch knows the rudiments.

You picked yourself up and started to walk back to the main park. It's about a 20-minute walk at a decent clip, but you were taking your time.

Something touched your pussy again. Not a finger, not Andy's flared member, something else. Thinner, shorter, already leaking fluid into you. Have you been borrowed?

The new cock was slower, fucking you like it was savoring the experience. The minotaur cum lubricating him as he slid in and out.

You looked for somewhere to duck out of the way, slipping into a bush as the cock slowly fucked you. It wasn't as big as the minotaur, but the languid pace made you squirm.

It sped up for a few pumps, making you arch yourself again, before slowing down. The cock twitching and throbbing in your cunt, it hadn't knotted you yet, the slippery precum adding to the mix of fluids dripping out of you.

Over and over, the slow stroking punctuated by fast thrusts, each time drawing moans and gasps from you as the canid cock edged inside you; each time brought you to the very edge, before slowing back down and leaving you panting.

The fast fucking started again, this time you clenched yourself against it, feeling the thickness of the cock pressing back at you. You created your peak, tears welling in your eyes as you half-moaned, half-sobbed your release. The knot filled you up, and another man's cum started to fill you.

Walking is hard when you have a tennis ball sized knot plugging you up, harder still when that knot is moving and thrusting with a mind of its own.

You staggered home, the knot staying hard, holding the rest of his cock in you as it twitched and pumped more and more into you. Lupine cum isn't as thick as a minotaur's, but there's just so much of it; you could feel it dripping down your legs, the unmistakable smell of fresh cum filling your nostrils. You were just glad you didn't need to take the bus.

You finally got home, the knot still in you, and slid into your room, waiting for it to pull out.

A knock on the door

"Hey" It's Andy "I know what you did. I gave you to Paul, he's loaded Brian up with boner pills, so don't expect to be getting out any time soon. Next time you want to hook up, just ask, OK?"

Well, looks like you're in for the long haul.

Worth it.

######################################

Not sure how I did on that. The minotaur fucking was fun, but was the lupine as good, or did it overstay its welcome? Maybe I'm being over critical because it's my work.

Either way, if you have a request for any scenarios you want to see or kinks you want me to explore, please do drop an ask! If you're not sure if it oversteps any boundaries, send it and I'll make a decision. The worst I'll say is no

[halfmoonaria]

what i can’t say

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara wants the only person she can’t have, but she’ll do whatever it takes to change that —even if it means risking everything.

word count: 10.7k

author’s note: yall don’t forget to wish me a happy birthday this friday on the 22nd!

Tara wasn't used to hearing the word "no."

Growing up, she'd mastered the art of getting exactly what she wanted, whether it was a toy, a treat, or just a little more attention.

All it took was a well-timed look, a hint of a pout, or a small scene in a public place—not that she ever felt bad about it. After all, it always worked, and it always felt worth it.

But more than any toy or treat, Tara always seemed to have what she wanted most: you.

Her best friend since... well, since you both were small enough to think scraped knees were the end of the world. You'd been there from the start, the friend who laughed with her, who stood by her through every phase and whim.

Tara didn't have to beg or throw a fit to keep you close. You just were. It was like you were woven into each other's lives, and if anyone asked, she'd say you'd always be there—like you were something she'd managed to keep just for herself.

If anyone asked, Tara couldn't quite recall a time before you.

You were there in every memory that mattered, the friend who understood her quirks, finished her sentences, and knew every dream she'd ever had.

You were inseparable, not just in the way kids cling to each other, but in the way people do when they know they'll never quite find someone who gets them like this again.

You shared everything with your clothes, midnight snacks, and every embarrassing crush you'd ever had.

You laughed together about the silly things you thought were love back then, sharing conversations about who you'd marry someday and who had the best smile.

Although. Tara was always a little quieter during these talks, listening more than sharing, and you never thought much of it. That was just Tara, after all, always keeping a bit of herself back, tucked away in her own mind.

But when it came to your middle school crush, she never missed a chance to tease you, brushing him off as if he wasn't as special as you seemed to think.

She'd laugh and tell you he wasn't as funny as you made him out to be, or that his smile really wasn't anything to write home about.

To you, it was just typical Tara, always finding a way to poke holes in the things you liked.

You didn't notice how her smile faltered when you gushed over him or how her gaze turned a little sharper, though even she didn't fully understand why.

It left her with an uneasy feeling, the kind she could never quite explain, that made her want to change the subject whenever she could.

And as time passed during this time, it seemed like your crush only grew, and so did the way you talked about him.

No matter how many times Tara brushed off your comments or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, you still lit up whenever his name came up.

Brian.

Brian slipped into conversations almost daily, whether it was about the way he made everyone laugh in class or how he'd held the door for you that morning. And each time you brought him up, Tara felt a pang of irritation she couldn't quite explain.

She never told you how much she despised Brian, but the feeling ran deep. It gnawed at her whenever you mentioned him, and even though she tried to brush it off, she found herself disliking him more and more.

The worst part was, she couldn't understand why. It wasn't like you weren't allowed to like a boy—that was just part of life, after all.

Whenever she hinted at her frustration with her mom, she'd hear the same thing: it was normal, fun even, to have a crush, and Tara would experience it too someday.

But she hadn't. She'd never felt that way about any boy in your grade, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she should.

It confused her, and in a way, it confused you too. You'd always laughed off the fact that Tara never seemed to "crush" the way you did, teasing her about how she'd figure it out someday.

But whenever you'd gush over Brian, Tara would just sit quietly, trying to ignore the strange knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten with every word you said.

Time went on, and those middle school crushes never quite faded.

Brian only seemed to grow more attractive, transitioning from the shy boy you liked to someone who was effortlessly charming, with a confidence that made everyone notice him.

Back then, you'd have called him "cute," but now, there were new words—hot, gorgeous—terms that made Tara roll her eyes every time they left your mouth.

But you still felt that rush of excitement when he was around, that same giddiness you'd had since you were ten, only now it felt a little more real.

Tara, on the other hand, hadn't changed much when it came to relationships.

While others around you both dated, broke up, and fell in love, she stayed quietly distant, brushing off questions and teasing about why she never seemed interested in anyone.

The truth was, she didn't really know why herself. There was a part of her that felt left out when you gushed about Brian, when your other friends talked about crushes or brought dates to dances. She tried to tell herself that she just wasn't interested yet, that maybe someday she'd feel what everyone else seemed to.

But as the years went by, Tara started to realize that maybe she was different—and she couldn't shake the strange sense of frustration that came with that realization, especially whenever Brian was mentioned.

Somewhere along the way, as high school turned into something more serious, so did her thoughts about you.

Tara didn't want to admit it at first—not to herself, not to anyone. The idea crept up quietly, unexpected and unwanted, like some shadow she couldn't shake.

The way you'd laugh at something silly, the familiar warmth of your hand in hers, or the way her heart would skip when you'd throw an arm around her shoulders. It all made sense now, but it was a sense she desperately didn't want.

When the realization hit her, it was like she couldn't breathe.

There was this tiny voice in her mind that whispered, almost cruelly, You're in love with her. Tara's immediate reaction was to shut it down, to deny it with everything she had. This couldn't be right. She wasn't in love with you.

That wasn't what best friends did. She told herself she was just confused, that maybe it was normal to feel this strongly about someone you'd known your entire life.

But every time she saw you look at Brian—every time you said his name with that sparkle in your eyes—it felt like a punch to the gut, and there was no denying it anymore.

The more she tried to reason with herself, the clearer it became. And that terrified her.

She couldn't let herself feel this way about you. You were her best friend, the person who knew her better than anyone else.

The idea of telling you—of you finding out and looking at her with pity, or worse, disgust—made her stomach twist. She could already imagine the awkward smile, the way you might back away, laugh it off, or even leave her behind. It would shatter her, and she knew that.

And so, she decided then and there that this secret would stay with her.

She'd lock it away, bury it so deep that even she could forget about it someday. Telling anyone—even her parents—wasn't an option.

Not only did she fear their reaction, but she knew they wouldn't understand. To them, you were her friend, nothing more, and the thought of losing you, or of anyone making her feel like her love was wrong, was enough to keep her quiet.

But keeping quiet wasn't easy. The secret felt like it was burning a hole through her, consuming her thoughts and leaving her frustrated in ways she couldn't explain.

She wanted to be around you, but every moment with you felt like a reminder of what she could never have, and it only made the ache grow stronger.

She was angry, scared, and hopelessly in love with the one person she could never tell.

So she became skilled at hiding the depth of her feelings, putting on a mask that had somehow become part of her daily life.

She played her role well, acting like nothing had changed between you both.

At school, she kept her gaze casual, listening to you talk as if she didn't want to lose herself in the way your lips moved.

During sleepovers, she'd lie next to you, forcing herself to focus on anything but the warmth of your arm just inches from hers.

And at parties, now that you were both old enough to go, she'd laugh and dance alongside you, all while pretending her stomach wasn't in knots from the way you looked at her under dim lights, a playful grin lighting up your face.

It was like living with a constant tug-of-war inside her, balancing between wanting to be near you and needing to keep her heart steady.

She'd perfected the art of nonchalance, even when you made it nearly impossible. When you got excited about something—eyes wide, laughing about some small victory—Tara would have to swallow down the urge to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from your face or lean in just a little closer.

The hardest moments were the little things, the 'normal' things, like when you'd give her an easy, carefree compliment, your eyes warm and sincere.

She'd feel the blush rise to her cheeks, and she'd quickly look away or laugh it off, hoping you didn't notice the way her voice wavered.

And when you held her hands, like you always did, squeezing them to give her a little boost of courage, she'd act as though it didn't send her heart racing, as though she wasn't fighting the impulse to hold on tighter.

Every smile you threw her way, every moment you lingered too close, she had to act like it didn't make her insides flip.

She trained herself to respond with that same easy smile, to pretend she didn't feel like the air had been knocked out of her whenever you looked at her like she was the only one in the room.

It was a constant game of pretending, a battle against herself that she had to win every single day.

And as much as she tried to hide it, each touch, each laugh, each simple, familiar look left her more tangled in her own emotions.

She tried to tell herself that these things were just... normal. Friends did these things all the time, she told herself, even if everything in her felt far from normal.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her resolve was starting to crack. She couldn't help but notice her jealousy flare up when she saw you talking to other people, especially Brian.

Then, one Tuesday at lunch, you dropped a bombshell that flipped her world just a bit more.

She leaned back, half-focused on your conversation with the others at the table, when she saw you walking toward her with a grin so bright it felt like it could light up the whole room.

Tara felt her heart jump at the sight, her thoughts immediately swept into the excitement that was clearly radiating off of you.

You barely took your seat before bursting with excitement. "Tara!"

Tara's smile matched yours, though a part of her already felt a small pang of unease. But she pushed it aside and leaned in eagerly, mirroring your excitement. "What happened?"

You practically glowed as you told her, "He sat next to me in class today." Tara's chest tightened, but she held her expression steady, keeping that casual, easy smile.

She already knew who you meant—you didn't even have to say his name. It was in the way your voice softened, how your eyes sparkled with excitement she rarely saw except when you were really, really happy.

She couldn't stand the sight of it. Seeing you so... in love, so giddy, felt like a punch she wasn't ready for.

You practically glowed, your whole personality seeming to shift as if you were that younger version of yourself again, like back in middle school when every new crush filled you with wide-eyed excitement.

Except now, it wasn't an innocent schoolgirl crush; it was real, and you were already slipping further from her reach with each passing second.

Tara kept smiling, but inside, every bit of her was tangled up in knots.

You'd never look at her like that. Never talk about her with that bubbly, uncontainable happiness. The thought clawed at her, a reminder she could never push away.

She was your best friend, sure, but she'd never be the person who made your cheeks flush or your heart race. And somehow, knowing that made it even harder to keep that same easy smile on her face.

"And?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her, even as she felt a knot forming. She listened as you recounted every word, every laugh you'd shared with him in that class.

Then you dropped the real news, your eyes sparkling. Your grin only widened. "And then, right before class ended, he asked me to go with him to that party next weekend."

Tara's heart sank, yet she barely let the smile slip. She forced herself to open her mouth in surprise, eyes wide, like she was just as thrilled as you were. "Really?" she said, trying to sound as shocked and happy as you seemed, her voice just a bit too bright. "Did you... did you say yes?"

Of course you did. Tara felt stupid for even considering asking you that question.

But you didn't seem to mind, you just nodded eagerly, your whole face lighting up. "Obviously!"

"Oh, wow. That's... that's great, actually," she said, her voice a little too steady, but it was the best she could manage.

Inside, though, she was unraveling. You were actually going with him. It shouldn't have been such a shock—after all, this was what you wanted, right?

But knowing that you'd be there, dressed up, all smiles and laughter... with him... felt like a lead weight sinking in her chest.

She could already picture it, the two of you in some dimly lit room with music thumping, Ethan leaning in close to say something to make you laugh, you smiling up at him like he was the only person in the world.

The thought of it made her throat tighten, her mind racing with feelings she didn't even want to name.

"Are you excited?" she asked, her voice coming out just barely above a whisper. She hoped you wouldn't notice how strained it sounded, how much effort it took just to ask.

You nodded, your smile impossibly bright. "Yeah, I mean... I didn't think he even noticed me like that, you know? But now... maybe he does."

The way you said it—hopeful, almost in disbelief—cut deeper than she wanted to admit. Maybe he does. Those three words stayed in her head, echoing louder with each second.

She was supposed to be happy for you, and maybe part of her was, but mostly, she just felt hollow.

Because even though you'd never know it, she'd been looking at you the way you were looking at him, longing for that same chance to mean something more to you. And now she was faced with the awful reality that she might never get that chance.

Swallowing down the bitterness, she forced a tight-lipped smile. "You'll have a great time, I'm sure."

But even as she said it, a part of her was already wondering if she'd do something she'd regret. The thought of watching you fall for someone else—someone who wasn't her—was more than she could stand.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she'd do almost anything to keep you from slipping away.

Your eyes brightened again. "You should come with us!"

Tara's heart twisted at the invitation, feeling both flattered and devastated. Of course you'd want her there, being the good friend you were—unaware of what it did to her to see you light up over someone else.

Forcing herself to stay casual, she shrugged, managing a small playful smirk. "I'm not exactly great at third-wheeling."

Her voice sounded steady enough, but inside, it felt like she was clinging to the last threads of composure.

She couldn't stand the thought of watching you fall for him right in front of her, yet the idea of saying no, of letting you go without her... that hurt, too.

Maybe if she was there, she could stop whatever was beginning to grow between you and him. Just maybe, she thought, she'd find a way to keep you by her side, where you'd always belonged.

Her mind spun, the smile on her face frozen, all she could focus on was the sinking realization that she might actually lose you.

Until now, she'd convinced herself that her feelings for you were something she could handle, something she'd eventually learn to live with. But now, with Brian's name hanging between you, that quiet acceptance shattered.

She could see the way this might unfold, each painful step already clear in her mind.

She'd watched enough romance movies to know how these things went, and as much as she wanted to push the thoughts away, they crept in, vivid and unrelenting.

First, you'd go to the party together, and maybe he'd make you laugh so much that you'd find yourself leaning in, your hand brushing his.

She could already picture the two of you on future dates—sharing secrets over a quiet dinner or standing too close on some sidewalk, your face lit up in a way that made her stomach twist with envy.

And worse, she could imagine what might happen after those dates, how one day soon he'd reach for your hand, and you wouldn't hesitate to hold his back.

She didn't want to picture it, but the thought seeped into her mind anyway, filling her with a fierce, unfamiliar ache.

The image of you wrapped up in his arms, whispering into his ear, or—even worse—laughing with that same joy you always shared with her, but this time meant for him, made her chest feel hollow.

The thought kept spiraling, her mind betraying her with scenes she couldn't bear to picture.

You, with Brian, alone, closer than she'd ever be, maybe even leaning in for a kiss.

She imagined his hand brushing your cheek, the two of you getting so lost in each other that you forgot everyone else around you—including her.

The jealousy was sharp, hotter than anything she'd felt before.

She hated the way it took over, the way it made her feel small and powerless, like she was losing something that had never even been hers to begin with.

And then, a terrible, aching thought hit her: she might never get to be close to you in that way.

She might never get to be the person who held you, who kissed you, who made you laugh like that.

It wasn't just about watching you fall for someone else—it was the crushing realization that you might never look at her the way you looked at him.

Maybe it would be better if she came along?

The idea took a root in Tara's mind, an unexpected, half-formed plan that both excited and unsettled her.

If she went to the party with you and Brian, it might give her a chance to keep things from moving forward between you two.

She could play it off as tagging along to "keep an eye" on you, to make sure you had fun—and stay close enough to step in if Brian tried anything. It was risky, maybe even a little desperate, but what choice did she have?

At least if she was there, she'd know exactly what was happening. She wouldn't have to lie awake later, imagining him whispering things in your ear, pulling you close, stealing the attention she wanted only for herself.

She could keep you safe from all that, and maybe, if she was careful enough, find subtle ways to draw your attention back to her, where it belonged.

In her mind, it sounded almost justified. A "protective friend" sticking close to make sure you were all right. But the truth simmered beneath that excuse—she knew this was more than friendship, that she wanted to keep you to herself in ways you might never understand.

If Brian was going to try to win you over, he'd have to do it with her there, watching his every move, ready to swoop in the second things started looking too cozy.

And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make sure that night ended with you still hers—still looking at her with that easy, trusting smile that had always been her anchor.

Her chest tightened at the thought of it, the chance to stay close to you a little longer, to stave off the reality she dreaded.

If you didn't have the chance to fall for him—if she could prevent that—maybe she'd finally have the time and courage to make you see her the way she saw you.

You nudged her lightly, snapping Tara out of her thoughts, leaning in with that familiar, hopeful smile that always made it so hard to say no to you. "Come on, Tara. It'll be fun—just this once. Please?"

Tara's chest tightened at the way you looked at her, like her answer actually mattered to you. It made something inside her ache, the way your face lit up with excitement, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in her mind.

She should've said no. She wanted to say no.

But the thought of watching you leave without her—without knowing what might happen between you and Brian—made her stomach twist painfully.

And now, thanks to the idea she'd let herself entertain earlier, the thought of staying home didn't feel like an option anymore.

That plan, desperate and reckless as it was, had already taken root, and no matter how much a small part of her whispered it wasn't right, she couldn't let it go.

What if she stayed behind and missed her chance to stop something from blossoming between the two of you? What if she sat in her room, alone, while you fell for him right in front of everyone? The mere idea made her skin crawl.

But going wasn't any better. If she went, she'd have to watch you fawn over him, maybe even see you with him. And that thought was enough to make her want to bolt from the room. Yet here you were, looking at her like her presence actually mattered.

But why? Did you think she needed convincing, or was there some part of you that truly wanted her by your side? Her stomach churned at the thought.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her shirt as she tried to keep her expression neutral. If she said no, you'd go without her, and that stung more than she wanted to admit. But if she said yes...

Her mind spun with the possibilities. She didn't even know what she'd do if she went—how far she was willing to take this twisted plan of hers. But what she did know, with a growing certainty, was that she couldn't stay behind. Not when the thought of Brian pulling you closer was enough to make her chest burn with jealousy.

Your face shifted slightly, your brows knitting together when she didn't answer right away.

"Tara," you pressed gently, your voice dipping into that teasing tone you always used when you were trying to coax her into something. "Come on," you pressed again, your grin widening when she hesitated. "You have to come. It won't be the same without you."

It won't be the same without you.

Those words sealed it, though not in the way you meant them to. Something twisted and desperate bloomed in her chest, making her pulse quicken.

You didn't even realize it, but you were giving her exactly what she wanted: a reason to stay close. A reason to be where she could see you—and control what happened between you and Brian.

"Fine," she said at last, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But don't complain when I tell you it sucks."

The way your entire face lit up at her answer sent an ache through her chest. Her stomach fluttered against her will, a mix of longing and guilt tangling together in a way that made it hard to breathe. She hated how much it affected her, how happy you seemed just because she'd agreed to go.

She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on something across the room, anything to avoid the way your joy sent another wave of guilt and longing through her.

She knew it wasn't right—none of this was. But she couldn't let it go. Not when her plan had already started to take shape. Not when the thought of Brian having you was enough to make her reckless.

Because no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this was just a party, just a stupid night out, deep down, she knew she wasn't going for the music or the fun.

She was going because if Brian thought he was going to win you over tonight, he was dead wrong.

___

"What about this one?"

Tara looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of your bed, her gaze drawn to the shimmering fabric you held up against yourself. It was a short, fitted dress, one you'd clearly been saving for a moment like this.

The way Tara sat there, watching you flit around the room, sifting through piles of clothes you'd pulled from your closet.

It reminded her of when you were younger, back when the two of you would raid your moms' closets, parading around in oversized heels and dresses that pooled around your feet. You'd giggle uncontrollably, striking exaggerated poses in front of the mirror.

But this wasn't dress-up anymore.

Now, the clothes were your own—real, grown-up outfits that fit you perfectly, accentuating curves and edges Tara wasn't sure she was supposed to notice. It wasn't just playtime; this was your life now. And tonight, you weren't dressing up for laughs or pretend tea parties.

You were dressing up for him.

Her eyes flickered briefly over the dress before settling on your face. You were beaming, the excitement practically radiating off you as you turned to the mirror, holding the dress against your body.

She should've said something. A simple "looks great" or even a teasing "a bit much, don't you think?" would've worked, but the words caught in her throat.

It wasn't the dress—it was the way your whole body hummed with energy, the way your smile was just a little too wide, your movements a little too quick. Tara saw it all, and it was like watching you wear your feelings on your sleeve.

The way you twirled the dress in front of the mirror, the way your hands moved restlessly as you smoothed down imaginary creases—it was all too familiar. She knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn't say it out loud.

Did Brian? She doubted it.

He didn't know the little things, like how your voice got higher when you were nervous or how you couldn't stand still when you were excited. He didn't know the way your lips pressed together when you were thinking too hard about something or the way your shoulders tensed when you wanted something to go perfectly.

He didn't know you, not like she did.

"What do you think?" you asked again, snapping her out of her thoughts. You turned, holding the dress out at arm's length, giving her a better look. "Too much? Not enough?"

Tara forced a smile, her heart twisting as she watched you. "I think it's... nice," she said carefully, her voice steady even as her stomach churned.

Nice. The word felt like a betrayal. It didn't come close to how she really felt—how beautiful you looked, how much she wished those bright eyes were sparkling for her instead of someone else.

"You think Brian'll like it?" you asked, your tone innocent, but the question struck Tara like a punch.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of your comforter. She wanted to tell you Brian didn't deserve you, that he wouldn't know how to appreciate all the little things that made you you. But instead, she kept her tone casual, masking the storm inside her.

"I mean... yeah," she said after a pause. "It's hard not to like you in anything."

Your grin widened, lighting up the room in a way that made her stomach flutter. You didn't notice the tightness in her smile, the way her eyes lingered on you for just a second too long.

"You're the best." you said, turning back to the mirror.

Tara's chest tightened, a quiet ache settling beneath her ribs. She glanced away, forcing a small smile as she leaned back on her hands.

She let her fingers dug slightly into the comforter as she watched you move across the room again, this time heading toward your closet. You sifted through the hangers with an almost frantic energy, pulling out one piece of clothing after another until something caught your eye.

"This," you announced, holding up a sleek black skirt and a tiny top with delicate lace accents.

Tara blinked, her focus shifting from the faint hum of her own thoughts to the outfit in your hands. The skirt was just short enough to grab attention, and the top would clung to the curves in all the right places—your curves, she couldn't help but think.

Her stomach twisted again, but not with the same bitterness from earlier. No, this was something else entirely. She couldn't stop herself from picturing you in it, couldn't stop the way her mind immediately conjured the image of you standing there, all done up, looking effortlessly hot and completely out of her reach.

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away. "You're not wearing the dress?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Oh, I am," you replied with a grin, holding the outfit closer to her. "This is for you!"

Tara froze. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, her chest tightening as your words sank in.

She had been so caught up in watching you, so wrapped up in her own spiral of emotions, that she had momentarily forgotten she was actually going to this party.

"Me?" she echoed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to act like the idea of dressing up didn't make her stomach drop.

You laughed softly, stepping closer to hold the outfit up against her frame. "Yeah, you! Come on, Tara, you can't just wear that." You half-pointed to her attire.

Tara's eyes darted to the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself in her usual hoodie and jeans.

She had planned on blending into the background tonight, just another shadow in the corner, but now you were holding out a version of herself she wasn't sure she wanted to confront.

"It's... a little much, don't you think?" she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric.

"Not at all," you said, undeterred. "Trust me, you'll look amazing.

The way you looked at her, so excited, so hopeful, made it impossible for her to argue. The truth was, she didn't want to blend into the background—not really. Not if it meant letting Brian win.

"Alright," she said finally, forcing a small smirk as she reached for the outfit.

You grinned, clearly thrilled, and the sight sent her heart fluttering all over again.

As she stood up to take the clothes in you, the weight of the night ahead settled on her shoulders again. She knew this wasn't about the clothes or the party. It was about you—about keeping you close, about holding onto the part of you that still felt like hers, even if it wasn't.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Tara pulled the clothes from your hands, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary before she turned away.

She hesitated only briefly, her eyes darting to the bathroom door, but then she decided against it. It wasn't like this was anything new. You'd seen her change plenty of times before.

Slipping off her hoodie, she pulled the top over her head, the soft lace brushing against her skin in a way that felt oddly delicate, almost foreign.

The skirt followed, the fabric snug around her waist and flaring slightly at her hips. When she finally turned back toward you, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

It was strange. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her right away—not entirely. The clothes fit her so well, so effortlessly, that she felt a flicker of something unexpected: pride.

She looked... pretty. Not in the same way you did, with your radiant energy that drew everyone in, but still. Pretty enough.

Her heart jumped a little at the thought of you seeing her like this, of you noticing her in the way she always noticed you. She didn't know why she wanted that so badly, but the hope curled tightly in her chest, warm and persistent.

You looked up from where you'd been smoothing out your own dress, and your reaction was immediate. Your eyes widened slightly, and then your face lit up in that effortless way that always made her stomach flutter.

"Tara, oh my god, you look so good," you said, your voice soft but genuine, carrying none of the over-the-top excitement you sometimes used when joking around. This was real.

Tara felt her cheeks warm under your gaze, her fingers automatically reaching to adjust the hem of the skirt, as if she could somehow shield herself from the weight of your words. She tried to play it off, shrugging casually. "It's just a skirt," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

"It's not just a skirt," you countered, stepping closer. "You look amazing. Seriously, this is perfect for you."

Your words were kind, almost too kind, and Tara wasn't sure how to process them. There was no teasing, no playful edge, just an earnestness that made her chest feel tight and achy.

She glanced away, pretending to focus on her reflection again, but the warmth of your approval lingered, sinking into her skin like the lace of the top.

She wanted to feel good about it, to let herself bask in the way you saw her, but the nagging thought that this wasn't for her—that it was all part of your excitement for Brian—kept her grounded.

Still, the way you smiled at her, so unreserved and so entirely you, made her feel something she hadn't in a long time: seen. She wished, just for a second, that you were saying all of this for the same reason she wished you would.

You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over the pile of discarded clothes strewn across the floor in your excitement. Tara's breath caught for a second, her hand twitching instinctively like she was about to reach for you, but you caught yourself, laughing it off as if nothing had happened.

"You need to clean your room before someone gets hurt," Tara muttered, though her tone held more amusement than annoyance.

You ignored her, too caught up in the moment as you reached your makeup table, rifling through your collection with a kind of chaotic precision.

Pulling out a palette, you held it up, the colors catching the light as you grinned at her. "What do you think? Want me to do your makeup?"

Your voice was so full of unfiltered excitement, your smile so wide it made her stomach flip. Tara hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her skirt as she glanced at the palette in your hands. She wasn't really the makeup type—not like you were—but the way you looked at her, like you were just waiting to make her feel special, made it impossible to say no.

"You don't have to," Tara said finally, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I want to!" you insisted, stepping closer, the palette still in hand. "Please, Tara? I promise I'll keep it simple. Just a little something to go with the outfit."

She sighed, feigning reluctance as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Fine."

You grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her, gesturing for her to sit. "Alright, let's make you even more stunning."

Tara rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned forward.

___

The buzz of the party hit you as soon as you stepped through the door.

Music pulsed through the house, the bass vibrating in your chest as voices overlapped in a cacophony of laughter and shouted greetings.

People crowded the space—groups gathered near the kitchen, couples pressed close against walls, and a few brave souls danced in the living room, already letting loose despite how early it was in the night.

You glanced over at Tara, catching the way her shoulders stiffened slightly as the noise and energy enveloped her. She'd been quiet on the drive over, her fingers drumming against her thigh in a way that let you know her nerves were kicking in. But she'd never admit that, not to you.

"See?" you said brightly, bumping her shoulder with yours as you stepped further into the house. "I told you this would be fun."

Tara gave you a look, one that was half-skepticism and half-amusement, as she tugged at the hem of her skirt. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

Your laugh was warm and easy, a sound that somehow made the chaos of the party seem less overwhelming. You reached back to grab her hand, pulling her through the crowd as you made your way toward the kitchen. The feel of your fingers around hers made something in Tara's chest twist uncomfortably, though she forced herself to ignore it.

The kitchen was just as packed as the rest of the house, but you managed to snag two drinks from the counter, handing one to her with a grin. "Alright, party rule number one: stay hydrated."

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cup in her hand. "This is definitely not water."

"Details." You waved her off, your playful smirk making her stomach flutter in that maddeningly familiar way.

Before she could respond, a voice called out from across the room. "Y/N! There you are!"

Tara's grip on her cup tightened as she followed your gaze, her stomach sinking when she saw him—Brian—making his way toward you. His smile was wide and easy, the kind of grin that would make anyone else swoon.

But Tara wasn't anyone else.

"Brian!" you said, your face lighting up in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She stepped back slightly, letting go of your hand as he drew closer, though her eyes never left you.

He didn't deserve that smile.

Brian's gaze flickered to her briefly, his smile faltering just a bit. "Tara, right?"

She nodded, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her drink. "That's me."

If he noticed the edge in her tone, he didn't comment on it, turning his attention back to you instead. "You look amazing," he said, his eyes raking over your dress in a way that made Tara's jaw tighten.

You beamed at him, clearly pleased by the compliment, and Tara had to look away, her hand gripping her cup so tightly she was surprised it didn't crack.

This was going to be a long night.

And it most definitely was.

As the night went on, the party only grew louder and more chaotic. People drifted in and out of the circle you, Tara, and Brian had settled into, friends of his joining the conversation with easy smiles and casual jokes.

You made a genuine effort to include Tara, always pulling her back in when she started to fade into the background, but it was clear who held your focus.

Brian.

He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in to talk over the music.

You didn't seem to notice—or maybe you did, and you didn't mind. Either way, the proximity between you two only seemed to grow as the minutes ticked by, and Tara couldn't stop watching.

Every time you laughed at something he said, her chest tightened just a little more.

You weren't doing it on purpose. Tara knew that. She knew you didn't notice the way her jaw clenched or how her fingers drummed against her cup.

You were just being you—kind, bubbly, and effortlessly charming. But watching you with Brian, seeing how much of your attention he was soaking up, felt like a slow, relentless sting.

She hadn't expected it to bother her this much.

At first, Tara tried to play along, chiming in when she could and taking small sips of her drink to distract herself.

But then Brian's friends started joining the conversation, their loud energy making it harder for her to keep up. You were still trying to include her, turning to her every so often to ask her opinion or flash her one of your brilliant smiles, but it wasn't enough.

Not when you lit up like a damn firework every time Brian said something that made you laugh.

Tara tipped back her cup, finishing it quicker than she probably should have. She wasn't much of a drinker to begin with—she never really liked how it made her feel—but tonight was different. Tonight, she needed the edge taken off.

"Want another?" you asked, noticing her empty cup.

She hesitated, but before she could respond, Brian offered. "I'll grab her one. Be right back."

She opened her mouth to say she didn't need another, but he was already walking away.

You smiled after him before turning back to Tara, your expression so full of effortless warmth it made her stomach churn. "You having fun?"

She forced a small nod, her grip tightening on the plastic cup. "Yeah. It's... fine."

You didn't notice the strain in her voice, too caught up in the energy of the party to catch on.

By the time Brian returned with her drink, she'd already decided she wasn't going to overthink it. She took it with a quiet "thanks" and drank just enough to feel the buzz set in. It wasn't much—maybe two drinks total—but Tara was short, and she always felt the effects quicker than most.

The alcohol didn't drown out her frustration, though.

Every laugh you gave Brian, every time you leaned in to whisper something to him, only seemed to magnify it.

And you? You were oblivious. Still trying to keep her in the conversation, pulling her in with the same ease you always had. But she could feel the gap widening.

Tara's foot tapped against the floor as she shifted her weight, her eyes flickering between you and Brian. She should've left, should've wandered off to another part of the house to escape this torturous little triangle, but she stayed.

Because if she left, she'd have to admit to herself why she couldn't handle this.

So instead, she took another sip of her drink and plastered on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You okay?" you asked, your voice cutting through her thoughts.

"Yeah," she said quickly, her words sharper than she intended. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't. And as the night wore on, that became harder and harder to hide.

And after an hour, or maybe even more.

The alcohol was definitely working its way through Tara's veins. She could feel it, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest, making her limbs feel looser but her thoughts louder.

The edges of the room blurred ever so slightly, but her focus on you was sharp as ever, almost painfully so.

You were giggling at something Brian said again, your hand brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tara had been watching you both like a hawk all night, trying to play it cool, but the subtle touches, the shared smiles, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him—it was getting under her skin.

She clenched her jaw, tipping back the rest of her drink as if it might drown out the frustration bubbling inside her. But it didn't.

It wasn't just the alcohol making her feel reckless, though it didn't help. Tara was desperate.

Desperate to do something—anything—that might shift the balance back in her favor. But how? She wasn't like Brian. She didn't have easy jokes or effortless charm. And she wasn't like you, all soft laughter and open smiles.

So she sat there, stewing in her own silence, searching for an opening she couldn't find.

Then she turned her head for just a moment.

A distraction—a loud burst of laughter from somewhere across the room. She glanced over, barely processing the source, and when she looked back...

Her heart stopped.

You and Brian were kissing.

It wasn't shy or hesitant. It was full and unguarded, like something out of the movies. His hands rested lightly on your waist, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt as though you were afraid to let go.

Tara's first thought wasn't sadness. It wasn't heartbreak or even surprise.

It was rage.

Her body went rigid, the plastic cup in her hand creaking under the force of her grip.

Because of course this wasn't a problem.

Why would it be?

You weren't hers. You'd never been hers. You were allowed to kiss boys, especially the boy you'd been crushing on for as long as she could remember. It wasn't like you were breaking some unspoken rule. She had no claim to you, no right to feel betrayed or blindsided.

But God, it felt like a betrayal.

Her rational mind tried to reason with her, repeating the same useless mantra: This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem.

But the other side of her mind—the side that had been clawing its way to the surface all night—was screaming the opposite.

It was a problem. A huge one.

The anger burned through her like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought as it spread. It started in her chest, hot and heavy, before curling into her throat and setting her teeth on edge. Her nails dug into the soft plastic of her cup until it crumpled under her grip, a sharp crack breaking through the buzz of the party.

And still, she couldn't look away.

She hated it. Hated the way his hands touched you so easily, like he'd earned that right. Hated the way you kissed him back like you'd been waiting for this your whole life. Hated how he got to have what she wanted so desperately without even knowing how much it mattered.

Her breaths came quicker, each one catching in her chest as if she couldn't quite fill her lungs. The alcohol amplified everything, stripping her bare of the filters she usually relied on. Every raw, unspoken feeling she'd buried for years was rising to the surface now, and there was no stopping it.

She wanted to scream.

To grab you and pull you away, to tell Brian to get his hands off you, to do something.

But she didn't.

Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she hated what she was seeing, there was a part of her—a small, quiet, agonizing part—that whispered:

You're not supposed to feel like this.

So instead, Tara sat there, her body tense and trembling, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. She didn't even realize she'd crumpled her cup until the sticky remnants of her drink dripped onto her lap.

And still, she couldn't look away.

Eventually you pulled back from Brian, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol coursing through your system.

A small, almost dazed laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at him, then turned to find Tara in the crowd. She hadn't moved from where she'd been watching, her posture stiff and her eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the wall—anywhere but you.

When your gaze landed on her, your smile widened, bright and unrestrained, like you hadn't just set her entire world on fire.

Tara's chest tightened, the molten frustration inside her bubbling hotter with every passing second. She couldn't stop her thoughts, couldn't silence the storm brewing in her mind.

You stumbled a little as you reached her, still grinning like a fool, your energy infectious to everyone but Tara. You leaned close, tipping forward on your toes, your voice loud but slurred enough to betray your tipsy state.

"I think he kissed me," you said, as if it hadn't been entirely mutual.

Tara felt something snap.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard she half-expected to draw blood.

She couldn't speak, couldn't trust herself to even try. If she opened her mouth, she was sure she'd yell or say something she couldn't take back. Worse, she might cry—and that wasn't an option.

Her silence stretched on, but you didn't seem to notice. You were too lost in your own world, your thoughts spinning with the buzz of the alcohol and the remnants of Brian's touch. Tara's silence didn't matter, because you filled the space with another easy laugh, leaning closer so she could hear you over the pounding music.

"I need to use the bathroom," you said, your lips brushing near her ear. The warmth of your breath made her stomach twist. "Wanna come?"

Tara's mind scrambled for an excuse, her mouth dry as she fought the urge to say something reckless.

"No," she said finally, forcing her voice to sound casual, detached. "I think I'm good down here."

It wasn't true. She wasn't good down here, or anywhere else in the universe at that moment.

You gave her a light shrug, your expression still full of that easy joy that made her want to scream. "Okay! Be right back!"

You disappeared into the crowd, weaving your way toward the bathroom, leaving Tara standing there alone.

The second you were out of sight, she exhaled sharply, her hands shaking as she reached for another drink she didn't need.

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the ache of jealousy threatening to overwhelm her. Maybe it was all three, swirling into something she couldn't control.

But one thing was clear—she couldn't keep this up. Not tonight. Not with you and Brian. Not with her chest full of feelings she couldn't name and didn't want to face.

Tara's eyes burned as they landed on Brian, standing not far from where you'd left him. His posture was easy, relaxed—too relaxed.

He stood there like nothing had happened, chatting casually with a couple of his friends, his hand lifting a red cup to his lips like this was just another night. Like he hadn't just kissed you.

The most beautiful girl on the planet.

Tara felt her stomach twist painfully, her grip tightening around the drink in her hand. How could he be so unbothered? So unaffected? He wasn't grinning ear to ear, wasn't puffing out his chest or gushing about how lucky he was.

He wasn't laughing with joy or smirking proudly like any sane person would if they'd just kissed you.

How was he not telling everyone in earshot about what had happened? How was he not reeling from the fact that you—you, with your blinding smile and endless energy—had given him even a second of your time, let alone your lips?

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as she stared at him, her anger bubbling hotter with every second he stayed calm. Her hands itched to grab him by the collar, to shake him and demand he act like he understood the weight of what had just happened.

Did he even realize how lucky he was?

Did he know how many people in that room—how many people in general—would kill to be in his place? To have even the tiniest fraction of your attention, let alone that?

Her vision blurred, and it wasn't from the alcohol. Her chest felt like it was about to implode, like something inside her was trying desperately to escape, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it together.

Brian's laughter snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was laughing at something one of his friends said, his expression light, carefree—unbothered.

Tara nearly saw red.

She downed the rest of her drink in one go, the sharp burn doing nothing to dull the fury roaring in her chest. How could he be like this? How could he act so normal, so indifferent, after kissing you?

How could he not be overwhelmed by the fact that you'd chosen him, even for a fleeting moment?

It was insulting. Infuriating.

She wanted to march over there, to grab him and make him feel the way she was feeling. She wanted him to hurt, to ache, to boil with jealousy the way she was.

But she couldn't.

Because none of this was his fault.

The real issue—the one she didn't want to admit—wasn't Brian. It was the simple, heartbreaking truth that he could kiss you without consequence.

He could have you.

Tara wasn't sure what happened next.

What she was thinking when it happened, or if she was even thinking at all. Maybe it was the anger—burning hot and uncontrollable—making her body move before her brain could catch up. Or maybe it was the alcohol, buzzing in her veins and drowning out every voice in her head that might've told her to stop.

All she knew was that one second she was standing there, glaring at Brian like he'd committed some unforgivable sin, and the next, she was storming toward him.

His friends noticed her first, their chatter faltering as they shifted awkwardly under her sharp glare. But Brian, oblivious as ever, didn't see her coming. He was mid-sentence, that stupidly calm look still plastered on his face, when Tara grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

The movement was forceful enough to knock the air out of both of them, and before he could even process what was happening—before she could process what was happening—she pressed her lips against his.

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't sweet.

It was messy, rough, and fueled by a cocktail of rage and desperation. Her hands fisted his shirt tightly, holding him in place, her nails biting into the fabric. Brian stiffened for a second, shocked, but then his hands hovered awkwardly near her waist, unsure of what to do.

Tara didn't care. She didn't care about his reaction, about his hesitation.

Because this wasn't about him.

It wasn't about his stupid, clueless face or the fact that he'd kissed you without giving it a second thought. It wasn't about him being unbothered or unaffected.

This was about her.

Her anger, her frustration, her absolute inability to sit there for another second and watch him act like kissing you was nothing.

The kiss deepened as her grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him even closer. She wanted to erase the memory of you from his lips, to replace it with her own. To make him feel something, anything, the way she was feeling.

But it wasn't working.

If anything, the kiss only made it worse.

Because no matter how hard she pressed, no matter how desperate her movements were, it didn't feel right.

It didn't feel like you.

And that thought was like a punch to the gut.

Brian made a soft, surprised noise against her lips, his hands finally settling on her hips, but it only made her angrier. How dare he hesitate now? How dare he act so unsure, like he didn't know exactly what he wanted when he'd so easily taken you from her just minutes ago?

Her chest heaved as she pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing against his, her heart pounding in her ears.

His wide eyes stared at her, confused and more than a little alarmed. "Tara—" his voice laced with bewilderment, but she silenced him with another kiss, pressing harder, needing to cut him off.

She didn't want to hear his voice. She didn't want to hear him try to make sense of this, because she didn't have an explanation. This wasn't about him.

It wasn't about you either—not entirely, at least.

It was about her. About the way she felt like she was unraveling, about how every smile you gave Brian felt like another thread being yanked loose, every laugh you shared with him felt like a blow to the chest.

She didn't know how to make it stop, and the only thing her mind could come up with was this. She didn't have to think when she was kissing Brian. Didn't have to feel the jagged ache of watching you be so happy with someone else.

This wasn't about him.

But it was all she could do to stop herself from falling apart completely.

And Tara wasn't sure what was happening anymore.

Brian hadn't pushed her away. He hadn't stopped her, hadn't hesitated for even a moment after that first surprised noise.

No, he'd leaned into it. He'd kissed her back with the kind of intent that only made her angrier, made the fire in her chest blaze so hot she thought she might combust right there.

Because it wasn't supposed to go like this.

His hands slid from her hips, pulling her closer, pressing her tighter against him, and she hated it. Hated the way he responded like this was exactly what he wanted, hated the way he kissed her back like she wasn't just a replacement for you.

And worse than anything, she hated herself for not stopping it.

His hands moved lower, gripping her ass, pulling her even closer, and she felt herself clench her fists tighter into the fabric of his shirt.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol buzzing in her veins, numbing her better judgment, or if it was the anger still consuming her every thought, but she didn't do anything to stop him.

She should've.

But she didn't.

Because in this moment, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you. It was about the chaos she felt boiling in her chest, about the way she felt like she was spiraling further and further out of control.

Brian murmured something against her lips—she didn't catch it, didn't even try to—but his hands stayed firm on her, guiding her, pulling her toward the stairs.

And she let him.

Every step felt like she was wading through quicksand, her mind shouting at her to stop, to push him away, to pull herself together. But her body wasn't listening. She didn't know if it was the heat of his hands on her or the fog of alcohol clouding her better judgment, but she let him lead her.

Because stopping meant facing the truth. And Tara wasn't ready to do that.

Not yet.

She'd barely registered how they ended up in the room. One second, she was being pulled up the stairs, Brian's hand gripping hers tightly, and the next, they were in a dimly lit bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her heart was racing, but not from excitement. There was no thrill, no anticipation, just a gnawing sense of wrongness she couldn't shake. Yet she didn't stop it. She didn't stop him as his hands found her waist, as his lips trailed down her neck. She didn't stop herself from responding, from letting this spiral further than it ever should have.

It was mechanical, empty, and every moment felt like it was happening to someone else. Brian's touch wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't what she wanted. His lips weren't the ones she craved, his hands didn't spark anything but an aching hollowness inside her.

And yet, she let it happen.

Because, for a fleeting second, it felt like power. Like control. Like maybe, just maybe, if she could take this from him—take you from him in some twisted, nonsensical way—it would hurt less.

But it didn't.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word she barely heard, only drove the knife deeper into her chest.

When it was over, the silence was deafening. Tara lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body still and her mind racing. Brian shifted beside her, saying something she didn't hear, and the sound of his voice made her stomach twist. She felt nauseous, disgusted—not with him, but with herself.

What had she done?

Her chest tightened as she fought to keep her breathing steady, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over. It hadn't helped. It hadn't made anything better. If anything, it had only made everything worse.

Because no matter what she did, no matter how far she went, it would never be enough to make her stop wanting you.

Afterwards Tara laid still, the dim light of the room casting shadows that felt too heavy, too oppressive.

Brian was beside her, breathing evening out as if nothing monumental had just happened. As if this was just another casual moment in his life.

Her mind, however, wouldn't stop.

It wasn't Brian she was thinking about—not the way he'd touched her, not the way he'd looked at her. No, every thought clawed its way back to you.

She pictured you in the bathroom, probably still staring at yourself in the mirror, giddy and flushed. She could almost see your smile, so wide it was infectious, and the way you'd probably tilt your head, trying to relive every second of that kiss.

You'd been dreaming of that moment since second grade, scribbling his name in the margins of your notebooks and lighting up every time he was near. Tara could already imagine how you'd be practically glowing, heart racing with excitement as you ran your fingers over your lips, trying to make the feeling last.

She wanted to hate you for it. But she couldn't. She never could.

You'd come out of that bathroom with a smile so bright it could light up the whole house, your hopeful eyes scanning the crowd as you made your way back to the spot you'd all been standing. And what would you find?

Nothing.

Tara wasn't there. Brian wasn't there.

She could imagine how your smile would falter, confusion settling in as you looked around, searching for the two people who were supposed to be waiting for you. How long would it take for the excitement to drain from your face? How quickly would hope turn to disappointment?

The thought was like a knife twisting in her gut.

And yet, she still couldn't make sense of why she'd done this. Why she'd let it happen. Because it didn't feel like she'd won anything. She hadn't taken Brian away from you. If anything, she'd stolen something from herself—something she could never get back.

Her chest tightened as the realization hit her like a freight train. She hadn't wanted him. She hadn't wanted this.

She'd wanted you.

And now she'd ruined everything.

[taylormarieee]

You make me wanna...

Summary: You make Brian wanna fuck you dumb...

Pairing: Brian O'Connor x Fem!black!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: PiV sex, Sex in the car, Semi-Public, Arguing, Porn with plot, Fingering, Unprotected Sex,Established Relationship, teasing cuz it's Brian...

A/N: I have no idea if people even read Brian O'Connor fanfiction but I'm gonna write it anyway because I'm obsessed with this man!

Brian was a man of his word. If he said he was going to win this race for you, then that's exactly what he was going to do.

"Hey mama!" Brian calls out with a cat call. You roll your eyes and smile at him.

"Hey blondie! You know i'm your girlfriend right?" You ask with a smirk on your face and a raised eyebrow.

He chuckles and his voice gets lower as he whispers in your ear. "I know mama. Just wanted to show people what's mine." He looks back at you with his charming smile.

You giggle as heat rushes to your face and ears. Your neck gets hot as you shift your weight.

"Good Luck out there Blondie!" You wink at him and walk away joining the crowd.

You watch him wink back at you and laugh. He walks to his car and they all rev their engines.

Somebody yells go and their off. Brian swerves a bit but he makes it. He races down and you cheer for him.

"Yea! That's my baby! Look at him go!" A lot of other people cheer with you.

When the race is almost over you see the cars speeding down. You decide to start chanting as you see him in the lead.

"Blondie! Blondie! Blondie!" As you chant, the people who were rooting for Brian chant as well.

When his car passes the finish line first you scream at the top of your lungs.

You see him exit his car and you rush over to him. You jump into his muscular veiny arms and he spins you around.

"You saw me? I won mama!" He exclaims. "You sure did blondie!"

He stares at you for a couple of seconds before he pulls you closer by your waist and kisses you roughly.

When you both pull away, Brian muttes something, "God you make me wanna..." He trails off and you tilt your head at him.

"I make you wanna what?" You say amused as to what goofy thing he's going to say next.

He licks his lips and motions to his car. You follow him and get inside the passengers seat.

"Let's go for a ride baby. Wanna take ya somewhere special." He says smiling.

You giggle and get comfy. "Ok my Prince." You say laughing. "You better be a good passenger princes, not a naughty one." He starts.

"But of course I'll except both." He finishes winking at you with that sly charming smile he always has.

When you guys reach the top of a hill he grins. "I think right here is perfect." He said as he reached over and kissed you.

"Brian! We're in public!" you giggle as he grabs you and brings you closer to him so you straddle his waist.

"So? Let them watch the show." He responds unfazed. He kisses your neck and runs his hands up and down your curves.

He pushes the seat all the way back and you fall on his chest. You hear his rapid heartbeat.

You look up at him through your lashes and bite your lip seductively. Brian mutters a 'fuck' before grabbing your jaw and kissing you passionately.

You tug on the hem of his shirt and he reaches to pull it over his head. You run your warm hands down his sweaty chest.

"Fuck Brian" You whimper out as you grind on his hard-on. You close your eyes as the friction you feel is blissful.

"Your so gorgeous... You make me wanna fuck you dumb." He rasps.

You whimper at his words as you continue to search for more of that blissful friction you were receiving.

"Please Brian... I need you." you whisper to him in a whiny voice. He chuckles and speaks, "You gonna be a good girl?" He questions

"Yesss! I'll be such a good girl for you Bri... you and you only." You whimper.

He nods his head and begins to take off your clothes. The windows are starting to fog up from the heavy breathing.

"I don't know baby, might have to play with you first." He says smirking at you as he runs his fingers up your slit to your pulsating bud and back again.

You whimper at the sensation and begin to grind on his finger. While doing so, his finger accidentally slips in you from how soaked you are.

"Oh fuck Brian! Feels good..." You whimper. His smirk never leaves his face as he adds an extra finger inside you. First was his middle finger now his ring finger and boy did it feel euphoric.

His pace quickens inside you and your body jolts with every hard thrust his fingers bring to your abused cunt.

"Yea? You like that baby?"

"My fingers fucking the shit outta you, hmm?"

"Being such a good slut for me aren't you baby?"

"My good girl all nice and wet, just for me."

"Such a dirty girl? You like the feeling of getting caught don't you?"

"Having all those people hear you scream my name? Let them know who fucks you dumb?" He teases.

His voice and dirty words made you clench around his fingers hard. You felt your orgasm. You were at the tip of the cliff ready to fall in the ocean of bliss and euphoria.

All you needed was that one push...

"I-I'm gonna- fuck- ngh- I'm cumming brian! Please let me cum!" You whimper holding on to his bicep and the car seat.

"Go ahead mama. Leak your juices all over me." He says and just as he said it you make it happen.

You squirt and leak your juices all on his abdomen and raging cock. He praises you through it with 'good girl's' and "Yes mama. Just like that."

Your shaking from that orgasm. He takes note on your shaky legs and suddenly feels the need to make them even shakier.

He wants to make you lose your walking privileges and fuck you so dumb you don't even remember your own name.

He smirks at the idea and his cock jumps out of excitement to destroy you in ways no other man would be able to.

"Mama, you gonna gimme one more ok? You can take it." He says as he lifts your hips to line himeself up with your puffy entrance.

You whimper and try to shake your head no but your already so fucked out.

When he finally slides into you your eyes widen at the delicious feeling of the stretch his cock is giving to you.

You moan out his name for anyone near Brian's car to hear. "Oh Briannn!"

"Fuck mama, your tight as shit baby, fuck yea." He says as he bottoms out inside you.

Eyes rolling in the back of your head at how hard he's thrusting up into you. Not even giving you time to adjust to his length.

You squeal and hold onto his shoulders for support as his thrust almost knock you over.

Your so fucked out and dizzy you're barely processing what is happening and can't make out half the things brian is saying to you.

"Bri... f-fuck." You stutter feeling his cock hit that one spot in you just right. Your legs feel numb and your body feels hot and tingly.

Brian on the other hand is enjoying the look on your face. Pretty swollen lips parted, heavily breathing, tits out and bouncing, pussy nice and tight gripping his cock hard. He loved everything about you.

Your melanin skin glistening with sweat, your braids tied up in a nice ponytail swinging with every thrust he gives you.

"I-I can't take no more bri."

"Yes you can mama. Come on, take this dick like a good girl baby." He encourages.

"I'm close bri!" You cry out, he smiles and whispers in your ear..." Me too baby, cum with me?" He asks.

You shake your head and try to hold it for as long as you can. Brian grunts in your ear and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

Immediately he says, "Cum baby!" You cum hard on his cock, eyes rolled back and feeling dizzy.

Your orgasm washes over you like a wave. Brian's orgasm hits him like thunder. His thighs are shaking and his eyes are rolled back at how hard your clenching around him milking him dry.

He whimpers and moans at the wonderful feeling. When both feelings are over he pulls out kisses you on your head and places you back in the passengers seat. He gets out the car and notices a man with his dog staring at him.

He doesn't acknowledge the man and just forgets about it. He walsk to the trunk and grabs ablanket for you. When he closes the trunk the man is still standing there staring at him.

"Got a problem man?" Brian asks. The man looks at him and shakes his head before responding.

"This is a public place man and I don't think you and your tramp of a girlfriend should be having sex here where other people are trying to enjoy the view."

"Ok man, one don't talk about my baby that way, and two, I don't exactly see anybody else here. So if you had a problem for however long you were standing there why didn't ya leave? Its a public place right? I could park here and have sex with my girl if I want, got it? And if you ever insult my girl again, I will hurt you." He says before walking back to his car.

He gets in and puts the blanket over you and drives off before the man can even say anything else.

He glances at your sleeping figure a couple of times before driving to take you home.

Taglist: ?

[devilish-blue]

eyeless jack and or hoodie somno ? or what it’s like dating them with a nsfw part 🙏🙏 we’re thirsting rn

Oh my God. This took so long for me to do mainly because i procrastinated, but whatever. Anyways! I absolutely loved this idea and just had to do it! So i hope you like it.

!!Headcannons!!

!!TW!!: Somnophilia, mentions of other various kinks, mentions of Mean! Jack, cunnilingus. Let me know if i missed any!!)

Brian/Hoodie:

Now, to start, there is a big difference in Brian and Hoodie. Brian is well, Brian. I like to think of him as a big southern teddy bear. While it might be unpopular, I don’t really care. Hoodie, on the other hand, is ruthless, and mean. He doesn’t really seem to care all that much. So how would dating them be?

Brian, like I said, is a big ol’ teddy bear when it comes to you. He adores you and loves to spoil you with bear hugs and smothering you in kisses. Not to mention, he bulks, so not only does he have muscle, he has a big build making him huge compared to you. Perfect for being choked by his bicep- I mean, who said that?

Moving on, we have Hoodie. Now Hoodie is a killer, a cold killer who doesn’t seem to care. Thankfully the only times you really see Hoodie is when he gets home from a mission and Brian hasn’t regained control yet. During these times he usually tries to stay away from you. Maybe it’s because Brian doesn’t want Hoodie to hurt you so he might still be the tiniest bit in control.

However, sometimes you can’t help but need to be near your boyfriend, so even when Hoodie was Hoodie you’d still come up to him and hug him, but he would just stand there or put his hands on your hips.

Onto hornier details, kinks. Brian might seem like a vanilla guy at first glance, but he’s most definitely not. Does he like Somno? Yes. At first, he hated the thought of taking advantage of you while you were sleeping, but when you said you were into it? He tried it the following night and he fell in LOVE with it. The sight of you shaking and whimpering in your sleep only to wake up with Brian’s thick cock in your hole? Hooked.

Of course there’s other kinks, choking, degrading, dirty talking, pet names, etc. But there is just a special place in his heart for Somno and knife play. But that’s for a different time. ;p

Does Hoodie like Somno? Is that even a question? Of course he does! He loves to get home from long missions and walk in your room and to find you sleeping. Because that means he can use your body and not have to hear you complain about how tired you are as he fucks you.

He also has other kinks, choking, impact play, knife play, blood play, even some BDSM, but it's not often that you screw Hoodie anyway so you’ll be healed by next time. ;p

Eyeless Jack:

Oh Anon, don’t I have a treat for you. Jack was a big, intimidating guy, he’s a demon after all. But he’s sweet. Most of the time. Most of the time he’s a big affection, and loving boyfriend, but other times, he’s the opposite. He’s cruel and distant. He even sometimes insults you, but you know he doesn’t really mean it. Right?

But after these little spurts of hate, he apologizes, gives you cuddles, hugs and kisses but if you go to bed angry? He doesn’t like that because he knows he made you mad, so he likes to give you a nice surprise.

He had always thought about fucking you while you were sleeping, but now he had a reason. So there he was under the blanket in between your legs licking your aching and dripping hole. He was happening you would wake up in a panicked and blissful mess and that’s exactly what you were. You woke up and you felt hot and a wet sensation on your lower half. You looked down in a panic but that panic was soon taken over by relief and then ecstasy as your body trembled and convulsed as you came. Who knew three tongues could feel so good?

[arieslost]

MONACO | cl16

summary: aries’ gift to you all after she watched her favorite driver win his home race <3

word count: 802

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

the finish line at monaco has always been more of a daunting sight as opposed to an exciting one. you spent every single lap of every single monaco grand prix with your fingers tightly crossed, your lips colorless from how hard you’d press them together, just for a disappointing circumstance to rear its head.

you do the same thing today. but today is not last year, or the year before, or any time you’ve watched your boyfriend race in the heart of his hometown. today is the 26th of may, 2024, and charles leclerc is crossing the finish line as a winner.

every time he’s won has been special, but nothing holds a candle to this. it’s monaco. the streets of his childhood, the track he dreamed of winning on since he could remember.

“we won it! finally!” brian shouts over the radio, and immediately you can hear charles screaming back, crying out “YES!” over and over.

pascale, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as she had been for practically the entire race, reaches over and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“congratulations,” you say loudly in her ear so she can hear you over the cheers of everyone around you. “i can’t imagine how proud of him you are.”

“i think you can,” she replies, kissing your cheek and running her hands up and down your arms with a wide smile. “you’ve been by his side through every obstacle, just like i have.”

your eyes well with tears, and she hugs you again. “you’d better get out there. you know he always looks for you first.”

simultaneously, brian appears at your shoulder and takes your hand. “come on, come with me!”

you take a moment to hug him, the two of you jumping up and down in each other’s arms before you’re both running through the crowds of people to get a clear view of the podium, namely the top step.

you try to hold it together, because you know that a camera could focus in on you at any time, but when charles takes his place between carlos and oscar, his flag draped over his shoulders and a smile on his face that looks almost painful, you realize you never had a chance. the tears stream down your face, but you don’t even bother wiping them away. you can’t tear your gaze from the beautiful sight of your charlie at the top step in monaco. monaco.

his eyes find you as everyone sings along to the italian national anthem, the two of you included. you try to convey everything you can’t say to him yet through your eyes, and something about his expression tells you that he understands.

finally, after the ceremony is concluded and everyone is thoroughly doused in champagne (you and everyone in your general area as well, courtesy of charles), you’ve made your way back to ferrari’s hospitality and are now sitting waiting as patiently as you can to congratulate charles yourself.

thankfully, you don’t have to wait very long.

charles practically comes barreling through the door, first place trophy still clutched in his hand, race suit and hat drenched in champagne, and you don’t even feel the stickiness of it when you meet him in the middle of the room, both of you laughing hysterically.

adrenaline still pumping through his veins, charles wraps his arms around you and lifts you high in the air, spinning you around as many times as he can before he feels like he’s going to fall over. breathlessly, he sets you down, pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes.

“i’m so proud of you, cha,” you breathe out, fingers brushing through the hair at the back of his head before cupping his cheeks. “wow, i had so many things i wanted to say to you and now i can’t remember any of it.”

“c’est bon, mon amour,” he whispers, tilting his chin up to capture your lips in a slow, languid kiss. “just hold onto me for a minute.”

you don’t have to be told twice. you loop your arms around his neck, keeping your forehead firmly pressed against his, breathing in tandem with him and accepting every kiss he presses against your lips while his hands caress the slope of your back.

“i think you have some jumping in the harbor to do,” you say eventually, though you wish you could stay like this forever.

“with you?” he asks slyly, raising his eyebrows.

“i don’t think so,” you laugh.

but in the years you’ve spent with him, you’ve learned that when charles leclerc wants something, he will get his way. and that’s how you find yourself tightly gripping his hand as you leap into the monaco harbor with your race winner without regretting it for a single second.

note: oh guys. i cried today. i really did. i’m so happy for him and so damn proud. the first monegasque driver to win his home race in 93 years. tifosi, we celebrate <3

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo @ahgase99 @ferrarisfailedstrats @levidazai @brune77e @watersquirtpewpewboomm @teamnovalak

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Like no one is watching

summary: a little stream rekindles feelings that had been lurking somewhere in between the lines. Or have they?

a/n *hits chest* guilty, guilty, guilty... yet I had to write this because I was about to go insane. Don't come for my head. Had never written for this man before. Enjoy. 🤍🫧

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was supposed to be a chill night. Nothing big. Nothing special. All Vince wanted was to hang out with a couple of his old friends and mess around for a bit on stream. He needed to get his mind off the last couple of games that weren't his best. And it was just that—a good evening filled with goofy jokes—until Brian went quiet for a minute before saying, "Uuu, Y/N is coming over," and Vince's body nearly had an out-of-body experience. One that makes you fella as if, suddenly, you are standing a foot away from your body, and it almost feels like tunnel vision, but then it all snaps back into place. Yet Vince pulled the most neutral facial expression he could master before saying, "The one from the game?" making Brian simply hum in confirmation as he typed out a message to you.

The thing was, that it was stupid to even pretend that Vince didn't know you. Or that he only had seen you in one of his games as Brian's plus one. Well, besides being one of the NHL investor's daughter—a tag you shook off with a frown every time. You had made quite a name for yourself on your own. You had graduated from medical school with honors. And had opened a boutique in downtown Chicago... Not that Vince was keeping tabs or anything.

The truth was that he had never paid much attention to you at sports events or gatherings. Not that you were there often. But something about you standing there in the stands during his last game had messed with Vince's brain chemistry, and Vince just hadn't been the same ever since. He had, of course, asked Brian about your friendship and felt even more whiplashed when his friend casually shrugged while saying that you two had known each other for years. A friend of a friend. And since the energy was comparable, you had stayed in touch.

"Vince, keep the chat entertained while I let her in," Brian got up quickly, but not before stopping to address chat too, "Guys, your favorite person is here." Vince was once again left wondering how many times you two streamed together. And kicking himself for never really finding the time to watch his friends' lives. Laughter echoed from the hallway, and Vince had to mentally tell himself not to look back so he wouldn't come off too desperate. Paying extra attention to the sea of messages about how everyone was so excited to see you.

"Make some noise, make some noise," Brian shouted as he sprinted back, clapping his hands. He pulled the mic to his lips, "The one and only, Y/n Y/L/N." Your laughter filled the room, quickly followed by the clicking of your heels. "You are insane," you muttered, stepping through the door. A slight surprise washed over your face when your eyes fell on Vince, sitting in one of the chairs, but it was quickly masked by a warm smile. "Oh, hey, Vince," you muttered before leaning forward slightly to wave at the camera.

"Hey guys, long time no see. Please tell me that you've been making fun of Brian for me", you smirked, sticking your tongue out at him. "Changed my mind; I don't want you here," he huffed, playfully pulling at your hand. Vince blinked a couple of times. Finally realized that he had been staring at you the whole time, but then who could blame him? You had caught his eye back then with a messy bun, baggy jeans, and his team's jersey on. Now, with a black dress, heels, and full of glam. Lord was on his side, and he was sure glad that he had been sitting.

"Do I know Vince?" you read, your eyes darting to the awfully quiet hockey player to your right. "Yeah, we met. Was at his game, actually", you nodded slowly. "I should know all the rules by now, but..." Pulling a face, you shook your head. You avoided the games like a plague. Daddy's girl in the stadium. Those words alone made you want to run. You would rather fall face-first into dog shit. "We'll get you to more games, and you'll get it in no time," Vince's voice made your head snap back to him. The fucker dared to smirk too. Oh, but you knew his type. Heard all about it, and two could play this game. "Is that an offer?", you asked innocently. Vince only shrugged as he leaned back in his chair, "A fact." Your eyes stayed glued to each other. You hated how you could never get a read on him. How could a guy look both like the biggest mistake and like a gift from the Lord himself?

"They want to see your fit, Y/n," Brian's voice made you blink. Turning your attention back to the camera, you muttered, "Oh, wait," you backed up slightly. Trying to fit at least most of your body in a frame. "Do a twirl," Brian clapped his hands like a kid, making you shake your head. "Of fuck you, that's stupid," you muttered. "No cap, do a twirl," he motioned with his finger for you to do as he said. You rolled your eyes, but then you did feel cute today, so a little hype has never hurt anybody. "It's nothing," you said as you twirled a couple of times, "a black dress and these awful heels." You lifted one of your feet slightly, showing the sparkly, black heel.

"My turn!" Brian shouted, stepping up front as he went on a rant about what he was wearing. You stepped aside with a giggle. He was way too excited to do this, so alcohol had to be involved in this steam in some way. "Sponsorship event?", Vince said under his breath, clearly only trying to catch your attention. "You know it...", breathing out, you let out a sigh. People might call you ungrateful for this, but you hated attending anything that involved your father and his money. You were like a shiny toy for him. "Do you hate them?", he asked, catching a slight frown on your face. "Tell me about it," you said, laughing under your breath. "I ain't a fan as well," he added with a nod. "Oh, I know", you muttered, stepping aside from his chair.

"I will go for now; I need to get out of these before I start bleeding all over the floor," you chuckled, pointing to your feet once you found a minute of silence. You didn't want to just get up and walk out, so one way or another, you would have to find a little excuse to slip away. "Just get them off here," Brian muttered, not seeming to care as he scrolled through his playlist, looking for a new song to sing along to. "And flash the chat while doing so?", you rolled your eyes, "You wish for free content like that." You were about to wave your last goodbye when Vince cut in, "I'll get them." For a split second, you had hoped that you had misunderstood his intentions. So you just shook your head with a polite, "It's okay," but Vince scooted his chair closer. "No, no, I got it," he muttered, bending over.

A breath hitched in your throat as you felt his hands on your skin. "No, Vince," you muttered. But he just continued pulling at the strap; his warm fingers touching your cold ankle, sending shivers down your whole body. He fidgeted with it for a moment, but with an awkward angle, it sure wasn't an easy task. You were hoping that he was just going to give up, but his palm grasped your leg just slightly above your knee as he nudged it to a more comfortable angle for him. You nearly let out a shriek, but it turned into you biting your lip. Your hands pressed against his shoulder as you steadied yourself.

But God the feeling of relief once he finally pulled the scrappy shoes off. Near heavenly. Making your head fall back as you hummed in delight, "Remind me to boycott high heels from today," you muttered. Not to mention that you didn't miss the way Vince's hands lingered on your skin before he pulled back away from you. His gaze moves upwards to catch your eyes. And the urge to just take his face between your fingers and... Pull yourself together, Yn. You turned away quickly. Hoping to hide the slight blush on your cheeks. "It was nice seeing you guys", you waved your hand to the camera before quickly picking up your heels and padding out of the room.

Vince's heart was beating so hard against his chest. He was toying with a dangerous line. Girls like you were off-limits for a reason. The rules were pretty clear, too. It was bad enough that this was on the internet. One stupid move and his head would be drilled raw with people screaming at him. Nor did it help that your daddy dearest had spent some pretty coin on his team this year. Yet Vince was itching to get up and follow you. Little could be done with the cameras on, but outside this room, where no one could see you...

"Do you want another drink?" Vince said, causing Brian to shake his can, which, to Vince's luck, was indeed empty. "I'll get..." Brian had started, but Vince was already up and out of his chair. "I've got you, man," he said, tapping his friend's shoulder. He only had one shot at this. You can only get lucky so many times. But he didn't even need to go looking for you because the moment Vince rounded the corner to the kitchen, you were there. Leaning against the counter with your hands crossed over your chest.

"You're following me or something?", you muttered, tilting your head to the side. Vince tossed the empty cans out. "Or something," he muttered back. "Now you think you're funny?", you raised an eyebrow at him, pushing back from the corner to step closer to him. "What do you want, Dunn?", you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. A smirk tugged on his lips. That devilish one. One that turned him from an angel to a man of sins in seconds. "Back to the last name once again; you know I like it." His words were breathy and low as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, causing you to pull back.

"You look really good," Vince muttered, letting his eye fall down your body. Following your curves before your laughter filled the empty place. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, frowning slightly. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shook your head, "You came here to tell me that I looked good?". This guy was something different. Yet your fingers reached up to his jaw, brushing over his jawbone. "You're adorable," you muttered. This time it was Vince who was pulling away, "I'm not adorable."

You bit your lip, trying to keep a serious face. Of course, he would get offended by a comment like that. "Yeah, I forgot that you're an angry puppy, my bad," you said with a firm nod of your head. Vince let out a huff, licking his lips as he stepped forward once more, towering over you. "Careful," he breathed out, leaning closer to your face. "Or what?", you urged him, not willing to back down. Your own hands moved to rest against his chest as you stepped on your toes. His warmth seeped into your palms. Vince's arms were pressed on either side of you. Caging you within his arms, "Or you might see a very different side of me." Your smirk matched his now as you bit your lip, tilting your head to the side. "Like..." you pushed on, wanting to see just how far he would let himself go.

"Not afraid that daddy will get mad?" The warm feeling in your stomach turned to ice. The smile faded from your lips as you reared back. "Oh, fuck you," you hissed, pulling at his arm to get away from him. You should have known better. "Y/n," Vince tried to grasp your arm, but you yanked it away quickly, "Forget it, Dunn." With a quick look around the kitchen, you grabbed your stuff and headed straight to the door, cursing yourself for willingly choosing to come here in the first place.

[faghubby]

Hard limits?

"Yes baby I fuck men, real men. I suck them, kiss them and swallow their seed. Anything else you want to know?" Jess replied to me a bit annoyed by my constant questioning.

"Just I mean" I wanted to know every detail. Could I watch? How big where they? What positions? How many men, how many times? Where there several at once? My mind went wild.

"Why don't you go put on something pretty" Jess said snapping back to reality. I smiled and ran to the bedroom. I opened my special drawer. I picked out a pink frilly bra and thong set. I stripped and put them on. My penis was hard and kept popping out. So I went to the bathroom and soaked a wash cloth in cold water my erection subsided and I slid on my little pink chastity cage. I felt extra pretty and put on stockings as well. The kids would be home soon. But I picked out a pair of woman's low ride jeans and put them on as well. Followed by one of my old concert shirts that I left unbuckled to hide the low ride jeans. I came out and Jess smiled.

"Shoes or socks I think" she said I looked down at my stocking edge feet and ran back to grab some socks. Jess lifted my shirt when I returned and smiled.

"They make your butt look amazing" she said and kissed me. "Feel better?" She asked. I just smiled. She felt the cage thru my jeans.

"OH! Without me telling you to?" Jess grinned. "Did you plug your ass as well?" I shook my head no but just then the door opened and in rushed Brian and Kelly. I sometimes wonder if I was their biological father. How long had Jess been cuckolding me? Kelly now 10 looked like her mom. And I could see maybe some similar traits to me in Brian at age 7 but was I just wanting to see them?

Jess had discovered my crossdressing fetish 3 years ago. After catching me dressed in her wedding gown. She confessed to an affair at the same time. Understanding why I never initiated sex with her. She continued to have affairs. She kept them private even from me. And encouraged my crossdressing. Eventually all penetration sex between us stopped. Best I could hope for is a handjob on my birthday or our anniversary. She would initiate sex with me, often by locking me in chastity and having me orally please her.

Just as the kids went to bed Jess snuggled up to me.

"How gay are you?" She asked her hand running along the inside of my thong.

"What? I'm not gay" I told her.

"Are you sure, what if I wanted to fuck your ass with a dildo? Would you let me?" Jess asked I couldn't say I had not thought about it. "You locked up your own penis today so that what your panties would fit better?" Jess asked. Her hand now massaging my balls.

"We could try it I guess" I told Jess.

"Paulie, try what you really want is a real cock isn't it?" Jess asked. "You already tried a toy, or was it something else?" Jess teased. "Tell me" she leaned in and kissed my neck.

"Yes years ago" I confessed.

"And you never told me" Jess smiled. "What was it?"

"The plunger" I moaned

"OH that's so gross" Jess told me.

"Jess I don't want a man" I squealed.

"Jessica, you should start calling me Jessica" she told me. "So hard limit is no real man to fuck your ass, make you suck his cock" Jessica giggled. "Stand up" she smiled. I stood.

"Jeans off" she commanded.

"Jess the kids" I wimpered

"Jessica or Ms Jessica" she corrected me. I took off my jeans right in the living room. She produced a vibrator and lube.

"Turn around and bend over" Jessica told me as she stood up pulling my thong aside. She applied lube to my ass.

"Tell me you want it" Jessica said cupping my balls again. I nodded

"Say it" Ms Jessica commanded

"Yes, please fuck me" I whispered.

"Push out" she told me and push the toy against my ass. Suddenly the ass parted and the toy slid in. Pain shot thru me but Jessica just pushed the toy in.

"Shh don't wake the kids" Jessica giggled

"It hurts" I moaned.

"I know, when I had to let a man take my ass, he was much thicker then this toy" Jessica told me. "If you where a real man able to please me then I wouldn't have had to give up my ass" she told me moving the toy in and out.

"Ooooo" I moaned in pleasure.

"Yeah my little fag husband loves his has fucked" Jessica told me. The front of my panties where soaked as she milked the cum out of me. "I am going to lock that cage on, and make you wear pretties everyday" Jessica told me. Then stopped and pulled out the toy.

"Thank you" I mumbled Jessica just laughed and walked away. I quickly pulled my pants up.

"Jess" I said walking into the bathroom as she was washing her face. She turned quickly and shoved a bar of soap in my mouth.

"JESSICA!" She scolded

"Sorry , Jessica" I said spitting out the soap. She let me brush my teeth. I reached back and felt my sore ass. It seemed so stretched. I even washed her toy. I went into the bedroom Jessica was dressed in an old tee shirt and a pair of my boxers.

"I laid out a nightie for you Paulie" Jessica said. I hated being called Paulie. But looked at the pink frilly baby doll she had left for me. I looked at the outfit. Thinking Jessica was acting wierd I didn't question it just put it on. It felt amazing I loved the light material as it rubbed against me. It came with they where almost see thru. Jessica leaned over as I got under the covers. She reached down pulled my panties back and put a lock on the cage.

"Jessica what if the kids?" I asked but she just patted my cage kissed me and roller over. I sat up for a bit just staring at the ceiling. Was this to far? It had hurt but I felt pleasure. And what Jess, I mean Jessica about having a guy take her ass. I dick strained in the cage. I tried to relax and not think about it. Sleep finally came.

I woke the sun shining thru the window I jumped up it was late. I grabbed my robe and rushed put to wake the kids. To find them eating breakfast. Jessica walked over kissed me and fixed the collar on my robe to cover the flash of pink that was showing.

"Go get ready sleepy head" she told me and smacked my sore ass. I went to shower. When I got out everyone was gone. In the top drawer of my dresser I found it full of bras and panties. With a note.

"Pretties everyday" the note said with a lipstick kiss I picked out a pale blue set I had some issues putting on the bra but got it. I worked from home on Mondays. I decided to be cute and sent Jessica a pic.

"Thanks they all look so lovely" I told her.

"Try a dress as well, and maybe some heels you love so much" I put on a flower print dress I had gotten months ago. And sent her another Pic.

I got a pic of her panties in response

"Will be late tonight" she texted.

I got changed long before the kids came home. I made dinner and cleaned up. The kids had there homework done when Jessica came home. She looked in on them then led me to the bedroom

"Clean me" she told me. Dropping her dress.

"Jessica!" I said shocked

"You said hard limit was no real man" Jessica told me. She pushed me to my knees I hooked my fingers on her panties and pulled them off. They where soaked in cum. I swallowed hard and licked her pussy. The salty taste filled my mouth I wanted to pull away but Jessica held my head. Forcing me to continue. I made her cum as I cleaned her of her lovers cum.

"That was lovely" Jessica told me. Getting up she put on some sweats. Leaving me to clean up. I hand washed her panties and put her dress in the pile to be dry cleaned. I washed my face and brushed my teeth and went to spend time with the family. Jessica pulled the back of my pants back to make sure I still wore my panties.

"Tomorrow you have to wear panties under your work clothes to the office" Jessica laughed. Jessica continued to have me dress everyday. Especially for bed. On Friday she bought me home a present when I opened it inside was a strapon dildo. She grabbed it and put it on. She pushed me on the bed and pulled my panties down lubing me ass she wasted no time forcing her cock in.

"Now I can fuck you just like real men fuck me" she told me. As she worked the toy in and out. She became tired after some time and removed her cock.

"I am going to fuck you everyday" she told me kissing me.

"You loved it didn't you PAULA" she asked me. I just nodded had she called me Paula? Jessica kept her promise finding time to fuck me with her new found cock everyday. I obeyed her every wish. Day dreaming of what she would make me do next. I found myself wondering what she would think of next. She had me ride her cock one night.

"Go ahead suck it. Show me how you would please a man" she told me one night. "Swirl your tounge around it. Slobber on it" she told me.

"You're a sissy now, you should make sure your body hair is gone and let your hair grow out" she told me one night it had been almost two weeks since she locked me up. Three times I had cleaned her used pussy. She started feeding me the cum that leaked from my cage.

"Are you sure about your hard limit Sweety?" Jessica asked me one night as she fed me my own cum. "No real men?" I just nodded

Jessica kept pushing me. She wasn't happy until I could deep throat her dildo, apply makeup properly, had me dressing up sometimes I spent the whole weekend in a dress. She painted my toes and clear coated my finger nails. Styled my hair. All while feeding me not only her lovers cum but my own. It had been nearly two months since she even considered unlocking me.

"Paulie come on I am taking you out" Jessics smiled. She had laid out my outfit. There was a new pink lace bra and thong on top. Followed by a pair of ladies slacks and a button down shirt. I realized the shirt had a lace collar. I got dressed anyway. Jessica had me wear my black pumps. And do some soft makeup.

"Ms Jessica" I said scared thinking of leaving the house.

"No, you said your hard limit was a REAL MAN" she reminded me "would you like to change that?" She smiled. I just shook my head.

Jessica drove I tried to hide my face as we left the neighborhood. Hoping no one saw. Jessica drove to her favorite restaurant. We had reservations no one even looked at me differently.

"You look fine stop fretting" Jessica told me as we approached a table there was already a woman there.

"Tiffany this is Paula" she introduced me. We sat and ate I was very quiet hardly uttering a word. Jessica actually ordered for me.

Tiffany put her hand on my knee. My eyes popped open.

"Paula don't worry, Tiffany is a girl like you" she giggled. I jumped up and headed for the bathroom. As soon as I went to open the door Tiffany grabbed my arm.

"Wrong one silly" leading me into the ladies room. She glanced around then pushed me against the wall. She kissed me. Pressing hard against me. She guided my hand down under her skirt. I felt her cock no longer contained in her soft panties. I stroked her. She felt so big. The door opened and I heard Jessica's voice.

"Think you girls need to find a room" she said. Tiffany let me go but I still held her cock.

"You want her big girl cock, Baby" Jessica giggled. I snapped out of whatever spell I was under and let go. Jessica gave Tiffany our home address and we would meet there. I was In a daze till I reached the car.

"You okay sweety?" Jessica asked I just nodded. She drove us home. Tiffany was already there waiting. As soon as the door was unlocked Tiffany dragged me inside tearing the buttons of my blouse. We where downtown out panties in seconds I felt her breasts. Did I want breasts. I wanted her cock. I did! I dropped and sucked her cock. I have no idea where Jessica had gone and I didn't care. I sucked Tiffany's cock taking her all down my throat. She moved at one point sitting down. I crawled following her. Suddenly I felt Jessica reach under me and unlock my cage. My cock sprang free throbbing. Jessica ran her hand over my ass just as Tiffany unloaded down my throat. I had never had anyone cum on my mouth before I tried to swallow sucking up all her cum. She pulled out of my mouth. She kissed me. She stroked me.

"Please I don't want to cum, don't make me cum I moaned into her shoulder. She stopped.

"You are one little submissive thing aren't you. She bent me over and squirted lube up my butt. Her cock slid in as I let out a moan. She fucked me. Hard. How was she still hard? Had she recovered that quickly? I let my mind go blank as she fucked me. Jessica was gone again. As Tiffany pounded my ass. Finally cumming again this time deep inside me. I crawled into a ball. Tiffany lifted me up and took me to the bedroom. She spooned me reaching around she teased my little cock.

"Don't worry little one I won't let you cum" she cooed in my ear teasing me till I was about to cry then stopping over and over. She finally stopped when I begged her to let me cum. And held me as I fell asleep.

I woke alone, naked and my cage back on. Jessica had left a message.

Spending the night with a real man. Kids will be home around 8. Still think you have a hard limit?

[swetblom]

how did doll!reader & Brian meet + their first date in his POV

a lot was asked for so a lot was given. this one’s a bit longer but enjoy!

᧔•᧓

he sees you for the first time on a tuesday morning.

late enough for the rush to have passed, early enough for the café windows to still fog slightly from the warmth inside. you’re seated at a tiny, round table by the glass — legs crossed at the ankle, a half-eaten pastry beside a paper cup, and a glossy pink ribbon tying your hair back too loosely to be practical.

you’re not doing anything special but he can’t stop staring. your lips are symmetrical— top a little bigger giving up a natural pout, eyes the color that matches your skin and hair with ease while your eyelashes stand tall with volume. a tiny fork between your manicure fingers, humming softly to yourself like the day belongs to you. you looked. . perfect.

it takes him longer than he’s proud of to move past the window nor is he about how much he thought of you after. victim, maybe? he thinks at first but he can’t stop thinking about your lips, the way the fork fit perfectly between them. no, you’re a treasure. something to be proud of—displayed.

he returns a few days later.

you’re there again, alone, tapping your fork against the edge of a plate, humming faintly to yourself. this time he enters the café. he walks in. orders something he doesn’t want. you glance up when he walks past, those soft eyes blinking slow — curious, not cautious. he gives you one back.

the third time, you smile at him.

he says, “you always pick the best table.”

you light up like he’s said something clever. he thinks it’s cute. “it’s the only one that gets both sun and shade. depending on the time.” you tap the surface of the table with your fingertip, like you’re claiming it. “perfect for pastries.” he glances down at the little tart on your plate. “that one’s messy.” you giggle, dainty and airy. “i know.” and then — you slide it toward him. not the whole thing. just a piece. fork and all. “you can try it. if you want.” he doesn’t say no.

that becomes the rhythm.

he stops by. you’re there. sometimes you talk. sometimes you just hum.

once you told him cookies are always better when they’re shared. like secrets. you show him a chipped ceramic button you found in an alleyway and say it looked lonely. you fold napkins into shapes and leave them on his side of the table without explanation. you always have something with you — a book, a tin of mints, a pair of sunglasses too large for your face. he just absorbs it all. folds it into something sacred.

he watches you lick powdered sugar from your fingertip and doesn’t look away fast enough. you notice. you don’t mind.

it’s almost a month before something shifts. the first time you take him somewhere, it doesn’t feel like an invitation. you’re outside the bakery.

swinging a small paper bag from your wrist — some sweet you insisted he had to try. your shoes click against the sidewalk like tiny punctuation marks. it’s just a statement. “since you’re always free in the mornings, there’s somewhere i want to show you. a little place up the street,” you say, twisting the lid back onto your tea. “it sells old perfume bottles and tiny glass animals.”

not come with me. not do you want to go? just i want to show you.

so he follows you. silently. “or is your schedule not free and it’s just me?”

“why?”

“no reason.” you twirl once, catching your skirt between your fingers. “it’s just nice. you feel like part of my routine now.” the paper bag crinkles in your hand. you stop walking and look up at him — sweet and expectant. “you wanna carry this for me?” you ask, coy and not really needing help. “i brought extra. just in case.” brian takes the bag. you beam.

and just like that, he’s walking you toward the little antique market you mentioned in passing last week — not because he asked, not because you invited him, but because the conversation drifted that way and you kept looking at him like he was already part of the day. it isn’t a date. you never say the word, even if either of you think so.

the shop is strange. dusty and soft around the edges. everything glints. you move through it like you’ve been there a hundred times, pointing things out, occasionally looking back to see if he’s watching you.

he is. he always is.

but when you hold up a little bird made of glass — pale blue, wings spread — and place it in his hand and say, “this one looks like you,” he realizes this is the start of something. something delicate. something he’s going to take his time with.

you eat on a bench afterward. the rest of the pastry from earlier, split down the middle. “it’s a nice day,” you murmur, closing your eyes as the sun hits your face. “i’m glad you’re here.” brian watches you, memorizing the way the light settles on your cheek, the softest fleck of sugar clinging to your lower lip. and in that moment, he knows: you’ll never need to ask him for anything. you won’t have to. he’ll already be there. waiting.

[gardenladysworld]

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf

Part 10: To touch

I am sorry, i made these chapters sooo long :')

Part 11: To ask

The forest was alive with the hum of Pandora. Even in the quiet daylight hours, the sounds of chirping insects and the distant calls of wildlife created a symphony that wrapped around you like a living heartbeat. You crouched beside a vibrant bush, its bioluminescent leaves dormant for now, carefully documenting its structure on your datapad.

The xenobotany team was scattered nearby. Norm was nearby, cataloging a set of vines; Brian was arguing with Kate over the best angle to photograph a strange fungal growth. Ethan lingered further off, conspicuously avoiding your area of the clearing. You knew why, and you didn’t need to think at the tall, blue person.

Neteyam.

You hadn’t seen him since his ‘talk’ with Ethan… The thought of asking him to help retrieve the ulo’ateya had weighed on you ever since. You knew he would help without hesitation, but wasn’t that the problem? The last thing you wanted was for him to feel obligated, to see you as someone who only approached him when she needed something.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to focus on your work. The datapad’s stylus felt clumsy in your fingers as you attempted to sketch the bush’s delicate blossoms, but your thoughts kept wandering. How should you even ask him? What if he thought you were taking advantage of him?

You didn’t want to be a burden—not to him.

The faintest rustle of leaves behind you pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could turn, you heard the deep, familiar timbre of his voice.

“You’re here.”

Your breath caught as you looked up to see Neteyam emerging from the trees, his tall, lithe form moving with a quiet grace that made him seem like part of the forest itself. He was carrying his bow, though it hung loosely at his side, and his golden eyes scanned the area briefly before settling on you.

“Neteyam?” you asked, startled. “What are you doing here?”

He stopped a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his gaze intent. “I was passing through,” he said simply, though the slight flick of his tail betrayed his calm demeanor.

Neteyam tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “I was nearby,” he said casually. “Just checking on the area.”

“Nearby?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you glanced at him. “We’re a good five kilometers from the village.”

He shrugged, his tail flicking behind him. “The forest is vast. It’s not unusual for me to patrol these areas.”

Deep down, though, you couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing him here. His presence was steadying in a way you couldn’t explain, like an anchor in the vast, unpredictable jungle. It didn’t matter why he was here; you were glad he was.

Neteyam crouched beside you, his movements fluid and unhurried. His proximity made your pulse quicken, but you kept your attention on the bush in front of you, pretending to focus as you scribbled on your datapad.

“Well,” you said, turning back to the bush you were documenting, “since you’re here, you can make yourself useful and tell me if this plant has any... special properties.” You gestured to the bush with your stylus, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

Neteyam leaned closer, his gaze flicking between you and the plant. “It is called loran’ai,” he said. “The leaves are used to soothe burns.”

You nodded, making a quick note on your datapad. “Good to know. Thanks.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Documenting this bush,” you replied, gesturing to the plant. “Its leaves are fascinating. They curl inward during the day to conserve moisture, then open at night to release bioluminescent spores.”

He nodded, leaning slightly closer to get a better look. The faint scent of the forest clung to him—earthy and warm—and you had to fight the urge to lean in too. Instead, you busied yourself with jotting down more notes, your handwriting growing sloppier under his watchful gaze.

Neteyam was staring at you. You could feel it. His golden eyes followed every movement, his focus unwavering. It wasn’t the first time you’d caught him looking at you like that, but it never failed to unnerve you—in the best way possible. It was as though he saw something in you that no one else did, something you weren’t sure you deserved.

Finally, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “You know, you’re making it very hard to concentrate with those eyes of yours burning a hole in my face.”

His ears flicked sharply, and his tail gave a nervous twitch. “I wasn’t—” he started, his voice stumbling slightly. “I was just—”

You laughed softly, cutting him off. “Relax, Neteyam. I’m just teasing you.”

His flustered expression softened into a small smile, but you noticed the faint color blooming on his cheeks. He looked away briefly, his tail swaying behind him, as if he was trying to compose himself. The sight made your chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth, a mixture of affection and something deeper.

He didn’t respond immediately, and when you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, you saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward, the barest hint of a smile breaking through his embarrassment.

Around you, the other scientists seemed completely unfazed by his presence, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for a Na’vi warrior to join them in the field. Norm and Brian were engrossed in their samples, and Kate had wandered farther into the clearing. Ethan, however, was a different story. He kept his distance, his shoulders tense and his eyes darting nervously toward Neteyam whenever he thought no one was looking.

You didn’t mind Ethan’s self-imposed exile—Neteyam certainly didn’t either, judging by the way his tail swayed lazily behind him.

But as you continued working, you felt the familiar weight of your unspoken question pressing down on you. The thought of asking Neteyam for help made your chest tighten, but you couldn’t avoid it forever. You needed that plant, and he was the only one who could get you there safely.

Still, the words refused to come. How could you ask him without sounding demanding? Without making it seem like you were taking advantage of his kindness?

Neteyam’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You are quiet today.”

You blinked, startled. “What? Oh, sorry. Just... thinking.”

His gaze lingered on you, thoughtful. “Something troubles you.”

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, but his sharp eyes narrowed slightly, unconvinced.

“You do not hide your feelings well,” he said softly, his tone gentle but firm. “If there is something you need, you should say it.”

Your heart skipped at his words, and you glanced down at your datapad, fiddling with the stylus. Could he already tell what you were thinking?

“I’ll figure it out,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Neteyam tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “If you need help, you only have to ask.”

His words hung between you, heavy with meaning, and you felt the weight of your hesitation pressing down on you. You wanted to believe him, to trust that he wouldn’t see your request as a burden. But the fear of crossing a line you couldn’t uncross kept you rooted in place.

*1 day ago*

You stood in the corner of the rec room, holding a steaming cup of the outpost’s passable imitation of coffee, while the rest of the xenobotany team gathered around the central table. Kate was fiddling with her tablet, Brian was leaning back in his chair, balancing precariously, and Norm was pulling up a holographic map of the surrounding region.

“Alright,” Norm said, tapping a point on the map with his stylus, the faint glow illuminating his face. “This is where we need to collect the sample. The ulo’ateya, or as you guys call it, the ‘Midnight Bloom.’ Rare, delicate, and it only flowers once a year—at night.”

Kate leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing at the map. “Let me guess, it grows in some impossible-to-reach place?”

“Bingo,” Norm replied with a sigh. “This ridge, here.” He pointed to a jagged, isolated stretch of land high above the jungle canopy. “You can only get there by ikran. No way to climb it without risking your neck.”

You frowned, taking a sip of your coffee as you studied the map. “Why can’t we just use the helicopter? Hover above the ridge, grab the sample, and head back before it gets too dark.”

Norm shook his head. “Not feasible. The noise would disturb the ecosystem, not to mention the risk of attracting predators. Besides, the RDA’s not going to approve a chopper for something like this.”

Brian frowned. “The cliffs are dangerous, especially at night. And the RDA barely lets us take the copters out during the day, let alone for a nighttime trip.”

Kate tapped her chin thoughtfully. “What about asking one of the Na’vi? They could fly us there on an ikran.”

Your heart sank at her suggestion. The thought of asking Neteyam flashed in your mind immediately, but you quickly pushed it aside. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s not fair to bother them with something like this. It’s a simple task for them, and it’s not their responsibility to help us with our research. A waste of his time.”

Kate grinned, nudging Brian. “You hear that? She doesn’t want to ‘waste his time’, because she knows his schedule. Sounds to me like she’s worried about something else entirely.”

You shot her a look, your cheeks warming. “That’s not it. He’s already busy enough. He doesn’t need me dragging him into this.”

Kate straightened, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying, if I had a Na’vi warrior who was clearly ready to leap off a cliff for me, I’d take advantage of it.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t want to do,” you said sharply, then immediately softened your tone. “I don’t want him to feel like he’s obligated to help just because I ask to bring us back a stupid plant.”

Kate snorted. “A ‘stupid plant’ that’s critical for understanding Pandora’s nighttime pollination cycles, right? Give yourself some credit.”

“It’s still mundane to him,” you argued, your tone tinged with frustration. “Neteyam has enough on his plate. I can’t ask him to take time out of his day for something so small.”

Brian leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Why not? He likes you. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You shot him a sharp look, and he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just saying.”

“Look,” Kate said, her voice more serious now. “You’re not taking advantage of him by asking for help. You’re giving him a chance to do something he’s good at, something he probably enjoys. And if it’s important to you, it’ll be important to him.”

You glanced at Norm, hoping for a more pragmatic perspective. He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Kate’s right. If anyone’s going to help, it’s him. But if you’re uncomfortable, we can try to figure something else out.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing on you. The ulo’ateya was vital to your research, and you knew you couldn’t do this alone. But the idea of asking Neteyam for help—of admitting that you needed him—felt daunting.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kate smirked, clearly pleased with your response. “Good. And when you do ask him, just be yourself. He won’t say no.”

Norm chuckled, patting your shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

Despite their reassurances, you couldn’t shake the nervous flutter in your chest. You nodded, pretending to focus on the datapad in front of you, but your thoughts were already spinning. How would you approach him? What would you say? And if he agreed, how would you ever repay him for his kindness?

Later, as you prepared to leave the lab, Kate’s words lingered in your mind. “Just be yourself,” she had said. But being yourself had never felt so terrifying.

The afternoon sun cast dappled light through the canopy, dancing patterns across Neteyam’s cobalt skin as he crouched beside you. His braids shifted with each subtle movement, swaying lightly as he adjusted his position to get a better view of your datapad. The intricate beads woven into them caught the faint sunlight, glinting like tiny stars. You had always admired the way his hair moved with him, as if it, too, was alive, a part of the forest’s rhythm.

He’ll think you’re ridiculous if you keep staring like that, you chided yourself, forcing your eyes back to your datapad. Still, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle tension in his posture, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly when he looked at you, as if your presence brought him some kind of ease.

You tried to focus on your work—scribbling notes, documenting the plant in front of you—but your thoughts kept drifting to him. To the way his ears flicked with the barest shifts in sound, or how his golden eyes seemed to linger on you a moment too long before flicking away, as if he didn’t want to be caught. Every small movement felt amplified, like a symphony you couldn’t help but hear.

Stay calm. Don’t make it weird, you told yourself, gripping the stylus tighter than necessary.

Neteyam had always had a way of making you hyperaware of yourself—how you sat, how you spoke, even how you breathed. It wasn’t that he was intimidating; far from it. His presence was calming, steadying. But it was that very steadiness that made you want to tread carefully, as though a single misstep might break the fragile balance between you.

You caught yourself watching him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the slight twitch of his tail as it brushed the forest floor, the way his fingers—so much larger and stronger than yours—rested lightly on his bow. He moved with such grace that it was almost unfair, his every action deliberate yet effortless.

Ask him now, your mind urged. Before the others pack up. Before you lose your nerve.

But you hesitated. How could you, after spending the entire day trying not to bother him? Neteyam had his own responsibilities, his own burdens. Who were you to ask him to take time out of his day for a task that, to him, would likely seem mundane?

Yet you needed that plant—the elusive ulo’ateya that only bloomed at night and only in the high cliffs beyond the mountains. A helicopter wasn’t an option, and without an ikran, there was no way to reach it. Norm and Max had explained the situation, and Kate had encouraged you to ask Neteyam outright. But the thought of imposing on him made your chest tighten.

“Are you finished here?” his voice broke through your thoughts, low and quiet. His golden eyes flicked toward your datapad.

You startled slightly, gripping the stylus in your hand. “Almost,” you said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just... a few more notes.”

Neteyam nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary before he looked away. His tail swayed lazily behind him, brushing the ground, and you wondered if it was a sign of his patience—or his curiosity.

The rest of the team was already wrapping up. Norm called out to you and Brian to start packing the equipment, and Kate gave you a knowing glance as she passed by with an armful of samples. They were giving you space—perhaps too much space—but you appreciated their subtle encouragement.

Neteyam’s voice broke the silence between you, low and calm. “You seem distracted.”

You glanced at him, startled, your grip tightening on the stylus. “What? Oh, no. I’m just... thinking about the next sample.”

His ears flicked slightly, a small, almost imperceptible movement that betrayed his skepticism. You knew he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t press further, his gaze returning to the plant.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you worked. You had to ask him about the ulo’ateya. There was no other option, no better way to get the sample safely. But the thought of asking him filled you with an unshakable nervousness. What if he thought you were using him? What if he resented you for treating him like a tool rather than a friend?

Friend. The word tasted strange in your mind. Was that what he was to you? The word felt inadequate, too small to encompass the way he made you feel. But you couldn’t call it anything else... Not when you were terrified of ruining whatever fragile connection existed between you. But you hoped you could.

You stole a glance at him as he shifted slightly, the motion smooth and effortless. His fingers brushed against a leaf, his touch careful and deliberate, as though he understood the value of even the smallest life. You swallowed hard, willing yourself to speak.

“Neteyam,” you began softly, your voice barely carrying over the sounds of the forest.

He looked up immediately, his golden eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Yes?”

Your nerves threatened to choke you, but you pressed on, the words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s a plant I need for my research. It’s rare—it only grows in one area, and it blooms at night. I—Norm and I—were trying to figure out a way to get to it, but it’s... complicated.”

His expression remained steady, though his ears twitched faintly, a sign you’d come to recognize as curiosity. “Where is it?”

You hesitated, clutching your datapad like a lifeline. “It’s on one of the high cliffs near the Hallelujah Mountains. The ulo’ateya. We were thinking about taking a helicopter, but it’s dangerous at night, and it wouldn’t be fast enough to get back before morning and the RDA wouldn’t let us to go there this fast.”

Your heart raced. Did he think you were using him? Would he be annoyed? You hated the idea of burdening him, of taking advantage of his kindness. And yet, you couldn’t deny the flicker of hope in your chest as he considered your request.

Finally, he nodded. “I will help you,” he said simply, as though the answer had been obvious all along. “I will come to the outpost tonight, before midnight. Have everything prepared for me, and I will go.”

Relief flooded through you, and before you could stop yourself, a wide grin spread across your face. “Really? You’ll do it?”

Neteyam tilted his head, his expression softening at the sight of your joy. “Yes,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “It is no trouble.”

You couldn’t help the giddy laugh that escaped you, and the next thing you knew, you were throwing your arms around him in a hug. “Thank you!” you exclaimed, your words muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you so much!”

For a moment, Neteyam stiffened in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your sudden embrace. But then his arms came up tentatively, his hands resting lightly on your back as he returned the gesture. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he were afraid of breaking you.

Around you, the forest seemed to fade, the sounds of your team packing up distant and unimportant. All you could feel was the steady warmth of Neteyam’s presence, his breath soft against your hair as he leaned into the hug.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks flushed as you realized what you’d just done. His golden eyes met yours, and there was a faint flicker of amusement in his expression—though his ears twitched in a way that suggested he was just as flustered as you were.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I got a little... carried away.”

Neteyam’s lips twitched into a small smile, his voice low and warm. “It is... fine.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the rest of the team watching, their expressions ranging from amused to outright smirking. Kate gave you a thumbs-up behind Neteyam’s back, while Norm and Brian exchanged knowing glances.

And with that, he turned, his steps light and silent as he disappeared into the forest. You watched him go, the ache in your chest both painful and sweet. There was no turning back now. Tonight, he would fly into the heart of Pandora’s wild beauty, and all you could do was hope he would return safely—with the rare plant in hand and the unspoken bond between you intact.

The trek back to the outpost was filled with quiet murmurs of excitement and a sense of accomplishment. The team worked quickly to gather everything Neteyam would need for the trip to retrieve the ulo’ateya. You helped sort the sample trays and delicate containers, making sure every piece of equipment was secure in the specially designed bag. Your fingers worked efficiently, but your mind was elsewhere—on him.

You couldn’t stop replaying the moment when he agreed to help. The memory of his golden eyes, steady and certain, lingered in your thoughts. And the hug—oh, Eywa, the hug. What had possessed you to throw your arms around him like that? The feel of his arms encircling you, strong yet gentle, sent warmth blooming in your chest.

“Earth to our plant lady!” Kate’s teasing voice snapped you out of your reverie. She was holding up a sample tray, waving it in front of your face. “We need these packed, not admired.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking the tray and carefully placing it into the bag. Kate smirked knowingly but didn’t press further.

Kate, perched on a nearby stool, leaned over and nudged your arm. “You’re unusually quiet,” she teased. “Still riding the high of Neteyam saying yes?”

You glanced at her, feeling the flush creep up your neck. “I’m just making sure everything’s ready,” you said, avoiding her knowing smirk. “This isn’t exactly a casual favor.”

Kate grinned. “He didn’t hesitate, though, did he? Told you he’d do anything for you.”

“Kate,” you warned, your tone half-serious.

Kate leaned against the counter beside you, watching as you fumbled with the straps. “You’re lucky he said yes,” she teased, a grin tugging at her lips. “Though, let’s be real—Neteyam would probably lasso the moons for you if you asked.”

You rolled your eyes, though her words sent a flutter through your chest. “He’s just being kind,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s no big deal.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You shook your head, but her words lingered. Deep down, you were grateful—more than grateful. Neteyam’s willingness to help wasn’t something you took lightly. As the team worked around you, packing each tray and tool carefully into a large, durable bag, your thoughts kept drifting to him. To the way he’d said, “It is no trouble.” To the way his golden eyes had softened when you’d hugged him.

“Bag’s ready,” Max announced, pulling you from your thoughts. He slung it over his shoulder, testing the weight. “Heavy, but manageable. Neteyam should have no problem carrying it.”

“Good,” you said, standing and brushing your hands on your thighs. “Let’s triple-check the inventory.”

Norm gave you a look. “We already did that twice.”

“Once more,” you insisted. “Just to be sure.”

By the time the bag was packed, the outpost felt quieter than usual. The hum of machinery and faint chatter of the night shift provided a muted backdrop as you glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven fifty-eight.

The air in the room was tense, charged with anticipation. Kate was tapping her fingers against the edge of the table, and Brian was pacing in the corner. The others lingered nearby, occasionally glancing out the window.

“You know, I’ve never seen an ikran up close. Do you think it’s as terrifying as it looks in the vids?” Kate said.

“They’re not terrifying,” you said automatically, your mind drifting back to Neteyam’s ikran. You remembered its sharp eyes, the iridescent sheen of its scales, and the surprisingly gentle way it had nudged you the first time you’d met. “They’re incredible. Powerful, yes, but not terrifying.”

Brian snorted from the corner of the room. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Those things look like they could eat you whole.”

“They wouldn’t,” Norm interjected, his voice calm but firm as he joined you at the counter. “Ikran are bonded to their riders. They’re loyal and intelligent, but they don’t trust easily. If you’re not bonded to one, you’d better keep your distance.”

Max nodded in agreement. “Even if they seem tame, they’re still wild creatures. I’ve seen more than a few scientists learn that the hard way.”

You listened to their conversation with half an ear, focusing on other things. The thought of Neteyam flying through the night to retrieve the rare plant stirred a mix of emotions in your chest—gratitude, admiration, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“Relax,” Max said, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. “He’ll be here. Trust me, if Neteyam says he’s going to do something, he does it.”

You nodded, but your fingers continued to toy with the edge of the table. Every minute felt like an eternity, the anticipation buzzing in your veins. It wasn’t just about the plant anymore; it was about seeing him again, knowing he was doing this for you.

At exactly midnight, a sharp screech cut through the stillness, jolting everyone into motion.

“That’ll be him,” Max said, setting his coffee down and grabbing his exo-mask. The team hurried to do the same, following the sound of the ikran as it circled the clearing before landing gracefully just outside the outpost.

You stepped out into the cool night air, the soft glow of the bioluminescent forest framing the massive creature that had just landed. Neteyam’s ikran was a sight to behold—its sleek body shimmering faintly in the moonlight, its wings folding neatly as it settled into the clearing. The vibrant blues and greens of its skin were mesmerizing, and its sharp, intelligent eyes scanned the group warily.

“Oh my god,” Brian muttered, taking a hesitant step back. “It’s huge.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Kate added, her voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. But you couldn’t help yourself; your feet moved before your mind could catch up, drawing you closer to the ikran and its rider.

“Is it... safe?” Brian whispered, his voice tight with unease.

“As safe as an apex predator can be,” Norm replied, though his tone was far from reassuring.

Ignoring their hesitation, you stepped forward. The ikran shifted slightly, its sharp beak clicking as its large, luminous eyes locked onto you. Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to stop.

“Careful!” Kate hissed, his hand reaching out as if to stop you. “That thing could—”

You froze for a moment, watching him. His braids swayed as he moved, and the faint glow of his bioluminescent markings only made him seem more otherworldly. His golden eyes met yours, and for a brief second, the rest of the team seemed to fade into the background.

“Holy—” Brian began, taking a cautious step back. Kate grabbed his arm, though she looked equally wary.

Even Norm and Max, who were more accustomed to the ikrans, exchanged nervous glances. “Remember,” Max said quickly, “don’t make any sudden movements. Ikran only respond to their riders. And don’t look into its eyes.”

But you stepped forward without hesitation, your heart thrumming in your chest as you approached the towering creature. The ikran’s head turned toward you, its piercing gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, the air felt charged, heavy with anticipation. Then it let out a sound—a chirp, almost melodic, that sent a wave of relief washing over you.

The ikran lowered its massive head, nudging you gently, its scaled skin cool and surprisingly smooth against your hand. You laughed quietly, reaching up to stroke the side of its head. “Hello again,” you said softly, as if speaking to an old friend.

Behind you, the team watched in stunned silence. Brian’s mouth hung open, and Kate’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Did... did it just—chirp at her?” Brian asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Looks like it,” Kate muttered, clearly torn between amazement and panic.

Norm let out a breath, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

But you barely noticed their reactions. Your focus was on Neteyam as he dismounted his ikran with a fluid grace that made your breath catch. His long braid moved with him, the end glowing faintly as it swayed behind him when small tendrils moved. He reached up, undoing the bond of tsaheylu, and the ikran let out a soft rumble, its eyes half-closing in contentment.

Neteyam’s eyes softened as he watched the interaction, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “She remembers you,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering. “I guess I made an impression.”

The ikran nudged you again, its massive head nearly knocking you off balance as it let out another chirping sound, almost like a purr. The others watched in stunned silence, their disbelief practically radiating off them.

You turned to Neteyam, holding out the bag. “Here,” you said, your voice softer. “Everything’s ready. The tools, the trays—everything you’ll need.”

Neteyam took the bag from you, his large hands brushing yours briefly in the process. The contact sent a small jolt through you, and you quickly pulled your hand back, pretending to adjust your exo-mask.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone as steady as ever. He slung the bag over the ikran’s shoulder effortlessly, as though it weighed nothing at all just to secure the bag on its saddle’s side.

“Be careful,” you said, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them.

Neteyam’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his ears flicking slightly. “I will return before the sun rises,” he promised, his voice low but reassuring.

As Neteyam turned back to his ikran, you watched in awe as he reached for his braid, the long tendrils shifting as he brought it forward. The glow of tsaheylu brightened as the kuru connected with the ikran’s neural queue, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The bond between them was palpable, a seamless connection that felt almost sacred.

The ikran crouched low, its wings unfurling slightly as Neteyam sit on its back with practiced ease. He glanced down at you one last time, his expression calm but intent. “I will see you soon.”

Before you could respond, the ikran let out a piercing screech and leapt into the air, its powerful wings slicing through the night as it ascended. You craned your neck to watch as they disappeared into the sky, the faint glow of the ikran’s patterns fading into the distance.

The team watched in awe as Neteyam and his ikran took to the skies, disappearing into the night. You stood there, your heart full, as the wind from the ikran’s wings stirred the air around you.

“Okay,” Kate said after a moment, breaking the silence. “That was the coolest—and scariest—thing I’ve ever seen.”

Brian shook his head, still staring after the ikran. “I can’t believe it actually chirped at her. Like a giant... bird-cat-thing.”

Norm chuckled, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got a way with animals,” he said, his tone light. “Or maybe just with Neteyam.”

A quiet warmth spread through your chest, a mix of gratitude and something deeper you didn’t dare name. He was doing this for you—no, for the team, for the research. But still, the thought lingered, leaving your heart full and your mind spinning as you turned back toward the outpost.

Part 12: To feel

[sweetsuecherries]

brian meets his new babydoll

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒… 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒷 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓃𝓎 𝓉𝓊𝒸𝒸𝒾

Goddamn, was it hard for brian not to laugh when detectives planned to stop by and interview one of his failed victims-

who he was now treating and making prosthetics for. it was a strange clash of his day job and night life, he found it amusing.

but he ended up praying to a God he isn’t sure of in gratitude for that day, that situation- he met the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. you, of course!

you came by with deb, you call her debbie, she’s your good friend and you immediately picked up on the looks she was giving the doctor. you wouldn’t want to go after her crush-

but what ownership does she have over him, really, i mean especially when he’s looking at you with heart eyes. this type of heart eyes, it isn’t masquerading to make the miami whores fall for him- it’s real.

you didn’t dress like debbie, so masculine and boxy. you weren’t maria either, overly feminine to the point of resembling a shower curtain. you had a classy, babydoll esque dress. so pretty, all to interview some guy. or no, not for anything in particular- you were just like that. hair tied back with a clip, you added a pretty flower you’d found outside. you were, for lack of better word, perfect.

“i’m gonna grab some coffee, see what this fuckin’ shithole has in the cafeteria” deb mutters to you, standing up from the small couch next to you. you nod, your eyes focus on bri- rudy, to you anyways, going over something with tony, mister missing leg and arm.

as deb walks away, rudy’s eyes follow; not in a sexual way, but in relief, bordering on excitement. he makes his way over to you, tossing the manila file to the side, leaving tony on a cliff hanger of a sentence. your eyes widen slightly, you look down and play with the hem of your dress, as if you weren’t staring at him, as if your heart wasn’t thumping like a bunny because he was walking over!

he doesn’t say anything at first, looking down at you with his hands in his pockets. he tilts his head, studying your pretty eyes and the way your lashes extend as they go out, like butterfly wings.

you open your mouth to speak after a good 17 seconds, but he beats it to you with a soft chuckle.

“it brings out your eyes.”

“uh- thank you, but what are you-“

his hand extends to the flower in your hair. your smaller hand, manicured with the finest of champagne glitter color, reaches out to feel the soft petals too. your pinkie- rudy had never seen something so ordinary look so adorable, brushed against his thumb and he felt the closest feeling to slicing open a body he’d had sense- well, doing just that. he was giddy.

he was smooth. you were special alright, but his hyperactive attraction and admiration for you didn’t remove his swagger- he knew how to get a pretty little girl like you easy, but you were more then just that. why? he didn’t know yet, he met you 5 seconds ago, it was just something in your heart.

“oh thank you, there’s pretty flowers that grow outside of miami metro. i found this one matched my dress” why do you almost sound like, what, dorothy? so soft spoken, so sweet, kind and a level of class and- innocence.

“oh i bet, based off of that one they’re the prettiest flowers that grow”

you giggled- that was really sweet. it wasn’t even complimenting you but the flowers, revealing that he felt the same way about them that you did. it was like he was complimenting your soul.

but to him, it was just such a sweet laugh he wanted to squeeze your face off. you were so pretty though, he wouldn’t wanna ruin it. he could so easy too, that’s the thing, ughhh what to do what to do!

“you’re a vice girl, i take it?” rudy, cocks an eye brow, nodding his head to reference your dress. it wasn’t too revealing, but too much so for a detective to wear. ugh, man did you love debbie but you’d rather become a victim of this ice truck killer guy then dress like her.

“mhm, here to ‘learn’ from debbie, butttt mostly cuz the streets are empty today” you shrug, you act so busy by playing with the lace on that hem that he wants to grab your soft hands away.

instead, he just grabs one of your loose curls at the end of your hair, your long long hair of course it’s long.

he lets about a hum, almost of approval. “you’re almost unbelievable as a vice girl”

“why? what does that mean?” you asked, your pretty eyes wide. it kinda seemed like if he meant it in a bad way you’d cry.

he didn’t know how to answer that. he desired you, wanted you, not in the way he wanted the hookers. but he couldn’t tell you that was the difference. he could say somethin’ sweet, though, make up for the things he’ll inevitably do once he wins you over.

“too pure”

you bite your lip at that- a little offensive to girls you loved but the way he meant it was just to make you feel special. you weren’t above it, it worked.

“well.. thank you” you sounded so sweet, a little shy, your eyes finally being brave enough to look up at him. you only met his for a second, before your gaze shifted around his features, nerves and admiration in your eyes. he wasn’t just debbie’s crush anymore- you were about to write about him in your diary…!

speaking of, rudy’s reluctant sigh, as he was facing the door, almost rudely let you know debbie came back. it was rudy’s cue to leave, let you guys talk to this tony guy.

he knew he’d see you again, if you didn’t come back with deb (which he would bet dexters life you will) he would make sure of it.

“they only had black coffee, sons of bitches” debbie told you as an apology as she sipped her coffee, only one in her hands. you don’t really care, you nod, your eyes fixed on your new crush. rudyyyyyy!!!!

he gave deb a nod as a goodbye, almost a little bit irish, but he turned his whole body to you before exiting. he sighed, the hand that touched the soft petals and your softer hand gave a little wave, something he knew you’d adore.

and once again, you did. you giggle and wave back, your lips desiring to blow a kiss but you decide against it, choosing debbie’s feelings instead. it was enough though, he chuckled as he closed the door, leaving you be. he leaned against it for a moment, taking it all in, wanting to take you in.

brian, rudy, covered his mouth to hide his laugh. it was amusing, in the same way him treating tony- better known as a failed kill in his mind, was amusing. it was just like a sign from God, he knew it now.

he was allowed to have a little fun…!

[ngage2003]

Something that I feel isn't touched on enough is how the Operator is very much infohazard. Granted, that isn't its only quality, but it is a major one that often gets sidelined or isn't recognized.

I want to talk about it though.

First of all however, what is an infohazard?

Well, a philosopher named Nick Bostrom who specializes in existentialism defined it in 2011 as, "a risk that arises from the dissemination of (true) information that may cause harm or enable some agent to cause harm." Basically, a idea that is true that can hurt you, or more accurately, knowledge that can hurt you.

I believe the Operator functions like this, in a sense at least. Because while knowledge of it hurts you, it isn't as vague as a risk as Bostrom defines it. It is a living virus that induces feverish fear and obsession, and through your knowledge of it or your acquisition of knowledge, it sinks its claws further into you.

Note: Simply thinking about the same knowledge over and over isn't enough, I think. Alex probably thought about it even after fleeing and going to college with Amy despite trying not to. They were still safe for a while though. I think infected person would need to actively seek the object of their infection out and engage with it (like by going to Rosswood) and/or look for new information for their sickness to worsen, but I am getting ahead of myself.

Going from the top of the list of evidence, it takes three years [between 2006-2009] for Jay to actually watch the tapes containing the Operator and start experiencing infection—coughing, memory loss, intense paranoia that makes him film himself. We know these aren't normal because he points them out as such.

Alex beating Jay up just definitively isn't what causes the infection. Jay doesn't remember it, and sure you could claim thats a point towards infection, but he's just not sick after that point. He goes back to normal.

And it only gets worse as the series continues, as Jay sees the Operator more and more and dives deeper and deeper into this mystery, getting more and more wound up in it and its death. Its static starts to show up when he yells or is upset, as it does for Alex, and hell- you could argue that the seizures the Operator induces come from witnessing it too closely, from seeing it and the information of it overloading the human mind. Its existence is cancerous.

The seizures often seem directly related to Operatorture, where people get thrown around the outer edges of the Ark by the Operator and teleported, direct moments where people witness it.

That is what happens to Tim in Entry #65, and in Entry #86, Alex starts to have a seizure as he dies after getting thrown around.

Additionally, Jay straight up disappears for a moment before he has his seizure in Entry #72, and sure we don't know specifically what happened, but I think the implicative—and when he has his second seizure later its in the Ark already, or at least in the thing's domain, the shifting and ever hungry Rosswood.

Really, the only splinter in this theory is the fact that Tim doesn't produce more static when talking despite having the most experience with the Operator, but I have twoish answers for this.

Option A】 Tim just often doesn't get angry enough for us to see the static creep in. Probably due to his trauma and experiences in the institution, he just keeps a very tight hold on his emotions and tries not to get angry or upset, as a trauma response as showing those emotions while institutionalized got him in trouble. We only see him get angry really at his lowest—realizing Jay is a stalker, wondering if he is the source, chasing after Brian after blaming him for Jay's death. (Which was deserved.)

Even when fighting with Alex, Tim isn't that angry though. Honestly, his killing of him seems more panicked and impulsive than genuinely hateful or upset, especially considering his horrified reaction afterward.

That aside, he is very good at managing his emotions, and clearly someone who has been taught to deal with them privately or suppress and not show them. They're all wound up and clogged inside him or swallowed by numbness, but they're nothing like how clumsy anger and fear is spilling out of Alex and Jay constantly. Even when getting his medical records back, while he is annoyed he seems more tied than angry.

Tim just isn't an angry person, he isn't an emotional person at all really, burnt out on grief and trauma.

Still though, if you're skeptical of that let me offer option B】 As a system, Masky holds the memories/information about the Operator, and it is so overwhelming and there's so much from their life, protecting Tim from infection but in the process making her produces static even when idle and passive, like how Alex does towards the end of the series.

That is why it often causes video distortion or static when on screen, even when seemingly passive.

Yes, the body shares some symptoms of the infection despite Masky's best attempts to hide the trauma, [most notably the coughing*] but the reason Tim starts to produce static is because he is actually in a sense starting his own infection, like how Jay was at the start of the series.

⚹ I bring this up, but I don't think its too crazy to speculate that Tim's coughing is a product of his smoking habits, while Masky (when on screen) coughs because of her infection. Yes, in the tunnel Tim is coughing crazy but we know based on his behavior in Entry #64 and #65, when Jay encounters Tim in the car that it is probably a triggered Masky due to her limp expression, limping, and panicked irrational behavior. He could have been blurring at that point, hence why the infection seemed to bad.

Food for thought.

Additionally to all this, for a while there, Jessica is seemingly fine because she didn't remember the Operator. When we see her at the end of the series she is healthy y'know? Comfortable.

Yes, in the comics she deals with some Operator Infection, but that is only after Skully shows up and triggers her memories, bringing her out of remission.

I don't know, I think it is interesting and a seldom talked about aspect of the series. I think the "knowledge being dangerous" trope can be really iffy, but in Marble Hornets it works really well.

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[scary-lasagna]

hello! happy valentines day! can i request yan proxies or maybe ej on valentines day? would they do anything special? <33

All besides Toby, they wouldn't let their s/o know.

It wouldn't be fair for Tim and Brian to have only one special day out of the year to pour their love into their s/o when it should be every day of their lives. And for Jack...he just doesn't care much for human holidays.

Yan!Toby

"Ohhh my loovvee!~"

Although muffled, you could still barely make out the words approaching you.

The room spun, and your stomach felt like it was eating itself and daring to lurch from your throat simultaneously.

Your skull pounded, and there was no way you could even attempt to lift a finger with how weak you felt.

"Aw, I'm sorry you're not feeling good, my sweet." Toby cooed. "I know sometimes rules can be unfair, but I thought I could give some leniency since today's a super special day for us!"

He gently turned your head, placing a straw past your lips.

"You can have all the water you want today! Just not too much, or you might get sick."

You clung to that straw like a lifeline, after so many days of dehydration, you weren't sure if you'd make it through today before this.

"It's Valentines day, so I managed to snag you some chocolate too."

You haven't had chocolate since you've been chained down here, and god knows how long that's been. You're long past making scratch marks along the carpet molding of the empty room.

You're long past hope, but maybe if some more holidays come around, you'll gather up the strength to stand again.

[taylormarieee]

Ride or Die, baby Brian O'Conner

Summary: Brian was your ride or die, always...

Pairing: Brian O'Conner x Fem!black!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: PiV sex, Riding, cowgirl, Brian being a tease(as per usual), reader being shy, slight angst, Jealous Brian, Jealous reader

A/N: This is dedicated to @dollyfl1rt my love. I hope you like your surprise!

Brian and you were inseparable. He was your ride or die. He was your everything.

It kinda hurt when he started to get more closer with Suki then you. You usually weren't the jealous type when it came to Brian and women, he was a literal chick magnet. Plus Suki wasn't a bad person at all, she was a really good friend of yours.

But when they started hanging out and having nicknames for each other, it kinda hurt because it became as if you didn't exist.

You eventually started hanging out with Roman more and really liked the dude. You hung out with him almost as much as you use to hang with Brian.

You two always rode together, went out to eat together, and sometimes just took walks and talked about the past together.

Everything you did with Roman was what you used to do with Brian, and you felt bad. You weren't trying to hurt Brian, you just wanted his attention, and you felt that if you went up to him to express your feelings, they would come out sounding jealous or selfish.

You eventually started to kinda avoid Brian because you felt bad but was scared to get confronted.

Eventually Brian and you started to text again and he began to ask you why you were avoiding him...

{ Texts from last week... From both points of view...

Bri🎀- Why you avoiding me baby?

My baby🌺- I'm not avoiding you Brian, why do you think that?

Bri🎀- well for one, you never text my full name unless your mad

Bri🎀- and two, you haven't talked to me for the last two weeks baby, what's wrong?

My baby🌺 -Bri, I just... I feel a little jealous of Suki, like i'm not mad at her, or you!

My baby🌺 -I just feel like you're distancing yourself from me... so I'm doing things with Rome more.

My baby🌺 -I didn't wanna say anything because I felt like I would sound selfish... I just miss you

Bri🎀- Awww baby, I'm sorry... It's nothing I promise, I didn't even notice I was making you feel that way.

Bri🎀- I'll make it up to you. Next week I'll come by the garage, ok? Spend some time with my favourite girl, yeah?

My baby🌺- Ok! See you Bri, I luv you!

Bri🎀 - I love you too my sweet girl.}

Today's the day where Brian is coming to hang or talk with you. You see his car pull up and immediately smile. You notice Roman is with him so you walk up to greet them both.

"Hey Roman! Hey Brian!" You say as you walk up to them. You were currently working at the car wash where Tej usually is. You were wearing a green bikini top with matching bottoms but had a sarong wrapped around your waist.

Your toned skin glistening in the miami heat as you have slight water droplets coating your chest and legs.

"Hey girl. Wassup? How ya doin?" Roman asks. He smiles at you and gives you a side hug. "I'm surviving I guess." You respond with a chuckle, "Trying to get through the torture Tej is putting me through." You say smiling while using your hand to shield the sun from your eyes.

"Hey baby, you doin' ok?" Brian asks, finally speaking up. His tone sounded annoyed with the whole altercation between you two but his face showed to be soft and sincere, loving almost as he admires your body.

"I'm ok Bri, how are you? How's ya car?" You ask smiling at him. He smiles back at you noticing it's a different smile then the one you gave Roman, he loves when you have a special smile for him and him only.

"My car's ok. Lookin nice and pretty." He says smiling, "How's your baby?" He asks motioning to your car in the parking lot.

"Oh she's doing good. Lookin nice and pretty." You say smiling as you repeat what he just said.

He laughs and so do you. You both were so engulfed in your conversation you both didn't even notice Roman was long gone.

"You look good." He says, eyes glazing over your body. Your face heats up more than it already has and you smile.

"Thanks, don't look bad yourself." You say letting out a slight giggle. You always giggled when you were nervous and Brian picked up on the habit a couple months ago.

"Why you nervous baby? Hmm? I make you nervous?" He asks leaning in closer to you as your back is now flush with your car. He whispers in your ear.

"You don't make me nervous Bri... I'm just hot." You say wiping sweat of your forehead.

"Well I know your hot, I mean who wouldn't think your hot but I know when you giggle like that, your nervous. I know you like I know my car." He says, his blue irises staring you down intently.

His blonde curls framing his face, god how badly you wanted to tug on them.

Before your able to say anything back, Roman's voice brings you both out of your intense staring and breathing. The tension between you two finally cut.

"Yo Brian! Let's go. I'm hungry!" He says walking to the car. Brian glances at Roman before looking back at you again.

"Meet me at my place tonight at 8:30 got it?" He says smirking at you before walking away, he didn't need to get your answer because he already knew what it was.

He winks at you as he enters his car and drives off with Roman. You wave bye and Roman and Brian wave back.

-TIMEJUMP-

It was now approximately 8:23 pm and you were arriving at Brian's place now. You knock on the door and wait a couple seconds before Brian finally comes into view with just a towel on.

You quickly cover up your eyes, "Woah bri! Cover yourself you little slut!" You say chuckling and giggling nervously again.

Brian doesn't say anything he just stands there. You assume he's gone so you remove your hand from your face only to be met with brian so close to your face.

You met with his chest at first considering Brian is 6'2, and when you look up you see Brian staring you down with a smirk on his face.

"I'm only a slut for you." He says with the biggest smirk on his face. You both stare at each other for a couple of seconds before you both are bursting out laughing.

He caresses your cheek before grabbing your hand and guiding you in his home. He stares at you once he closes the door and pushes you against the wall.

"Your mine baby, all mine." He whispers against your neck as his hands roam all over your body.

You whimper at his touch enjoying the familiar feeling that has now turned intimate.

"Brian..." You breathe out. He hums in your ear and you tug on his curls. It isn't until your hands touch his chest that you realize he's completely naked besides the towel around his waist.

"Brian... I think we should- fuck- I think we should slow down..." You moan out trying to gain your composure but Brians hands are already undoing your skirt zipper in the back and lifting up your t-shirt.

"You've been a tease all week. Making me all sad whenever you're with Rome. Always laughing with him, being with him. I gotta say baby, you've made me jealous."

You roll your eyes and chuckle, "Your one to talk Brian, all that hanging with suki has made me jealous and I told you this."

He is now the one to chuckle as he nips at your neck and his hands roam over your clothed pussy. Your hips jolt forward as he runs his finger up and down your slit.

Your soaking through you panties and he feels every bit of it. "You know I don't like Suki though." He starts.

"And you also know that Suki and Tej are dating, you just wanted some attention because your horny and can't do anything about it." He says as he picks you up, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist.

"T-That was not the reason Brian!" You say tugging on his hair harder eliciting a moan from Brian's lips.

"See how your- fuck- see how your not denying the fact that you knew?" He says with that charming and mischievous smirk on his face that just displays "I told you so" energy.

"Your annoying you know that?" You retort.

"Yet, you want this dick badly don't you?" He asks with that shit eating grin on his face that you so badly wanted to slap off his face.

But the throbbing between your legs was getting in the way of that feeling and you suddenly find yourself shaking your head yes at his question.

That makes him smile as he carries you to his bed. Your left in your bra and underwear and Brian is left with nothing on. You feel the pre-cum leaking from his warm, sticky tip.

You moan out at the feeling of his tip poking at your entrance. "Yea you like that mama?"

"You know your my ride or die right Brian?" You whimper out, feeling his hands caress your thighs.

"Well I'm mean your gonna ride me till I die anyway so..." He says and you playfully slap his arm and laugh a bit. He always knew how to turn everything into a joke.

"Yea my love, I know. Ride or die always." He says as he lines his tip to your entrance. You flip him over with all your strength and sink down onto him as you land on him.

"Oh fu-fuck Brian!" You say as he fills you up nicely. You feel the delicious stretch his cock gives you and you begin to slowly rock back and forth on him.

He groans and you feel dizzy already. That was the effect Brian had on you. Constantly making you feel dizzy and nervous.

But right now your on top and you feel dominant but baby trust me, he's the one in control of everything. Your hips movements, him slowly thrusting up into you, everything.

He tugs on your bra and panties. He has to keep pulling them to the side as he holds your hands behind your back as he thrusts up into you.

Your crying out his name at this point feeling tears in the rim of your eyes. Your body glowing in the moonlight from the small window he has in his room.

He can't believe that your finally his to take, his to finally fuck every time he wins a race or loses a race. He just wanted you all to himself.

You felt comfort in knowing you were his as he was yours. No lady could ever touch him unless it was Suki and you of course.

You loved how possessive he was of you and boy when he finally brought you to your orgasm and he came inside you and held you tight as your hips weakly tried to help you through your high and his, you knew that he was the one forever.

Brian O'Conner, your ride or die till the end of time. Always.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @dustbunniess

[iamfartoolonelyformyowngood]

Marble Hornets Boys X Reader Christmas Headcanons

Merry Christmas! I love you all and thank you for the support. Feel free to request things in my asks btw!

📹~Alex Kralie~📹

-Alex gives extravagant gifts and tries his best to shower everyone he loves with presents.

-Art supplies, books, DVDs, albums, materials for any hobbies, video games. You name it he buys it for you.

-If you buy him anything he beams and gets extra affectionate. Secretly he dreams of you buying him a camera.

-"Oh! Thanks! I've been needing this for a few months. You're a star."

📷~Jay Merrick~📷

-Jay gives a few he feels you'd like. A book you mentioned, a special edition DVD of a movie you like. Things like that. Oh and incense, his go to gift for everyone.

-And a gemstone advent calendar his mother insisted on buying for you.

-Jay's attached to your hip all day and will cry if he gets a present. He will savour it for years.

-"You're my favourite present."

~🌻Brian Thomas🌻~

-Brian would buy some art supplies you mentioned liking and some food, his issue is that he always buys you things when you ask for them immediately so Christmas shopping is hard.

-You get random gifts from his brothers, one gives a sharktooth necklace, one a seashell, his 6 year old brother drew you in a drawing of his family (as a very flattering smiling stick figure besides a taller stick figure that represented brian.)

-His parents ask if you need a laptop or phone or anything too.

-Tim will give you some perfume or cologne or something, he wants to support your relationship but isn't the best with gifts.

-Brian's attached to your hip like Jay the whole day too.

-He's flattered and even gets a little flustered if he gets a gift. Maybe a silent tear or two.

-"Y-you really didn't have to do a thing for me!....but thanks."

~🚬Tim Wright🚬~

-Tim can't give many gifts due to lack of money.

-He gives you a few poorly done wood carvings he did at home and he buys you anything he can within his means.

-If he gets any gift he'll cry and hold you and tell you how much he appreciates you. He can count on one hand the number of gifts he got growing up, hell even a lot of his clothes were ones the hospital gave him, he stole or he found lying around the trailer. A gift from you is a gift from God.

-He may or may not drag you to visit Brian too.

-"I love you so much baby, you know that right? I'm the luckiest man alive to know I'm yours. I'll put in extra shifts at work if you need anything, okay?"

[totheseus]

SIMULATION SWARM

A brief Tim oneshot, mostly fluff. He didn't fancy himself such a greedy man. Despite this, he couldn't help but find himself stuck onto a familiar face at the coffee shop just a few moments too long.

The rough callous of his palm pressed flat against the stinging cold metal of the café door, pushing his way in. He breathed out a small puff of a sigh as he was met with the warmth, a calming relief from the winter. It seemed that no matter how many times Tim reminded himself that he didn't need a coat, he always did. As if life taunted him, the shuddering in his ribcage a joke from the world. 

It wouldn't have been the worst joke from the higher power, actually. To be frank, Tim's whole life had been nothing short of a shitshow from start to present. Whilst the other kids ran to the playground to play family and plotted to dig tunnels under the school fence gates that never did amount to anything, Tim's childhood was a blur of being milled about in cars, the hazy but drilling beeping of the hospital wards, the crunching of the forest floor beneath his feet. Pills, pills, pills. Have you taken your meds today? Why were you in the woods? You shouldn't say things like that, we'll have to pass it onto the higher-ups. Your parents will hear about this. Welcome to the newest ward! Pills, pills, pills- 

Tim often wished he could play family now. 

High school was his first taste of normalcy. He'd reached a homeostasis between sanity and his muted delusions, deemed fit enough to mix in with the rest. Sure, he arguably had a shittier time than more of the students he cared to admit, but quite frankly he didn't care about anything. Just a small dream, of a cosy life and a warm touch like he never felt before. He'd found himself a small group of friends, milling about to whatever club they fancied of him. It got easier over time, his act of mundanity. People believed it. 

You wouldn't believe the feeling, of others repeating back to you the narrative that you're normal, that there's nothing wrong with you after having been deprived of it for your existence from birth. 

Things were getting better. And then, Alex. Brian. Jay. 

The brunette seemed to flinch, as if slapped by his own subconscious for even sparing a thought for his... former associates, like an owner berating a dog for chewing up the shoes. He similarly seemed to shrink into himself, tail between his legs as he shuffled through the café floor. 

Fuck, it was so loud. He could recall the few jobs he'd managed to hold during that sweet spot in his life. A lot of noise, yelling, hot drinks spilt over his skin. At the very least, it had given him some sympathy for the poor workers bustling about at the counter. 

And then, there was you. The closest grasp he'd come to with balance. Things seemed to be falling into place - he'd secured a job, secured himself a little apartment. It wasn't the peak of life, but fuck would he take it. Normalcy, the one thing he'd craved for so long and it was finally so close he could taste it. And you seemed to be a gateway for it all, the vehicle to deliver him to the regular life he'd dreamed of. 

You weren't anything special, really. But that's what he wanted, what he craved. You had hobbies and interests, a select few you were passionate about. You studied in university and worked part-time to hopefully pay off some debt. You liked coffee and still scrunched your nose at the taste of alcohol despite friends egging you on. 

And you knew. You knew how it was, to be like him. 

After his chestnut eyes did a quick once-over, Tim shuffled into queue amongst the other coffee-hungry people. The sleep-deprived students had cleared out by now, leaving only people looking to wind down their evening with something hot. His hands twitched within his pockets, his restlessness making itself known despite the exhaustion that racked through his bones. Until, finally, he dragged himself forward to see your familiar face. 

You looked better than the last time he'd seen you, the black bags under your eyes having lessened a little. It wasn't that he worried for your health, more so that- 

"Hiya, what can I get for you?" Your friendly voice cut through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter. It must've melted some parts along the way too, because he found himself suddenly dumb-struck, lips parted as he struggled to formulate his order. 

"...Uh- uh, my- t-the usual," He finally stammered out, awkwardly clearing his throat afterwards as if it would drive away the flush of embarrassment that crept to his face. It did not. 

Not that you cared, as you began to mill about. Of course you didn't. 

His hands emerged from his pockets, a crumpled 5-dollar bill in one whilst the other toyed with the zipper of his jacket idly. He blurted out before his brain had time to catch up, a sudden show of boldness. 

"...U-Uh- h-how was your day?" He coughed out. Very brave. 

"Ah, pretty good! A little busier than usual, with the winter season and all," You called back over your shoulder with a warm chuckle, "Everyone's looking to warm up." 

Tim nodded. Did he nod too hard? "Y-yeah, noticed." Fuck, why'd he say that? What was he supposed to say now- 

"Got any plans over the break? Any parties?" You had tilted your head back, warm gaze meeting his with an aura of politeness about this. 

His brain scrambled in response. He, of course, did not have any plans, let alone parties. He practically had to bite his tongue from muttering to himself "people still go to parties...?" as he paused before grumbling out. "...Uh... yeah, jus'... family and things." 

Of course, he didn't want to seem like a total loser. He was, but you didn't have to know that. 

"Great to hear. I'm just looking to wind down for a bit, maybe get some studying done." Your responses were so smooth, as if you hadn't even stumbled twice over the thought. He found himself a tad envious. Just a tad. 

There was a brief brushing of skin as he shoved the creased bill and received his drink. An americano, no milk no sugar. The bitter taste on his tongue was a comfort in its crassness, like the hot cigarette smoke filtering into his lungs like an embrace from the inside. He muttered out a quick thanks as someone quickly brushed him aside to take his place, beginning to order something that sounded elaborate. He hesitated; legs stuck in place like cement as his eyes lingered on you. He knew he was about as wanted as the stench of a drug, clinging to the wool of a teenager's sweater before they staggered home, yet he couldn't help but indulge himself a little. 

You looked at him in such a way. As if you didn't want him gone like the miasma of death. Like he wasn't an infection biting at your skin. Like there was something more to life than a hollow existence that he wallowed in, and you wouldn't mind helping him out. 

That was... a little excessive, he knew. His mind slapped himself briefly, scolding him for getting caught up in his thoughts once more. But, he couldn't help but indulge just a tad. 

Maybe, sometime soon. For now, he thought he'd just enjoy his coffee.