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mischievousmoony · 3 months ago

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𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚘

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ a guy makes unwanted advances on you at a frat party, and the president comes to your aid ⊹ 3.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: alcohol, unwanted advances + touching and sexist comments from another character, james gets aggressive confronting said character, american!james hehehe (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By your third visit to the crowded, beer-scented kitchen, your features have set into a deep scowl. You groan, slumping against the wall—only to immediately push yourself off, unwilling to let the exposed skin of your back come into contact with any part of the frat house you're in. Was the wall sticky, or have you started sweating from the heat of all the drunk bodies around you? Either option makes you cringe.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Frat parties weren’t exactly your ideal night out, but your best friend had dragged you to this one with the promise of a fun time. But your night has quickly turned into a wild goose chase after she disappeared with some guy.

"Are you okay?" a voice calls from your left, barely audible over the music that's starting to make your head pound. You realize that you had started pinching the bridge of your nose. When you lower your hand and turn your head, you find a pair of kind eyes staring down at you.

He introduces himself as Todd after you explain that you've been looking for your friend for half an hour to no avail. With a sympathetic smile, he offers to help, which you gratefully accept. Anything to find your friend and put this dreadful night to an end.

"Are you, like, one of the brothers?" you ask, noticing the letters on Todd's cap as you follow him through the house, but it's a little too dark to make them out. Not to mention, you don't really remember which fraternity your friend even brought you to tonight.

"Nah," Todd shouts over his shoulder. "Not here." He doesn't provide any more information than that as he changes the subject, suggesting the two of you search the backyard.

"I thought the yard was off limits,” you shout as you speed walk to catch up with him. He’s walking so fast that you barely have time to consider why he would think your friend would be outside.

Stepping into the cold, he explains, "Apparently their neighbors complained about the noise last weekend, so they're trying to keep the party inside. But a couple of quiet people shouldn't be an issue. It's nice to be away from all the noise, eh?"

You shudder when the night air hits you, hugging your arms around yourself tightly and attempting to smooth away the goosebumps already prickling on your skin.

"Maybe if it wasn't freezing."

You look around at the back yard, finding it completely empty except for a thin layer of fallen leaves and scattered beer bottles hidden in the uncut grass. Todd is leading you straight across the lawn, farther away from the house and any source of light. You’re starting to get a weird feeling about this—and Todd—so you slow to a stop while he continues to head deeper into the darkness.

"Hey, I don't think my friend is gonna be out here. I'm gonna keep looking inside–"

"What's the rush?" Todd's demeanor changes when he notices you’re falling behind. He quickly closes the distance between the two of you again in two strides.

You release a dry laugh, realizing that you've been too trusting, and your tone turns serious. "I should really find my friend."

"You said she was with a guy, right? C'mon just let her have her fun." Todd drops his voice an octave, trying to sound seductive, but it comes across embarrassingly forced. "Maybe we can have some fun too."

When he reaches to touch the side of your face, your mood starts to change from a little let down and slightly annoyed to seriously pissed off.

"Don't," you say coldly, jerking your head away from his touch.

"Aw, c'mon," he continues to try to coax you, still somehow thinking he has a chance at convincing you. When his fingers graze your sides, you shout at him to keep his hands off, but instead, he slides them to your waist, holding you firmly.

"Let go!" you demand, planting you hands firmly on his shoulders and pushing. He chuckles at your feeble attempts, making you angrier, so you switch tactics. You wrap your hands around his wrists and pry his hands off, applying a pressure to the inside of his wrists that makes him release you with a hiss.

There's an angry voice in the distance shouting "Hey!" presumably at the two of you. You hear the steady sound of footsteps growing louder—one of the brothers probably coming to yell at you for sneaking into their backyard. You're a little too busy to care as you stomp away from Todd.

Todd doesn’t seem to notice the newcomer either. Too absorbed in the sting of your rejection, he starts getting angry too.

"Don't be such a prude," he snaps. He catches your wrist and pulls you back to him with a swift tug, spinning you around to face him. You draw your free arm back, using the extra momentum from the spin to your advantage as you punch him squarely in the jaw.

The punch throws him off balance, sending him stumbling back. His foot catches on an empty beer bottle, twisting his ankle as he loses his footing and crashes onto the grass with a heavy thud.

You stand above him, a little stunned at your actions. Todd is whining pathetically about the pain from the punch to his face, and the pain from the fall to his ass.

Someone jogs up beside you, and you can feel their gaze darting back and forth between you and Todd.

"Nice punch," he says, a little out of breath.

"Thanks," you reply flatly, only now starting to process that you—with the help of a beer bottle—sent this man tumbling to the ground.

"Alright," the mystery man says like he's about to get to work. He steps into your line of sight, looming over Todd for a moment.

He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from under a red baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. The cap matches his letterman-style jacket, which clings to his broad frame, drawing attention to his muscular body. Under different circumstances, this is a view you’d appreciate.

He bends down and grabs Todd by the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. Even with both of them standing, he still towers over him.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks Todd, his casual words contrasting with his abrasive tone.

"That slut just punched me!" Todd shrieks.

You roll your eyes. How pathetic.

He tightens his grip on Todd's shirt collar, using it to shake him roughly. "Watch your fucking mouth or I'll be the next," he threatens, and Todd goes quiet.

Your eyes widen at his sudden sharpness. Almost involuntary, you shift your position, angling yourself to get a clear look at the boy’s face. Black rimmed glasses sit lazily on the bridge of his nose, under his furrowed brow as he glares daggers at Todd. His eyes are big and brown, almost seeming out of place against the hard scowl carved into his features.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "First, you’re blacklisted. You’re never stepping foot in my house again. And what's this?"

He plucks Todd's hat off his head, inspecting the letters with a scoff before tossing it to the ground. "Of course. I'm sure nationals will be happy to hear about how you've conducted yourself tonight."

Todd's eye twitches at the threat. "Let's not pretend I was doing anything she didn’t want. Look at the way she’s dressed—flaunting herself, just begging for attention."

"What did you just say?" he seethes.

"James, c'mon," Todd says, revealing the name of the taller boy. He speaks with a nonchalance that makes James' nostrils flare, angered by his dismissiveness of the situation.

You begin to wonder how they know each other when James sets him straight.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My friends call me James, you don't get to call me shit. The fuck do you think this is, man? I catch you in my backyard putting your hands on a girl who clearly doesn't want anything to do with you and you think you can talk to me like we're friends? I don't even know who the hell you are."

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head by now. It feels like you’ve been dropped into a scene from a movie—an exposé on the dark side of greek life, or maybe the mafia. Not knowing much about either, it’s hard to say, but the backward hats and pounding music from the house quickly remind you of where you are.

James lowers his voice, his tone dipping into something almost menacing. "But I’ll find out from your brothers, and when I do, you’re finished here. Done. Now come on."

Todd flinches as one of James' hands clasps over the back of his neck with a sharp smack. There were some other guys you hadn't noticed before back near the house, to whom James hands Todd over.

Once James notices that you're still standing in the middle of the yard, he jogs back over. On his way, he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair to loosen his curls.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, vastly different from the one he used on Todd. "Are you okay?"

The change in his demeanor catches you off guard. You exhale while you collect your thoughts, a steamy white cloud filling the space as your warm breath meets cool air.

"That was intense," you say. You don’t mean to dodge his question, but he did just switch from mafia boss levels of threatening to sunshine and rainbows.

James breathes out a laugh. "Sorry about that. Gotta be a hardass with some of these dicks, especially ones like that. Part of the job."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, wondering what job he's talking about.

James reads your expression, and stands up a little straighter as he introduces himself. "President James, at your service." With an exaggerated wink, he tugs at the edge of his jacket, pulling it taut to show off the letters sewn over his chest.

You nod in understanding. "Well, thank you for stepping in, Mr. President," you say, a slight tease coloring your tone.

A smile like sunshine overtakes his lips. "No need to thank me, really. Anyway, you handled it pretty well before I got here. That was some punch—is your hand alright?"

You had forgotten about that. Splaying your fingers out in front of you, you inspect your knuckles. "Mhm. Fine. I don't think I can feel my limbs anyway." You wrap your arms back around yourself, the cold become almost unbearable in your tank top.

"Shit, yeah, it's cold out here, isn't it?" James holds his hat between his teeth, freeing his hands as he strips off his jacket. Your eyes linger on his toned arms for a moment too long, and suddenly his hat has made its way back onto his head and he's holding his jacket out for you.

"May I?" he asks.

As much as you want to say no, you truly are freezing, so you let yourself be draped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. The fabric has an unexpected weight to it, almost offering a comfort similar to an embrace.

James rubs his hands up and down over newly blanketed arms to encourage some warmth into them. James studies your face with softened eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hey, listen... I'm really sorry that happened to you. Everything he said, and did–"

"It's alright," you interrupt.

"It's not. That shouldn't be happening. Not at my house—not anywhere. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that creep. And if you wanted to take it to the school, I'd be more than willing to–"

"No, no. That's more trouble than he's worth."

James nods, respecting your decision. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna make sure he won't be allowed in any of the parties around here anymore. I doubt I can get him completely blackballed, but I'll do what I can."

You offer James a small smile in response. You're glad to hear that, really, but now that Todd's gone and that's all over, your main concern is finding your friend and getting the hell out of here.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home?" he offers, almost like he can read your mind. His kind, brown eyes almost make you want to say yes. But after the night you've had, you owe it to yourself to be a little less trusting.

"I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek while you decide if you should disclose your current dilemma. James does seem eager to help. Deciding to tell him, you say, "I was looking for my friend."

James is quick to offer his assistance. "Who's your friend? Maybe I can help."

You tell him your friends name and recount what she was doing when you saw her last. "She ran off with this guy. Long black hair, leather jacket, I think I heard his name but it was something... unique."

James sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like Sirius."

"Sirius, yes! That was his name." You're momentarily excited, thinking that James could actually help, but the look on his face squashes the feeling promptly.

"Yeah, uh," James scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sirius left with a girl like an hour ago. About yay high," he holds his hand out to your friend's height. "Tan. Brown hair."

You sigh. Some best friend you have. Here you are, searching for her endlessly, and she's ditched you at the party she brought you to.

"She was your ride, I’m guessing?" The corner of James' lip quirks up in a sorry half-smile as you nod. "It really is no trouble for me to drive you home."

You tap your foot on the ground anxiously. You're really wanting to just accept his offer. He seems nice enough, but there's still a little voice in the back of your mind telling you to be careful.

"I just... I don't really know you."

"Understandable," James starts. "But... you kinda do. I'm pretty sure we have chem together."

"I don't think so." You think you’d remember a muscly, likely rambunctious, frat boy in your boring chem class.

"Okay, I was playing it cool,” James’ teeth graze his lower lip in a bashful manner. “I know we have Chem together—with Professor Brown? Tuesdays and Thursdays. You sit in the front row. Y/N, right?" James looks a little sheepish as he recalls your name.

You nod slowly, really looking at James for the first time, trying to place him. Then it hits you—you do remember him. He sits a few seats down from you in chem, always rigorously taking notes and asking questions you wouldn’t have thought of (but are glad to have the answers to). Seeing him like this, though, is such a contrast to the smart guy from class that you didn’t even recognize him at first.

You feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You’ve only ever spared him a few glances, but you’ve always thought the smart guy from chem was pretty cute.

"Oh. Oh, right. I–I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You're James Potter." You try the name on your lips, realizing the name didn't click because you had only ever heard your professor call him by his last name.

"That's me," he grins. "And don't worry about it."

You give him a nod, a bit awkwardly. He seems like a good guy, but you’re still not sure if you want to get in his car. "Well, James, I should probably just call an Uber or something anyway. I don't know if you've been drinking or anything so..."

"Oh!" James holds up a finger, stuffing his other hand into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle. You mistake it for one of those big, clunky box vapes and almost want to roll your eyes. But then, James surprises you by blowing into it instead of breathing in.

The device beeps, and he shows you the little digital screen, previously hidden behind his hand, that reads "0.00" over a glowing green background.

"Haven't had a drop," he confirms. "I haven't smoked or anything else, either. Not my thing."

"Why do you own a breathalyzer?" you ask, a little dumbfounded.

"So I can breathalyze people," he shrugs, fiddling with the device—tossing it a few inches up in the air and catching it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not satisfied with his non-answer.

“Sorry,” James chuckles at himself. "Uh, I have a lot of people leaving my parties trying to tell me they're sober enough to drive. I got loads of these ‘cause they can't argue with the numbers... as much as they might try to."

"Where did you even get that?" you ask. You can't imagine there's a very big market for personal breathalyzers.

"You can get almost anything with Prime delivery!" he says it like he's proud as he tucks it back into his pocket. "Hey, you want one? I've got a drawer full back in the house." He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head at his offer. James laughs along with you, his lips curling into a boyish grin.

Well, if you’re going to put your trust in anyone else tonight it, it might as well be the smart boy from chem who takes safety seriously enough to own multiple breathalyzers.

You start walking towards the house. When you don’t hear a set of footsteps following behind, you call over your shoulder, "Come on."

James catches up quickly, happy to be invited to join you. "Where are we going?"

"To your car so you can give me a ride home."

From the corner of your eye, you watch his face break out into a wide grin. And from there on out, there's an extra pep in his step as he leads you to his car.

When you're safe and sound, back in the comfort of your own room, you flop onto your bed with a dreamy look on your face. You hug the jacket closer to your body, thankful for the excuse to talk to him in chem on Tuesday. Little did you know, he let you keep the jacket so that you'd have one.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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hexane-nightmares · 8 months ago

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I've recently created the stupidest camera.

120 film, takes 68 format macro shots.

Body and shutter: a box brownie.

Lens: a broken Canon EF 50mm f/1.8. Which isn't a medium format lens. However, the lens is so far from the film that it should mostly cover the medium format frame.

The obvious side effect of this is the changed focal distance: 51.5mm from lens to subject, which cannot be adjusted.

Aperture: fixed and unknown.

Shutter speed: set by the brownie, so only 1/45 ish or Bulb.

In theory this thing should have excellent image quality (the 50 1.8 is surprisingly nice) and be a nightmare to actually use. Note the almost total lack of exposure control, so I will probably only be able to control exposure with flash or filters, or just having the correct lighting to start with.

#medium format #macro #experimental photography #experimental film #box brownie

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dumbkiri · 1 month ago

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𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ρℓσт: second year at basgaith did not start out the way you wanted. xaden left you behind breaking his promise to you. luckily for you, some memories can be erased.

αηgѕт

ησтє: I changed up the timeline of events to fit this prompt. This is a reader insert, but you do have blue eyes. Just wanted to warn ya, but I need you to somewhat resemble Liam/Sloane. And yes, Sgaeyl enjoys your company :) Lenin is the offspring of Sgaeyl/Tairn cuz y not? and you have a cool ass signet...obviously this is made for fun! apologies for typos in names and shiii not proofread!

“I will never leave you behind.”

That is what he promised you the year before Violet Sorrengail came into his life. Xaden Riorson hadn’t broken a commitment and you never thought he could. He trained you, made you stronger in the year you first joined Basgaith College. Then there were moments you two shared behind closed doors, moments you believed you could only have between each other.

Then second year came around and you could not believe how fickle his resolution could become. His declaration of loyalty melted in the palm of her hands like she held onto him the entire time. Like she knew him all these years of creating the rebellion and rebuilding his home, your home. It didn’t matter that his life was tied to hers. No, that was an excuse. He got close to her and now people wouldn’t stop talking about how he ditched you for Violet.

You did your best to laugh about the teasing remarks or smile at the reassurances your friends made. But they hurt more than anything because the truth lies within their words.

With their pitiful looks, it felt like they told you, ‘Read between the lines, [Name]. He dropped you for silver. Time to move on.’

And to make matters worse? Xaden made your brother act as her bodyguard. You couldn’t even spend time with Liam because he was wrapped up in his duty of being Violet’s friend and protector. You’d hope that you would have time with Liam to catch up between all the letters you sent to him. Yet every time you tried to catch his attention, he would hug you with a grin then say ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll be back. I promise.’ He left you to go follow Violet like a puppy.

Not only that, your best friend is also training her! You hadn’t had her by your side in what felt like forever. You usually wake up early to spar with Imogen, instead you have to deal with Garrick and his huge body. God, you felt so alone in your stupid room reminding you of their presence. Xaden’s shirts, Liam’s wooden figurine of Lenin and Imogen’s stupid training dummy.

Everyone that spent time with you is now focused on Violet Sorrengail.

“You are not alone, Dagger,” Lenin said, his voice washing over you like ocean waves, “You have me and I think this is the time to push further with your signet.”

He is right, you have better things to focus on. You pushed yourself off your bed and sat yourself in the middle of the room. You closed your eyes and felt yourself leaving your dorm room. Turns out your signet isn’t really cloaking, it’s manipulating matter and energy. Cloaking works because you manipulate the speed of light to slow it down allowing you to force it around your body or other subjects. So when an outsider looks at you or the tested objects, they would have no idea of your presence.

“You still have no idea how it works, do you?” The dagger on your nightstand vibrated with pure power waiting for you to tap into it.

“I’m working on the explanation, okay,” You laughed in your old bedroom. Pushing yourself up from the carpeted floor, you walked over to the night stand and picked up the vibrating dagger. You wonder how your friends tap into their bond. How they picture their dragons.

Lenin called you Dagger the moment he accepted you as his rider. It was a nice sentiment and better than most nicknames others receive.

“It fits you,” Lenin hummed, “You killed that group with only a dagger and now you are unstoppable in any challenge you face. You give that oaf a run for his money.”

“Lenin, his name is Garrick and he’s a nice guy! An oaf is a crazy way to describe someone you met once!” You barked out, a giggle shaking your body with happiness.The dagger grew warmer in your hold and you gripped it tight. This is when your signet proved to be at its best, when you were happy. And Lenin knew this.

“Try cloaking yourself then moving some objects around you, one at a time,” Lenin growled in warning, “We do not want you chucking me out the window again.”

“Hey! That was by accident, besides Liam made another figurine of you! Can you imagine if the one of Sgaeyl was thrown out? Yeesh, you think she’d forget about me too?”

You sat back down in your previous spot and allowed yourself to focus on your breathing. Lenin hummed in your head, filling it with memories of your first flight with him. Honestly the best feeling after a storm is being reborn in the evening light with a dragon to call your protector.

“My mother enjoys our flights out together, it’s a shame Shadow is preoccupied with whatever he does in the dark.”

“Oh, I know! We can invite your mom to fly with us. We can go early tomorrow that way Xaden doesn’t know! What do you say to that?”

The way Lenin hummed in satisfaction knew you made him happy with that suggestion. “She would love that, Dagger.”

……

“Hey, [N.Name], you in here?”

Imogen knocked twice on your bedroom door then waited for your response. Five beats of silence went by and she looked over her shoulder at the group with a raised eyebrow.

“Seems like she’s out,” She removed her hand from the door knob and took one step back until Xaden’s gruff voice stopped her.

“Open the door and we’ll see if she’s actually gone.”

Imogen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “Alright, look. No offense to Violet, but [Name] will not be interested in training her. Especially when we…” The pink haired female moved her hand around lazily, hoping for Xaden and Liam to get the point without having to explain it right in front of Violet.

“When you guys what?” Violet questioned looking at the three of them, confusion stapled onto her face.

Xaden shook his head and said, “Doesn’t matter, right now Violet needs her help. Liam is here to convince her and you’re here to open her door.”

Imogen never liked this idea in the first place. Talk about violating one’s privacy for another’s benefit. She just hoped you would forgive her when they all walked into your room uninvited. Imogen placed her hand on the handle and opened it up while holding her breath.

She hadn’t seen you in awhile. Only briefly in classes then she had to go training with Violet. Yet her training wasn’t enough, Violet needed to get better with daggers. Xaden had the bright idea of asking the expert, Cloak and Dagger, to teach the silver-haired girl. Damn it, if only Imogen was a better teacher you wouldn’t have to be dealing with a pain like this.

Watching your crush hover over another girl.

Even Sgaeyl disapproved of Xaden’s choice. The blue dragon always had a liking for you and she would lean over you if someone got too close in the field. Now the female dragon has to deal with Violet Sorrengail and her weak nature.

“I’m working on the explanation, okay?”

Your bubbly laugh hit Imogen in the heart with a pang of guilt. She kind of forgot your laugh, but she couldn’t admit that to you. Imogen slowly walked in and watched you sit in the middle of the room with the dagger you earned from Garrick floating a foot just above your lap.

Your eyes were closed which allowed her and the rest to walk into your room. Someone closed the door behind her, but Imogen’s eyes were glued onto you. How can you not get any cooler than this?

The floating dagger spun a few times and you laughed again, “Lenin, his name is Garrick and he’s a nice guy! An oaf is a crazy way to describe someone you met once!”

Liam coughed out a laugh and everyone turned their heads at him. He shrugged his shoulders and whispered, “I don’t think she can hear us. She explained before that when she taps into the bond with Lenin, a cloak is automatically draped over the both of them. Think of mega-shields.”

“Hey!” You suddenly shouted making everyone freeze, then you said, “That was by accident, besides Liam made another figurine of you! Can you imagine if the one of Sgaeyl was thrown out? Yeesh, you think she’d forget about me too?”

Imogen sighed out in relief, letting the breath she was holding out. Then anger flared her system up. Your words sunk in and she looked at Liam and Xaden, “This is exactly what I meant by what we did. We dropped her because of you.” She pointed at Xaden then moving her glare towards Violet, “I get it, you guys have mated dragons, but I don’t know what is going on with [Name]. She’s my best friend and ever since I’ve been stuck on training duty, I haven't known for a while what's going on and the only one who really keeps in contact with her is Garrick and Bodhi.”

“[Name] knows that isn’t the truth,” Liam’s smile fell and he stepped up to Imogen, “She also knows how important it is to keep Violet alive. If she dies, Xaden dies. Do you know how important that is?”

Imogen squared Liam up, ready to defend her best friend, you, “I do, but Violet’s survival relies on her now. A friend we all dropped since Violet bonded with Sgaeyl’s mate. How would you react if your friends, who forgot about you, barged into your room uninvited then asked for your help in training that girl? I don’t think you understand that your sister has feelings. Or did you forget about that too?”

“Oh, I know! We can invite your mom to fly with us. We can go early tomorrow that way Xaden doesn’t know! What do you say to that?” You chirped and the dagger spun faster this time and you disappeared in a blink of an eye. Then small items around your dorm began floating one at a time. First it was Sgaeyl’s figurine on top of a shelf that floated, disappeared, reappeared then placed gently back in its place. Next it was one of Xaden’s shirts then your notebook.

“Sgaeyl likes [Name]?” Violet piped up with genuine surprise. Yet the tense atmosphere flicked on like a light and the spinning dagger stopped moving. In a second, Violet swore, the dagger’s edge was pointed in her direction and it shot towards her.

“Violet!” Andarna shouted.

“Silver One, get down!” Tairn ordered.

Time slowed down and Violet forced herself to drop towards the floor. When she did, time resumed and the dagger embedded itself into the wall behind Violet meanwhile a wall of shadows rose up too late to protect her.

“What. The. Hell!” You shouted, uncloaking yourself, and glaring at the people in your room. Your blue eyes flashing dangerously as you stood up and briskly walked over to the wall to retrieve your dagger. “I could have killed her! Killed you!” You spat while pulling the dagger out of the wall with ease.

“What are you guys doing in my room?” You asked, frustrated that everyone is left stupified by what happened.

“We,” Liam began looking at the hole made in the wall. You really could have ended four lives in one second. A second that Xaden reacted too late to save Violet. Liam helped Violet up and continued on, “We wanted to ask for your help. Violet needs expertise in challenges and she likes using daggers. I suggested that-”

“Did you suggest or did Xaden tell you?” You asked, putting the dagger into the sheath at your hip. When Liam hesitated to answer you moved your attention to Imogen, “And you, you used your privilege to allow them into my room? I almost killed Violet, Imogen!”

“[Name],” Imogen called out softly and she put her hand on your arm to calm you down, “I’m sorry, but Liam is right. Violet needs your help and I tried all that I could. You’re more skilled and patient than I am. Also yes, Xaden did tell us to do this.”

You closed your eyes and leveled out your breathing.

“Lenin, they could have died. Your parents,” You reached out to him and he didn’t hesitate to reach back.

“It’s okay, Dagger,” Lenin hummed, “Andarna saved Violet, you need not worry.”

You opened up your eyes and sighed. You couldn’t forgive yourself if Lenin came to hate you. The only reason why you weren’t alone was because he stuck by your side. “I’m not interested in training duties. As you can tell, I’m busy working on my signet. It obviously needs work.”

You turned your back on them and waved a dismissive hand at them, “You can walk yoruselves out.” They mumbled behind you and then the door closed right after. Yet you still felt his demanding authority.

“Your signet isn’t cloaking, is it?”

“Obviously not, Xaden,” You answered back, gathering some of his shirts in your arms. This was the perfect moment to return them since he spared some time to talk to you. For her. He was only here for her, you grimly reminded yourself.

“I found out at the beginning of this year, you would have known if you asked how I was doing,” You were not at all ready to face him. Knowing that this could be your goodbye to him. He may have let you go, but you wanted to hold onto him a little longer.

“I can manipulate light and matter,” You explained, keeping your eyes glued to the floor, clutching onto his shirts like a lifeline, “I can cloak multiple items and even Lenin despite his size. Right now, I’m messing around with the space surrounding objects to lift them up. I wanted to learn how to cloak other dragons like Sgaeyl or Deigh or Glane. But you guys are too busy. So I’m focusing on the levitating part of my signet.”

“That’s incredible,” He said with unfeigned amazement.

You couldn’t help, but agree with him. The smile on your face bringing back the dazzle in your blue eyes, “Right? I mean if I can cloak multiple dragons at once, imagine how any battle will go. Our enemies won’t know we’re coming and-”

“I miss this girl,” Sgaeyl interrupted you and Xaden felt her pride rise, “Leninach knows exactly how to choose a strong rider. And I wouldn't mind flying with them again either.”

“Then tell your son to convince her to train Violet,” Xaden said, “You do that then we will fly with them.”

“I’ll fly with them with or without you,” She growled.

“-and I want to apologize for almost killing Violet. I didn’t recognize her voice.” You finished and looked into his dark eyes.

Xaden tilted his head in a slight angle, “Liam did mention that you are blocked out from the world when you channel. But the moment Violet spoke, you threw the dagger her way. Tell me that wasn’t intentional.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed his shirts at him which he caught effortlessly. “I told you I didn’t recognize her voice. And Liam is half-correct. When I channel, I feel this cold washing over my body like ocean waves. That’s the whole cloaking bit. He calls it mega-shields, leave it to my brother to come up with something corny.”

You walked over to your bed and sat on the cushion of it. You brushed the ripples on your sheets away and said, “Regular shields block out anyone, friend or foe. Mega-shields block out my friends because when I channel I know I’m safe around them. So when I channel to use the levitating part of my signet, I’m left vulnerable. Which means I’m more perceptive of foes or people I don’t trust. Violet isn’t an enemy, but she certainly isn’t my friend either.”

“You’d like her,” Xaden cut in, “She’s smart like you and she’s dealing with a group that is targeting her because she’s the general’s daughter and Tairn is her dragon.” He said it because he knew you’d relate to her. During your first year, a group targeted you because you were very close to Xaden and your dragon was the third largest dragon known. Yet unlike you, she didn’t kill the people that went after her. Not yet.

You vividly remember the year of your Threshing. The way the fog clouded your vision, the rain washed the blood off your clothes. The first time you heard Lenin speak to you with pride. You killed six people with the dagger you earned from Garrick during challenges. But the seventh was saved for Lenin.

“She’s nothing like me,” Your bite was cold with truth, “I killed those that came for me during my Threshing. She let Jack Barlowe run away. I broke my opponents bones and sliced them up with my dagger in challenges, she poisoned them. I can mount my dragon despite his huge size and hold onto him while flying. I don’t need Lenin to hold me down with lesser magic.”

Xaden grabbed the chair at your desk and sat on it. He rested his forearms on his knees and leaned in with heavy shoulders. Yeah, you were right. Violet couldn’t even hold a candle to you, but his convincing needed…convincing.

Xaden looked into your blue eyes in what felt like forever and his demeanor softened up. He remembered how well you tore down his walls even when you glared at him like that. You always had that effect on him and he missed it. He hadn’t been able to relax ever since Violet bonded with Tairn. Couldn’t walk past you without Sgaeyl snarling at him for his indifference.

“[Name], please I don’t want to argue with you. I need you to do this. You’re the only one that can help her.”

“Wow, you got him to beg,” Lenin chuffed.

You rolled your eyes and mulled about the idea of training Violet. Is it possible to train a fragile girl like her? The only thing she’s got going for her is her intelligence. So what? All you had to do was get her to manage her dagger skills as well or even better than you.

“I’ll give her a week to pick up my technique,” You stood up from the bed and walked over to your door, “If she doesn’t learn at least some of it, she’s a lost cause, got it?”

“A week,” Xaden agreed and he pushed himself off your chair. Then he stood right in front of you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You reeled back from the action and said, “It was good to see you, Xaden.”

You opened the door for him and gently pushed him out of your room. He nodded his head silently and let you lead him out. He missed the feeling of your hands on him and missed when you smiled at him. Xaden will admit his thoughts have been clouded by Violet for many reasons.

I don’t think you understand that your sister has feelings.

Imogen’s shout at Liam from earlier echoed in his head. She was right, [Name] had every right to refuse them. Xaden neglected her feelings for him while also pushing his feelings for her away in the back of his mind. Now that his life was tethered to Violet’s he couldn't afford not to protect her with all he could.

He expended his friends and family’s time to revolve around Violet. Now he was making you swallow a heavy pill by having you instructing the girl that took him from you.

“So how did it go?” Liam asked when you closed your door on them, not even saying goodbye to him or Imogen. The action hurt Liam and Imogen, yet they did not try to argue with you.

Xaden sighed and said, “Violet has one week to learn [Name]’s technique. If she doesn’t catch on to any of it, consider Violet a lost cause. Her words, not mine.”

“Great,” Violet mumbled, not at all confident in her skill.

……

When night came, Imogen struggled to fall asleep in her bed. Not even Glane’s words of reassurance helped her to get a wink of sleep. Instead Imogen spent her time glaring holes into her ceiling thinking about today’s events.

The hurt and anger in your face plagued her mind.

BAM! BAM!

Two heavy knocks rattled Imogen’s door and she shot up in her bed in alarm. She jumped out of her sheets when she heard Garrick on the other side of the door, voices rushed and drowned out on the other side.

Imogen jogged over to her door and opened it up to spot Garrick and Bodhi looking at her worriedly. Then Garrick said, “You need to open [Name]’s door again. It’s an emergency.”

The pink-haired girl followed her friends and asked, “What is going on? Is she okay?”

Garrick shook his head, “Well if what she’s being accused of is true, then no. She will be in trouble.”

Imogen looked down the dark hall and spotted Xaden pacing in front of your door with bloodied knuckles and shadows twisting haphazardly around the halls. She needed to know what happened. “Xaden, what is going on?”

Xaden stopped pacing and pointed at your door, “Open it now.”

Imogen didn’t hesitate this time, the fury in his voice moved her and she opened her friend’s bedroom door. Inside it was dark and when the mage light flicked on, your bed was empty and made.

“She’s not here,” Imogen told the boys and she glared at them, “Now can one of you tell me what’s going on? Why the hell am I being woken up at the crack ass of dawn?”

Xaden, obviously pissed, zoned out and everyone knew he was reaching out to Sgaeyl.

Bodhi stepped up to speak and said, “Violet was attacked by the unbonded riders. She said that the one who wasn’t caught left the hallway like a shimmer. Like [Name]’s cloaked shimmer.” He looked at Imogen with nervousness like he sensed her anger.

Imogen couldn’t believe it. She dragged the males into your warded room one by one. Then she closed the door behind her and yelled at them, full on shouting at their stupidity, “You have got to be kidding me! You guys really believe [Name] would let unbonded riders attack Violet? She just agreed to train her! You cannot be this fucking stupid!”

Then she had to hit the nail on the coffin. Your cloak doesn’t shimmer anymore. It did when you first developed your signet, but when Xaden encouraged you to get rid of that shimmer you achieved that goal in two months. How could the guys forget this? It’s like after all this distance they put between them and you made them forget how your signet works!

“Her cloak doesn’t shimmer, dumbasses!”

But Xaden was out the door already, his hands clenched up in his frustration.

“Where are you going?” Garrick called out to him.

“To the flight field,” Xaden responded, his steps heavy with determination to get your truth.

……

You stretched your limbs after dismounting Lenin with a smile on your face, looking at the two dragons before you. Your bright blue eyes landed on the blue dragon and you bowed your head, “Thank you Sgaeyl for joining us. I know that after Xaden stopped hanging out with me, we don’t go on our flights anymore.”

Sgaeyl leaned down and huffed into your face, a sign of acceptance.

“She says ‘I look forward to early flights with you now’,” Lenin chuffed.

You reached your hand out to the blue dragon and avoided eye contact with her. You waited for her to boop your palm with her snout and after a few seconds she indulged in your request. The grin on your face washed away the moment you heard Xaden shout at you.

“Back the hell away from Sgaeyl!”

In surprise you turned around and watched Xaden in his flight jacket and uniform make his way towards you. Angry didn’t even begin to describe Xaden, he was beyond pissed and it was directed at you. Was he seriously mad that you went out flying with Sgaeyl and Lenin?

“Lenin, what happened?” You asked your dragon, taking one step backwards into his warm chest.

“The Silver One was attacked,” Lenin answered.

He snarled and leaned his neck down, guarding you from Xaden’s line of sight.

“You are agitating Lenin,” Sgaeyl warned Xaden.

Xaden stopped a few feet away from the pair of dragons and took a deep breath in. Upsetting a blue dragon is not on his bucket list. Neither was threatening a black dragon’s rider.

So he started off slowly, “Did you let unbonded riders in Violet’s room?”

You owlishly blinked behind Lenin’s cover and scoffed. You just came back from flying and he’s asking you about such a thing. An action like this is damaging for your reputation, to your friends and squad. Walking away from Lenin’s protection, you made your way to Xaden to stand in front of him. “You seriously asking me that question? Why would I let unbonded riders into her room? The only way they can bond to Tairn is if she dies, but newsflash Xaden, Tairn and Sgaeyl will die if she does!”

“She said that one got away and that they left with a shimmer, only your cloak shimmers,” He growled out. Then he grabbed you by your shoulders, his fingers digging into your flesh, “Don’t tell me that your jealousy got the best of you that you had to kill Violet. Tell me you aren’t that petty to kill her, us, or me!”

Did he truly believe that jealousy could be your motive to kill Violet Sorrengail? Hell if it was, you would have done so long ago. But you weren’t that shallow. You ignored Violet like the plague, didn’t bother to get to know her because it physically hurt you. The girl that captured Xaden’s attention in one second undid all the work you did in years to get him to notice you.

Finally when it was happening, when he called you yours, Violet came in like the storm she was. Uprooting your friends and family.

“My cloak doesn't shimmer anymore, Xaden,” You said dejectedly, you didn’t have the energy to fight him right now. To explain that your cloak stopped shimmering two months after your signet popped up. “I may be jealous of her, but I’m not the one who broke a promise. I may hate her for stealing my friends and family, but I wouldn’t kill her out of spite. I just told you yesterday that I was willing to put my differences aside and train her.

“Then why did she describe your cloak?” His hands fell away from your arms, the warmth gone in a breeze.

You shoved your goggles in your flight jacket and shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, but I was flying out with Sgaeyl and Lenin. They can vouch for me, we’ve been flying out for hours.

“It’s true, we were gone long before the girl was attacked,” Sgaeyl confirmed.

“I hope you find the true culprit,” You walked past him and to the direction of the college. Your shoulders are heavy with the realization that he will always choose her over you. Whether it stems from his growing need for her or keeping her alive, it didn’t matter anymore. He broke the promise and left you behind.

“[Name], where are you going? I’m not done asking questions,” Xaden turned around, but you kept on walking.

“I’m going to forget this conversation ever happened,” You declared with certainty. And one person can help you with that, you just hope she’s awake.

……

When you walked into your room, mentally drained from the conversation with Xaden, you were caught off guard by Imogen’s presence. Her right leg bobbed up and down as if she was waiting for you to arrive. This made the trip to her way easier, the walk of shame was going to be very painful if you did walk towards her room.

“Imogen?” Your soft voice awoke her from her trance and she jumped up from your chair with a sigh of relief.

“Finally, you’re back,” She jogged over to you and embraced you in a tight hug. Okay, Imogen rarely hugs you and this one felt like she needed it. “I was so worried when everyone started pointing fingers at you for letting unbonded riders into Violet’s room. But I knew it wasn’t you, your cloak doesn’t shimmer anymore.”

You huffed out with a grimace, “I’m glad one of my friends remembers that it doesn’t. Anyways can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything,” Imogen breathed out and pulled back with a smile.

You nodded your head and said, “Erase my memories. I need to forget that Xaden just accused me of endangering his girlfriend.” Not that they are dating just yet, but it wouldn’t take long for them to develop feelings for one another.

“But if I do that-”

“If he wants me to train Violet, I need to forget this morning,” You pleaded with her, grabbing her hand and forcing her palm to touch your cold forehead, “Imogen, please. I cannot look at Violet knowing she accused me of something so horrid then Xaden blaming me for it. Do this for me.”

“Okay,” Imogen reluctantly agreed. She watched your tears fall down your face and you smiled at her hopefully.

“Thank you.”

You wished Imogen could erase more than the conversation. You wanted her to erase all your feelings for Xaden Riorson.

Forget his hands roaming your body and the kisses he left in his wake. Forget the way he said your name with adoration and the way he stared into your eyes with longing.

Because you could train Violet with ease if you held no feelings for Xaden. But hey, not everyone can have what they want. This is a lesson for you and hopefully Xaden will finally remember how much you mean to him.

Soon, it will happen. A feeling so deep in the pit of your stomach made you believe that.

#x reader #x female reader #fourth wing imagine #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson imagine #xaden x female reader #badass reader #reader might save liam in the next part #im kidding broski is ded dead fr fr #and who said anything about a part two

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moonlitdesertdreams · 2 months ago

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The Beach

A/N: Shirtless Bucky? Shameless fondling? I think so Relationship: Bucky Barnes | Winter Soldier x Reader (implied/established relationship) Tags: bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes x y/n, The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes, Winter Soldier!Bucky, fluff WARNINGS: consensual petting, FLUFF Summary: Post CATWS, you and Bucky have found temporary refuge somewhere warm and tropical. Now, you both enjoy an early morning on the beach.

Word Count: 1.1k+

You’ve decided you like the beach.

Ten months after escaping HYDRA, you find the warmth of the sand and the sound of the ocean therapeutic. Your worries ebb and flow with the tide, peaking at night in your dreams and subsiding as the sun rises. Skin, previously pale and dry from captivity, is now sun-kissed and glowing. You even changed your hair, allowing it to grow in a way HYDRA never would. The little shop down the street sells hair dye, and you might purchase some when it feels right.

Even Bucky, impenetrably serious and ever-vigilant, seems to share your sentiment.

You wake in a haze of orange light, sun creeping over the mountainous horizon. Rays of light slink into your tiny bungalow from the sliding door, and the smell of coffee rouses you from your sleep. The bed- one you shared to keep each other from waking up screaming - is empty, second pillow cool to the touch. It’s been strange, waking up without a name or past in a place so beautiful, but you’ve kept each other motivated with shreds of memories. The bond you shared was deep, hardened by the torture you’d been subjected to together and solidified by blood.

In the kitchenette you find a mug of coffee on the tiny counter, a note placed underneath that simply says ‘beach’ in sloped cursive. You try to sip the coffee, only to find it cool and bitter. It ends up running down the drain while you rinse the mug, deciding instead to follow the note outside. You change into a light blue sundress, stepping out of the sliding door to make your way to the water with journal in hand.

It’s warm already despite the early hour, and you trail your fingers across bright green trees and fauna on your way to the sandy beach. Crystal clear water greets you, a lone figure bobbing in and out of the waves. You sit cross-legged in the sand, content to watch him get his morning exercise in. A practiced hand makes note of the date and time, recording everything from the cold coffee to the creamy smell of ripe coconuts on the wind. You lose yourself in the words, adding tens more to the journal already bent from furious scribbling.

Bucky either decides to keep up his laps or doesn’t notice you, paddling back and forth through rolling waves. You’ve close the journal and set it to the side, purposely slapping the cover shut to catch his attention. He must have been oblivious to your arrival, as he changes his course to immediately swim towards shore. You pad across the sand to meet the Winter Soldier- Bucky- soft hands coming to rest on his mismatched shoulders. He’s shirtless, wearing a teal and gray pair of boardshorts.

A mischievous look crosses his face for a brief moment, and you just barely choke out a protest before he tries to tug you into his sopping wet body.

“No!” You backpedal playfully, stepping out of his reach. “My clothes are dry.”

Bucky steps closer, coy smirk turning the corners of his lips. “Clothes can be changed.”

You scowl with no heart, growling his name in warning.

Unsurprisingly, it’s to no avail.You’ve spent countless hours sparring with Bucky - with The Winter Soldier- and predict his pounce before he leaves the ground. Leaping out of his way is easy, but you forget the speed his titanium arm possesses. It strikes like a cobra, wrapping around your ankle and pulling you down into the sand. You catch yourself with your hands and roll, using your other foot to send a jab to his abdomen. It’s not hard enough to do any damage, but enough to release his grip on you.

“That was good.” Bucky compliments, climbing to his feet and dusting sand away from his damp torso. He stands with his back to the water, casting a shadow where you’re still sitting in the sand. A hand reaches down to you, offering help up.

You reach up to meet him, realizing too late that he had you beat in the wits category this morning. As soon as your fingers wrap around cold metal digits his hand pulls back and lifts. You’re scooped into his arms, and he takes off at a run into the waves.

“Bucky, don’t you-” You’re cut off when both of you plunge into the drink, your clothes soaked beyond help.

The water is shallow enough to stand, and you find your footing while soft waves rock your body about. Bucky is laughing when you surface, hair wild and plastered to your face. Your dress is in a similar state, every curve and contour of your body highlighted. You do your best to put on a serious face even though nothing but affection is moving through your brain.

“You are in trouble.” You poke a finger into his chest, and he uses it to draw you into the embrace he searched for just a minute earlier.

This time, you allow it. Sunshine warms the surface of his prosthesis, glinting into your face and twinkling through drops of water. His body is a familiar comfort, slotting into your arms with the ease of a final puzzle piece. A flesh and bone hand combs through the ends of your wet hair where it brushes the surface of the water. Bucky nuzzles his way down from your crown, nose nudging sweetly against your forehead before plush lips press against yours.

He tastes like salt and fruit, the sweet tang of pineapple nipping at your tongue when his own traces your bottom lip. A moan escapes you, lost in his mouth as he pulls you in with an iron grip. Your hands creep up his chest, one sliding up to tug not-so-gently on the hair at his nape. His teeth nip at your bottom lip in response, hard enough to draw a whine.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” He murmurs to you, lips leaving yours to trail down the side of your neck. A series of love bites are engraved into your skin, the pain morphing into pleasure as he soothes each spot with his tongue.

“I could say the same to you.” You purred, nails scraping along his good shoulder.

A fistful of his hair is locked in your grip when his teeth tweak a pert nipple through the fabric of your dress.

“Buck…” You turn to look for any stray people walking down the beach, unwilling to be found by any government due to getting carried away with each other in public.

He chuffs his displeasure with your warning, hot air dancing across the already sensitive skin on your neck. Bucky’s teeth graze by each of the love bites again, and his prosthetic hand squeezes the round of your ass.

“Let me take you back inside, then.” He kisses your lips in between words. “Show you how beautiful I think you are.”

Strong hands glide down your curves and squeeze, brushing by the most sensitive parts of your body.

So, yeah.

You’ve decided you like the beach.

Thank you for reading, much love ❤

Masterlist

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ririblogsss · 1 year ago

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y'all if any of you guys wants to expand upon or use as inspiration anything I've written do so. Also if you guys want me to write more abt something tell me.

Anyways with that out of the way.

Ive been thinking about collage Danny AU but instead of going to Gotham he goes to central city (its in Ohio, and The flash is based there). So im thinking that the population over there has a massive percentile of meta humans compared to other cities, because of the particle accelerator incident plus the multiple flash points. All this to say is that the people in Central City are used to civilians having enhanced strength, uncommon dietary restrictions, random outburst of power act.

So Danny just turned 18 comes in to get his degree in biochemical engineering and astronomy, after finishing school with extra credits. He gets a dorm with 2 other people a meta with speeding problems and a normal dude named Sam.

In Dannys perspective he is a very chill roommate, making sure he washes after himself when using the kitchen. Regularly taking out the trash ect..

In his roomates perspective, they think Danny is a paranoid meta who recently escaped a dysfunctional household where he was discriminated for being a meta.

why they have this assumption simple. Danny is clearly malnourished and refuses to actually make a diet he needs. Only eating small servings of food, and trying to save as much as possible for later. He gets paranoid when using moe strength than a human should posses, almost as if he's scared of getting found out. And third of all Danny glows in the dark, quite literally, its not an annoying or absurd amount. Danny glows the same way glow in the dark stars do.

So yeah Dannys roommates know he is a meta but they don't know how they should breach the subject as its clear that Danny is very paranoid of getting found out.

On the other hand Barry Allen is getting worried about his grandsons(bart) roomate, as its very concerning the demeanor he is displaying. Barry intends to investigate the situation more to make sure this isn't a 'broken phone' type of misunderstanding. And if it isn't he is pulling a Bruce.

Meanwhile Danny's on his dormitory roof enjoying the stars, sure there's light pollution but his enhanced vision allows him to see them as if were a clear sky. Not knowing how his life is going to change in the coming weeks.

#dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc

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minsugasbaby · 2 months ago

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"Under His Touch" (Caleb metal arm smut)

Summary:

You wanna hump Caleb's metal arm. Thats it. That's the fic.

A/N: When I asked who would read a Caleb metal arm smut and said I would write it I did not expect for it to take a life of its own. I also did not expect to enjoy writing it as much as I did.

If you guys want me to write more LADS fanfiction, please write a comment. Likes, unfortunately, don't tell me if it's good or not.

tag list: @raendarkfaerie @frenchmess23yo @pspspspssqueak @strewnsouls @green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle @multistancheck

Enjoy 3K words of Caleb.

R18+, MDNI. Dom! Caleb, degradation, dacryphilia, praise kink inappropriate use of Evol, dirty talk, slight humiliation. Porn with plot. No beta we die like grandma

The tension in the small coffee shop is palpable as Caleb’s question rung in your ears,

“I see you and Zayne have gotten closer since I uh… left. Have you ever…?” He let his voice trail off.

The question sunk deep into your bones. Caleb’s voice came out teasingly, but his eyes shone with an intensity that uneased you. Slowly, you shake your head and let out a quiet but shaky laugh.

Across from you, Caleb sat on the armchair with his head in his hand. To the untrained eye, he would have appeared to have it lazily resting. But to you, you see how rigid his arm is, the muscle tight. You let your eyes trail to the other arm, metal glistening in the dim light as it rests. His eyes followed you, and he moved his arm down to rest by his side, hiding it from view.

“You’ve never been a good liar, Pipsqueak,” he narrows his eyes at you before letting out a laugh and leaning back into the chair, taking a sip from the coffee that has been neglected until now. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you remember the heated kiss you and Zayne shared one night many months ago.

It was one of those nights where your nightmares plagued you; knowing Zayne was likely awake, you had asked him to come over to watch a movie with you. In a moment of vulnerability and sadness, you two had exchanged a kiss before he pulled away and uttered a phrase that still haunts you, “not like this.”

Since that night, other than regular check-ups, he has avoided you like the plague.

You swiftly change the subject, trying to be subtle, but Caleb knows you better than you think. However, he chooses to let go, tucking away the question to be asked again at another time. Leaning forward to grab your coffee cup, your fingers twitch, and it falls on the ground. Cursing as the hot coffee spills on your fingers, you shake them and bring them to your lips automatically. Caleb reaches forward to grab the cup before taking your fingers into his hands, the cool metal immediately soothing the burn.

His smell engulfs you, wrapping around all of your senses. He looks at you with such an intensity that it burns through your skin, and you attempt to pull away between that and the metal still wrapped around your hand. With almost inhuman speed, his grip tightens, not enough to hurt but enough that it tells you, ‘Not yet.’ He makes eye contact with you and uses his other hand to move the hair that fell onto your face.

“For a hunter, that was pretty clumsy.” His voice lowered, a smooth chuckle coming out of his throat. The large coffee shop suddenly feels too small, too stuffy. The noise from the patrons changes to a dull buzz in the back of your ears as his metal fingers subtly play with yours, almost subconsciously. His gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips as his face gets too close for comfort.

“You should really pay more attention next time,” he mumbled lowly into your ear before leaning back with cat-like laziness. The soft rumble of his voice causes a shiver to run up your spine, which does not go unnoticed by him. Raising an eyebrow, almost to himself, he tucks away that knowledge in the back of his mind.

Finally letting go of your hand, he inspects it before putting it on your lap, metal fingers grazing over your exposed thighs. You become hyper-aware of how much of your skin is exposed, it being a hot summer day in Linkon. The cool of him against the heat of your skin causes your thighs to involuntarily flex. He slowly rubs your thigh in a way that should have been comforting, but the look that Caleb has shows he is more calculated than that.

The edge of his lips is curled up in a ghost smirk, and his eyes shine with mischief. Shifting in your seat, trying to shy away from his gaze, you see how his eyes trail the entirety of your body. “Stop looking at me like that,” You mumble, causing him to laugh. “Like what?” he asked teasingly, his fingers still rubbing circles on you. Your school girl crush on him growing up rears its ugly head back at the lilt in his voice. Your thighs clench again, and you force yourself to meet his eyes.

Bad idea. The way Caleb looked as the sun set was majestic. The loose tank he had on left little to the imagination, showing off lean muscles and scars he now wore proudly. The strap of the tank hung down, as the U shape of it started at his collar bones. His pecs were half in the tank, half out, and in the wrong (or very right) angle; you could see his nipples and abs. You let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding, it coming out shakingly. You can't control your eyes as they take him in, scanning his entire body before finally resting on the metal in your lap.

His fingers began to slowly move up, testing the waters, eyes looking closely for any signs of resistance. “Caleb…” You begin before a quiet squeak escapes your lips at him squeezing your thigh. Your breath hitches as Caleb once again invades your personal space. “Your lips say one thing, your body another…” you felt his hand squeeze again. His smell invades all your senses as you feel your control slipping. The thin line you two have walked on since he came back blurring the longer he remained close. His breath felt warm on your ears as his lips got even closer, a ghost of a touch as he continued, “Tell me you don't want this,” he whispered and started to let go of you.

Without thinking, your hands reached out to grab his wrist, leaving it in place. Every reason why you should not do this had left your mind as you breathed uneasily and nodded, not trusting your voice in case a moan came out.

You feel his lips curl up into a smirk, and then he yanks you to your feet. His hand is on your lower back as he rushes you to the door.

“Caleb, what-?” you begin, and his hand tightens on your hips.

“I would rather our first time not be on the floor of a coffee shop, Pipsqueak, and unless I got you out of there now, it would have been.” His voice comes out hard but underlying with desperation and barely there control. His jaw is tight as he directs you into your building's elevator.

The second the elevator’s door closes, he pounces, grabs your head in-between his arms, and smashes his lips onto yours. “I’m-” kiss, “Sorry,” kiss, “I did not want our-” kiss, “first kiss to be like this.” kiss, “I’ll make it up to you” kiss.

Each word comes out as a moan, desperation tinged in each syllable.

The elevator doors open and he reluctantly pulls off of you, not wanting to break the tension you chose to stay silent during the walk to the apartment. Your hands shake as you try to put the key into the door; by the 3rd attempt, Caleb grabs them from you, opens the door himself, and throws you over his shoulder.

He unceremoniously tosses you onto your bed before ripping his shirt off of himself. The sheer size and power of the man before you has you panting as you unabashedly stare at him.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I won’t be able to hold back,” Caleb practically groans out as he crawls up towards you from the bottom of the bed. Your head meets the headboard as he traps you in between his arms. “Then don’t.” is muttered in a small whisper, you still not trusting your voice. What was an attempt to be sexy came out more of a squeak once more, causing the man above you to chuckle.

He dips down to kiss you, mouth urgent as his tongue enters your mouth, causing you to moan. Your hands roam up and down his back before finally stopping in his hair. You maneuver under him, legs wrapping around his waist as you use your muscles to pull his hips down, slanting his clothed crotch against yours. You feel his back muscles tighten as he moves his organic arm to your hip, pushing you back down.

“Fuckkkk Pipsqueak, that desperate for me already?” he mutters into your ear, voice growing cold. You feel a sense of dread and excitement creep up at the change in his voice. You try to move your hips up again before feeling a force pull you back down. Caleb lifts himself off of you, but you cannot move.

“Are you using your fucking Evol on me??” Your eyes narrow at him while still trying to move.

“Pretty little slut can’t control herself, just wants to grind her horny little cunt on the nearest object, huh?” He ‘lovingly’ tucks your hair behind your ear, a stark contrast to the faux sympathetic tone his voice had gone.

“Were you that desperate for dear Dr. Zayne too? Did you rub your messy pussy on him?” he asks as he uses his Evol to spread your legs, exposing your black lace panties from under your skirt. From behind him, you see one of your small couches drag across the living room, into your bedroom, and stop on the other side. Caleb crouches at the edge of the bed, eyes going darker than you thought were possible as he looks at your panties. You shake your head at his accusation, “Nothing happene-” your mouth shuts as he raises a finger towards you.

“I don’t want to hear it slut. You seem to forget me and the good doctor are friends too… you think he doesn’t tell me things?” His voice was sharp, but by the way he gazed up at you, you could tell there was no bite behind his bark. You feel your panties get damp, becoming uncomfortably sticky.

Caleb was still at eye-level with your pussy at the shift of your hips; he looked once again and groaned, “Fuck you like it when I speak to you like this, don’t you?” Your body gets dragged to the edge of the bed, where Caleb can comfortably sit on the ground while still being able to touch you. He reaches forward to run his fingers up and down your slit, causing your panties to get wetter.

“You’re just a nasty little cockwhore.” He purrs at your pussy, seemingly speaking to himself. His Evol releases your mouth as you moan at the contact, hips attempting to chase after his fingers.

“Please.” You beg, tears welling up in your eyes as the throb in your pussy grows. Caleb’s head tips back as he lets out the filthiest groan you have ever heard, and then you feel your panties rip off of you. You feel like you’re on fire, everything burns and time seems to slow as Caleb puts his arms around your hips, legs moving above his shoulders as he situates himself between your legs.

Kisses pepper slowly up your thighs towards your cunt, at this point you are shamelessly talking to yourself, or to him, or to God. Whoever can hear you. “Fuck, Caleb. Please. Please.” is repeated over and over again in a hoarse voice.

“Oh I know baby, I’m so close aren't I… where do you want me?” he mocks, breathing into your pussy. “Do you want me here, princess?” he asks, the heat from his mouth wafting over the area you needed him the most. “Does your slutty pussy want me to touch your needy clit?” he adds, pouting in a way that seemed to taunt how desperate you were.

His fingers reach out to touch your slit, mouth still hovering just above your pussy. Between the touch of him on you, and the heat of his mouth your mind disconnects from your mouth. “The metal arm.” You gasp, your pussy clenches, and Caleb goes rigid, suddenly looking up and going completely still.

His Evol lets go of you, and your mind reconnects as you mentally scold yourself for ruining the moment you have been waiting for since you were a child.

“Caleb I- I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” you begin, words stumbling out of your mouth before he interrupts you. “What. Did. You. Say?” He asks, face going completely neutral. “It’s only that I-. Uh. I just-.” You sigh and look down. “I wanted you to touch me with the arm.” And the tiny band that held Caleb back snaps.

“You’re such a fucking slut. God I can��t believe that all this time-” A mean laugh escapes him, causing your veins to fill up with ice. He gets up and sits on the chair he brought earlier. “You know-” he continued, voice still oh so mean, “I was going to go easy. Prepare you for me. Touch you lovingly.” he spread his legs, showing off the muscles in his powerful thighs. “Make love to you, like I always wanted… But no. My girl just had to be a fucking slut.” He looks at you in disappointment, but the tent in his pants gives him away, a wet patch already forming.

“Strip. You have five seconds.” His Evol flings you onto your feet, and you race to take everything off. He leans back leisurely and beckons you forward with a singular, metal finger.

You walk towards him a little too slowly for his liking, as when you get close he yanks you onto his lap.

His organic hand pulls your head back via your hair, and his metal arm gently pries your mouth open. Your eyes go wide as he spits into your mouth, and you surprise even yourself when you stick your tongue out to show him you caught it. His smirk of approval causes a new wave of arousal to rush down to your cunt, and you swallow as he lets your hair go.

“Well my pretty whore-” he punctuates the statement with a gentle kiss to your nose, “if you want my metal fingers so badly, you can have them”. He slips his metal fingers into your mouth, letting the cool touch of them play with your tongue. Drool starts to seep from your mouth onto his lap, causing the tent in his pants to grow. You’re panting like a dog now, humping his thigh as he continues to lazily play with your tongue.

“Thats it, baby, rub your needy clit on me, beg me to touch you.” He purrs into your ear before moving his mouth down to your neck, sucking and biting as he goes down. He looks feral as he sees your fucked out expression and takes his fingers out.

“Look at you, already dumb, and I haven’t even begun.” His fingers slowly move down to pinch your nipples, the cool touch a pleasant feeling against the heat of your skin.

You continue to rut against him, leaving a wet mark on his shorts, as his fingers slowly move down your body. Desperate noises from the back of your throat come out as he watches you closely.

“Please Caleb-” you groan and then you feel his hand around your throat, the metal one still moving slowly down and down.

“Sluts don’t get to decide when or how they are used” he growls, increasing the pressure before letting go. His eyes were as dark as night, hair disheveled and his skin glistening with sweat. He looked every bit the dangerous Colonel that he was supposed to be. Gone was the sweet boy you had met up for coffee with. In front of you was a soldier, cold, cruel, and collected.

“Yes sir” you rasp out, as oxygen flows back into your body. The tent in Caleb’s pants grew impossibly bigger as he finally touches your clit. “Tell me how wet you are for me whore, I can’t feel it” his words waft over your lips, his face a hair away from yours. “Fuck I’m so wet for you, please I’ll do anything” you lean forward to kiss him, but he moves back.

“You wanted the metal arm, that’s all you’re getting” he said, and puncuates it by shoving one finger into you roughly, giving no warning. You scream as he takes his thumb to rub your clit, and begin to move along with his finger. He endulges you for a moment before once again using his Evol to hold you still.

Adding another finger, he pistons it out of you, thumb not moving an inch. Then the metal begins to vibrate, his fingers moving inhumanly fast.

“See the thing about the metal arm is, slut. It can do things your little Doctor can never.”

As he whispers this into your ear, the metal inside of you begins to heat. You cry out and beg him for more, or less, or anything.

You can’t breath, you can’t think. Everything is just Caleb. Just as you get used to the heat, the metal goes cold again. You fall into his shoulder and bit it as he adds yet another finger.

“That’s it my sweet little whore, fall apart for me.” He uses his other hand to pat your head, a contrast to the cruel way he is abusing your cunt.

You feel your orgasm building and you start rambling, “Please I’m so close. I’m so close.” Causing Caleb to shush and sooth you. His fingers move in a come hither motion, and touch just the right spot to have you seeing stars.

You scream and sob harder, “Oh that’s the spot? You want me to touch here my darling cocksleeve?” he taunts each question with a hard thrust, causing you to nod so hard your head would fly off if it wasnt attached to you.

The intensity makes you cry and shake, causing him to laugh cruelly at you. “You asked for this. Don’t forget. Now cum.” his fingers are moving faster and faster.

And the dam breaks, you cum so hard you’re seeing stars. But Caleb doesn’t stop.

He grins as he sees you falling apart on his lap. “Caleb please I’m sensitive,” you whine, causing him to grin even wider, looking like a cheshire cat. “I said sluts dont get to choose when or how they are used.” he reminds you with a slap to your ass. Finally he brings his lips back to yours, and dips his tongue into your mouth.

Feeling his lips on yours was the final straw, you cum again sobbing and screaming into his lips as he works you through it. He slowly removes his fingers from your throbbing abused cunt.

He holds you as you come down, rubbing circles on your hips with one hand, and patting your hair gently with another. Once you’re lucid, you look down to see a wet patch where his cock is.

“Did you-?” you ask with a sheepish smile, your head still dizzy. He nods and softly goes in for a kiss. “Give me 10 minutes, and you can return the favor,” he whispers into your lips as he picks you up and takes you back to the bed.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader smut #lads x reader smut #lads #caleb x reader smut #caleb x you #caleb x reader #caleb

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baeshijima · 11 months ago

Text

— as we are

some may call him overbearing. you, on the other hand, find he is anything but that.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 848 wc, fluff, mayhaps a teensy bit of angst if you squint hard enough, established relationship, pre-penacony storyline

A/N : in a "match your freak" competition but my opponent is reader. (sits on the shore and stares out into the sea waiting for his drip marketing and light cone reveal so i can change the post layout to have his lc…)

There is a tender gentleness in the way Sunday loves.

It shows in the way he has a habit of putting others before himself, inadvertently causing him to neglect himself at the worst of times. It shows in the meticulous care he devotes to his sister, having even the most minute details embedded within the crevices of his mind. It shows in the moments where he nags at you for not taking better care of yourself, to which you find yourself subject to a less than impressed stare when you make a rebuttal of his hypocrisy.

Well, you find that the latter can be more annoying than it is welcome (mostly due to the fact his nags tend to be unprovoked when your guard is down, sometimes resulting in him chasing after you in your feeble attempts to escape), but you can at least acknowledge it comes from a place of care. Begrudgingly so.

Regardless, it doesn’t take away from the reality that Sunday only goes so far because he simply wants the best for you. After all, who would willingly speed-walk after you while reciting the basic necessities humans need in order to be healthy and happy? Certainly not someone who doesn’t care!

A slight shift halts your thoughts. Glancing down towards your lap, an involuntary smile tugs the corners of your lips at the sight of Sunday dozing away peacefully. You lift a hand to card it through his hair, mindful of the studs perched along his wings — as well as the wings itself — in case you accidentally awaken him due to its sensitivity.

(While it would be rather amusing to see him awaken in a fluster, you’re not mentally prepared enough for another one of his scoldings. Well, you suppose you also don’t want to interrupt his rare moment of rest as well.)

Light seeps in through the slight opening of the curtains. Translucent rays cast him amid a golden radiance, its gaze settling along the curve of his cheeks, brushing through his hair, and counting each strand of his lashes in a dim glow. Had you not known any better, you would have thought of him to be divinity itself.

With your fingers contentedly caressing through soft grey hair, a stifling warmth soon creeps up on you. The light which once cast a precious glow on your lover mere seconds ago now leaves an uncomfortable warmth searing into the back of your hand. It is a little unbearable, but nothing you cannot handle if it means preserving this peaceful moment a little while longer.

Well, until Sunday squints from the sunlight making contact with his closed eyelids with a small grimace, resulting in him attempting to block it out by the protection of your stomach, that is.

A brief sigh escapes you. Reaching behind you as best as you could without stirring the slumbering man on your lap awake, you clutch the velvet curtains in your free hand. With a careful pull towards you, the main source is blocked out. Remnants of the uncomfortable heat lingers on your skin, but you find yourself unbothered as you take in the subtle, sleepy smile now etched into his relaxed features.

Honestly, you’re surprised he allowed himself a respite such as this. You are more than accustomed to his vehement refusals, with him often insisting he has no need nor the time for even a moment’s rest when there is much to be done. It’s an obsession, almost, the way in which he hyper-focuses on even the most trivial of details. Not a single thing can be out of place; not a single thing can be anything less than perfection itself.

Sunday, in spite of his flawed methods and, in your humble opinion, horridly stubborn demeanour, is someone whom you hold in high regard. Behind his stern and almost rigid-like composure belies a selfless man who wishes for nothing more than the happiness and freedom of others. Behind a calm gaze akin to that of an omniscient being is a man who brushes off any and all concerns for his well-being, a tight-lipped smile and light tone doing little to distract you from the brief clench of his fists and subtle pause which stretches on a little too long to be considered a breather.

Again, in your honest and most humble opinion, he is wretchedly stubborn — that, or he simply doesn’t know how to rely on and confide in others, despite the many times he himself has been confided in.

You take him in once more, seizing this rare moment in which you can see him as he is wholeheartedly without all the layers and walls and barriers he meticulously has built up around him.

Should a time in which he is ready to relinquish the burdens he carries amidst his quiet solitude come, you will embrace all that he is with welcoming arms; even if it wholly consumes you.

There is a tender gentleness in the way Sunday loves. Some may find his care to be overbearing, but you find that it is not overbearing enough.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #sunday x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 8 months ago

Text

storm chasers

pairing: tyler owen’s x f! reader

warnings: NSFW, 18+

theme: enemies to lovers

During a particularly intense storm chase, Y/N's equipment malfunctions, putting her in a dangerous position. Despite their rivalry, Tyler spots her struggling and makes a splitsecond decision to help. He navigates his stormchasing vehicle through treacherous conditions to reach her.

"What are you doing here, Owens?" Y/N shouts over the howling wind, a mix of surprise and relief in her voice. "I thought you'd be halfway to Kansas by now, chasing your precious tornado!"

Tyler's jaw clenches as he helps her into his vehicle. "Even I'm not heartless enough to leave a colleague in danger," he retorts, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Besides, someone needs to show you how real storm chasing is done."

As they speed away from the approaching tornado, the tension between them crackles like the lightning illuminating the sky. Y/N finds herself studying Tyler's determined profile, seeing him in a new light for the first time.

Y/N crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing as she watches Tyler navigate through the storm. "I didn't ask for your help, Owens," she says, her voice sharp but with a hint of vulnerability. "I had it under control."

Tyler scoffs, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Right, because standing in the path of an EF3 tornado is the epitome of 'under control.' Face it, princess, you needed me."

Y/N's cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "Don't call me princess," she snaps. "And I don't need anyone, especially not some adrenaline junkie with a God complex."

Despite the tension, Tyler can't help but admire Y/N's spirit. Her fiery attitude matches the storm raging outside, and he finds it oddly captivating.

"You know," Tyler says, a smirk playing on his lips, "for someone who claims to hate me, you sure spend a lot of time thinking about me."

Y/N rolls her eyes dramatically. "Don't flatter yourself, Owens. The only thing I think about is how to prove I'm better than you at storm chasing."

As they continue their banter, the storm intensifies around them. Tyler's expert driving keeps them safe, but the close calls have them both on edge. In a particularly heartstopping moment, Y/N instinctively grabs Tyler's arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

Their eyes meet for a brief second, electricity crackling between them that has nothing to do with the lightning outside. Y/N quickly pulls her hand away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"I... um, thanks," she mumbles, looking anywhere but at Tyler. "For coming to get me, I mean. Even if I didn't need it."

Tyler's expression softens slightly. "Anytime, Y/N. We storm chasers have to stick together, right?"

As the tension in the vehicle shifts from hostility to something more complex, Y/N finds herself reevaluating her feelings towards her rival.

Y/N shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting between Tyler and the raging storm outside. The silence between them grows heavy, filled with unspoken tension. Finally, she breaks it with a sigh.

"Look, Owens," she begins, her voice softer than before, "I... I may have misjudged you. A little."

Tyler's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"

Y/N rolls her eyes, but there's no real heat behind it. "Don't push it. I'm trying to be nice here."

"Well, it's a start," Tyler chuckles, his eyes briefly meeting hers before returning to the road. "You're not so bad yourself, when you're not trying to outdo me at every turn."

Y/N feels a blush creeping up her neck. "I don't try to outdo you," she mutters, then adds with a smirk, "I just naturally excel."

Tyler laughs, a genuine sound that makes Y/N's heart skip a beat. "There's the sass I know and lo— uh, tolerate."

The almostslip hangs in the air between them, neither willing to acknowledge it. Y/N clears her throat, desperately searching for a change of subject.

"So, uh, where exactly are we headed?" she asks, peering out at the stormravaged landscape.

Tyler's grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly. "There's a motel about 20 miles ahead. We'll hole up there until this storm passes."

Y/N nods, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach at the thought of being alone with Tyler in a motel room. She tells herself it's just the adrenaline from their close call with the tornado.

As they continue driving, the silence becomes more comfortable. Y/N finds herself sneaking glances at Tyler, seeing him in a new light. The determined set of his jaw, the confident way he handles the vehicle through the treacherous conditions, it's all suddenly very... attractive.

As the tension in the vehicle eases slightly, Y/N decides to make herself more comfortable. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she slowly lifts her feet, clad in wellworn cowboy boots, and props them up on Tyler's pristine dashboard.

Tyler's eyes widen in disbelief. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" he exclaims, his voice a mix of annoyance and surprise.

Y/N smirks, wiggling her bootclad feet. "Getting comfortable. Got a problem with that, Owens?"

Tyler's jaw clenches as he tries to focus on the road. "Knock it off, Y/N. This isn't your beatup truck. I just had this vehicle detailed last week."

"Aww, is the big bad storm chaser afraid of a little mud?" Y/N teases, but there's a hint of fondness in her voice that wasn't there before.

Tyler reaches over with one hand, trying to swat her feet off the dashboard while keeping his eyes on the treacherous road. "I'm serious, Y/N. Feet. Off. Now."

Their playful struggle continues for a moment, the air between them charged with a new kind of energy. Y/N finds herself enjoying this lighter side of their usual banter, and Tyler can't help but appreciate her playful defiance.

As the storm chaser vehicle comes to a complete stop, Y/N's eyes light up with excitement. Without warning, she flings open the door and leaps out, camera in hand.

"Y/N! What the hell are you doing?" Tyler shouts, his voice barely audible over the roaring wind.

But Y/N is already sprinting towards the storm, her hair whipping wildly around her face. She raises her camera, desperate to capture the perfect shot of the swirling vortex.

Tyler curses under his breath and jumps out after her. "Are you insane? Get back here!" he yells, but Y/N ignores him, lost in her pursuit of the perfect storm footage.

In a burst of speed, Tyler reaches her. Without hesitation, he throws her over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp from Y/N.

"Put me down, Owens!" she protests, but Tyler's grip is firm as he carries her to a nearby sturdy post.

Setting her down, he quickly ties a safety rope around both of them, securing them to the post. Y/N struggles against him, but Tyler's face is a mask of anger and concern.

"What part of 'dangerous storm' don't you understand?" he growls, his face inches from hers. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Y/N glares at Tyler, her chest heaving with adrenaline and frustration. "I had it under control! This is the shot of a lifetime, Owens. You of all people should understand that!"

Tyler's grip on her arms tightens, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else – fear? "No shot is worth your life, Y/N," he says, his voice low and intense. "Do you have any idea what it would do to m— to the storm chasing community if something happened to you?"

The wind howls around them, tugging at their clothes and hair. Y/N's anger begins to fade as she realizes the genuine concern in Tyler's voice. She looks up at him, really seeing him for the first time. His jaw is clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and his eyes... they're filled with an emotion she's never seen before.

"I... I'm sorry," Y/N says softly, her voice nearly lost in the storm. "I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't," Tyler cuts her off, but his tone has softened slightly. "You never do when it comes to chasing the perfect storm. It's what makes you brilliant, and also incredibly frustrating."

Y/N can't help but smile at that. "Sounds like someone I know," she teases, nudging him gently.

Tyler's lips quirk up in a reluctant smile. "Yeah, well, maybe we're more alike than we thought."

As they stand there, tied to the post with the storm raging around them, something shifts between Y/N and Tyler. The rivalry that has defined their relationship for so long seems to melt away, replaced by a new understanding – and perhaps something more.

As the storm continues to rage around them, Tyler's eyes soften, his gaze lingering on Y/N's face. The wind whips her hair wildly, and he finds himself reaching out to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through both of them.

"Y/N," he says, his voice barely audible over the howling wind, "I... I can't lose you. Not to a storm, not to anything."

Y/N's breath catches in her throat, her eyes widening at the intensity in Tyler's voice. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, a deafening crack of thunder startles them both.

Tyler instinctively pulls Y/N closer, his arms wrapping protectively around her. In that moment, pressed against his chest, Y/N realizes that the rivalry between them has been masking something far more powerful.

The ride home is tense, filled with an awkward silence as Y/N and Tyler sit in their soaking wet clothes. The only sounds are the squelch of their damp attire and the occasional rumble of distant thunder. When they finally arrive at Y/N's house, Tyler pulls up to the curb and cuts the engine.

"Goodnight," he says curtly, not meeting her eyes.

Y/N stares at him incredulously. "That's it? Goodnight? Tyler, what was all that about back there?"

Tyler's jaw clenches as he grips the steering wheel tightly. "I don't want to talk about it," he mutters, his voice low and strained.

Frustrated and confused, Y/N gets out of the car, slamming the door behind her. She starts walking towards her house, her wet boots squelching with each step. Tyler watches her go, conflict evident on his face.

Suddenly, as if pulled by an invisible force, Tyler jumps out of the car and rushes after her. He catches up just as she reaches her front door.

"Y/N, wait!" he calls out.

She turns, surprise etched on her features. Before she can say anything, Tyler closes the distance between them. His hands cup her face, fingers tangling in her damp hair, and he crashes his lips against hers in a passionate kiss.

Y/N freezes for a moment, shocked by Tyler's sudden action. Then, as if a dam has broken, she melts into the kiss, her hands gripping his soaked shirt. The rain continues to fall around them, but neither seems to notice.

When they finally break apart, both breathless, Tyler rests his forehead against Y/N's. His eyes, usually filled with competitive fire, now shine with vulnerability and warmth.

"That's what it was about," he whispers, his voice husky. "I've been fighting this for so long, Y/N. Fighting us. But I can't anymore. Not after today."

Y/N's heart races, her mind reeling from the intensity of the moment. She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, a loud crack of thunder makes them both jump.

The sudden thunder reminds them of their rainsoaked state. Y/N shivers slightly, her wet clothes clinging to her skin. Tyler notices and gently cups her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

"We should get inside," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're freezing."

Y/N nods, fumbling with her keys as she unlocks the door. As they step inside, the tension between them crackles like the lightning outside. Y/N turns to face Tyler, her heart pounding.

"Tyler, I..." she starts, but words fail her. Instead, she reaches out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.

Tyler catches her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "I know," he says softly. "We've wasted so much time, haven't we?"

Their eyes lock, years of rivalry and unspoken attraction culminating in this moment. Without another word, Y/N pulls Tyler close, their lips meeting in another passionate kiss. As the storm rages outside, they lose themselves in each other, finally giving in to the feelings they've denied for so long.

Tyler's hands roam Y/N's body, his fingers tracing the curves hidden beneath her damp clothes. Y/N gasps as he presses her against the wall, his lips trailing hot kisses down her neck.

"God, Y/N," Tyler groans, his voice husky with desire. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted this?"

Y/N's response is cut off by a moan as Tyler's hand slips under her shirt, his calloused fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. She tugs at his wet tshirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

"Off," she demands breathlessly. "Take it off, Tyler."

Tyler obliges, pulling back just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. Y/N's eyes rake over his toned chest, her hands exploring the muscles she's admired from afar for so long.

Their lips crash together again, the kiss deep and hungry. Y/N's legs wrap around Tyler's waist as he lifts her, carrying her towards the bedroom. They stumble slightly, laughing against each other's lips, the tension of years finally breaking.

As they fall onto the bed, clothes are shed hastily, hands exploring newly exposed skin. The storm outside fades into background noise, drowned out by their gasps and moans.

Tyler hovers over Y/N, his eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Y/N pulls him closer, her nails raking down his back. "I've never been more sure of anything," she breathes.

Tyler's eyes light up with a mischievous glint. He reaches for his bag, pulling out an old Polaroid camera. "You know," he says, his voice low and seductive, "I've always wanted to capture you in a different kind of storm."

Y/N raises an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and excitement dancing in her eyes. "Oh? And what kind of storm would that be, Owens?"

Tyler's gaze travels appreciatively over Y/N's body. "The kind that involves you, some lacy lingerie, and this camera. What do you say, storm chaser? Up for a different kind of thrill?"

The tension in the room shifts, electric with anticipation. Y/N bites her lip, considering the offer. The idea of Tyler capturing her most intimate moments sends a shiver down her spine.

Y/N's lips curve into a seductive smile as she sits up, the sheets falling away to reveal her bare shoulders. "Well, well, Owens. I didn't take you for the artistic type," she purrs, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "But if you think you can handle it, I'm game."

Tyler's breath catches as Y/N saunters towards her dresser, her hips swaying enticingly. She rummages through a drawer, pulling out a delicate, lacy black lingerie set. "How's this for your little photoshoot?" she asks, dangling the garments from her finger.

"Perfect," Tyler manages, his voice husky with anticipation. He watches, mesmerized, as Y/N slips into the lingerie, the sheer fabric clinging to her curves.

Y/N strikes a pose, one hand on her hip, the other running through her tousled hair. "Ready when you are, storm chaser," she teases.

Tyler raises the camera, his hands slightly shaky with excitement. "Show me what you've got, Y/N," he says, a grin spreading across his face.

The room fills with the soft whirring and clicking of the Polaroid camera as Tyler captures Y/N's alluring poses. Each flash illuminates her curves, accentuated by the delicate lace lingerie. Y/N's confidence grows with each shot, her poses becoming bolder and more seductive.

"Damn, Y/N," Tyler breathes, lowering the camera for a moment. His eyes roam appreciatively over her body. "You're even more stunning than I imagined."

Y/N smirks, sauntering towards him. "Oh? So you've imagined this before, have you?" she teases, her fingers trailing down his chest.

Tyler swallows hard, his voice husky as he admits, "More times than I care to count."

As the Polaroids develop, Tyler carefully selects the most captivating one. With a mischievous grin, he slips it into his wallet. "Something to remember this night by," he murmurs, pulling Y/N close for a passionate kiss.

Y/N breaks the kiss, her eyes sparkling with a mix of desire and playfulness. She gently pushes Tyler onto the bed, straddling him as she reaches for the Polaroid camera. "My turn," she purrs, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscular chest.

Tyler's breath hitches, his hands settling on Y/N's hips. "What did you have in mind?" he asks, voice rough with anticipation.

Y/N grins mischievously, raising the camera. "Let's just say I want my own little memento of the great Tyler Owens," she teases, snapping a photo of his flushed face and tousled hair.

The air between them crackles with tension as Y/N continues to capture intimate moments, the roles now reversed. Tyler finds himself both nervous and thrilled under her intense gaze.

As Y/N lowers the camera, her eyes lock with Tyler's. The playful atmosphere shifts, charged with an electric intensity. She sets the camera aside, her hands splaying across Tyler's chest.

"You know," she murmurs, leaning in close, "I never thought I'd say this, but you're not half bad, Owens."

Tyler's lips quirk into a smirk, his hands sliding up Y/N's thighs. "Just not half bad? I'm hurt, princess."

Y/N's eyes narrow at the nickname, but there's no real heat behind it. "Don't push your luck," she warns, but her voice is breathy, betraying her arousal.

Tyler suddenly flips them over, pinning Y/N to the bed. His eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of her beneath him, still clad in the lacy lingerie.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he growls, his lips ghosting along her jaw.

Y/N arches into him, her fingers tangling in his hair. "The feeling's mutual," she gasps, pulling him down for a searing kiss.

Tyler's lips trail down Y/N's neck, leaving a path of fiery kisses. His hands roam her body, fingertips tracing the delicate lace of her lingerie. Y/N arches into his touch, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Tyler," she moans, her nails raking down his back. The sound of his name on her lips sends a shiver through him.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they meet hers. "God, Y/N," he breathes, "you're incredible."

Y/N smirks, her confidence growing. She hooks a leg around his waist, pulling him closer. "Show me just how incredible you think I am," she challenges, her voice husky with want.

Tyler grins, accepting her challenge with enthusiasm. His hands slide under the lacy fabric, eager to explore every inch of her.

Y/N's breath hitches as Tyler's skilled hands explore her body, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he caresses. She arches into him, craving more contact.

"Tyler," she gasps, her voice breathy with desire. "Don't tease me."

A wicked grin spreads across Tyler's face as he looks up at her, his eyes dark with lust. "But teasing is half the fun, princess," he murmurs, his fingers tracing tantalizingly slow patterns on her skin.

Y/N's eyes narrow at the nickname, a mix of arousal and annoyance flashing in her gaze. "I told you not to call me that," she growls, suddenly flipping their positions so she's straddling him.

Tyler's eyes widen in surprise, then darken with appreciation as he takes in the sight of Y/N above him, her hair tousled and cheeks flushed. "Feisty," he comments, his hands coming to rest on her hips. "I like it."

Y/N leans down, her lips barely brushing against his as she whispers, "You haven't seen anything yet, Owens."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Y/N begins to rock her hips slowly against Tyler's, eliciting a low groan from him. Her fingers trace the contours of his chest, nails lightly scraping against his skin.

"You think you can handle me, Owens?" she purrs, her voice husky with desire.

Tyler's hands grip her waist tighter, his eyes locked on hers. "Bring it on, storm chaser," he challenges, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N leans down, her lips ghosting along his jaw. "Remember," she whispers, her breath hot against his ear, "I always get what I want."

As the tension between them builds, the storm outside seems to fade away, leaving only the electricity crackling between their bodies.

Y/N's movements become more passionate as she rides Tyler, her body undulating in a sensual rhythm. Her lips find his neck, trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along his skin. Tyler groans, his hands gripping her hips tighter as the sensation sends shivers down his spine.

"God, Y/N," he gasps, tilting his head to give her better access.

Y/N smirks against his skin, her tongue darting out to taste him. She peppers kisses all over his neck and jawline, occasionally nipping gently. The combination of her movements and her lips on his skin drives Tyler wild.

His arousal intensifies, and he suddenly flips them over, pinning Y/N beneath him. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks down at her.

"You're driving me crazy," he growls, before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

The air around them is thick with the scent of desire a heady mix of Y/N's light floral perfume and Tyler's musky cologne with notes of amber. As Tyler's lips trail down Y/N's neck, he breathes in her intoxicating scent, a mix of rain from their earlier adventure and something uniquely her.

Y/N arches into Tyler, her skin tingling wherever he touches. His hands roam her body, exploring every curve and dip. When his lips finally meet hers again, the taste is intoxicating a hint of sweetness mixed with the saltiness of sweat.

"You taste amazing," Tyler murmurs against her lips, his voice husky with desire.

Y/N responds by deepening the kiss, her tongue dancing with his as she savors his taste a mix of mint and something distinctly masculine. Her hands explore his broad shoulders and muscular back, feeling the strength beneath his skin.

As their passion builds, every touch, every taste, every scent becomes more intense. The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure, punctuated by the occasional rumble of distant thunder.

Tyler's hands glide down Y/N's sides, tracing the curve of her waist and hips. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Y/N's breath catches as his fingers dance along the lace edge of her lingerie.

"Tyler," she gasps, her voice thick with desire. Her nails dig into his shoulders, urging him closer.

He responds by pressing his hips against hers, the friction eliciting a moan from both of them. The scent of their arousal mingles in the air, heightening their senses.

Y/N's lips find Tyler's neck again, leaving a trail of hot, openmouthed kisses. She breathes in his scent a intoxicating mix of amber, cologne, and the earthy smell of rain still clinging to his skin.

"God, Y/N," Tyler growls, his voice low and husky. "You're driving me wild."

Y/N's fingers tangle in Tyler's hair, pulling him closer as she arches into him. The lace of her lingerie creates a tantalizing friction against their heated skin. Tyler's hand slides down to her thigh, hitching her leg up around his waist.

"Tyler," Y/N moans, her voice breathy with desire. "I need you. Now."

Tyler's eyes lock with hers, dark with passion. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice husky and strained with restraint.

Y/N responds by pulling him into a searing kiss, her body pressing urgently against his. The last vestiges of their rivalry melt away, replaced by an allconsuming need for each other.

As they finally join, the storm outside seems to crescendo, mirroring the intensity of their passion. The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure, punctuated by whispered endearments and gasps of ecstasy.

Their bodies move together in a passionate rhythm, the intensity building with each passing moment. Y/N's nails rake down Tyler's back as she loses herself in the sensation. Tyler buries his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

"God, Y/N," he groans, his voice muffled against her skin. "You feel amazing."

Y/N can only respond with a breathy moan, her mind clouded with pleasure. The storm outside seems to fade away, leaving only the sound of their ragged breathing and the creaking of the bed.

As they approach their peak, Tyler lifts his head to look into Y/N's eyes. The connection between them is electric, filled with a mixture of lust and something deeper, something neither of them is ready to name yet.

"Tyler," Y/N gasps, her body trembling on the edge of release. "I'm so close..."

Tyler's movements become more urgent, driven by Y/N's breathless plea. He captures her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he pushes her closer to the edge. Y/N's body arches beneath him, her legs tightening around his waist.

"Let go, Y/N," Tyler whispers against her ear, his voice rough with desire. "I've got you."

With a cry of ecstasy, Y/N tumbles over the edge, her body shuddering with waves of pleasure. The intensity of her release triggers Tyler's own, and he groans deeply as he follows her into bliss.

As they come down from their high, Tyler collapses beside Y/N, pulling her close. Their bodies are slick with sweat, hearts racing in tandem. For a moment, they lie in silence, basking in the afterglow.

Y/N turns her head to look at Tyler, a mix of satisfaction and wonder in her eyes. "That was..." she trails off, unable to find the right words.

Tyler grins, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Yeah," he agrees, "it was."

The room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by their gradually steadying breaths. Y/N's fingers trace lazy patterns on Tyler's chest, her mind still hazy from their passionate encounter. Tyler's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her closer.

"You know," Y/N murmurs, her voice still slightly breathless, "I never thought I'd end up here with you, of all people."

Tyler chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Life's full of surprises, isn't it?" he replies, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair. "Especially in our line of work."

Y/N props herself up on an elbow, looking down at Tyler with a mixture of curiosity and lingering desire. "Speaking of work," she says, a mischievous glint in her eye, "what do you say we make the most of this storm?"

Tyler's eyebrow quirks up, a slow grin spreading across his face. "What did you have in mind, storm chaser?"

Tyler's expression softens as he gazes at Y/N, his hand gently cupping her cheek. "You know," he begins, his voice low and tender, "I've got a confession to make."

Y/N tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Oh? What's that, Owens?"

Tyler takes a deep breath, his thumb brushing softly over her cheekbone. "I've been in love with you since we were kids," he admits, his voice filled with emotion. "I love the way you furrow your eyebrows and pace when you're confused. I love how you bite your lip when you're anxious. Even those days when your hair is all crazy especially those days."

Y/N's eyes widen, her lips parting in surprise. Tyler continues, his words tumbling out faster now. "I know we're on different teams, but baby, I notice everything about you. I fucking love you, Y/N. I always have."

The room falls silent as Y/N processes his words, her heart racing. After what feels like an eternity, a smile breaks across her face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Tyler," she whispers, "I love you too. I think I always have."

Tyler pulls her close, capturing her lips in a kiss that's both tender and passionate. As they break apart, both breathless and grinning, the storm outside begins to calm, mirroring the peace that's settled between them. Their rivalry has transformed into something beautiful, something neither of them expected but both now cherish.

#tyler owen x f! reader #tyler owen’s x you #tyler owen x fem reader #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owen’s #tyler owen x reader #tyler owens x reader #tyler owen #tyler owens #glen powell x reader #glen powell #twisterfanfiction #twisters

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h3rmess · 2 months ago

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WHO'S YOUR FRIEND?

Written by @h3rmess ✰

9) - What?

“What was that?” You can feel the intensity of his look through the phone.

You decide to play dumb and respond, “What was what?”

He just gives you a knowing look before scoffing, “You know what ya said.”

You clear your throat before attempting to change the subject. “I’m really thirsty right now.” You say before pushing yourself off of your bed and picking up a water bottle you had placed on your desk.

“Tell me what you said.” He demanded, refusing to forget about your previous topic of conversation.

“Not happening.” You argued back.

“Okay, fine. I won’t forget about this though.” He chuckles softly, sitting up in his bed.

You prop your phone back up, this time sitting at your desk and turning on your desk lamp before switching off the other lights in your room. As you walk back into the frame, you sit down on your desk chair with a huff.

“Why are you still here anyway?” You question him.

“It’d be rude to leave, no? Plus, I wanna get to know ya.” He looks off to the side for a second before turning off his lights as well.

“Stop copying me.” You joke, referring to the fact that he turned his lights off after you did.

“Stop copying me.” He mocked with a grin.

You looked at him, unamused, causing him to frown slightly. You laughed quietly at him.

You see his eyes widen, and then watch as he squints, moving his face closer to the camera.

“What’s that behind you?” He inquires, causing you to whip your head around at an unbelievable speed. He swears he hears your neck crack.

“What’s what?” You look around cautiously. “Is there a bug?”

He snickers at your reaction. “Yer seriously scared?”

“Uh, yeah? What if there’s a spider and it crawls on my face while I’m asleep?” You propose a situation.

“I guess that’s fair. But fer real, I was talkin’ ‘bout the paper and stuff on yer wall.”

You turn around to look at the notes you had hanging up.

“Oh, it’s just chemistry. I’ve got a test soon.” You inform him as he nods, almost impressed.

“Studious and pretty, huh? You’ve got a lot going for ya.” He compliments as you catch a glimpse of his chest, leaving you hot and at a loss for words.

“So you really do think I’m pretty?” You ask shyly.

“Sure do. Ya think I’m attractive too?” He questions back, his bold approach making you weak.

“Yeah…” is all you can muster up the courage to reply with.

“Yer so quiet now…” He remarks. “Tired?”

You shake your head profusely, wanting to keep talking to him.

“Good, I like hearing yer voice, so stay on call with me.”

You audibly gasp at what he says. Was he always this much of a flirt?

prev | masterlist | next

-> short chapter I know I know 💔💔

-> cba to edit the other one so double post tmr instead!!

-> LOVE YOU ALLL!!

TAGLIST (comment to join)

@yzzxo @karasusrealwife @appl3-0rchard @cyberheartrebel @sugacor3 @misosoupii @shittyclarineted @lilsebnem @90s-belladonna @blueballslock @pookalicious-hq @vextyyx @lizbix @sindulgent666 @yeshiioo @literallyushiwaka @kaidostwin @x3nafix @kxtsukixoxo @mivqko @judithregulus @mo072806 @kaikaidenkai @midnight-drives-with-sunarin @definitelynotanalien @local-s1mp @karasu4life @ohagiyo @arwawawa2

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fratttymatty · 6 months ago

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You've Been Chosen

Nate and Elijah had been inseparable for years. From the day they'd met at the local library, both young, quiet, and awkward in their own ways, to the years that followed when they’d discovered not only a shared love for literature but an even deeper connection — one they hadn't realized they were capable of forming. Their friendship blossomed into something more: quiet kisses in the park, whispered confessions late at night. It was a bond they knew was unbreakable.

They were happy, in love, and understood each other in ways no one else did. Their world was peaceful, and they thought they could weather anything life threw at them — until one summer day when everything changed.

The change began innocuously enough. It started with a strange email, sent from an address they didn't recognize. The subject line simply read: "You’ve been chosen." It was vague, with cryptic language and strange, almost otherworldly promises of a new life — a better one, it said, filled with strength, confidence, and success. Curious, Elijah opened it up.

But there was something… off about it. The email didn’t feel like a scam, not like the usual spam messages they received. It felt personal.

He glanced at Nate, a playful smirk crossing his lips. "Hey, Nate. I think we won the lottery. Want to see what they’re offering us?"

Nate didn’t respond at first, but when Elijah read it aloud, he raised an eyebrow. "That’s… weird. I don’t know. What if it’s some sort of cult or, like, a scam?"

"Nah, man," Elijah laughed. "It’s probably just some marketing gimmick. Let’s see what happens."

Neither of them realized how wrong they were until they found themselves standing together, one week later, in a sleek, modern room at the address provided in the email.

It was a small, almost sterile room with dark metal walls and a single chair in the center. They had entered together, but as soon as the door shut behind them, it locked with a loud click, and the lights began to flicker. Panic surged in both their chests.

Before they could process what was happening, a smooth voice, deep and calm, echoed from the walls.

"You two have been selected for a transformation. Prepare yourselves. The process begins now."

The words were final, and though they both tried to resist, to run, their bodies refused to move as something… shifted.

Nate felt a strange sensation spread through his body. At first, it was subtle—his hands began to tingle, then his arms, his chest, his legs. A rush of heat followed, making him feel like he was burning from the inside out. He looked at Elijah, but the sight of his boyfriend seemed distant, blurry, as though they were being separated by an impenetrable glass wall.

Elijah's breath hitched, his heart racing. He reached for Nate but felt his body contorting against his will. His muscles grew tight, harder, firmer. His once-thin frame began to bulk up with unnatural speed. His face started to change too: his jawline squared, his nose became more pronounced, his lips thinner. His eyes, once full of quiet warmth, now had a piercing, competitive gleam.

Nate could feel his body doing the same. His slender build was replaced by thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders. His skin darkened slightly, and his eyes shifted from a soft brown to a sharper blue, the deep love and empathy in them turning into something more detached, more predatory. His facial features became more angular, harder, like a statue chiselled to perfection.

As the transformation progressed, a strange sensation tugged at the roots of Nate’s hair. He reached up instinctively to touch it, his fingers trembling as a sharp, tingling pressure ran through his scalp. It was as if something deep inside his hair follicles was being pulled and restructured.

At first, his hair darkened, shifting from its natural brown to a deep, rich shade of dark brown, almost black under the bright, artificial lights of the room. The soft waves that had once framed his face, so familiar and comforting, were now growing thick and dense, the texture becoming more coarse. His scalp tingled as the strands grew shorter—cutting down to a cropped, tousled style that gave off a carefree, athletic edge. The waves that had once been loose and soft were now effortlessly styled, falling into place as though the perfect amount of tousled mess was intentionally crafted.

The hair wasn’t just shorter—it was sharper. His bangs, which had once softly brushed against his forehead, now lifted in an effortlessly messy yet purposeful way, as if styled by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The way it framed his face accentuated the new, strong lines of his jaw, his angular cheekbones, and his newly defined, masculine features.

Nate—no, Jason—ran a hand through it, feeling the textured strands shift beneath his fingers, and he couldn't help but admire the way it looked. His hair now had volume, thick and strong, and he could tell that it would always look perfect—effortlessly sexy and rugged, the kind of hair that turned heads without even trying.

Beside him, Elijah’s transformation was no less intense. Elijah had always worn his hair curly, an unruly mass of dark tendrils that framed his face in a way that spoke of gentle chaos. But now, as the change took over him, his curls unraveled, twisting and straightening until they, too, darkened to a similar shade of deep brown. The once-wild curls became more controlled, shorter, but the same tousled, perfectly disheveled look that Jason’s hair now sported fell into place on Elijah’s head.

His hair was thick, but now it had that same rugged charm—messy, but in a way that suggested it had been styled by the hands of someone who knew how to pull off that effortless, “I woke up like this” look. The hair still had volume, but it was shorter and more structured, the kind of style that fit perfectly with his broad new shoulders and athletic frame. His hair seemed to have been designed to match his new, muscular persona: bold, attractive, and undeniably masculine.

As Jason and Tyler—formerly Nate and Elijah—stood together, they both reached up to feel their hair, marveling at the way it framed their faces now. It was so different from before—so right. The tousled texture suited them in ways they hadn’t even known they needed.

Jason ran his fingers through his dark, tousled locks, feeling the confidence surge within him again, that new, sharp, athletic swagger filling him as the weight of the transformation settled deeper within. He met Tyler’s gaze, his eyes full of an intense, competitive fire.

“Dude,” Jason said, grinning, “we look good.”

Tyler smiled back, his own tousled dark hair falling effortlessly into place as he shook his head. “We look unstoppable,” he said.

And with that, the two of them—no longer Nate and Elijah—stepped out into their new lives, their hair styled to perfection, their bodies transformed into something strong, athletic, and undeniably right for their new roles. The world felt like it was theirs for the taking.

The transformation wasn’t just physical. Their minds began to change too. Memories of books and poetry — the things that had once meant so much to them — began to fade away, replaced by thoughts of weights, gym routines, and the thrill of competition. They felt a strange sense of pride surge within them as their new identities took root.

For the first time in their lives, both Elijah and Nate felt strong, undeniably powerful. But it was an overwhelming, alien feeling. It felt right in ways they couldn’t explain, and the weight of it nearly crushed them as their old selves—soft, introspective, sensitive—began to feel like a distant dream.

The voice spoke again, like a final verdict.

"You are no longer who you were. You are now Jason and Tyler — young, athletic, confident men. Your previous lives no longer matter. You are made for greatness. You will no longer seek love in the way you once did. The bonds you had are severed."

Jason—Nate, now no longer holding onto his past—felt a surge of pride. He looked at Tyler—Elijah—and for the first time in what felt like forever, the attraction was... different. His mind registered his boyfriend, but there was something else. Something about the new version of Tyler made him feel... competitive. Desirable in a different way. He wasn’t sure how to reconcile it. He just knew it felt right. The confusion was buried beneath layers of muscle, of physicality, of instinct.

Tyler—Elijah—didn’t resist either. He looked at Jason, his new, broad chest puffing out as a rush of dopamine flooded his mind. He smiled, feeling the weight of his new body and the confidence that came with it. This new life, as a jock, a bro, was exhilarating.

The door opened, and they were led out, no longer the quiet, tender souls they had been, but two young men with a new sense of purpose. Their old relationship—soft, tender, intellectual—was gone. Their bond now, their connection, was forged in shared strength, in the thrill of physical dominance, in the unspoken power that surged through their veins.

Jason, with his broad, muscular shoulders and chiseled abs, nudged Tyler with a grin. “Yo, let’s hit the gym. We’ve got work to do.”

Tyler, now as tall and athletic as Jason, returned the smile. “Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

They were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they didn’t want to go back. In this new life, they were strong. They were perfect. And for the first time, they felt like they had found where they truly belonged.

As they walked into the bright sunlight, muscles flexing beneath their tight gym shirts, they couldn’t help but laugh. It felt so good. So right.

The past was forgotten.

And their future—together—was unstoppable.

As Jason and Tyler left the strange, metallic room, the world outside seemed brighter, louder, and somehow better. Their bodies felt different—stronger, more confident. And something deep within their minds had shifted too. The connection they once shared, tender and intimate, now felt distant. The quiet bond of their past lives seemed like a distant memory. They weren’t the same people anymore.

It was hard to explain, but as the minutes passed, it became clearer: they weren’t just different in appearance. They were changed, in the deepest parts of them. The world around them—once a place full of quiet contemplation and hidden desires—was now something else. Something simple. Something new. They felt a surge of straight masculinity rushing through them, their minds rewiring to focus on new things: sports, strength, competition. And, of course, women.

Jason turned to Tyler, his voice suddenly rough and confident. "Dude, we gotta hit the gym. Get those gains. We can totally crush it at the football tryouts next week."

Tyler, standing tall beside him with that signature, broad-chested swagger, grinned. "Totes, man. I’m ready to dominate. The ladies are gonna be all over us."

For the first time, Jason felt the thrill of wanting women in the way Tyler spoke of. He wasn’t looking at Tyler the same way anymore. He was looking at him as a bro, someone to team up with. That old, deep feeling of love for each other had been buried beneath this new, primal sense of camaraderie.

And sure enough, not long after, their transformation was complete in every way. The world they walked into was different, and it embraced them. They both began to notice the women around them, their new bodies and newfound swagger immediately attracting attention. In their minds, they were no longer Nate and Elijah. They were Jason and Tyler, and they were ready to conquer everything—starting with the opposite sex.

It didn't take long before they met the two girls who would change their lives: Hailey and Kelsey.

They were everything Jason and Tyler had never noticed before. Blonde, bubbly, and a little bit ditzy, they wore skintight leggings and crop tops that barely covered their chests, their eyes bright with naive excitement. Hailey, with her long, bleached blonde hair and impossibly tan skin, smiled at Jason and Tyler like they were her ticket to something new and exciting.

"Oh my God, you guys are, like, so cute," Hailey said, flipping her hair dramatically as she approached them, her voice thick with that slightly high-pitched, breathy tone that spoke of a lack of concern for anything outside her immediate world. She blinked a few times, taking in their chiseled, athletic builds, and giggled. "Totes, like, you guys look like such jocks. Are you into, like, football or something? My ex totally played football."

Jason, now fully embracing his new identity, grinned at her, his mind instantly shifting into alpha male mode. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and gave her a once-over, appreciating the way her curves filled out the tight, pink tank top she wore. "Yeah, babe. Football’s our thing. We're on the varsity team," he said with a cocky smirk, leaning back slightly to show off his chest.

Kelsey, standing next to Hailey, took one look at Tyler and squealed, practically bouncing up and down. "Oh my God, you’re like, so hot!" she gushed, her wide blue eyes scanning him with clear admiration. "I just love a guy with abs, y'know?" She laughed, looking a little too excited for Jason’s taste but in a way that was undeniably flattering. "Like, you're, like, totally the type of guy I could, like, see myself with! Do you, like, work out a lot or whatever?"

Tyler couldn’t help but smirk, flexing his arm slightly, his muscles popping in his tight gym shirt. He hadn’t worked out this much in his life, but he could see that it was paying off. "Oh, you know," he said with an air of casual arrogance, his deep voice now a clear reflection of his transformation. "I’m at the gym, like, every day. Gotta keep the body tight for the ladies."

Hailey giggled at that, nodding enthusiastically. "Omg, yes, totes! I love when guys are, like, super fit and stuff. It’s, like, so hot." She tilted her head and pouted, giving Jason a flirty smile. "Do you, like, want to go out sometime? You know, like, maybe grab a smoothie or whatever?"

Jason felt the surge of masculinity flow through him, the confidence making him feel unstoppable. A smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah, sounds good," he said casually, already picturing the kind of date they would have—a simple, straight-forward affair with Hailey, where his new identity would be put to the test.

As the four of them stood there, chatting about workouts and the latest school gossip, the feeling of the old Nate and Elijah—their quiet, intellectual selves—seemed more and more like a distant, meaningless memory. They couldn’t even remember the last time they'd shared a moment of vulnerability or tenderness. In fact, the more they spoke to Hailey and Kelsey, the more they realized how little they missed that past life.

Their conversations now revolved around flexing muscles, sharing workout tips, and planning group outings. Hailey would giggle and run her fingers through her hair, occasionally tossing out phrases like, "Oh my God, like, totes!" while Kelsey would swoon over Tyler's abs, telling him how she "just loved a guy who could throw a football."

Jason, now fully in sync with his new identity, couldn’t help but laugh at how different everything felt. It wasn’t that he missed who he was before—it was that he didn’t even want to be Nate anymore. He wasn’t looking for poetry or deep conversation anymore. He was looking for the next adrenaline rush, the next win on the field, the next perfect girl to date.

And with Hailey, and with Kelsey, the world felt right. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders confidently, pulling her closer, feeling the perfect balance of masculinity and attraction.

Tyler did the same with Kelsey, his grin wide, his posture a perfect reflection of a new life.

"We’re gonna crush it this season, bro," Jason said to Tyler, his voice now heavy with the satisfaction of their transformation.

"Yeah, man," Tyler agreed, his voice thick with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. "With these girls by our side, nothing can stop us."

In this new life, as Jason and Tyler walked away with Hailey and Kelsey, the past seemed like nothing more than a fading dream. The transformation was complete. There was no room for doubts, no room for second thoughts. They were jocks now, strong, straight, and fully entrenched in the world they had been designed for.

And as they left behind the old versions of themselves, they couldn’t help but think, with a satisfied smile: This is it. This is who we’re meant to be.

#male tf #male tf story #nerd to jock #gay to straight #smart to dumb #gym bro tf

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nonuniverse-tarot · 1 year ago

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How Does Your Person View You?

This reading is the subjective point of view from your person. It might be or might not be true.

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

Pile 1:

You're always on the move and not very emotional. You go and get what you want and aren't afraid to fight for it. You defend your point of view/ believes , but you don't go out of your way to start conflicts. If you're being attacked, then obviously you'll defend yourself.

They see you're up in your head a lot. Very dreamy, imaginative, full of ambition. A little stubborn at times, but with reason. To them, you're standing on stable ground and have valid reasons to be stubborn.

They see you as a knowledgeable person and that you have so many opportunities to succeed in whatever you put your energy in (however they view success).

They don't see you as an emotional person because you haven't really let them see that part of you. When things are getting too personal, you might change the topic and revert back to the composed you.

They admire you. They see you so high up and that you are capable of achieving anything and everything. For most of you, your person has seen you evolve into this 'new' you. They want to know you better, including your emotional side.

Songs: More Than A Friend - girli | Washing Machine Heart (Speed) - Mitski | Two - Sleeping At Last

Pile 2:

An old soul. You're not new in this world let alone, in this universe. They feel like you've gone through so much, but that you've learned from that and continued your path. You're not living in the past. You reflect a lot, but they see you applying what you have learned, into the present.

They think you're a bit lonely, even misunderstood, for some of you. You're so in tune with nature/universe/spirit - what that might look like for your person. You know what you're feeling, why you're feeling it, and what you'll do about it. They see you as a calm collected person.

There's this fear of getting close to you because they don't feel that they're at your level. They view you as knowledgeable in regards to spiritual topics and your person thinks they aren't so spiritual. They are open to it, but there's this irrational fear of you looking down on them for not knowing much.

Regardless of gender, they view you as a masculine person. You make decisions and act upon them. They're amazed by you and they think that you don't think very highly of them. You might have a bit of a resting bitch face without knowing.

Songs: She Likes A Boy - Nxdia | Miss You - Louis Tomlinson | Magia Blanca - Hermanos Carrion

Pile 3:

You limit yourself a lot but they also see you so free, flowing, and in tune with yourself, but for some reason, you limit yourself so much. Your person is frustrated. They don't know what they can do to help you realize this.

"Why do they stop themselves so much? Why do they hold themselves back so much? Why do they hide so much? Why aren't they showing their authentic self, their talents, their light to the world?"

From their point of view, there's nothing holding you back from doing anything. The Devil and 10 of Swords are in reverse - meaning you are free to do what you wish, but you think so low of yourself for a reason they don't understand or see, causing all those opportunities and freedom from happening.

It seems that you're open and trust your person, that's why they see all these amazing things about you. They have strong feelings towards you, but they feel that if they let you know, you'll reject them because of your poor self-esteem.

You think you're the worst being in the world, but they don't understand why you would think such a thing. They see you as the brightest light. The brightest of them all.

"Why are they looking for a devil that isn't there?"

Songs: I Really F**ked It Up - girli | Chance With You - mehiro | Drinking With Cupid - VOILÀ

~*~*~*~

I hope you liked the reading! Thank you for being here!

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #pick an image #pick a pile

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oonajaeadira · 5 months ago

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That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 2

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox Farrah

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island. She’s a little withdrawn and Fink finds out why.

A/N: This chapter is mainly for @brandylyn because it means so much to me that she wants to read a simple story about a little yearning fox.

PART 1

For the past many mornings Fink had woken to an empty hut, the little heap of leaves near the door where Farrah preferred to sleep flattened and empty. As much as he knew he could just track her by scent, it wasn’t necessary anymore. He knew where she was.

And his heart sank a little.

He’d been hoping for the day when he’d wake to find her still sleeping, at peace, or the night where she’d fall asleep before him, comfortable in her new home. But her ears always remained alert, feigning sleep into the night, and she was gone by first light.

Not that she wouldn’t come back to join him for meals or to play fast-as-the-wind with the possum kids. But he supposed she went to the cove in the morning for the same reason she slept near the door.

Hoping to catch a whiff of home.

There’d been two full moons since Farrah came to the island and she adjusted fast to their strange way of life. She wasn’t as hard driven by hunger as some of the other animals and gained from their talks that was because food had been more scarce where she was from and she was patient when it came to waiting for meals. Fish and shellfish had already been a big part of her diet.

So she must have come from another island…but Fink couldn’t be sure. Anytime he’d ask more about it, she’d change the subject or go quiet. And she was very very good at being quiet. Probably had to learn that with fur like hers. It’s a wonder she made it to maturity without proper camouflage. Silence and speed would be her only options.

Except when she laughed. She laughed loud and high, almost a cry when she was really going. Farrah was easy to amuse and he made sure to do so whenever he had the chance. He wanted to see her happy and settled here. With him.

And he just liked to hear her laugh. Nobody laughed at his jokes like she did.

“That is the look of a lovelorn fox,” Paddler dryly declared one day, turning away to scrape away at a massive trunk with his crooked incisors. Fink had just cracked a joke at a squirrel’s expense–and not a clever one either, something about the size of nuts–and Farrah had laughed before bounding off after a butterfly. The beaver’s remark made Fink realize that he was wearing a dopey grin and he shook it off, but not before Paddler added, “Be direct. Build her a dam to show how you feel.”

“I’m not going to give her a dam.”

“But I’m telling you, fine fellow. We may be swimming among the trees as a pike in the waters of the river, yet the ladies still love a good bit of worked wood. You have that home–a good design, said because, as you will remember it is mine–but a little riverside palace of her own? Eh? What a treat.”

Fink rolled his eyes, playing cavalier. “It’s not like that. We’re–” over in the near clearing, Farrah’s fur sparkled white in the sinking sun, her head tilting side to side as she watched two butterflies dancing, trying to pick up on their whispers, quiet and still….and beautiful. “--friends.”

“Ha!” Paddler choked on a laugh. “You fool no one, sir. Just give her a treasure and be done with it. I’m telling you a dam always does the job, but I suppose you must do as your ilk do.”

“Is that why there's no Mrs. Paddler?”

“Oh ho! I have had my salacious share of affairs, I assure you. My dams are well-given and wide spread. I am focusing on other projects at the moment,” he boasted with a grand gesture towards his gnarled tree, and turned back to his gnawing.

But Fink hadn’t let the beaver’s advice sift completely to the background and after a particularly good day of digging holes for grubs and laying in the sun-warmed grass, it was Farrah herself that completed the thought.

“Okay. You get to take one feature from any other animal and add it to your own. What are you stealing?” Fink rolled on his back, belly to the sun, black paws bent and hanging lazily.

“Uhhhhh,” she sighed. “Mayyyyybe racoon paws?”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Ugh. Really? You’d lose your ability to run fast.”

“Yeah, but where am I gonna run here?” she smiled, teasing, and his tail twitched hopefully. “And I bet they’re useful for arranging bedding and…holding fish…and…oh! I bet urchins would be so much easier to crack open, no more getting spines in my jowls…”

“Wait!” He flipped to his stomach then, his claws digging in the dirt, eager to run, eager to share the idea that had just come to him, ready to bound and yip but controlling himself–she was skittish if he was too bouncy–”You like urchins??”

“Of course. Do they live here? I’ve never found any.”

“Come on. I gotta show you something,” and he took off running with the breeze at his back, which carried the information that she was following and keeping up with him as he made his way through the trees and down the sloping landscape to the shore.

Running straight for the goose flats, he turned abruptly at the shoreline and went crashing though some bushes until they came to a bluff wall. But instead of coming to a halt, Fink took a leap, knowing which ledges were wide enough to hold him, and which led out to the sea. From there, he was able to round the corner to a small cove. With the tide out, it was a completely isolated beach, not even a sand bird or seagull.

“Welcome to the northern most point of the island,” he explained with a sweep of the paw. “When I don’t wanna dig clams to a soundtrack of honks, I come out here. The tide leaves little treats too. Cockles, a dead fish, sometimes an eel. Sometimes though–” he scanned the stretch of beach, his heart skipping at the sight of a dark little blob, “--there! Urchin!”

Dashing over, he sniffed at it and, finding it still fresh, held it down with one paw and expertly cracked its underside open with his teeth. Then he sat back high and proper, very proud of himself, and offered the feast to her with a flourish. “Madame.” Surely this would be it. This cove was his little secret, his treasure to give her. And serving up delicacies with humor? He just wanted to make her smile…

But Farrah had stopped nearby, distracted, her strange eyes–one light, one dark–searching the sea, her nose activated, taking in the air.

“Uh…Farrah?” Snapping to, she closed the distance, and Fink cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, of course. I just caught a whiff of–” she fought off a glance to the sea. “It doesn’t matter. Oh wow! The urchins are huge here!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously. “It’s a specialty here. You’re gonna love the recipe. This one’s for you. Dig in.” As she did, Fink turned fully toward the water and scanned the horizon, trying to see what had caught her attention but found no scents or sights out of the ordinary. “This place is a little secret of mine, but you’re welcome to it anytime.”

“It’s nice here. Quiet.” She licked her jowls, taking in the last morsels of the delicacy. He still hadn’t turned from the sea and just as he meant to ask what had pulled her attention, she surprised him by coming to sit beside him, not just near him, but right beside him, shoulder to shoulder, flank to flank. “Thank you.”

Success. He sat still, paralyzed, trying to keep his heartbeat from racing, his tail from twitching. She liked his gift, she liked his shared treasure, he could feel his paws wanting to happy tap in the sand and the springs of his hips wanting to leap in triumph.

But still he sat. Because she had finally come closer and he knew even a twitch would send her just out of reach again, no matter how badly he wanted to curl his tail around her–not only to warm her but to protect–his foxy instincts running high.

But still he kept sitting, as long as he could, watching her from the corner of his eye as she sniffed the wind and seemed to be relaxing around him.

Not long after that, she was gone in the mornings and he’d track her here to this cove and peek around the bluff wall to find her sitting in almost the same spot, looking out toward the sea. The first day he’d found her, he’d startled her and she ran off in a flash, not coming home until after dark.

After that he left her be and went back to the goose flats for breakfast. She’d join him soon enough and say nothing about it, smiling as if all was fine. But she never sat so close to him again and she still slept every night with perked ears near an escape route.

After a while though, he tried a different tactic. He came out into the cove and sat at the shore as she did–quiet and still–only still very far away. He’d let her pick up his scent before moving closer and sitting nearby, matching her gaze to the sea, and they would sit in silence for a short moment before she would perk up as if all was well and backtrack to the wall and therefore getting on with the day, nothing more about her alone time to be said.

Until today. Poking his head around the bluff he found Farrah on her feet, trotting up and down a short length of the shore, eyes on the far, far horizon…and then he noticed the smell.

Snow.

There was an iceberg far out to sea, not unusual for late spring on some years, but not altogether common either. They never came close and were often in and out of sight within a morning. This one was drifting further away and Fink watched as Farrah tracked it going, looked after it even when it was too far to be seen or smelled, finally sitting with a little sigh and sink of the head.

And then he understood.

One recent night they’d been looking up at the stars and Fink had pointed out The Great Crack in the Sky, his friend Roz had told him its name was Cassiopeia, whatever that means. That’s when she told him that in her home, they called that group of stars The Iceberg Edge. The elders of her pack used it to teach kits not to go out onto the ice when they saw the pattern of this constellation on the ground, because it meant the ice was breaking up and going out to sea.

This is how she came here, she told him, caught on a piece of spring ice that broke away during a clutch of warm days. It drifted too far out to sea for anyone to hear her howling. When it was almost melted out from under her, she was lucky enough to swim to a piece of debris and huddle on it for a few days until there was an upset and she was in the water again and the next thing she knew she was waking up in the hut with a bear blocking the exit.

It seemed like yesterday and ages ago all together.

Once she noticed him sitting down the beach, this time he moved closer and sat quietly for a little bit before speaking slow and low.

“You…miss your home, huh.” As he expected, she only blinked down at the sand, and his ears fell to a droop. But she wasn’t running off or changing the subject. Maybe if she wasn’t ready to talk, she might be okay with listening. Fink swallowed, realizing he was about to say some things out loud for the first time. “I felt the same way when I came to this part of the island. My mom kicked me out pretty early and I was run off before I could really learn the ropes. It took me a long time to forgive her. I know now that it wasn’t her first choice, that there were too many males and not enough females so I guess she was afraid I’d get targeted. But I was pretty darn lonely for a long time.”

“What changed?”

His breath caught as she spoke up, but he managed to recover and answer. “I found friends. Really amazing friends. I hope that for you too. It seems like you’re off to a good start. Especially if you keep giving Pinktail a break from her spawn.”

At least she cracked half a smile before letting it fade again. “Friends don’t replace family.”

“No, not replace. But they can become another kind of family. I have proof.” He’d told her enough about Roz and Brightbill, and Thorn spent enough time in the hut that he knew she understood. “But I’d like to hear about your family…” and here he couldn’t help himself, his self-interests creeping in as he tested his chances, “...I assume you mean your mate and kits…”

Here Farrah gave him a look so sudden, so bewildered and distressed that he was about to ask her if he’d overstepped, but instead, that laugh of hers broke out, although not as loudly as usual.

“I was talking about my mother and siblings. They were my whole world. They had to be. The food was scarce so the families were spread out and…well. Mate? That’s… I’m obviously nobody’s first choice, I mean, just look..” She stuck out her tongue and made a silly face, tilting her head from side to side.

Fink could only blink, perplexed.

The breeze picked up, but the scent of snow was only a memory now, the water a flat line. Farrah’s nose pointed down to the sand again, her half smile diminishing by half again for a moment. Fink leaned forward, words starting to bubble up, words he thought he’d never get to say to another fox. But before he could say what he’d been holding down, she shook off the mood and feebly tried to make it a non-issue, abolishing the silence between them.

“Have I ever told you how my sister once head-butted an elephant seal?”

“Ah…no. Really?”

“Really!”

“Huh. What’s…an elephant seal?”

“It’s–oh! Sometimes I forget…of course you wouldn’t know...!” Then that laugh again, launching into the story, starting with an impression of the seal–although if it was a good impression or not, he couldn’t tell having never seen one. But he knew somehow by her laughter that it was. She was suddenly back to normal, comfortable to be herself when it was only the two of them in this little hidden cove.

No mate. She had no mate. This was good news. For him. But sad for her. That is, if she wanted one. What if she didn’t–? Wait. What did she mean by that? That nobody would choose her? Because of her fur? Because she was a runt? Maybe that made sense in a place where she would have to hide from predators, but she wouldn’t have to do that here. And even if it was necessary, he could protect her…probably. If she wanted that... Even so, she’d be okay. If he learned anything from Brightbill it was that sometimes the will to survive past nature’s plan for you makes you even more likely to outlive everyone else.

He could certainly feel nature’s plan working on him and thought with a little grin that he would gladly give up a longer life for that plan to work out….

But Farrah was speaking, talking about her family, their annual rounds from point to point in their territory, how she and her sisters used to share everything and hide and pop out to scare their mother and she would do her very best to act frightened. And the nights dancing under the green light curtains! Had he ever seen the shifting lights in the night sky? He had to admit he hadn’t. So he put his wonderings aside and laid down in the sand, crossing his paws and listened, learned, and bathed in the light of her widening trust. They had all day until the tide came back in. And Fink had no need to be anywhere but here.

He hoped in time, she would feel the same.

___

PART 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

#the wild robot #the wild robot fanfic #fink the fox #wholesome #fluff #that awooo inside you #that awoooo inside you #fink x farrah

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redflagshipwriter · 8 months ago

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Red Hot Ghouls chapter 13 part 2/2

masterpost

Given that Dr. and Dr. Fenton had taken him on a drive around town that legitimately climaxed with an on-foot chase of a hulking ghost who did not care to comment for their family blog, Jason thought that was actually kinda probable. If the Drs. had that technology, their kids would probably have access as well.

“Why not?” Tim said, sounding a bit defensive. “We know for a fact that there’s a few undead out there, zombie boy. And there’s a ghost affiliated with the JL.”

All solid points.

‘But there’s no way the good Doctors would be able to convince a ghost to do anything they wanted. Would the daughter have any better luck?’

Jason covered a laugh in his fist.

His ghostly experience so far consisted of:

Danny Phantom, who was very annoyed that Waters was trying to pay him tribute and not happy to see Jason, either.

The mysterious collaborator who hadn’t even wanted Jason to enter his tower.

Skalker, who spent the length of their acquaintance screaming and flying away at what appeared to be his top speed while Jack Fenton whooped and Dr. Fenton shouted questions from a megaphone.

“I get the vibe that they don’t really care to interact with the living,” Jason said, before Tim could get his knickers in a twist. “So my skepticism is in regards to the likelihood of a ghost agreeing to collaborate.”

“What, you think they’re all the same?” Tim said. His tone made it seem like he thought that was such an embarrassingly unintellectual idea that Jason should sink through the floor.

“I think there’s pretty good reasons there might be a trend.”

Tim made an unconvinced sound and changed the subject. “Since they have a similar area of interest, I want to look for a connection between the Fentons and Waters. They could be- Why did you laugh?”

A neon sign lit up across the street, sending a wash of purple light through the air. Jason shook his head. “The Fentons- the Dr.s Fenton, at least, strongly dislike Jeremy Waters.”

“Why did that come up?”

“No reason,” Jason lied airily. “Anyway, that’s not it. Could be some kind of rivalry. But I doubt they’d want to visit Waters in Arkham to give him their sympathies.”

Tim chewed that over for a moment. “Could be a rivalry. I gotta go, O’s hitting my line.”

“Stay safe out there.” Jason cut the conversation and settled in to think. He stuck his hands in his pockets and wished for something to fiddle with that wasn’t a weapon. It had poser vibes to stand around on a rooftop alone playing with a knife or a gun. If Oracle caught you on video, she would tint it blue, set it to some humiliatingly emo soundtrack, and send it around the hero community.

Not, uh. Not that that had happened to him.

He called in. “Hey, O, good evening.”

“Good to hear from you, Hood.” She sounded as serene as ever.

Jason fidgeted a little. “Anything I could help with?” He toed the front of his boot back and forth on the cement ledge for a moment, killing time by idly calculating how many seconds he’d have to engage a grapple if he fell from this height.

“Good news for Gotham, it’s a quiet night.”

He sighed.

“I know, I know,” O said sympathetically. “You got all dressed up in your dancing shoes-”

“And there’s no one to go out with,” Jason agreed. At the back of his mind he vaguely remembered that that…might not be true, actually. He made a dramatic sigh. “I might call it a night, then. No point staring at the city like some bat-eared creep. I don’t have any monologues to work on right now.”

“Oh, you got those all done? Good for you, little buddy.”

Jason resisted the urge to flip her off. She wasn’t even here.

“Stay safe,” he said, because the idea of ending a call without saying that always filled him with a terrible premonition that this would be the time the other person ended up shot in the head and gone forever. He blew out a long, slow breath when he was finally truly alone and reconsidered the thought he’d had earlier.

‘I haven’t messaged Phantom all this time. It might be a good night for it. It’s been most of a week. He won’t be annoyed that I’m checking in now.’

Yeah… Yeah, okay. Jason grappled down and made his way to where he’d stashed his bike. He got into his current residence and stripped out of his gear. He got out his phone and shot Phantom a text before he went into the shower. Not much, he didn’t wanna come across as desperate. Just a nice, casual, “Hey, what’s up? Just checking in. Any luck so far? I finished my books!”

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #red hot ghouls

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jaylver · 1 year ago

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LOVE AT FIRST SPEED — L.HS (TEASER!)

SYNOPSIS: World champion, record breaker, winner of hundreds of races, what does Lee Heeseung want other than that? Apparently, love. Being the greatest doesn't mean that he's doing well. Even though there were many girls already lining up for him, he knew none of them were truly sincere. Constantly alone and devoid of love, he craves it unconditionally. That was until everything changed when he met you, his new next door neighbour that doesn’t even know he’s a famous f1 racer. (subjected to change)

OR! in which a world champion tries scoring the girl next door.

PAIRINGS: F1 driver!heeseung x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers/neighbours to lovers, love at first sight, formula one au, sports au, romance

WARNING(S): profanities, heeseung is a certified loverboy, partying (more to be added)

RELEASE DATE: READ HERE

TAGLIST CLOSED.

TAGLIST: @silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @seongclb @hepli @jayfrvr @jiawji @acciocriativity @m3chigo @in-somnias-world @ren4luv @k1ttylvr @pluviophilefangirl @skzenhalove @deobitifull @ipoststuffandyeah @shinkenprincess-oh @wvnkoi @renaishun @mars101 @kgneptun @rikisly @soobnisms @noascats @velvtcherie @httpsneptvnn @asteria-wood @jihanlovic @heeseungshim @lilriswife4life @aylin-hijabi @noirxraa @classicroyalty @sseastar-main @eskopiganja @wyeri @pearlwsworld @mimisamisasa @enhastolemyheart @zerasari @3amstarlight @dimplewonie @fluerz @philijack @redm4ri

– MONTE CARLO, MONACO, 2023

Lee Heeseung was drunk.

Going out with the boys was probably a mistake. Look, it was off season and everyone was back in Monaco, so it definitely sounded like a great idea to go out for a night out, right? Wrong.

Letting Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Yeonjun and some of the other drivers drag him to a well known club in the city was his first mistake of the night. The second was accepting all of the shots they offered, acting as if the celebrations of him winning his third world championship wasn’t over yet. The alcohol that took over his senses only made him stumble to the dance floor, dancing wildly with girls surrounding him, not giving a care if a camera was capturing everything. That was his third mistake.

By the end of the night, every one of them were equally shitfaced. It wasn’t a great look, and he was sure their personal trainers weren’t going to be happy at all. Heeseung, in particular, was taking it better than the rest, though still slurring and stumbling around, at least he managed to tell his address fully to the taxi driver.

Getting dropped off at the lobby looking absolutely destroyed was humbling. He kept his head low, reminding himself that he had a reputation to maintain and went for the elevator, pressing the number of his floor. He was leaning against the wall, holding it for support as he slowly sobered up, trying his best to feel around his body for his keycard.

“Fuck,” he cursed out, unable to remember where it was with that hazy mind of his.

The elevator stopped at his floor with a ‘ding’, grabbing his attention from his ongoing search for the moment. He trudged along the quiet hallway, dragging his feet and mumbling his regrets. One thing’s for sure was that he should not rely on Jake for claiming it was a ‘light party’. Light party my ass.

Standing in front of his door to the apartment, he was dying to get in and crash into his comfortable bed. However, he remembered what he was struggling to find: his keycard. God, why me, he thought.

His head was beginning to spin and it was not helping. He was slipping his hand into his back pockets, shirt pockets that didn’t even exist because he’s wearing a button up, then his socks, which was absolutely insane. No, Lee Heeseung was turning insane. At one point, he let out a sigh and leaned his head on his door, swearing that he was about to collapse out of fatigue.

“Uh—are you okay?” Was that a voice coming from the pits of his head? It couldn’t be, it was a woman’s voice. “Mister?”

Heeseung turned around in a blink of an eye, almost letting out a yelp in shock when his eyes landed on you. Even in his drunken daze, he was still able to make out how pretty you were. There you were, standing in a party dress that was enough to tell him you were out clubbing too, makeup that was intact and heels in one hand, creating a small height difference between him and you.

“Huh?” That was probably the dumbest thing he could let out at that moment. Wake up, he cursed at himself. “You’re not that old lady,”

“She moved away,” you guessed he was referring to the old lady that sold you her apartment, the one that was next to this … guy. “I’m guessing you were not here a few months ago to even realise I’m your new neighbour?”

Well, no, Heeseung was busy winning his championship in Abu Dhabi during then.

He didn’t say that though, instead he shrugged, liking the fact that you were oblivious he was someone well known. “I travel for work, so not really. My apologies,”

“I see,” you nodded your head, continuously cautious, he could see that. “Do you have trouble entering your own home?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You were searching for something—even in your socks,”

“Oh,” he licked his lips, currently embarrassed. “I—uh—don’t know where my keycard is,”

“Have you searched your pockets?”

“Yes,”

“Wallet?”

Heeseung paused. “No …”

“Try searching, I’m sure it’s there somewhere,” you were so confident in saying that, which made Heeseung uneasy and doubtful. How would you know it was there and he didn’t?

You pulled out your own keycard, pressing against the sensor and your door unlocked with a click, but before you went in and left Heeseung behind, you scrunch your nose up. “You should probably sober up … and also wash away the perfumes on your shirt. It’s heavy,”

Once you shut your door, Heeseung scoffed. He lowered his head to the sleeves of his button up shirt and inhaled, the smell of perfumes from the girls he danced with clung to the fabric desperately. He hated that you weren’t completely wrong. Then, he reached for his wallet, rolling his eyes at your voice in his head, but was once proven right again when he saw his glistening keycard there. For fuck’s sake.

Now, he was guessing he probably set a bad impression on you, making you think he was some stupid womaniser. Gosh, the way your eyes narrowed at him was burnt into his mind.

Heeseung was not getting much sleep that night.

. . . to be continued !

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