#still warm and breathing... this tornado loves you this tornado loves you this tornado loves you this tornado loves you this tornado loves

[allthingsfangirl101]

My Archenemy – Tyler Owens

All anyone can talk about is Tyler Owens. My students are obsessed with his videos. They idolize him.

I, on the other hand, would love to go a day without someone bringing him up. After high school, I stayed in town and went to the nearby college. I remained here and ended up teaching science at my old high school. Tyler only reappeared when tornados came to town.

I tried not to think about him. I didn't want to. We were childhood archenemies. Tyler and I were constantly competing. From spelling tests to reading competitions to science fairs. I was better at biology. Tyler was better at environmental science. We were always going head-to-head.

Whenever one of us won something, the other jumped up and won at the next thing. It got tiresome for me, but Tyler loved the competition.

After a long day at work, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home. I roamed the aisles, grabbing things here and there. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw that there was still one box of my favorite granola bars left. I went to grab it but someone had the same idea.

"Oh. I'm sorry. . . I was just. . . Tyler Owens?"

"Well, I'll be," he chuckled, instantly smirking his famous smirk. "If it isn't little Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"I'm surprised to see you back in town," I said, resisting the urge to look him up and down.

"Did you miss me?" He smirked.

"No," I didn't hesitate. "But now I miss the peace that was here when you weren't."

I started to reach for the box of granola bars, but Tyler snatched it. "Really?" I mumbled under my breath.

"I seem to remember you always had several of these in your backpack in high school," he chuckled as he pretended to read the nutritional facts. He smirked at me before dropping it into his handbasket.

"And something tells me you're not going to give me the last box," I scoffed, grabbed my shopping cart, and started walking the other way.

"We could make an exchange," Tyler said after he jogged to catch up with me.

"You have nothing I would want," I scoffed.

"Not even in exchange for the only food I've ever seen you eat?" He chuckled.

"Nope," I said, grabbing some cereal.

"You're no fun," he pouted.

"Yep."

"You haven't changed, have you, Y/L/N?"

"You shouldn't change perfection, Owens."

* * * * *

After my weird run-in with Tyler, I went home and instantly ordered my favorite granola bars on Amazon. I then used a bottle of wine to help me forget about our town's hero.

When I went to work the next day, the students were all buzzed. I had no idea why until I heard a certain conversation.

"Can you believe he's here?" One of my female students giggled.

"Isn't he from here?" Her friend asked.

"He is!" Another one of their friends added. He did a video a few years ago, and they talked about how he grew up here and even went to this school!"

"Wait," the first girl said, "didn't Ms. Y/L/N go to this school when she was our age?"

I kept my focus on my computer, hoping they wouldn't do what I thought they were about to do.

They did.

"Ms. Y/L/N, we have a question."

"What's up, girls?" I asked.

"Is it true that you went to school here?" They started with a warm-up question. They did this all the time.

"I did," I nodded, leaning back in my chair and embracing myself for the question they really wanted to ask me.

"Is it true that Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler, went to school with you?"

"He did," I sighed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes when they squealed.

"We know he's gorgeous, but what was he like in person?"

"Is he sweet?"

"Is he funny?"

"Was he always the 'risk his life to save others' type?"

"He is basically the town's hero! Did he ever save you?"

"Girls," I cut them off, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Sure!"

"Have you finished your assignment?" I smirked when they looked at each other. I almost laughed when they sighed and walked back to their desks. Luckily, the bell rang before they could come back and ask me those questions.

At the end of the day, I finished a few things before heading out. By then, it was raining. I pulled my jacket over my head and ran to my car. As I got in, I debated whether driving home in this weather could be unsafe, but there was no sign of it letting up.

My need for comfy clothes and a glass of wine convinced me to risk it. I carefully pulled out of the staff parking lot and headed home. I got to a red light and looked at the clouds, wondering if this would turn into a Tyler Owen's Worthy Storm. When the light turned green, I didn't hesitate to go.

I should've hesitated.

Right as I went through the intersection, another car ran the red light. I didn't have time to react before they hit my back tire. My car started spinning but there was nothing I could do to get out of it. Suddenly, I heard a large bang and my car stopped spinning.

I looked around but nothing made sense. I couldn't recognize any landmarks. I couldn't even remember what light I was at when I got hit.

"Y/N?!"

I couldn't respond. My head was spinning too much. I reached up, gasping in pain when I touched something wet.

"Y/N, are you alright?"

When I brought my hand back down, there was blood on my fingers. I leaned my head against the headrest, waiting for the spinning to stop.

"Shit, you're bleeding," the voice said. "Y/N, unlock the door."

I could feel my hand shaking as I hit the unlock button. As soon as I did, the door swung open. Someone knelt next to me, gently putting their wet hand on my knee. I could feel the rain hitting my face.

"Y/N," they said, their voice softer this time. "Look at me. Please?"

When I did, it took a second before I realized who it was. "Tyler?" I stuttered.

"Oh good," he joked. "You didn't hit your head so hard that you forgot about me."

"I wish I had," I mumbled as I looked away.

"You wanna know something, Y/L/N?" He chuckled. "I don't think you actually hate me. I think you pretend to hate me so I don't find out that you have a crush on me."

"You wanna know something, Owens?" I repeated his question, slowly lifting my head and looking at him. "I would. . ."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the headrest when it got too painful to try and focus on his face.

"We can bicker later," he said lightly. "Right now, let's get you some help. He grabbed my hand as he stayed squatting down but called 911.

Tyler stayed with me the whole time. He was right by my side, getting soaked in the rain, as we waited for the ambulance. Even as they put me in the back and took me to the hospital, Tyler stayed in the rain, watching.

* * * * *

I was only in the hospital for a night. I called the school and let them know what happened. They didn't hesitate to cover my classes for me and reassure me that they could handle things until I was better.

When I got home, I instantly collapsed on the couch. I put on a show I was binging before the accident and soon fell asleep on the couch. I woke up about an hour later to someone knocking.

"Tyler," I gasped when I opened the door. I subconsciously wrapped my cardigan tighter around me. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were released from the hospital earlier this morning and I wanted to see how you were feeling," he said, shoving his hands into his back pockets.

"I'm fine," I sighed.

"Are you sure? It was a bad accident," he shrugged. Something in his eyes changed. "Your car spun out and you ended up hitting. . ."

"I know," I cut him off, looking away from his weirdly soft eyes. "It was just a concussion."

"But it must've been scary," he said softly. I looked back at him, my heart feeling like it was in my throat.

"I don't remember it much," I mumbled.

"You don't?" He asked, taking a small step toward me.

"I remember my car spinning out," I recalled slowly. "And trying to turn out of it. Then. . . nothing."

"Y/N," he said softly.

"What are you doing?" I snapped, breaking this weird tension.

"What do you mean?" He chuckled.

"This," I said, gesturing between him and me. "You coming and checking on me. Being sweet. Saving me."

"Y/N," he gently cut me off. "Do you really think I'm the kind of guy who'd watch you get in a car accident and not help you?"

"You did it in high school," I said, dropping my voice.

As I stared at him, I remembered the day in high school when I got rear-ended on my way home from school. I still remember being on the phone, waiting for my dad to answer, and seeing Tyler drive by in his truck.

"Y/N. . ." He stuttered.

"Thank you for checking on me," I said, clearing my throat, "but I'm fine. In fact, I should probably get some rest."

Before he could say anything else, I shut the door.

* * * * *

A few hours later, I sighed when there was a knock on the door. I stood up but had to stop because I felt dizzy. When it passed, I slowly made my way to the door.

"Tyler," I stuttered. "What are you doing here? Again?"

"I wanted to apologize," he said. "I know we had our weird back-and-forth growing up, but I want you to know that I didn't hate you when we were younger. I've never hated you, Y/N."

I smirked as I folded my arms and leaned against the doorframe. "So the time you stole my science notes and spilled soda all over them? Or the time you wrote swear words on my notecard for our biology exam? Or the time you almost tripped me at graduation?"

"Don't you notice flirting when you see it?"

"Bullshit," I scoffed a little too soon.

I saw the look on his face drop. Only for a second though. He quickly recovered his annoying smirk. My heart jumped into my throat when he took a step closer, instantly feeling like he was towering over me.

"Clearly, I need to take a more direct approach."

"Direct approach?" I repeated. "Tyler, what are you. . ."

He cut me off by grabbing my face and pressing his lips to mine. I wasn't sure what to do. My mind was racing and all I could focus on, besides Tyler's surprisingly soft hands holding my face, was the feeling of his lips on mine. Sooner than I would've liked, he broke the kiss.

"I may not have stayed," he whispered, "but I called the police."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, matching his tone.

"That day," he continued, dropping his hands from my face, "in high school. When you got into your crash, I froze. I kept driving because I didn't know what to do. When I got home, I instantly called the cops. I didn't even tell my mom until after I had gotten off the phone."

"Why are you telling me this?" My voice was now under my breath.

"Because when I saw your accident yesterday, I didn't freeze," he said gently. "I knew I had to do something. And fast. I couldn't drive away again."

"I shouldn't have brought that up," I stuttered.

"No, it's okay," he cut me off. "I was wrong not to do anything in high school. I should've stayed around. I should've helped you."

"You did tonight," I said, my voice dropping again. I couldn't help but smile when I thought about the girls in my class the other day.

"What?" He asked, his playful smirk returning.

"It's something my students said the day of the accident."

Tyler smiled as he reached up and moved some hair out of my face, his hand lingering on my face. "What did they say, Ms. Y/L/N?" He lightly teased.

"You really are this town's hero."

Tyler laughed, slightly shaking his head. "I only care about being one person's hero," he said, slowly leaning in.

"Who's?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Yours."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I ignored all the doubts that flooded my brain as our lips started moving in sync. I grabbed the front of his flannel, pulling him closer to me. He responded by wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Oh!" He broke the kiss suddenly. "I almost forgot."

Confusion flooded me as Tyler stepped slightly out my front door and grabbed something from the ground. When he turned back toward me, he was holding a box of my favorite granola bars.

"I believe I owe you these."

[stellarspecter]

what if i said this tornado loves you ben hargreeves & the horror & jennifer gifset. what then

[little-diable]

Cocky Tornado Wrangler – Tyler Owens (smut)

Finally watching Twisters tonight. My poor aunt who has to listen to me gush about our husband. Thank you so much for the love on my other Tyler fic, I hope y'all will love this just as much. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: There are many things (y/n) would prefer to having to share a room with the man she hates. But does she really hate him? Or will the bed they share be enough to push them closer together?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), piv, enemies to lovers, lots of teasing

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.8k words)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion, eyes tired and ready to flutter shut any moment now. But fuck, she couldn’t give in just yet, had to fight yet another battle with the self proclaimed tornado wrangler who was staring down at her with his signature smirk glued to his lips.

The smirk he wore in every video of his. Videos she watched whenever they were uploaded to his channel. Not that she’d ever tell Tyler that. And god forbid he’d ever stumble upon the saved favourites she watched in moments where she needed distraction from everything but him. 

“Well, seems like your prayers were answered, pretty. An EF4 and now we get to share a room, certainly feels like we’re even closer to heaven now, doesn’t it?” Tyler’s hand found her waist to give it a soft squeeze before he gently pushed her further into the motel room. It had been an exhausting day, filled with adrenaline highs as they chased tornadoes until the late evening. Even though they had been mesmerised by the beautiful disaster, they were now forced to stay in one of the close towns, cut off from the highway heading home. 

“I can take the couch.” She had her eyes set on the rather worn out couch which had been pushed against one of the walls that were painted in a faded out pink colour. The whole room made her feel like she was back at her grandparents home, letting an almost melancholic feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. 

“You sure you don’t wanna share? The bed’s big enough, or I could take the couch.” Tyler hung up his still wet hat before placing his bag down on the bed. (Y/n) watched him take in the room, giving her a few seconds to curse him for wearing a white shirt that now clung to his muscular upper body. His back muscles were shining through the wet fabric, letting her get lost in the thoughts of how it must feel to brush her nails along his soft skin. Thoughts that shot heat straight down to her core, knowing that she’d have to take care of that cursed longing in the shower. 

“In your dreams, Owens, and we both know you won’t fit on that couch.” His raspy laugh left her grinning, unable to stop her tired face from reacting to the man (y/n) claimed she hated and yet needed to feel close at any given chance. 

“Trust me, baby, my dreams are all about sharing a bed with you and so much more.” With a wink thrown her way, Tyler plopped down on the bed. He studied her for a moment, taking in her wet frame while his tongue kissed his teeth and his muscular arms were locked behind his head. She needed to get out of here, needed to find shelter in the warm shower before her body would do something she couldn’t stop it from doing. 

“I’ll grab a quick shower.” (Y/n) didn’t wait for his reply, darting for the bathroom that was just big enough for her to let go of a deep breath. 

She hated that she had dreamt of moments like these, wondering how it may play out with Tyler by her side, having to share a bed while the world outside was ending. And all they’d have eyes for would be one another, no matter how many tornadoes called for them. 

Within seconds, (y/n) had shuffled out of her wet clothes only to step into the small shower. She couldn’t stop her soft moan from leaving her as the warm water cascaded down her back as if it were hugging her. The silence she was now offered forced her thoughts back to the longing she couldn’t shake, the need to take care of the pulsing between her thighs that grew stronger with every passing moment. 

Her fingers moved quickly, knowing that she didn’t have much time before Tyler would disturb her peace, desperate for a shower himself. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) let her fingers circle her pulsing bundle, imaging Tyler’s fingers instead of her own. 

Would he touch her with the same kind of urgency? Would he draw the same moans from her she oh so desperately wanted to give in to? No, he wouldn’t. He’d make her feel things she had never felt before, clashing through her like a tornado stronger than she had ever been fortunate enough to study. Tyler Owens was her own personal disaster and she was close to letting him rip her off her feet, close to allowing him to have his way with her without being able to protest. 

“Fuck,” the word rolled off her tongue all too quickly, knowing that she was already close to giving in to her high. (Y/n) didn’t pay the ache in her forearm any mind, didn’t worry about the way her fingers begged her to move slower, all she was focused on were her thoughts that painted a picture of Tyler and the way he’d touch her.

And with her head rolled back and her lips tightly pressed together, she came. (Y/n) let her orgasm wash through her, rubbing her pulsing bundle a few more times before her tired body found its way out of the shower.

It took her a second to realise that she hadn’t taken any clean clothes with her, drawing yet another exhausted groan from her. Carefully, she opened the door, hiding behind her towel while her eyes found Tyler’s frame. No longer was he wearing his shirt, exposing his muscular upper body to her eyes which tried to burn every inch of his naked skin into her mind. 

“Tyler,” her soft voice drew his eyes from his phone. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?”

She expected a snarky comment, anything to tease her and rile her up some more, but Tyler stayed quiet, eyes focused on the parts of her body that weren’t covered by the door or her towel. (Y/n) could have sworn that he had swallowed heavily first before rising to his feet to reach for his bag. His eyes stayed glued to her while he reached a shirt out for her to take, letting his fingers brush against hers for a moment. 

It was cheesy almost, the buzz of lighting striking her at the small contact. A touch so small and yet so significant, her mind would probably think of it for days and nights to come.

With a small “thank you” rolling off her tongue, (y/n) stepped back into the bathroom to put on the shirt, grateful that it was long enough to cover her panties. Trembling legs carried her back into the room, not daring to look at Tyler, whose eyes she felt on her frame. No words were spoken between them as he pushed past her into the bathroom, allowing (y/n) to deeply exhale the second she was left alone once again. 

……

The moments after Tyler had returned from the shower, wearing nothing but boxers that clung to his body just as tightly as his wet shirt had, had been filled with a tight atmosphere. Barely any words had been shared between them, not as she had made herself comfortable on the couch, not as he had turned off the light while stretching out on the bed.

She had turned her back to him to stop her eyes from wandering, knowing that no matter how tired she was, her mind wouldn’t let her rest. Not when he was so close to her. Not when she heard his uneven breaths that told her he was still awake. Not when she could easily move closer to feel him pressed against her. 

What was he thinking of? Was he still riled up by today’s chase? Or was he also thinking of those moments where he had passed his shirt to her? 

Even though she begged her body to stay calm, to not move back towards him, she lost the fight within seconds. Her front was turned towards him, letting her eyes rest on the parts of his body that weren’t hidden by the blanket, making her awfully aware of how close he was to her. 

This was unusual for them, quiet moments where neither spoke, where no teasing or bickering could be heard. Nothing but the breaths both let go of while he kept his eyes focused on the ceiling and she wasn't strong enough to look away from him just yet.

“I can feel you staring, pretty.” Tyler rolled his head towards her, eyes meeting (y/n)’s like lightning striking a tree, buzzing straight through it to set it ablaze. “What’s going on in that confusing mind of yours?”

“Just because you’re not smart enough to understand my thoughts it doesn’t mean my mind’s confusing.” The words had left her all too quickly, drawing a gritty laugh from Tyler. A sound she loved hearing, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. A sound that left her smiling the second her ears were fortunate enough to hear it. 

“You wound me. I’d say we’re a pretty good team when it comes to understanding your plans.” Heat spread through every part of her body, a heat she was all too used to by now but still didn’t know how to work with. She rolled her eyes at Tyler before refocusing on his handsome features, taking in every part of the face she knew like the back of her hand. 

Her breath hitched in her chest as he lifted the blanket, patting the spot next to him, “Come up here, I don’t need you complaining about back pain tomorrow.”

(Y/n)’s body moved without holding back, crawling to the spot next to him as if she had done this numerous times before. It felt awfully right to lay next to him, to feel Tyler’s arm slowly wrap around her middle to cage her against his chest. 

“Do you remember the first time we chased together?” She tried to stop her hand from moving as he spoke, she really did. But yet (y/n) miserably failed, unable to keep away from his soft skin any longer, needing to feel it beneath her wandering fingers as she traced slow patterns on the skin of his warm chest. 

“I wanted to break your nose that day, god, you were even cockier back then. Do you still think people instantly recognise you when you meet them?” He shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips, tightening his grip on (y/n) as she shuffled even closer. That day was replaying in her mind every now and then, remembering how he had misjudged her for a fangirl, expecting her to almost faint when shaking his hand. And yet she hadn’t known much about him, had never watched any of his videos before that day. Something Tyler hadn’t taken as lightly as he should have, turning into the cocky asshole she had cursed for the past months.

“I no longer care about that, only worry about impressing you, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline before he let his eyes flicker back to the ceiling. His sharp jawline was exposed to her wandering eyes, making (y/n) awfully aware of how easily she could kiss him right now. It took everything in her not to move, to hold still as her heart picked up its beat. Whatever it was that had urged her on to fight against him these past months, it was now gone, leaving her unable to fight back and in need of something more. 

“We both know that’s a lie, Owens. All you worry about is tornadoes and busty women who ask you to sign their cleavages.” Her laugh was mixed with his as he let his gaze find hers again while squeezing her side. She fought against his grip, hating that he had found her most ticklish spot that made her toss and turn against him. Tyler seemed to enjoy the sight, letting his fingers find the spot again while shifting her around to hover over (y/n). With one hand pressed to the pillow and his knees caging in her right thigh, he left her no room to move away from him. 

“Do I hear jealousy?” His eyes wandered over her face, focusing on her lips as she fought against the need to look away. “You know there’s no need to be jealous, pretty. All you gotta do is give in and stop fighting our bond.” 

A sharp reply was burning on her tongue, and yet her body managed to win the fight, letting her fingers find the back of Tyler’s neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. He instantly replied to the touch, adding more pressure to the kiss with his body shuffling closer. It felt as if they were burning, tied together like two matches setting a petrol station ablaze, ready to alight the darkening night. 

With every swipe of his tongue, with every moan rumbling through them, it set in further that this was finally happening, that they were finally crossing that last bridge. No longer was she set on fighting it, purely focused on Tyler’s touch and the need to feel him as close as humanly possible. 

“Talk to me, baby, what do you want?” Her mind was torn between the kisses they kept sharing and the feeling of him growing against her thigh, telling (y/n) that he needed and wanted this as much as she did. Her fingers combed through his hair, letting her nails scratch his skin with just enough pressure to leave him tingling in excitement. 

“Everything, I want all of you, Tyler.” Hours ago she would have cursed herself for giving in so easily, for admitting that insatiable hunger she had felt for months now. But she no longer found it in herself to care, could no longer shy away from having whatever Tyler was about to offer her. Her words drew a groan from the tall tornado wrangler who kissed his way down her throat while shifting his weight onto his knees. They held eye contact as his hands disappeared beneath the shirt of his she was wearing, finding their way straight to her chest. 

“Fuck, feels like you were made for me, every part of you.” His praises sank in like a ship hitting the ocean ground, sinking lower with every passing second, forever resting on the ground like the praises he spoke to her. Forever etched into her mind. Forever remembering the way they made her feel lightheaded and giddy. 

Urgently he pulled the shirt over her head, set on exposing her body to his hungry eyes. Tyler let go of another groan as he looked down at her, making a silent promise that he’d have to take a picture of her in that position one of these days. He dipped his head down to  suck on her nipples, making her moan for him while she spread her thighs for him. His core met hers, leaving both breathless as his clothed cock rubbed against her clothed heat – a feeling so intense, it only urged Tyler on to move further down her body. 

“Will you let me taste you, pretty?” Only a breathless “Please” left (y/n), drawing a smirk to his lips. She watched his eyes light up as he pushed her panties down her legs, looking like he was marvelling at art – art so mesmerising he couldn’t stop staring. 

“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Those were the last words Tyler spoke before his tongue brushed her folds, drawing a moan from the both of them. His arms wove their way around her thighs, keeping her pressed to him as he ate her out like a starving man, high on her taste and the sounds she made for him. 

Nothing but moans managed to leave (y/n), getting lost in the feeling of Tyler sucking on her pulsing bundle, while he pushed two fingers into her – doing just what she had imagined him doing in the shower a while ago. He instantly managed to find that spot that made her see stars as he pressed down on it with his fingers, forcing (y/n) to choke on her sounds.

“Oh god, Tyler,” he chuckled against her skin, letting the sound vibrate through every part of her. From the corner of his eyes he could see her fist the covers with her free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in his hair, telling him that she was already close. And yet Tyler knew that he’d pull away soon, wanting to feel her cum around his cock like he had imagined her doing the past months. 

Tyler had worked hard for her attention, knowing that he had fucked it up the first time they had met. She had instantly managed to push him off his high horse, bruising his ego with her sharp words he could still recite today. And yet it had only made him desperate for more, set on pulling her closer like no other woman before her. 

“I could die a happy death between your thighs, pretty, but I need to fuck you now.” The dazy look she shot him made him feel proud, knowing that she had been about to cum on his tongue. She didn’t reply, at least not with words, with nothing but a whine did she pull him towards her for another kiss. He shuffled out of his boxers, freeing his twitching cock with a few movements. 

“Let me grab a condom.” He left her side for a moment, allowing (y/n) to sort through her thoughts which were all over the place. And yet she couldn’t carry about anything but the need to feel him buried inside of her, knowing that once she knew what it feels like to have him so close, she’d never be able to let him go again. A thought that left her torn between excitement and anxiety, unsure what was awaiting them. 

“Do you still want this? We don’t have to do this if you’re unsure, (y/n).” Tyler’s whispers ripped her out of her spiralling thoughts. She shook her head at him before pulling back in, focused on his handsome face, mustering every spot she could blindly find. 

“I want this, want you.” That’s all he needed to hear before aligning himself with her heat and slowly pushing into her. With his forehead pressed against hers, both needed a moment to adjust, not expecting to feel this, unable to put the sensation into any words that would make sense to their minds. It felt like they had been made for one another, made solemnly for this moment that felt as if the world had spinning, thrown off its path. 

“Move, please, Ty’.” He instantly gave in, pulling out of her only to push in with more strength. Their bodies met with every ferocious thrust, sending bolts of electricity down her spine. She arched her back off the mattress, needing to be even closer to him while he kept burying himself inside of her. 

Blood rushed in her ears, drowning everything out but the sounds Tyler made, sounds so raspy and deep she feared it was another tornado growing in the distance, guttural sounds which left her walls fluttering around his cock. Her fingernails scratched at his shoulder, set on leaving red marks that wouldn’t fade for days, claiming him in the most primal way she could come up with at that moment. 

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you like that for the rest of my life.” The words roll off his tongue just like that. There was no way he could stop them from leaving him. And for the first time in minutes she finds herself ripped out of her state, staring up at him with wide eyes. But Tyler doesn’t say another word, all he does is study her while fucking her closer to the edge. 

“Do you mean that?” She struggled to speak, needing to ground herself before choking on her words. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as he nodded his head while watching a smile grow on her slightly swollen lips. “Good, I don’t want you to let me go again, Owens.”

He took the words as a challenge, adding even more pressure to his thrusts to throw (y/n) back into her dazed state. With his fingers circling her pulsing bundle, he knew that it was only a matter of moments before she’d cum around his cock, allowing him to take in the most beautiful sight he’d ever be fortunate enough to see. 

His name left (y/n) one last time before falling off the edge. His hips kept meeting hers, fucking her through her high while feeling his own crawling closer. She clung to him, murmuring his name like her own personal mantra as he followed her, letting go with a groan she’d forever remember.

It took both a moment to move again, for him to pull out of her and to get rid of the condom and for her to slightly shift around on the mattress, watching his every move with her weight balanced on her forearms. Tyler found his way back to her within seconds, hovering over her to press another kiss to the lips he’d never get tired of kissing. 

“Are you okay?” His whispers left (y/n) grinning, nodding against his lips while another wave of euphoria swapped through her. 

“More than.” Unspoken feelings were hanging heavily in the air, knowing that both would have to address them rather soon, but all they did was look at one another, marvelling at the person they never wanted to let go of again. “Thank you for this.”

“Nothing to thank me for, pretty. And hell, I’m not even close to being finished with you tonight.”

[snowballseal]

Hello! I love your writing sm!

If your requests are open may I rq mc taking care of a burned out or overwhelmed Rafayel? I feel like he's always there for mc but she doesn't get to return the favor often.

Maybe her figuring out how to make him relax and feel better after a particularly bad day/week. ty! <3

Taking care of a fishie

Rafayel X Reader

Summary: When you go to visit Rafayel during a storm, you realize something isn't quite right. He's upset, dealing with a storm of his own as he works, and you decide he needs to take a break. It's up to you to take care of him.

Word Count: 3892

Note: So..........this kind of took on it's own life. It got a little angstier than I'm sure you intended for in your request, anon, but it's still mostly just a lot of fluff and comfort. I really enjoyed writing it, though his dialogue takes time for me to work out. Still! I hope you like it!

Also, I will die on the hill of calling Rafayel "fishie". Sorry not sorry, I think it's so cute.

---

Stepping into the studio is like stepping into a storm. Instead of its usual light atmosphere, the air feels thick and heavy. You can almost feel the static tension crackling along your skin. An actual storm can be seen out the windows, creeping along the coast outside at a threatening pace, casting shadows that make the space feel cold and eerie.

“Rafayel?” You call out into the dimly lit front hall.

No response. All you can hear is the distant sound of harsh brush strokes on a canvas. 

Of course he’s working. The world could end and Rafayel would still be working. Though he doesn’t sound…happy about it. Concern slowly twines around your chest as you make your way deeper into the studio, towards the sound. The usual mess is somehow worse - fruits, paints, and brushes scattered everywhere, along with crinkled balls of paper and tape. You guess this storm was a tornado.

As you expect, you find Rafayel where he usually works. He’s deep into a painting, his brush moving ruthlessly across the canvas. His movements are jerky and unnatural, yet robotically precise. Almost…apathetic. 

Unease prickles under your skin.

It’s nothing like the evenings you’ve spent watching Rafayel paint, when his motions are slow and hypnotic, his focus always so intense but gentle. You could watch him for hours as he brings life to a painting, each brush stroke a breath into existence. This - this is nothing like that. This feels more like anger, bristling and hot, just like the colors slicing across the canvas. There’s no hint of the beautiful, dulcet tones of blue he loves to use. Instead, it’s almost a violent clash of fire and steel and blood. 

Your unease grows with each strike he adds.

Something is definitely wrong.

He’s so focused, Rafayel doesn’t even notice you coming up behind him, not until you curl your arms around his waist. The artist goes tense under your touch, brush freezing against the canvas.

“Hey, fishie,” you greet, voice impossibly soft, hesitant, “I think maybe it’s time to take a break…”

Oh, that’s a tempting thought for him. Rafayel’s eyes flutter shut as he takes a moment to focus on the feeling of your body against his. Your touch is so warm and comforting, like being enveloped by the perfect heated blanket, drawing his attention to just how sore he feels. A bone-deep ache settles in his muscles, reminding him of the deep-set anger simmering in his blood. 

His jaw clenches as he levels the painting with a glare, “No time. I have to finish this.” 

You don’t even blink at the bite in his tone. It’s not meant for you.

“Raf, you look like you’re seconds away from stabbing the painting. And like you haven’t slept in days,” you note, scanning the bags under his ocean eyes. A frown flickers across his lips as he looks away. “You need a break and you know it. Come on.”

“This is just the way artists work,” he grumbles, waving his paintbrush dismissively, “There’s no such thing as time when it comes to inspiration. Unless there’s enough money, apparently.”

His comment makes you tilt your head, eyes narrowing. It’s not playful or simply dramatic like he usually talks. Instead, you hear a thin note of bitterness, as sharp as his wit. And it tells you all you need to know.

“Nope.” 

You click your tongue and snatch the paintbrush from his hands. Rafayel squawks, turning to you with an almost offended look as you drop it in a nearby can of paint. His lips part, and you can tell he’s getting ready to put up a fight, but you don’t even let him start, shooing him off the stool.

“Nope, nope, off you go. You’re going to take a break and a shower,” you insist, pushing him towards his room.

Rafayel gapes at you, and then tries to duck out and around your firm grip, “Cutie, I really can’t-”

“Nope, I’m not hearing it, Rafayel,” you chirp, not unkindly, and block his path when he whirls around. 

The man can be more stubborn than a mule sometimes, and it’s best to fight fire with fire. He plants his feet, crossing his arms over his chest with that exaggerated pout, the one that usually makes you give in to all his whims because you can’t deny such a cute, little fish. You hold your ground, though, raising a brow at him. It’s a stand-off. His stubbornness against your desire to take care of him. And you’re going to win.

After a few seconds, Rafayel scrunches his nose, glancing between you and his unfinished painting. If he really wanted to he could probably overpower you, if only for a second, and get back to his work. But the look you give him, eyes wide and earnest, a deep ocean of concern that threatens to pull him under, makes what little is left of his resolve crumble.

“I really need to finish it,” he tries again weakly.

“You need a break,” you respond decisively, “so we’re taking a break.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

“I just-”

“Nope!”

The artist wilts like a kicked puppy. For a moment, though, you swear a flicker of relief passes through his tired eyes. Like he didn’t really want to keep working anyways. It makes your heart clench.

A little more gently this time, you turn Rafayel around and lead him to his bathroom. He doesn’t put up a fight this time, allowing you to leave him perched on the counter of the sink while you go about preparing the shower. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around, the only sound in the room coming from the water steadily hitting the shower’s glass walls, and the distant roll of thunder.

There aren’t many times you’ve witnessed Rafayel being quiet. He usually likes to chatter, no matter what you’re doing, whether it be about a painting, or something he saw on a trip to the city, or a story about Lumerians. This silence is unsettling. Another storm, on the brink of breaking. That feeling grips your chest, tight and cold, despite the warm steam curling around you, filling the room.

When you glance back at Rafayel, your eyes meet. He’s still watching you, an indecipherable look on his face. He looks somehow more exhausted, his skin ghostly pale, eyes dull with a look of…defeat. 

It’s wrong. Everything is wrong. And you want to make it right.

Stepping over to him, Rafayel spreads his knees a fraction wider so you can settle between them. One of your hands finds the line of his hip, the other resting against the soft curve of his cheek to draw him close. Rafayel lets out a stuttering breath. You touch him with such tenderness, such love, it makes his head swim, makes him feel like he’s drowning yet undeniably safe, all at once. Everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, surrounded by a soft haze of steam and the low light of his bathroom.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you murmur, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the sound of the shower, “but you know I care about you, right? I’m not trying to be mean to you, I’m just….”

Worried.

Rafayel softens. Of course you’d worry. You’re the only one that would for someone like him. His own personal angel, sent to drag him from the depths over and over and over again. Reaching up, he traces your brow almost reverently, easing the wrinkle between them.

When he talks, his voice is raspy and low, “What a fool I must be, making such a beautiful face look so concerned.”

“You’re not a fool,” you chide disapprovingly, “You’ve never been a fool, Rafayel. You’re just…a little self destructive at times, like we all are. But that’s why I’m here. I’m happy to be the one worrying about you, fishie. I’m happy to take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

Another emotion you don’t recognize flashes behind Rafayel’s eyes. He hums quietly, the tension slowly dripping from his shoulders, and turns to nuzzle into your palm. You inhale sharply, heart fluttering when his lips press against your skin, lingering yet hesitant. And when he looks back at you, there’s so much warmth, so much affection in his gaze, that you almost feel yourself melt.

“Please take good care of me then, miss bodyguard,” he murmurs, a ghost of that familiar smile on his lips, “ I leave my wellbeing in your capable hands.”

The heat that creeps up your cheeks matches the blush warming his ears. What a pair you are. 

“Then let’s get you in the shower,” you hum, voice a little shaky (though you’ll deny it), and card your fingers fondly through his messy hair. “I’ll get you some comfy clothes and make you some food. I’m sure you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Mmm, am I that predictable?”

“Only to me.”

You lean up and press a chaste kiss against his cheek. As you pull away, though, Rafayel catches your chin, slotting his lips over yours. It's a slow and overwhelmingly gentle kiss, devotion bleeding with fondness, raw and vulnerable and filled with a yearning that makes you dizzy. You can barely catch your breath when you pull away, the heat in Rafayel’s gaze nearly making you toss out the rest of your plans for the night.

“Take a shower,” you whisper, breathless, quickly separating yourself from the tempting man in front of you.

You still catch a glimpse of his smirk as you dip past the door, though.

Closing it behind you, you steady yourself against the wall, taking a deep breath. The sounds of him shuffling inside, followed by the soft clink of his shower door closing, lets you know that he’s at least listened to your instructions. Your racing heart gets a slight reprieve, then.

Alright. 

Slapping your cheeks lightly, you bring your focus back to the present. Even if he seems a little more himself, there’s still a lot to do. Rafayel deserves the world, and you’re determined to give it to him. As much as you can at least. Starting with comfortable clothes and a good meal.

You duck into his closet, picking out a particularly soft looking pair of sweats and a light button up. Maybe some socks too, you think as you remember just how cold he felt. Rafayel usually prefers to go barefoot, but you pick a pair of thick socks, just in case he wants them. Everything gets laid out on his bed, ready for when he finishes his shower.

Next - food.

Digging through Rafayel’s fridge is a mostly fruitless effort. Well, not fruitless. In fact, there’s plenty of fruit, only fruit really. Amusement curls in your chest. You’ll have to take him grocery shopping tomorrow and maybe have a conversation about a balanced diet. Luckily, you find some pasta in the pantry, and the basics you need to make a decent sauce. Maybe you can cut up some of the fruit too and make a little snack board.

Plan devised in your head, you set about making it happen. 

You’re in the middle of finishing the sauce when Rafayel silently pads into the kitchen. He looks a little more lively, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with curiosity as he shuffles up behind you. Slowly curling his arms around your waist, he draws you back against his body so he can nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, breath tickling your skin.

You hum, one hand falling to rest over his, “I hope so. It’s nothing special, but it should help you feel better.”

“Anything these hands make can be special.” His fingers trace over your knuckles lovingly. “It just has to mean something to you. It’s only when it means nothing to you that a creation becomes insignificant.”

A part of you wonders if Rafayel realizes how transparent he is being. That, or you’ve just become so familiar with all his habits that you can just tell. To you, reading him is like reading your favorite book, and this is as obvious as a missing page.

But you don’t want to address it just yet. “Ready to eat?”

“Hmm, will you feed me?” He draws back to look at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

It takes everything in you to smother a smile. While you don’t often entertain Rafayel’s games, sometimes it’s nice to play along, if only to see him blush when you turn it on him. And today feels like one of those days. So you plaster on the most exaggerated, concerned look you can muster, flipping in his arms to cup his face.

“Do you need me to? Are you that tired?” You coo at him, satisfaction washing over you when his ears burn vermilion red. How cute. “Aw, my poor fishie. You’ve been working too hard, I knew it. Guess I’ll just have to tell Thomas that I’m holding you captive to make sure you get enough rest.”

“You’re teasing me,” Rafayel whines, the rest of his face flushing.

“Only partially,” you giggle, leaning up to peck his lips, “You always turn so red, it’s adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” he grumbles back, “I’m handsome. Some would even say dashingly so.”

“Of course.” Mirth dances in your eyes. “My dashing prince. So I guess that makes me the knight coming to your rescue.”

He turns somehow darker, gaze darting away, “Even a prince needs caring for sometimes…”

“Yes, they do,” your voice softens, and you press another kiss to his cheek, “Now come, my prince, let’s eat and then we’re going to lay down on the couch and watch a movie so you can relax, okay?”

Rafayel is surprisingly cooperative for the rest of the night. You do end up feeding him a few bites, teasingly wiping at his mouth just to watch him blush again. But with every tender touch, no matter how teasing, you can see him slowly start to relax. His smile becomes a little more genuine, what’s left of the tension in his shoulder melting away. And you love it. You love taking care of him, spoiling him, if only for the night.

By the time you’ve finished dinner and cleaned up, the storm has finally made its way over the studio. Rain drums against the windows as you lead him to the lounge, streaks of lightning filling the room with flashes of light. It’s just the two of you, isolated from the outside world, lost in the warmth of the coastal storm. No one’s going to bother you tonight.

Or so you thought.

You curl into the corner of the couch, holding your hand out for Rafayel, waiting. Just as he’s about to collapse onto you, to finally put the day behind him, his phone comes to life on the side table. Its ring pierces through the relative quiet of the studio, startling both of you. Thomas. Rafayel’s face immediately falls at the name, and he hesitates at the edge of the couch, so close but still so far. In the dim candlelight, you watch his eyes waver, glancing back at the doorway.

“Rafayel.”

They flicker back to you. A flash of lightning illuminates his face, and for an instant, you see dread stain his beautiful features, pleading and desperate. It breaks your heart. 

“It can wait, Rafayel,” you whisper, somehow feeling just as desperate. Desperate to take him away from whatever it is that’s making him feel like this. Desperate to let him know he can rest. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Just…stay. Please.”

He glances back at the phone. It vibrates against the marble table, over and over and over, and you wait with baited breath. Until it goes silent. Still, he doesn’t move.

Slowly, so slowly, you reach forward. When your fingers tentatively intertwine with his, Rafayel takes a deep, uneven breath. And when you give his hand a gentle pull, he crumbles.

Rafayel lets you pull him onto the couch wordlessly. You make him lay down, head on your lap, while his arms curl tightly back around your waist. His grip is almost crushing, his fingers going pale as he wraps them in the back of your sweater, like you’ll disappear. Or like someone might try to tear him away.

Not that you would ever let that happen.

A heavy silence rests over the two of you. Not suffocating, but thick with unspoken words. What words, you’re not sure. They seem to rest at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t make sense of what you wish you could say, or even if you should say anything at all. It doesn’t quite feel right.

So you settle for waiting and start brushing your fingers through his unruly, damp curls, working out the tangles. Rafayel shivers at the sensation, the gentle tug at his roots, the pleasant tingle it leaves behind. He focuses on it, breath catching whenever your nails trace along the back of his neck. Desperate for another anchor point, his hands slip under your sweater to press against your skin. 

You gasp at his cold touch, movements wavering.

“Don’t stop,” Rafayel immediately pleads, voice cracking.

God, the things you would do for this man.

You continue without a word, and the artist hums, practically purrs. He’s remarkably like a cat, despite how much he hates the animals. Clingier, though. Much clingier. And you will never admit how much you love it.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. Time never works quite the way it should when you’re with Rafayel. Seconds feel like days and days feel like seconds. His hair is dry. The rain is light, now tapping a quieter rhythm against the windows. The thunder sounds farther off. His chest rises so steadily, you almost wonder if Rafayel has fallen asleep.

Until he finally breaks the silence.

“It’s a commission from the mayor.”

You blink. The words process slowly in your mind, a frown forming on your lips. He continues before you can say anything, though, and once he starts, it seems he can’t turn it off.

“Thomas accepted it without asking me. He said the money was too good to pass up, as if I don’t have enough already.” Rafayel’s voice bleeds with such pure vitriol, you’re almost taken aback. You’ve never heard him so…angry. “It’s for his nephew. You’d hate him. He’s no better than a wanderer, preying on helpless people for profit.”

Understanding washes over you.

No wonder he’s upset.

Rumors have spread like wildfire about the nephew of Linkon City’s mayor. Sexual assault allegations. Financial fraud. None of it has been proven in court, but that hardly means they’re not true. It just means he has the power to avoid the consequences.

“I told Thomas to refuse it, but he insisted business is business and he’d already taken the money. As if my art is just business and money. As if inspiration can be bought. Like I can be bought.”

“Rafayel…” You start, a lump forming in your throat.

“It’s like when they used to capture us.” His voice remains thick with bitterness, shaking as he talks. “Humans would pay such high prices for us Lumerians.  Just for entertainment, to show off their status and power. Dead or alive, it made no difference, we meant nothing to them. This painting represents the blood of my people, but to him, it will mean nothing.”

You’re not sure if an aether core can break, but you’re certain you feel something shatter in your chest. It hurts. Seeing Rafayel like this, feeling him shake in your arms, hurts. You’ve never seen him so fragile, so trapped.

And you hate it.

“Rafayel, listen to me.” 

You touch his chin, drawing his burning gaze up to you. He looks torn between tears and brutality. The man who’s held you through your worst nights, and the one who can take life as easily as he creates beauty. Always torn in two and living under the weight of expectation. You can’t stand it.

“You have a choice here,” you murmur, tone insistent, “This is your work. It’s the way you speak to the world. You don’t have to share it with people who don’t deserve it. If this is the hill you want to stand on, then I’ll stand with you, and I’ll make sure you always have the freedom to choose.” A weak smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard or partner if I couldn’t do that for you.”

Rafayel’s brow furrows, sharp and conflicted, “But Thomas-”

“-Is a smart guy,” you chirp, “And you pay him well. I’m sure he just got swept away at the business prospects. If we sit down with him and explain the best we can, I bet he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t, we’ll just find a…creative way to fix this deal. Like delivering a blank canvas with your signature. We can say it’s a commentary on the emptiness of human gratification or something”

That gets the artist to snort despite himself.

“Or we could take it a step further - deliver an empty frame. They’d probably force Thomas to return the money at that point.”

His snort turns into a low chuckle. You grin, ruffling his hair.

“Humans may suck, but we’re good at being petty and coming up with ideas for revenge, huh?”

“Mmm, not all humans are so bad,” Rafayel hums, eyes dancing with amusement as he looks up at you. “I know a hunter who never fails to remind me how good some can be. She’s bold and selfless, not to mention compassionate, even to cats. The world is brighter when she smiles, and her touch chases away even the worst of storms.”

Thunder rolls through the house, perfectly timed, and you giggle when Rafayel frowns.

“Well, maybe not real storms. Though I’m sure she would try.”

“For you, I would do anything,” you promise and he softens even more.

“I know, cutie.” Rafayel catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He then moves to start getting up. “And knowing that gives me the strength to finish what I need to do. You’ve inspired me.”

“Nope.” The artist grunts as you suddenly wrap yourself around him like a koala, dragging him right back down onto the couch. You flip the two of you over, so you’re laying on top of him, chin propped on his chest. Stuck once again. “You agreed to listen to me about your health today. And now that we’ve talked about it, you’re going to actually rest. Whatever you have to do can wait until tomorrow, okay?”

“Ah, my apologies,” he says, voice lilting with hardly concealed laughter. “It seems I forgot about our arrangement.”

“Uh-huh. I’m in charge tonight, and that means we are going to cuddle and watch a movie, and then you are going to sleep. For the whole night. Understood?” You try to speak with an authoritative tone, but it also breaks with laughter.

“Of course.” Rafayel leans forward, and seels your deal with a brief, but ardent kiss. It leaves your heart fluttering as he draws back to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of me, my treasure.”

“Anytime, fishie.”

---

This ended up being sooooo long! I wanted to get the atmosphere and stuff just right, and then poof, nearly 4000 words. Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed a bit of Rafayel angst/comfort.

[websterss]

JUST TRYING TO BE BRAVE — ERIC (AQPDO)

REQUEST: A request for Eric from A Quiet Place: Day One The reader only knows of one way to calm him whilst he's having a panic attack during the madness, and they gently let him rest against their chest and listen to their heartbeat until he calms down <3

WARNING(S): SLIGHT SPOILERS, fluff, angst, panic attacks

WORD COUNT: 1,286

PAIRING: Eric x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! I didn’t know where you wanted the reader to calm him down so you get a two-for-one scenario fic lmfao <33

MASTERLIST

You don’t know what you would’ve done if you hadn’t run into Sam like you and Eric had. You two probably would have continued to wander the discarded vacant streets of New York, had you decided not to follow the cat.

Sam had been insistent on you both leaving her be with her cat, but at last she got used to your presence. Now as you shelter in her abandoned home, watching and hearing the rain fall from the windows, you can’t help but feel relieved those creatures can’t hear your beloved's panicked inhales and exhales.

“Eric, it’s okay! You’re alright. We’re okay!” He only shakes his head at your reassured comments. Your consolation this time wasn’t doing the trick to calm him down, if you hadn’t run out you would have given him his prescribed anxiety meds. “It’s okay. They can’t hear us up here right now. You’re okay. We’ve made it this far haven’t we?” You breathe out a laugh as you cup his face. He barely musters a nod before his eyes close again, you could imagine the tornado spinning around in his chest. Wreaking havoc on his sanity and any small chance of serenity. You could imagine it all. You could see the panic, the fear in his eyes, making his chest rise and fall rapidly as he struggled to maintain his breath. “Do you want to try it again, what your doctor recommended us to do? Your head pressed on my chest. Match your breathing to the rhythm of each beat of my heart…” You trailed off letting him take the lead.

At your suggestion, he nods slowly, his eyes closing as he reaches out for your hands again. "O-Okay..." Eric tried to take deep breaths, but they came out as panicked stutters.

You sat back against the sofa, allowing space for him to rest against your chest. You began to steady your rhythmic pace, knowing it only worked if you were just as calm and relaxed. You press a gentle kiss against his curls. As his breathing slows to a soft inhale and exhale. He tuned out everything around him. Hearing every thump, feeling every minor skip in your chest. He felt your steadiness, felt the caresses in his hair. The strong warm hold of your other arm as you held him close. He could feel you, hear every intake of air. You were present for him, and he was welcoming the stillness the moment allowed for you both to have once again. He guessed as much though just how the rest of your lives would dissolve into, a world of quiet.

It seemed heavenly at first, but otherworldly frightening, knowing he might just have to savor the small moments where he’d get to hear your voice again. Just as he was doing now.

Once you registered his slackened jaw and relaxed shoulders, you assumed as much that he had fallen asleep. You didn’t dare move. Your fingers continued to rake through his hair as he had succumbed to sleep. You couldn't help but feel relieved that he had calmed down and been able to find some rest. The rain continued to patter against the windows, its soothing sound acting as a natural lullaby to ease your nerves. As you held him close, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his peaceful face.

“What started the attacks?” Sam watches you both from the windows.

“Moving far from home. His parents were so proud of him for following through with law school, but he was devastated to leave them. I completely out of mind in love with him, made the biggest jump of my life following him to the U.S.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

You peer up at Sam with glistened eyes. “N-No. I wouldn’t be sane going through this apocalypse without him. Whatever this whole mess is!” You exclaimed quietly. You look down at him, brushing back his curls. “I’d regret it more if I hadn’t followed him here. I can’t imagine what he would’ve done all alone, if he’d survived it this far. I think he would. I wonder if he’d have met you just the same if I wasn’t here. I’d have been thankful just the same though, Sam. For letting him stick with you.” You choke back a sob, your smile widening at the corners. Sam only nods, turning her head away from your vulnerable confession. You didn’t take it to the heart. Who knew what pain she was going through herself.

As you spoke to Sam, your voice quivered with a mix of love and vulnerability. You could feel the weight of your words hanging in the air, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside faded away, leaving only the three of you to navigate this strange new reality. You couldn’t help but wonder how Eric would have fared if you hadn't been by his side, a thought that sent a shiver down your spine. With bated breaths, you turned your focus back to him, sleeping peacefully in your arms.

-

“Eric baby please!” You swish around in the water, eyes glistening as you look up at the creature crawling out from the hole on the roof. Sam had taken a more firmer approach. Holding her hand over his mouth. You had caught him about to squeak, before Sam shushed him. His need to express his panic in screams was hard to muffle.

You moved as quietly as you could in the water. Making your way to take over Sam’s place. Eric only shook his head at you. You had to nod, to remind him to stay calm.

“Eric, we need to slow your heart.”

“N-No, no, no.” He muttered. “I can’t…”

“You can, you can. Baby, look at me.” You whispered harshly, gripping his face like Sam had done. In a more serene and calm scenario, your softer touch would have been your go-to, but not when that thing was getting closer. “I’m scared right now, I’m scared too, but we need to get you back on track. I need you to focus and match your breathing to mine, right now!” Your eyes plead with him. “Please!”

His eyes were wide with fear, pupils dilated and breaths shallow. The panic was clearly taking over him as water dipped into his mouth, making it difficult for him to focus on anything other than the impending danger. Despite his obvious distress, he nodded slightly, trying his best to calm himself down. As you held his face, he tried to match his breathing to yours, each breath a struggle for control over the mounting fear. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay grounded in the presence of your touch.

"I got you. D-Deep breaths…" You barely whisper to him, your frequency morphing into mouthed words.

He took a shaky breath, shuddering as he attempted to follow your instructions. Your steady presence grounded him to the moment.

You didn't hesitate to place his head on your chest. You placed your hand on the back of his head, rubbing his wet hair back and forth in hopes of reassuring him. You tread lightly backwards, keeping your sights on the beast behind you three.

Eric pressed his ear against your chest, the sound of your steady heartbeat providing a calming rhythm to focus on. His breaths were still shaky, but with your hand on the back of his head, soothing in soft caresses, he slowly began to calm down. He closed his eyes and let himself be guided through the water, trusting your instincts to lead the way. Trusting both Sam and you to get him far away from the damned creature.

[p3ndeja6]

-; ✧˖*°࿐ -; ✧˖*°࿐ -; ✧˖*°࿐

summary: you beg Edward to let you ride him, but obviously he denies it. But you convinced him of another method of riding

Content tags: 18+ ,!smut, thigh riding, dry humping! i think, fingering!, squirting! (this was collecting dust in the drafts for like ever)

short and ass (my bad)

e. cullen x reader

it was a chilly afternoon, the wind blowing, creating small tornados of dried up leaves, scratching the pavement. You and Edward are inside, his small cottage he had in the woods of Forks, Washington.

All afternoon you’ve been cuddled up against your cold skinned boyfriend. But you always feel warm around him.

while cuddling, you accidentally nudged him causing him to groan. to him it hurt but for you, you wanted to hear more.

This caused you to get hot. You started to kiss his cheek, then his jawline, then his neck. He enjoyed it too.

you got on top of him, kissing him, straddling him. He knew what you were doing.

“Y/n stop” he said

“oh cmon Edward, please” you continue kissing him, you now start to grind a bit against him.

“No y/n, you know we can’t, I’d love to but I can’t” he says shamefully while pushing you off of him.

You stop, and look at him in defeat. You’ve always tried to get him to continue but his morals just won’t let him.

Until an idea pops up in you mind.

“Edward” “yeah”

“what if- now hear me out, what if you let me ride you”

his palely skin turns a bit pink

“w-what? That still can’t-“

“no no but not with your dick…. With… your thigh”

he looks at you confused but somewhat interested

“yeah you let me .. ride you but on your thigh. It’s very simple, you let me do all the work and you don’t have to do anything”

You started to straddle him again, caressing his clothed chest.

“You just relax, i promise to make you feel good”

Edward was so mesmerized, he didn’t say anything . He let you take advantage of him. he laid his hands on the side of the couch, letting you do your thing

you got onto his cold and rough thigh. You were still clothed from the bottom.

You looked at him with lustful eyes and slowly grinding on his thigh, he knew this was wrong but he just couldn’t bother stopping you from fucking yourself into him. You just looked so good, eyes partially closed slowly grinding and running your hands up to your tits, and giving them a light squeeze.

you know he was watching your every move, so you grabbed his hands and replaced your hands from the previous position

“cmon baby, don’t be scared” you said slightly out of breath

he was scared but he trusted you and what were you doing. you saw the huge erection growing in his tight pants, you slowly crept your hands to the area that needed the most attention.

“no.. don’t touch” Edward huffed out

“please let.. me”

he held you, closing his eyes, feeling you slowly rubbing yourself on him. You were getting so needy, holding on to his broad shoulders, digging your nails into them.

"mmh.. like that.." you said while tiliting your head back, your eyes closing shut, eyebrows scrunting up in pleasure.

Edward holding you so tight, keeping you in place on his dick, wanting more friction.

you got up, and edward looked at you confused and frustrated, but you pulled down your leggings as well as your panties, quickly trying to shimmy your way out of them

"you keep your pants on" you huffed

your wet slick being absorbed by his jeans, seeing the patch of wetness on his dick print

you began to rub yourself on him, moaning loudly. Edward imagining it was his dick that was pumping into you.

you started to aggressively move your hips trying to get to your high

"fuck Edward.." you moaned. Edward needed to see more of you

he dared and inserted two fingers into you, this caught you by surprise, feeling his icy cold fingers pump you so good. your wetness lubing his fingers perfectly, to easily get in there deeper.

"yeah.. yes.. please edward" tears started to well up, "yeah? you like that? cmon.. look at me"

you tried to open your eyes,

finally looking at how beautiful he was. "atta girl, thats it.. how bad you want it?"

"yes! bad.. p-please. please.."

you stopped rubbing trying to let him continue with his fingers, but he stopped as well. "uh uh, cmon pretty, keeping moving"

frustrated, you kept rubbing on him. his fingers now going faster, placing his thumb on your clit, creating circular motions

"f-fuck ed- im com-"

edward was panting.. on his other hand, holding you tight

"m-me too"

sweat beads starting to fall down your forehead, you leaned forward placing your hot, sweating head on his. feeling the coldness of his skin.

feeling your stomach getting tight, holding onto his head, cry-moaning as you felt yourself release.

"come for me"

your head went back as you squirted and making a big mess on edward's jeans. besides the heatness of your cheeks from the sex, they got hotter of embarrassment of edward seeing you like that.

"o-oh my g-god" you panted out

Edward was shocked, and so incredibly turned on that you can do that.

"im.. im so sorry, this is so embarrassing.." "no no that was so hot" he looked at you with lovely eyes

he kissed you and wiped the sweat under your eyes, "you are so incredibly beautiful"

you smiled at him and fell over on the couch, still bare from the bottom.

"fuck edward..." you said in bliss, smiling to yourself

"well now i have to go change my pants.." he said as he got up

"sorry.."

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Oklahoma Skies- Tyler Owens x Reader

Let me know what you guys think! I am slowly getting back into writing.

WARNING; SMUT 18+

The wind stood still, as you leaned against your front porch. The sunset haze makes the sky the most beautiful shades of orange and pink. The air light and leaves softly blowing in the wind. Tornado season was something you loved yet feared.  

Terrified, the storms would hit you, but also bring the most beautiful skies after something so violent. 

A warm arm swooped around your waist, tugging you close. A small smile graced your features as you leaned onto your boyfriend’s chest. The tornado wrangler himself, Tyler Owens. He chased the beauty in the storms, and you chased the sunsets following.  

But this tornado season was wicked, full of untamed storms taking out multiple towns throughout Oklahoma. The damage was astounding. Which also meant Tyler was away for longer periods, chasing them. 

“Where’s your mind? I can see it racing” he murmured into your ear, pressing a soft kiss under your ear.  

One thing about this man was he could always see your mood, whether he was next to you or hundreds of miles away. He was fully entuned with what was bothering you at any time. He could read you the way he reads his storms.  

“Just watching the sky. Have a feeling a storm is coming in” you said softly. You may not be a tornado wrangler yourself, but you were born and raised in Oklahoma. The changes in the weather were something you had come to read easily.  

He chuckled under his breath. “I love when you get those feelings, Crazy Girl” 

The nickname made a soft blush erupt on your face. He termed you that last year when a tornado was coming into town, and you proceeded to chase a cat to save them instead of taking cover. Tyler had to chase you, and the cat, holding you both against him as he hauled you to the storm shelter.  

It was the first time he realized that you feared storms, but also wanted to save everything in its path. Your home, your friends, your family were the priority even when something so destructive was heading towards you. 

His phone vibrated; he brought the screen into view of the both of you.  

“Tornado is a brewing; Cells forming in the south” the text message read from Boone.  

You softly groaned knowing that the time Tyler was home, now was coming to an end. You knew storm chasing was his life, but sometimes you just wanted to hold him close to your heart and never let him go.  

He kissed the back of your head softly, “Gotta grab my things, Crazy Girl”  

You nodded knowing that you had chosen this crazy life with him, but also felt with such worry every time he left the house following a storm. But nonetheless, you had the same routine every time he left. 

Pulling open the screen door, you grabbed his go bag. It was his holy grail, and had everything extra in this world he may need. Including underwear, because in your words “If I was in a tornado, I might actively shit myself”.  

He sighed, changing into his cowboy boots. Throwing on his hat, getting ready to load into the truck. 

Stepping out onto the porch, he followed you. He pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. You clung to him with such love and force. This was the hardest part of any season, willingly letting him walk into storms and away from you. 

“You stay safe, I love you too much” you murmured into his shoulder. Tears pricked your eyes knowing he was heading into the craziness of a storm.  

He just chuckled, smiling down at you. You knew he was always safe, that he would always find his way back to you. But storms are ever changing, you never know what might happen when he is chasing. 

“I am always safe you know that. I promise I will come back to you.” he said, pressing a kiss hard to your lips. Taking in the moment like it was the last one he would ever experience.  

He picked up his go bag, stepping off the porch. “I love you Crazy Girl” 

Winds began picking up faster, the sky beginning to darken, taking away the most beautiful sunrise. The rain began falling, thunder echoing through the sky with lightning streaking the sky. 

Rain began to soak Tyler's white shirt as he walked away from you. You could start to see his tanned skin through the wet material. 

The way his shirt was clinging to him, made you weak in the knees. You wanted nothing more than to follow him and drag him back to bed with you.  

Ripping his soaked white tee from his chiseled muscles. You were pulled from your fantasy by the blaring of the tornado warning. The storm must have shifted, it was coming towards town.  

Your feet carried you off the porch as the panic began to set in, quickly finding your voice, "Tyler"  

He whipped around, his features watching the fear on your face as he quickly made his way towards you. He grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the storm shelter.  

You both caught a view of the horizon; you could see the dark, swirling line of clouds coming your way. A sense of unease filled the pits of your stomach as Tyler pulled you faster behind him. 

You knew the signs; you knew this storm was going to be absolutely vicious seeing how fast it changed directions and grew in the sky. 

Panic rose in your chest as he pulled open the storm shelter, rushing you inside with ease. “It’s okay Crazy Girl, just breathe” he murmured as he locked the door behind you.  

The wind was whipping outside at no mercy, you knew this storm was going to be something different for you both. It came to you, instead of Tyler chasing it miles away.  

You were drawn from your thoughts with Tyler pulling you gently down onto the mattress with him. He knew you were terrified; he knew the panic you were feeling. 

The glint in his eyes when you looked at him brought you comfort, knowing that he was going to protect you no matter where this storm took you.  

“Hi crazy girl” he murmured catching your lips softly, his warm hand finding its way into your hair, gently pulling.  

A soft moan escaped your lips, knowing he was trying to clear your mind. This was his go to move whenever a storm headed your way.  

Being tangled up with him always made the storm disappear in your mind.  

That’s how the mattress ended up in the storm shelter in the first place.  

Your hands found their way to the brim of his hat, carefully pulling it off his head. Hands finding their way to his hair.  

Lips breaking apart, he slowly started nipping at your earlobe, placing soft kisses to your neck finding your sweet spot.  

Softly sucking, a moan escaped your lips. You felt him smile against your skin.  

His hands trailed along your hips, finding their way to the hem of your shirt pulling it over your head.  

Clothes fell from both of you, as your hands explored each other. Your exposed skin drawing each other in.  

Lust filling your senses as you pushed him down softly, taking his hardened length in your hand.  

“You gonna ride me crazy girl?” he said, his grip on you hard as he pulled you in his lap. His length rubbing against your wet cunt.  

You smirked, bringing your lips to his. Kissing him hungrily as you grinded your hips into him. The pressure from his hardened cock, making you desperate for him to be deep inside of you.  

Breaking the kiss, you grabbed his cock slowly lowering yourself onto him. Your eyes rolling back as his large girth stretched you out.  

“Fuck baby” he hissed, grabbing hard onto your hips slamming the rest of the way into you. A hard moan escaping your lips.  

The sounds of slapping skin filled the shelter loudly, blocking out any remaining sounds of the storm. “You’re taking me so good, so deep inside of you” 

“Fuck me” you moaned throwing your head back as he abused your cunt. The rough thrusts reaching every crevice you could ever imagine. Your tight cunt throbbing around him with every thrust he delivered.  

His hands found your waist again, flipping you over so he could slam into you once more. Your eyes fell shut as he slammed into your cervix, moans falling off your lips echoing through the room.  

The pace unrelenting, he continued to fuck you hard and deep as you were coming unraveled below him.  

“S So B-Big" you moaned, nails scratching against his exposed back as your felt the fireworks building in your stomach.  

“You’re close, I can feel you” he moaned, his grip continuing to tighten around your exposed skin pulling you against him.  

A smirk crossed your features, as his catchphrase came to mind, “If you feel it, chase it” you moaned against his lips.  

A smile crossed his face, as his pace picked up once more and his hand finding your clit. Your entire body began to shake, your orgasm overtaking you as you tightened around his length.  

Tyler moaned loudly, the warmth of his seed filling you. The both of you seeing stars from your overwhelming orgasm.  

He pulled you close to him as he settled next to you, “I’ll protect you no matter the storm” he murmured softly as sleep overcame your senses.  

And for once, the panic didn’t rise in your chest. You felt peace among the tornadoes.  

[ssentimentals]

love you goodbye {charles leclerc/carlos sainz}

pairing: charles leclerc & carlos sainz

rating: mature

prompt: charles thinks carlos is the only one with who he'll do this stupid challenge of falling with eyes closed; he'll do it without an ounce of fear, because carlos will be there, just like he always has been.

OR, carlos is leaving ferrari and charles realizes he still hasn't confessed.

warnings: nsfw (minors dni even if it's not very detailed). and uh, it's kinda like, songfic? i mean, it's based on 1d 'love you goodbye' song, so in case someone doesn't like song lyrics in between then yeah ;/

it's inevitable, everything that's good comes to an end

charles stares at the bright red wall in front of him and thinks that he can't stand this color anymore. it reminds him of everything he has and all in all it would've been nice, because charles has a lot and he is thankful, but it also reminds him of everything he has lost and is about to lose. red is the color of his car, of his tracksuit, of blood that pumps through his veins slower and slower the closer they get to the end of the season. red is what he sees when someone overtakes him, red is what he breathes when tifosi scream his name, red is what- red is what suits carlos so much more than him.

charles focuses on his teammate, who is currently posing for their photographer. red suits carlos so well - it accentuates his tan skin, attracts even more attention to his built; red fits his character so well too, his passion, how fierce he is on track, the way he seems to just love to live. red is the color of his bottom lip when he chewed on it too harsh, red is the color of his cheeks when he gets particularly shy after compliment, red is what charles sees when someone else gets too close to carlos for it to be considered friendly. feeling his gaze, carlos turns a little, smiling at him. it's not his pr smile that he gifts to all reporters at the paddock, no, this one is sincere because it reaches his eyes and softens his features. charles wants to scream, to crash and burn this entire facility because no way in hell he's not going to see this smile next year.

unforgettable together, held the whole world in our hands

'you did it,' carlos whispers, eyes wide with awe and joy, staring at charles like he can't believe him, like he's seeing god instead of him. 'you did it.'

charles lays in bed and thinks about his win in monza. he thinks about it quite often actually, but not for the reasons one might think. he can't shake off carlos's voice after the podium, the way he spoke to charles almost reverently, how he hugged him too intimately for it to not mean anything. he thinks about carlos's strong grip on his neck, his hand fitting there like it was made to stay there, to keep charles close to him. he thinks about celebrations in monza, how carlos smiled like he won, how pride shone in his eyes, how he shouted charles's name along with others, not holding back. he doesn't think only about monza. he thinks about all the times they laughed together during media stuff, meetings or events together. he thinks about carlos always being the calm ground while charles is a raging tornado, thinks about his big warm hand always rested on charles's knee whenever charles is visibly upset about something. he thinks about how easy it always was with carlos: charles never doubted him to not get his humor or to not have his back during anything. charles thinks carlos is the only one with who he'll do this stupid challenge of falling with eyes closed; he'll do it without an ounce of fear, because carlos will be there, just like he always has been.

unexplainable, a love that only we could understand.

charles knocks on carlos's door before he can think any better. it's almost midnight in qatar and he can't sleep - won't sleep until he at least sees carlos face, he knows it. the door opens after few moments and if carlos is surprised then he doesn't show it, simply taking one look at charles and stepping back to let him in. they don't do this often; in fact, they don't normally do it at all. they are not like yuki and liam who get along so well that it's natural to find one of them in another's room and they are not kevin and nico for whom watching football together is a plain thing to do; charles is not sure why, but they never really spend time with each other outside of media duties. he stands in the middle of the living room, tracing several clothes carlos has thrown on the sofa and half finished chicken burito on the table. his room looks exactly like his own-

'why are you here, charles?' carlos asks, infinitely patient and calm, as always.

what a great question that is. charles doesn't know. he does not know and it kills him more than he can admit, because this is a purely emotional decision and he now has to live with it. he walks further into the room and chuckles sadly at the sight of williams cap. he grabs it without any gentleness, barely thinking straight at the sight of another logo. 'getting ready already?' he asks, trying to make it pass for a joke, but he might as well choke on the venom in his tongue. 'can't wait to go?'

'some fan chucked it at me,' carlos replies, still calm. there's a pause and then- 'why are you here, charles?'

'you think you'll be okay with alex?' charles asks, ignoring the question to him, because he still doesn't have any answers. 'better than with me?'

charles has the urge to throw this stupid cap on the floor and stomp on it and almost does it, but then he hears footsteps behind him and big hand on his back and quiet whisper to his ear render him immobile: 'no one is better than you, charles.'

he turns around sharply, instantly meeting melted chocolate of carlos's eyes. before he can ask anything, carlos interrupts him with a soft: 'why are you here, charles?'

he knows. carlos is very smart and charles fears he knows why he's here even though he himself doesn't fully understand the reason. carlos is so close that their breaths mingle, that charles can feel the heat coming off his body, that he can hear his unsteady heartbeat. without thinking he raises his head and places it on carlos's left side of the chest, right where his heart is. he shivers, when carlos places his own hand on top of his, looking at charles like-

'you'll always be here.'

my heart's already breaking, baby, go on, twist the knife

their first kiss is nothing special. it's nothing to write the book about, cause it's a bit uncoordinated with their noses bumping and teeth clicking, but it's still perfect for charles. everything is perfect when it comes to carlos - the way he kisses, how his hands roam all over his body, small noises that leave his mouth. he turns charles into a blubbering mess surprisingly quickly; charles has half a mind to think that this is the real 'carlos sainz effect'. naked underneath carlos, charles arches his back with a quiet moan, when his torso gets decorated with love bites, while impatient hands free him from his underwear. 'don't leave,' charles whispers despite any logic. it comes from his heart, this desperate wish that he can't hold inside. carlos freezes with his lips on charles's hipbone. he doesn't react at first, but then sucks on the skin hard enough to leave a bruise - an answer of some sort, but charles has no idea what it means.

'under the pillow,' carlos says and charles quickly finds the lube, not even bothering to make any jokes on this. he places it in carlos's fingers and bites his lower lip hard enough to hurt, when carlos leans in and kisses his fingers. 'gracias, amor.'

charles ignores it. ignores the petname that makes his heart two times bigger and focuses on the talented tongue on his shaft and a shy finger prodding at his entrance. 'i'll never hurt you,' carlos assures him in a promising way, urging charles to relax.

liar, charles thinks. liar liar liar. you are hurting me now, you are leaving, you are hurting me with this more than anyone have ever- 'oh,' he lets out, when first finger enters him in a slow pace. 'oh.'

'doing good, guapo. relax for me, okay?'

of course carlos is a talker in bed. charles should've known all of his fantasies were right; he imagined this many times and never thought that he'd ever learn the real thing. and as it turns out, the real thing has nothing on his fantasies. carlos in bed with him is exactly like carlos is with him outside of it - attentive to any signs from him, focused fully on him. charles thinks he's burning from the intensity of carlos's gaze, can't believe that all his want and desire is mirrored back at him. there's also something else there too, but he can't even begin to look into it, because it'll hurt even more-

'shit,' he groans, when carlos insistently presses on the bundle of nerves that sets him on fire. 'fuck- get inside me, carlos. now.'

charles can't handle this gentleness, not right now; it breaks his heart, this gentleness because it makes him dream of how this can be more than just fuck and well. he can't think about it now. carlos withdraws three fingers from where they were buried deep inside him and quickly moves to grab condom from the bed drawer. once he's done, he turns to charles and kisses him deeply. there's an unspoken message in this kiss, an intent that starts fireworks in charles's heart - his hands fly out to grip carlos's shoulders with an aborted whine.

'don't leave,' charles repeats shakily. he doesn't look at carlos, says it with his eyes closed and their foreheads smashed together. 'carlos, i-'

'i know, carino.' the sweetest kiss lands on his eyelid and then on another one. 'i know.'

when carlos thrusts into him in a one go, charles whines so high that he's sure everyone heard him. strong arms grip his hips and pull them higher, low groan resonates in the room when charles locks his legs behind carlos's back, bringing them even closer. charles fears he'll never be able to look at carlos and not think of this - it's impossible. when carlos moves, it's both hell and heaven - hell because his strokes leave charles no room to hold his peak back and heaven because sex never felt this good, this charged with feelings. carlos is a grunter and soon he's grunting right at charles's ear, caging him with his arms on both sides, his hips never faltering in their pace.

'you're the only one, charles.' carlos breathes into charles's mouth, his brown orbs locked with his hazel ones. 'i promise.'

charles closes his eyes because it's too much. he doesn't think carlos is cruel enough to lie about this, but his heart twists from pain and he comes with a muffled shout and his teeth on carlos's shoulder, biting down hard enough to hurt.

oh, baby, let me love you goodbye

'don't.' carlos says strictly, when charles starts sitting up on bed to find his clothes. 'stay here tonight.'

'i can't,' charles says, not looking at him. he stares at his body which now looks like it belongs to carlos with amounts of marks he left; god, this stupid spaniard - having charles's heart wasn't enough for him? 'i need to go.'

'charles,' carlos sighs, exasparated. he grabs his wrist and tugs at it insistently until charles doesn't fall on his chest. 'stop acting like-'

'like what?' charles looks up sharply, glaring. 'like this isn't just some one night stand?'

carlos, as always, stays calm even though charles can see that he did not like what he heard. 'si, yes. you know it isn't.' when charles doesn't reply, carlos frowns and sits up too, staring at him intently. 'you know that isn't, right, carino? you can't not know.'

'how could i know?' charles asks, trying not to sound snappy. 'you never said anything.'

carlos blinks. 'but i always showed, no?'

charles thinks that ground beneath him will open up right now and swallow him and carlos. 'you are leaving,' he states, not being able to keep offended notes out of his tone.

'i am, yes. leaving ferrari. not you.' carlos places their joined hands on top of his heart. 'i told you - you are here. you are the only one.'

this sounds like a confession and it makes charles's head spin. he stares at carlos looking for any hesitation or lie, but finds only complete sincerity in his eyes. 'were you ever planning to confess?'

'were you?' carlos counters with a small smile.

'why do you think i came here tonight?' charles asks, huffing. he leans in, brushing their noses together. 'it- it hurts me. this whole williams-'

'i know,' carlos interrupts, voice solemn and strong. 'we don't have to talk about it now.'

charles knows that the good decision would be to actually talk about it now, but he can't bring himself to do it; he leans on carlos and lets himself be taken into his strong arms with his plush lips on his hair. they will talk about it tomorrow. but for now he'll have carlos all to himself for - hopefully - not the last time.

a/n: phew, getting this one out was hard. you decide on your own whether they make it or not. hopefully you all liked it, let me know! - nini

my other formula 1 works are here

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house (chapter 2) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember nowwritten for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

It’s freezing when you step out of the community center, and only the fact that Chihiro’s waiting for you to pick her up at school prevents you from going right back in and borrowing a scarf and gloves from the bin of spares. You knew you should have dressed more warmly, but you didn’t realize there’d be so much wind. By the time you make to the car, your teeth are chattering, and the car always takes longer to warm up than you want it to. You moved to Hokkaido nineteen years ago because it was the last place anyone would look for you, and no one’s found you yet. You just wish the price of privacy didn’t include freezing your ass off in the moonless polar night.

You think Chihiro worries about you a little less lately. You’ve gone to a month of pottery classes, and you make sure to respond to messages in the PTA moms’ group text every so often, and once when Kaori’s crazy mom asked you to get tea, you agreed. You left that conversation feeling like you’d been through a tornado, but the important thing is that you’re trying. That Chihiro sees you trying. That when she moves away for school, her worry for you won’t hold her back.

Her comment about you not having friends hit a little too close to home, and it’s still hanging around in your head. You used to have friends — Tomura’s friends, and some of your own. You loved them. You know they loved you. Half the reason you survived Tomura’s arrest and trial was because they were with you, suffering the same way, helpless to stop anything that was happening and trying all the same. Knowing all of that, it makes even less sense that you ran from them afterward.

But that’s always been who you are. When you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re sad, you pull back from the world. You don’t like having your feelings where other people could see, and if you didn’t like having your feelings in front of anybody, there was no way you were having your baby in front of Tomura’s friends. You weren’t interested in how they felt about it. You didn’t want to hear what they’d say. And you didn’t want them involved, constantly circling, reminding you of everything you lost. Reminding your baby, once they were old enough to understand. Your new new job (you lost the first new one), your apartment, your friends, your city — it all started to feel like a prison. You could run, so you did.

Lately, though, you’ve been thinking about them. Enough to look them up and see that Toga’s a fairly well-known costume designer, and wish you could talk sewing with her; find out that Dabi’s doing okay, when you’d been worried ever since you met him that he’d wind up in prison; learn that Spinner’s a writer with a popular series of detective novels, famous for mercilessly skewering the police over their incompetence and corruption. You’ve thought about reaching out, seeing if they know anything about Tomura’s situation, if they’ve heard anything from him. Then you decided it wasn’t worth it. You don’t want to find out that he’s spent nineteen years talking to them and not to you.

Your car finally warms up. You take a deep breath, shove the thought of your old friends away, and drive.

Someone’s car spun out on the route you planned to take to the high school, and you call Chihiro to let her know you’ll be a little late. She doesn’t answer, but she probably just busy. The choir director is kind of a hardass, but Chihiro worships the ground she walks on, and she’d never interrupt a rehearsal for something like a call from her probably-clingy mom. You are a little clingy. You just don’t ever want her to wonder where you are. To spend even a second doubting that you’ll be there when she needs you.

You get to the school, park, and switch idly between channels on the radio, skipping away whenever you hear a snatch of the news. The choir kids trickle out of school slowly, talking through chattering teeth, and scatter to their parents’ cars. You watch for Chihiro, knowing that she stays late to talk to the choir director sometimes. But then the lights in the music room go out. The choir director steps out, locking the door behind her, and fear like you’ve never experienced in your life floods through you.

It feels like acid in your veins. You lurch out of your car and get in the director’s way as she heads for hers. “Where’s Chihiro?”

“She left at the break,” the director says. “Typically I don’t allow it, but she’s an excellent student and she’s never asked before —”

Chihiro left. Chihiro left school an hour ago. You can barely speak. “What happened? Did she get sick? Why didn’t you call me —”

“She said she would,” the director says, bewildered. “She didn’t?”

“If she’d called me, I’d have picked her up already.” Your voice stutters, fractures. “What happened?”

“She and her friends were discussing something. A news article, I think. I doubt that’s what caused it.” The director is frowning now, disconcerted to your terrified. “When we resumed practice, she was distraught, and asked to be excused early.”

Distraught. You’ve never heard anybody use that word to describe your daughter. “Did she say why?”

“She needed to go home. She said it was a family emergency.”

A family emergency? You’re her family. Your parents passed away when she was in middle school and you and your brother haven’t spoken in years. What family is she talking about? You don’t need that answer right now. You need to find her. “Thank you,” you choke out, and run back to your car.

You and she live five miles outside of town — on a big road that gets plowed and salted, sure, but still outside of town. Could she walk all the way home in an hour? You don’t think so. Not in this weather. And you can’t think of anywhere else she would go. You drive slowly, carefully along the road, your heart rising into your throat at each bend in the road and sinking when the stretch of road ahead of you continues to be empty. Your mind twists in agony. A family emergency. What does that even mean? It crosses your mind that it’s the perfect excuse, one no teacher would ever refuse a student like Chihiro — but why wouldn’t she call you? Why would she start walking home in the dark? What is there that she thinks she can’t bring to you, that you wouldn’t help her with? You’d do anything for her. You just have to find her, and you’ll figure it out.

You catch up to her halfway home, her hands jammed into her pockets and her shoulders hunched against the cold, her breath billowing out in a frozen cloud. The relief of finding her lasts for only a second. Now you need to get her home. You flip on your hazard lights and slow to a crawl alongside her, rolling down your window. “Chihiro, get in the car!”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look your way. “I’m so glad I found you, but I don’t understand,” you say. “You must be freezing. Why didn’t you call me? I was so scared –”

You’re making this about you. It’s not about you. “Chihiro, please get in the car. I just want you to be safe. I love you —”

“Shut up!” She wheels on you, and you hit the brakes, more in shock than anything else. Your daughter’s eyes are swollen and bloodshot with tears, and her lips are cracked and bleeding in the cold. Her mouth is turned down like you haven’t seen it in more than a decade, but her eyes are hot with rage. “Don’t come near me. Don’t even talk to me. I didn’t call you because I hate you. I hate you! How could you do that to me?”

“Do what?” you ask.

“Lie,” Chihiro spits, or sobs. “How long were you going to lie to me, Mom? Were you ever going to tell me the truth about my dad?”

Your stomach drops. How did she find out? How many people know? “I never lied,” you say. “I never told you he was dead. I always told you —”

“He’s gone.” Chihiro’s nose is dripping. She looks frozen. “Don’t play that stupid game. You knew what I thought you meant when you say that, and you just let me think — you were always going to let me think he was —”

“How did you find out?”

“That’s all you care about? I hate you —”

Right now, you hate yourself, too. It hurts to hear Chihiro say that, hurts to know she’s so angry with you that she’d rather freeze than spend even a second in the car with you — but your feelings don’t matter right now. They stopped mattering nineteen years ago. This is about your daughter. You shove your feelings to one side. “You hate me,” you repeat, and she scoffs. “You can hate me just as much in the car as you can out there, and the car is warm.”

Chihiro squints at you as she wipes her eyes. “It’s not that far. I can walk.”

“Yeah. But it’ll take you another hour, and it’ll just keep getting colder.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I won’t try to talk to you. In the car or when we’re home. Just — please, get in the car, Chihiro. You don’t have to hurt yourself to let me know you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, Mom. This is way beyond angry.” Chihiro takes a deep breath and coughs on the cold air. “If you try to talk to me, I’m getting out again.”

You don’t deserve to feel relieved, but you do. You put the car in park and unlock the passenger-side door. “Okay.”

The drive home is awful, but at least it’s brief. The first thing Chihiro does after taking off her shoes and coat is head straight for the bathroom. The water switches on in the shower, and you’ll bet it’s scalding hot. She must be so cold. And so angry with you, angry enough to override her better judgment and drive her out onto the road alone. Is she right about you? Were you ever going to tell her the truth about Tomura? You don’t know. But you should have seen this coming, somehow. You could have seen it coming, would have, if you were doing anything but hiding from your own pain. Of course Chihiro’s furious with you. You deserve it.

Deserving it doesn’t make it hurt any less, so like always, you find something to keep you busy. You set out clean pajamas for Chihiro on her bed. Then you finish folding the laundry, emptying the dishwasher, folding the quilts that are still strewn across the couch from Chihiro’s movie night with Kaori over the weekend. After that it’s time to sew, and even with the focus paper-piecing takes and the noise of the sewing machine, you can’t shut out a single question: How did she find out?

The water in the shower shuts off. You hear Chihiro’s footsteps in the hallway, then the sound of her bedroom door shutting. Shutting, not slamming. You abandon your sewing machine, planning to go to your bedroom and stay there, leaving her the kitchen and the living room and not coming out until she goes to sleep. You don’t want her to have to look at you. Or maybe you just don’t want to see how she looks at you now.

The thought stops you at the threshold. You’ve made everything about what’s happened into something about you. Who are you helping by going to hide? Yourself. You’re protecting yourself from your daughter’s anger, which she deserves to express, and from the questions she probably wants to ask, which you should have answered a long time ago. You can’t hide. You need to stay here and be the person — the parent — you should have been all along. Even if it’s too late.

You hear the bedroom door open, but you don’t turn, and Chihiro comes closer with soft footsteps. She stops at the edge of the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Making hot chocolate. Do you want some?”

“You’re being weird,” Chihiro says. She sounds unnerved. “I told you I hate you. Why aren’t you yelling? You’re not even crying. Do you even care?”

Your heart breaks a little bit, even as a surge of frustration rocks you. “It hurts to hear you say that,” you admit. No more lying. From here on out, you tell the truth. “But I don’t think it hurts as much as finding out your mom’s been lying to you for eighteen years.”

Chihiro’s quiet. She’s quiet, and you’re not trying to downplay what you did or run away from it, so you ask a question of your own. “How did you find out?”

The electric kettle goes off with a click. “The water’s done,” Chihiro says. “Are you making hot chocolate or not?”

She reminds you so much of Tomura — that same bluntness, that same impatience, that same affinity for cutting the knot. “Yeah. And some for you.”

Once you’ve both got your cups, you head to the living room. Chihiro unfolds all the blankets you folded earlier and burrows into them, and you sit in the armchair and pull your feet up and away from the floor. She watches you over the rim of her cup. “It’s weird when you do that,” she says. “It makes you look really young.”

It’s quiet for a second. “I guess you are kind of young. They said in school that most people don’t have kids until they’re thirty, and you were only twenty-two when you had me.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Four years older than you.”

It sounds wrong when you say it. Too young. Way too young. Chihiro looks unsettled. “I wouldn’t have a kid when I was twenty-two,” she says. “Why did you?”

You take a sip of hot chocolate, trying to calm your nerves. “I’ll tell you that and everything else. I want to know how you found out first.”

Chihiro’s eyes narrow, but to your surprise, she answers. “Takako at school — she watches that true-crime show. The one you don’t let me watch.”

“I never said you couldn’t watch it. I just said not on the TV out here,” you say. Chihiro rolls her eyes. “Your computer in your room is fair game.”

“My computer doesn’t get cable.”

“So pirate it,” you say with a shrug, and Chihiro nearly chokes on her next sip of hot chocolate. “I never said you couldn’t watch it at all.”

“Yeah. Like you never actually said my dad was dead,” Chihiro says. Ouch. “Do you want me to tell you or what? She watches that show, and you’re not the only mom who’s weird about it, so she tells us all about the episodes when they come out. I guess this week’s episode was about this guy Shigaraki Tomura who killed his whole family, and how he’s been on death row longer than anybody else in Japan. So we looked him up to see if he’s still alive — I guess the episodes get made in advance — and there were pictures of him at his trial. He has the same birthmark I do.”

You nod. “And the same eyes. Ever since you were a baby.”

Chihiro looks down into her cup. “One of my friends joked about it. I thought it was funny, so I laughed. But then I was thinking about it, and the — timing, I guess. And I realized you never said he was dead. My whole life, that was what I thought, but it wasn’t what you said.”

She takes another sip of hot chocolate. “I was looking at the pictures. From the trial, and you were in them. Your hair looked different, but I knew it was you. And I guess I — there was this one picture. From his sentencing. You’re holding his hands.”

You hadn’t realized someone snapped a photo, but you should have known. Your fingers still ache from the memory. Chihiro looks up, her eyes glassy again. “It’s him, isn’t it? My dad’s Shigaraki Tomura.”

“That’s him,” you say. You can’t call your voice steady. Flat might be better. “What do you want to know?”

“Why,” Chihiro says at once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There were a lot of reasons,” you say. “I think my main one was trying to protect you.”

“From him?”

“No,” you say. “From everybody else. I don’t know if you read any of the articles about the trial, but the way they talked about him — and about me — was awful. People treated me differently, and I was just his girlfriend. I didn’t want anybody to do anything to you because of who your father was.”

“I got in fights anyway. Because I didn’t have a dad.” Chihiro’s voice is dull. “Maybe if they’d known who he was it would have been different.”

“Maybe.” You take a sip of your own hot chocolate, even though it’s getting hard to swallow. “That was part of it. Part of it was that I didn’t want you to grow up with that hanging over your head. Knowing that your dad was on death row and not even being able to visit him.”

“You said he didn’t know about me. Was that a lie, too?”

“I tried to tell him,” you say. “I called, and wrote letters, and tried to visit — he never wanted to see me. And he never answered.”

Your voice wavers slightly. You don’t try to fight it. Fighting it makes it worse. “I wanted to. He wouldn’t let me.”

Chihiro looks disturbed. “So that picture —”

“That’s the last time I saw him,” you say, and Chihiro’s expression collapses. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that.” Chihiro lets go of her cup to wipe her eyes. “Why else didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was selfish,” you say. It hurts to admit it, to admit that what you swore you were doing for Chihiro’s own good was for you all along. But you have to be honest. You’ve lied to her, by omission or on purpose, enough for a lifetime. “I didn’t want to think about what happened. Any of it. And if you didn’t know — if nobody knew — then I wouldn’t have to talk about it ever again.”

Chihiro wipes her eyes a second time. You keep talking, your throat aching more in every word. “I didn’t wake up one morning and decide not to tell you about Tomura. It just happened —”

“And kept happening. For eighteen years.”

She’s not going to let you get away with anything. The fact that you know she shouldn’t doesn’t make it any less frustrating. “Yeah. Eighteen years. I did it because it would make things easier, for me. Because it wouldn’t hurt as much, for me. I was thinking a lot about me and I should have been thinking about you.”

Chihiro looks away. “Do you think he did it?”

“Chihiro —”

“He confessed,” Chihiro says. “He said he did it.”

Yeah, Tomura confessed. They interrogated him for twenty days straight before they got anything out of him, and when you came to visit him again before the trial, he looked like something had broken inside of him. He seemed out of it, too. He barely recognized you, barely knew you were there. You don’t know what they did to him in there, but you trust that confession even less than you trust the testimony his adoptive father gave. “He confessed,” Chihiro repeats, her voice rising. She fumbles her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it one-handed. “Do you think he did it?”

She’s looking something up. You remember all at once how Chihiro stumbled on him in the first place. “Did they execute him? Chihiro, tell me —”

“Do you think he did it?” she demands, and you shake your head. You were there at the trial. Every day. You never saw anything that made you believe he was guilty. Chihiro squeezes her eyes shut and holds out her phone towards you. “You were right.”

Some part of you registers what she just said, but it doesn’t stick. It bounces off the surface and vanishes, because Chihiro has a news site open, with a bright red BREAKING NEWS banner across the top. SHIGARAKI TOMURA EXONERATED AFTER NINETEEN YEARS ON DEATH ROW.

You spend one wild second panicking at the sight of an “ex” word in the same sentence as Tomura’s name and “death row”, but then you force yourself to go back. Exonerated. Not executed, exonerated. You lift the phone out of Chihiro’s hands and she lets you take it — with a caveat. “Read it out loud, okay? So I know we both saw the same thing.”

You start reading, your voice rattling. “In a time of rising crime, escalating drug trafficking, and a loss of trust in our institutions, the accused mass murderer Shigaraki Tomura became the avatar for Japan’s worst nightmares: A remorseless killer, hiding amongst the innocent, ready to strike at any time. Those who questioned the scant evidence the prosecutor provided were ridiculed. Those who believed that his confession to the murders of his parents, his grandparents, and his older sister was the product of coercion were reviled. Nineteen years later, they and the man they spoke up for have seen justice served.”

Your eyes are burning. You blink back tears and keep reading. “In a stunning but well-reasoned decision released on Monday afternoon, the Supreme Court reversed all seven murder convictions against Shigaraki Tomura in light of new evidence uncovered in the course of an entirely different investigation. Midoriya Izuku, a prosecutor turned human-rights advocate, became interested in Shigaraki’s case while working to restore another inmate’s right to visits from his adoptive father — fuck!”

Chihiro looks up. “Huh?”

“Sorry. It’s just — he called me,” you say. “Midoriya Izuku. He’s been calling. I didn’t know why.”

“It’s weird when you swear,” Chihiro notes. You mumble an apology. “Keep reading.”

“Upon reviewing the available evidence and pursuing new investigations, Midoriya made a motion for a retrial, which was granted by the Supreme Court and conducted under terms of absolute secrecy in order to avoid the media circus that ensued during Shigaraki’s original trial. The Court has agreed to release all documents related to Shigaraki’s case and is expected to do so within the next twenty-four hours. Some sources have indicated that a different suspect in the Shimura family’s murders has already been taken into custody, but no official confirmation has been received.”

Your hands are shaking now, so hard you almost drop Chihiro’s phone in your cup of hot chocolate. “Mom?” Chihiro says, and you look up, blinking hard. “Do you know who they arrested?”

Your first inclination is to ask why she thinks you of all people would know, but you clamp down on that. Even though the world’s just been yanked out from beneath your feet, your daughter is still the injured party. And when you think about it, you do have some idea of who it is. “His adoptive dad. He was the one who had custody of Tomura when the murders happened, and he was really excited to cooperate with the investigation.”

“Custody?” Chihiro repeats. “How old was he when he — when they died?”

“Fifteen,” you say. “If you’re older than fourteen when you commit a crime, they can try you as an adult.”

“You think his fake dad set him up,” Chihiro says. You nod. “Is there more to read?”

“A little bit.”

Chihiro scoots over on the couch, making a space, and you sit down next to her. She has to wake up her phone again for you to keep reading, and you get the jumpscare of SHIGARAKI TOMURA EX- a second time before scrolling down to where you left off. “Although a release date has not been announced publicly, it is the view of this magazine that Shigaraki should be released from prison as quickly as possible. He has paid a debt to society that was never owed in the first place. When Shigaraki Tomura is released from Fuchu Prison, he will walk out a free man. Society’s atonement for the crime it committed against him is only beginning.”

You glance at the byline out of habit. This article was written by Kizuki Chitose, and if you remember right, the last article she wrote about Tomura struck a pretty different note. She’d better start atoning right now. You’d be happy to help. Balling up every single scathing editorial and hit job she wrote and jamming them down her throat feels like it would be a good start.

“It’s real,” Chihiro says. You nod. “He’s getting out.”

You nod again. You’re with Kizuki on wanting Tomura to be released as quickly as possible. You’re just not sure what happens next.

Chihiro’s thinking along the same lines. “Mom, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you promise her. She leans in against your side, and some horrible part of you exults. With the chaos that’s about to unfold, Chihiro can’t afford to hate you any longer — or if you stop thinking about it like an asshole, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen and you’re the person she turns to. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know any more than she does. You’re the adult, but something happened to you when you read that headline. Somehow it feels like no time has passed at all; like he was just torn away from you, like you’re a lonely, hopeless twenty-two-year-old with a baby on the way all over again.

But you aren’t. You made it this far. Your baby turned eighteen this year, and you managed to raise her close enough to right. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise her again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“Maybe you were right,” Chihiro mumbles. “It would have been harder if I knew all this time.”

You think so. It’s still not an excuse. You wrap your arm around your daughter’s shoulders and hug her closer, relieved beyond words when she doesn’t pull away. You’ll take care of her first — make sure she eats, make sure she gets some sleep, because you know from experience how much harder everything becomes without it. And after she’s fallen asleep, you’ll finally return Midoriya Izuku’s calls.

<- Chapter 1

[reixtsu]

Chapter 4

Synopsis: A vivid dream of your night with Aventurine lingered as you woke to a barrage of his messages, asking to see his son. Struggling between your duties as a Stellaron Hunter and being Hajime's mother, you buried your guilt while Hajime innocently asked about his father, leaving you uncertain of what to do.

wk: 1.4k <<<previous next>>> Masterlist

The dream was so vivid you could still see it as your consciousness pulled your back into the cold reality of your room.

The sleek hotel room, warm lights, and the clinking of glasses as the world beyond blurred into a beautiful irrelevance. His voice, that smooth, almost teasing tone of his with those eyes that you feel in love with for the night.

It started as a game-a simple distraction, an escape from the weight of your missions. For one fleeting night, you had allowed yourself to believe that life had something more in store than what your script said, than what the Aeons already laid out for you. You believed that for one night, you didn't have to act according to your script. And as soon as the sun rose, you left him and that illusion behind.

Now, his voice echoed in your mind as you jolted awake, heart pounding and breath uneven.

You sat up, raking a hand through your sweat-damped hair. The cool glow of your phone illuminated the otherwise dark and empty room, making you blink at the sudden brightness. With steady breaths, you forced yourself to reach over to your bed stand, hand grabbing your phone before bringing it to your face as you unlocked it, presenting you a barrage of messages.

Aventurine [07:04 AM]: Good morning, friend!

Aventurine [07:18 AM]: Did you dream about me? I promise I won't blame you if you did~

Aventurine [07:30 AM]: What's Hajime's favorite food? Pizza? Ramen? 

Aventurine [07:32 AM]: I need to know. Not for me, obviously. Totally not.

Aventurine [08:00 AM]: Let's go gambling one of these days. I might let you win~

Aventurine [08:15 AM]: ..You're ignoring me, huh? cute. I'll keep trying.

You frowned. How could this man, one that you barely know, text you in such an intimate way? And how did he get your phone number? Questions spiraled in your mind like a restless tornado, causing a headache to creep in, much to your displeasure.

Aventurine [08:25 am]: Hajime deserves to know about me, and I deserve to know about him, won't you agree? 

That last message... 

Your grip tightened around your phone, a rare yet sharp pang of guilt cutting through your frustration. It doesn't matter, these feelings, so you just shove them down like you always do, burying it beneath the weight of your responsibilities.

The only thing that mattered was your role as a Stellaron Hunter, and your role as Hajime's mother. He didn't need a father anyways, not when he had Blade as his uncle, Kafka as his auntie, and Firefly and Silverwolf as his older sisters. Besides, Aventurine was just a one night stand, who cared if he was the father of your son. The details didn't matter anyways, right? Right?

"Someone looks like they woke up on the wrong side of the bed," a voice drawled from the doorway.

You glanced up to see Silverwolf leaning casually against the doorframe, her signature nonchalant smirk in place. She nodded toward your phone, her sharp eyes catching the wall of spam messages. "Let me guess-baby daddy's texting you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," you snapped, discarding your phone onto a random corner of your room.

Silverwolf raised an eyebrow, arms up in mock surrender. "Fine. fine. If he bothers you too much, I could always hack his bank account."

You narrowed your eyes at her, the idea of causing mischief was appealing, but-

"Don't you have something better to do?" You glared at her, combing back your bed hair.

"Not really," she said with a shrug, pushing her small frame off the doorframe. "But you're wayy more entertaining when you wake up all grumpy like this."

As if on cue, Blade strides into the room, his signature and ever present scowl locked on his face as he glared between you and Silverwolf, his expression as unreadable as ever. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you mutter, but of course, Silverwolf, cut you off with a grin.

"She's getting love-bombed by the guy who banged her."

Blade raised an eyebrow, his crimson gaze shifting to you. "The gambler?"

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You didn't want to talk about this as soon as you woke up. Wasn't there a better time than this? "It's nothing. He's just... persistent."

Silverwolf snickered. "Persistent is an understatement, Y/n. Guy's practically begging to see his kid again, am I right? Kind of sweet, actually."

"It's not sweet," you snapped, your voice sharper than intended. "It's invasive as hell."

"Enough," Blade cut off, his deep voice sending vibrations all over the room. He gave you a pointed look. "You've got a mission. Solo. Focus on that."

Oh yeah, you forgot about that.

You nodded, grateful for the excuse to shift your attention to something else. "I'll be on my way then."

---

It was another straightforward mission: surveil a small planet rumored to have connections to an elusive artifact, a stellaron. Your job was to gather intel, to keep a low profile. And though you were doing your job well, your mind couldn't help but wander back to Aventurine and his relentless messages.

"Mama," Hajime's voice pulled you back from your thoughts. He sai across from you in the small ship's common area, his tiny legs swinging as he munched on a chocolate bar you bought for him. "You okay?"

You forced a smile. "I'm fine, Hajime. Mommy's just tired, is all."

He tilted his head, his sharp, bright eyes- Aventurine's eyes-studying you with a curiosity that was way too perceptive for his age. "Is it about the messages?"

Your stomach dropped. How the hell did he know? 'What do you mean?"

"Silverwolf told me," of course she did, "She said that that man keeps bothering you with texts.

You sat back with a sigh, unsure of how to explain the situation to a five-year-old. "She's right. The blond man from before, the one who has your eyes," you pointed at your eyes to emphasys, "he's been texting me a lot this morning."

"Is he my dad?"

The question, sounding so innocent out of your son's mouth, felt like a punch to the stomach. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to avoid the truth.

"You're one smart boy," you leaned forwards, gently ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "You figured it all out without having me explain it to you, hm? Yes, he's your... father."

Hajime blinked, his expression on his soft face unreadable. Then, much to your surprise, he smiled. "He was funny."

A laugh escaped you, one that was genuine and was reserved for your son and your son only. "Funny isn't a word I'd use."

"Can I see him again?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with possibility and risk. You were a Stellaron hunter, someone the IPC would love to have behind iron bars. To have Hajime meet Aventurine was a risk too dangerous for your taste, but at the same time, Hajime was always curious to who his father was. You didn't know how to answer, so you settled for the only thing you could offer.

"Maybe," you said softly. "Someday."

Hajime didn't press any further, much to your relief, but his smile lingered as he continued to munch on his sweet treat.

---

The day passed in a blur of activity as the mission went smoothly. When the mission was done, you took your son out shopping, a rare bonding experience that you liked to give your son. By the time you tucked Hajime into bed and returned to your room, you were exhausted.

You picked up your phone, scrolling through the latest round of messages. 

Aventurine [12:10 PM]: Still ignoring me? I'll take it as a challenge.

Aventurine [12:12 PM]: Hajime has my eyes, right? That's what I saw when I saw him last time. I bet he's a troublemaker like me.

Aventurine [01:05 Am]: Let me see him again, please. I'll behave, promise.

For a moment you considered replying to finally shut the man up, but you couldn't, not when your thoughts were all over the place, responsibilities were hanging down your shoulders, and exhaustion closing down on you. Instead, you shut your phone off and collapsed onto your bed, hoping sleep would come easily.

Deep down, however, you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep peacefully.

Author’s Note: I love baby daddy stories.

Taglist: @godoffuckedupcats, @sweetistic, @kangyeonie

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

Give Me Back My Key

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Plus Size!Reader Summary: Franklin crosses the line and you blow up at him. Now you have to hear some hard truths and decide whether or not you still want to be with him. Warnings: 18+, drug dealing, n-word usage, PIV, daddy kink, dirty talk, fingering, AAVE, possessive Franklin, bratty reader, referring to female genatalia as 'she', mentions of canonically dead characters as alive so this is kind of an AU but just go with it Word Count: 3,387 Author’s Note: My first finished piece of writing in like 3 years. A bitch is rusty but I’m just so happy to have something completed. I hope yall can find some enjoyment in it. I’m a Snowfall girlie now so hopefully there will be more coming after this. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading lovelies! xo

You entered your home after a long day at work, ready to soak in a bubble bath for an hour. Your boss had upped your hours, but did that come with a raise? Of course not. You hoped he would actually consider you for the new job opening in management but you weren’t holding your breath.

On the other hand, the extra hours were actually a God send. You had less time to sit at home missing your ex. Franklin Saint tore through your life like a tornado and left the wreckage of your heart behind.

You had no idea who he was when you first met. Your younger brother had dragged you along with him to Jammin Jerome’s to see if he had enough to upgrade his speaker system. Your brother had been geeking over the selection but his dream speakers were a bit outside of his price range.

The heartbroken look on your brother’s face was too much for you to handle and like always you tried to swoop in and save the day. Your mother worked so much to keep a roof over your heads as you grew up and your job was to look after your brother. You were basically another mother to him.

“Do yall have a layaway program or anything?” You asked, calculating in your mind how much you’d need to take out of your next check.

“No there ain’t no layaway. This ain’t no fucking charity.”

You squinted your eyes at the afro’d man and dug deep into your professional bag as not to cuss him out. “I understand. Is there anyway you can just hold them until Friday?”

The shorter man went to reply but he was cut off by Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy. “Yeah I can do that for you, but there’s a catch.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “What?”

He placed his hands on the counter and leaned a little closer towards you. “You gotta be the one to come back for them and you gotta let me take you out after.” He proposed, a smirk on his face.

Usually that might have pissed you off but there was something so charming about him. He immediately got your defenses down.

“Deal.”

His slick nature should have been a red flag but you were naive then. You couldn’t see past what was in front of you. A successful young Black man who was intelligent, passionate, and caring. He had goals and he knew who he was. You fell fast and you fell hard. He treated you like the most important person in his life.

After washing off the day’s sweat from your body, you put on your soft robe and proceeded to lotion up your body. A little self pampering after a hard day always helped to ease your racing brain and start to wind you down.

Franklin would love to get his hands on you and rub in your favorite scented lotion. He’d start at your feet and work his way up, taking extra time around your knees and then your thighs. He’d rub your belly and place kisses on your stretch marks. He never failed to make you feel so loved.

Months of dating flew by and even your families got along great. Your little brother looked up to Franklin as a man he’d like to emulate. He didn’t really have that before. Anytime you brought Franklin around, your brother was trying to get as much of his attention as you were. Franklin indulged him too. As annoying as it was, it warmed your heart to see the little bond they had.

By extension, you’d also noticed your brother getting closer to Leon as well. Since that first meeting, Leon was not one of your favorite people. You respected him as your man’s best friend but you saw him often on the street and you didn’t want your brother becoming interested in that.

Driving down the street a couple weeks ago, your worst nightmare was reality.

You almost got into a car accident the way you swerved your car across lanes when you saw Ryan doing a hand exchange with Leon.

You were haphazardly parked and out the car before your mind could catch up to what your adrenaline already set in motion.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You yelled at Ryan, hands digging straight into his pockets and pulled out both money and rocks.

“Get off me, sis! What’s your problem?” He asked you, trying to grab his supplies back.

“What’s my problem?! You being fucking dumb is my problem. Get in the car!” You screamed, smacking him in the back of the head and pushing him towards the car.

“Consider him officially out.” You told Leon, tossing him the drugs and money.

You got in the car and drove straight to Franklin’s. Yeah you told Leon that Ryan is out, but you figured Franklin would talk to Leon for you so things actually stuck. They were best friends after all.

Ryan was clearly sulking as he followed you into the home. He stood against a wall with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

Franklin greeted you with a kiss on the lips. “Hey baby. What’s wrong with your bro?”

You hugged him, resting your head on his chest. He ran his hand up and down your back to soothe you. “I caught him slinging on a random corner. I gave Leon his shit back and told him that Ryan was out, but do you think you can talk to him for me? I want to make sure he doesn’t try to hire him again.”

You didn’t catch on to the awkward silence until your brother scoffed.

You lifted your head from Franklin’s chest to look at your sibling. “What?” You snapped.

“You called me dumb and yet you think Leon hired me.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“This isn’t a joke! I will fuck you up, Ry.” You started to pull away from your man’s embrace to put hands on your brother but Franklin stopped you.

“Leon didn’t put him on the corner. I did.” Franklin declared, and your body froze. You could swear you went into shock.

You took a huge step back and out of his arms. “Excuse me?”

“I put him with Leon because I trust him and he’ll make sure he’s straight. You know how Leon is.”

Your head was spinning but you were quickly connecting the dots. You knew he had something going on in his past. Like maybe he used to sell weed, but you’d only seen his legitimate businesses. Now you felt naive as fuck. The pieces are coming together in your mind like a puzzle you finally figured out how to solve. The way his Uncle and Aunt always seemed to defer to him…the way he carried himself….he was the Boss.

“Why would you…” You couldn’t even get it out. You shook your head to try and clear the roaring in your ears.

“He’s smart, he’s quick, and he’s loyal. You don’t have to worry. Plus, he really wanted a job.” Franklin explained like he was simply going over your brother’s job application.

“Then you get him a job at Jerome’s! YOU DONT PUT MY BROTHER ON THE STREET. ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?” You exploded, hands clenching.

It was the first time he’d seen you blow up and you expected a greater acknowledgement of your angry. Ryan seemed to be the only one in the room who knew you were not playing.

Franklin merely stared at you with what you thought was cool indifference. “You need to calm down.”

You scoffed, in disbelief of his arrogant answer. If niggas have anything, it’s audacity. “You go behind my back and make my baby brother one of your street niggas and I need to calm down? Fuck you, Franklin.”

He stood up straight, using his height to tower over you and show how unamused he was. “Oh you've been doing a lot of that. And you didn’t see a damn thing wrong with it either.”

You nodded. “You’re right. This is on me. I brought you into his life but I’m gonna rectify that immediately. We’re done.”

You hadn’t seen Franklin in a week and you missed him so much. You missed his voice, the way he held you in his arms, and the uncanny ability he had to always just know what you needed.

You needed him.

But you can’t budge on this. This was your brother’s life and Franklin betrayed you by going behind your back. Speaking of Ryan, he’d also been suspiciously absent lately. He had been walking on eggshells since you blew up and you felt bad, but if your mother found out she’d actually kill him so better he deals with your anger than hers.

You entered the kitchen to grab some water and screamed when you noticed the figure sitting at your little kitchenette. “AHH!”

Sitting very comfortably in one of your chairs, legs spread and one arm resting on the table where a glass of your brandy sat was Franklin. There was also a large beautiful bouquet of roses on the table.

“Hey baby.” He casually greets you, taking a sip from the glass.

He looked good as hell but you still glared at him.

“How the hell did you get in here? Better yet, why are you here?”

“I missed you. I know you missed me too. Are you done being mad?”

You clicked your tongue. “Nigga you got some nerve. Yes, I’m still mad.”

He sucked his teeth at me. “I’m not gonna apologize for putting your brother on, but I’ll apologize for not giving you a heads up.”

“That’s not good enough. That shit is dangerous. I want him to get a degree and get out of here.”

“So you don’t believe in building back up the community? Keeping money and businesses in Black hands? You don’t want to raise a family where you grew up anymore?”

Yes, you still believed in all those things. You even understood that your people had to cut some corners to get a leg up because they’d already been held back from so long. But the road to get to the future was scary. You were scared but anger is a way easier emotion to hold on to.

“Give me my key.” You snapped, holding out your hand.

He took your hand in his, rubbing your wrist with his thumb before placing a kiss on your palm. “No.”

“Franklin!” You whined, stomping your foot before you could stop yourself. Yes, you were lowkey about to throw a fit but he was so damn annoying.

“If you want me gone, change the locks.” He challenged, placing a kiss on each of your fingers.

That action caused you to realize he still held your hand so you snatched it away. “Fine. I will. What do you want?”

“You. I want you back. The bed is cold without those warm thighs for me to lay between.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

He rolled his eyes and stood up. He walked you backwards until you hit the kitchen counter. You looked off to the side, unable to hold his gaze. You were weak for him. He placed his hands on your cheeks and gripped your face, turning it so you were nose to nose with him and eyes locked.

“I’m only gonna say this shit once. Ryan wanted in the game. He wanted to be a corner boy. He wants to hustle.” You tried turning away from him but you couldn’t pry his hands off your face so you ended up just holding his wrists. “If I said no, he would have gone somewhere else. Is that what you want? Him down in the bottoms with crazy ass Skully or becoming apart of Manboy’s crew?”

Your eyes fluttered close at his words and you released a loud sigh. He was right. God forbid your brother went to work for Manboy. You knew you couldn’t change Ryan’s mind about something as much as you couldn’t change your mother’s. They were alike in that way. You always played the middle trying to keep the peace.

Franklin placed a kiss on your forehead as you processed his words. He knew you needed time to sort out new information and check in with yourself. He loved that about you. You could blow up but you could also be reasoned with.

“I know how much you love your brother and because I love you he’s family to me too. I’m treating him just like family. The game is the game. You think I wouldn’t do everything I could to protect him? To protect your heart? You think that little of me?”

His words had your eyes snapping back open. “No. I know you’re a good man, Frankie.” You rubbed his wrists, your face still in his hands.

“Then you forgive me?” He asked, eyes pulling you in. You would willingly drown in those dark pools.

You nodded and he placed a soft kiss on your lips. God, you missed him. You pressed harder against him and deepened the kiss. It had been too long. He kissed you like you were his last source of air as he explored your mouth with his tongue. His hands left your face to trail down your back and grip your robe covered ass.

He sucked on your tongue before biting your lip. He gripped your thighs and hoisted you up, holding you against the countertop and grinding his hard dick against you. You yelped and wrapped your arms and legs around him.

“Oh my God! Put me down, Franklin.” You gasped as he placed open mouthed kisses on your neck. Your robe had fallen open and he was able to suck on your collarbone which made your head drop back.

He turned to place you on the table. Your ass bumped his glass and it, along with the bouquet, fell onto the floor. “Franklin!” You scolded, only to bite your lip when he lightly grabbed your neck.

“I let you get away with it before but that shits over now. What’s my name?” He asked, his thumb pressing right into the center of your neck.

Your pussy was dripping wet. “Baby, please.”

He squeezed a bit more before letting his hand slide down the opening in your robe. “Close but don’t worry sweetheart. I’ll remind you.” His free hand pulled on the sash and completely opened up your robe.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He groaned, eyes moving from your tits down your stomach to between your legs as you spread them further apart.

Your hands were exploring under his shirt, refamiliarizing yourself with the planes of his body. You slipped his shirt over his head and he bent his head to kiss your nipples.

“Mmm.” You moaned, head falling back as he took a nipple into his mouth. You could feel your pussy dripping wet. As he sucked on your titties, one of his hands reached between your legs and teased your folds. His fingers traced up and down your lips and your hips moved to press him harder against you.

“Look at how wet and eager you are. I know this pussy missed me. Didn’t she?” He asked, pulling away from your titties leaving them wet with his saliva.

“Yes, yes she missed you.” You gasped, desperate for more.

His middle finger slid up and down your slit before finally slipping into your pussy. You groaned at the feeling and he slipped another finger inside of you stroking your walls. His eyes remained on your face as he watched the love faces you made. He pressed his fingers deeper inside you and rubbed his palm against your swollen clit.

“Yes, yes, please….” You moaned, hands clutching the edge of the table. He was stroking you so good, but you needed more.

“Tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

“I need…ooh…I need your dick in this pussy.” You licked your lips as you reached out to unbutton his pants. You could see the print of his hard dick and you needed it in you now.

“After this tantrum of yours, beg for it.” He could feel your walls contracting around his fingers and knew you were about to cum. He wasn’t about to have that so he pulled his fingers out.

“Nooo…” You whined, scooting closer to the edge of the table to rub against him and get some more friction going. He held your legs open and leaned back just out of your reach.

“What did I say?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Please, Daddy. I’m sorry. Give me the dick. I need the dick.” You begged, voice just the right pitch of needy and desperate that he wanted to hear.

He pulled his hard, long, and thick dick out and stroked it as he stared at you. You bit your lip and gave him your most contrite look. He smiled at you and leaned in to kiss you softly on your lips.

You got so lost in his kiss. The way he moved from harsh to sweet was making your head spin. You just wanted anything and everything he was giving you. During the kiss, you gasped loudly into his mouth feeling his slide into your tight pussy.

“Shit..” He hissed, hips jacking forward to situate himself deep into your pussy. He was knocking up against your G spot and you were almost dizzy. After all that foreplay, you knew you wouldn’t last long. You were already squeezing his dick.

“I can feel that pussy finna cum. Let her rain on me, baby. I wanna feel it.” He told you, continuing to give you long deep strokes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You breathlessly moaned, head thrown back. “I’m bout to-” You don’t even finish your sentence as your orgasm eclipses your whole body.

“Just like that.” Franklin moaned, watching you as the pleasure blankets you. He loved watching you. You were so damn sexy. He never stopped stroking as your walls clamped down on him.

Your chest was heaving and you were feeling a bit tired. You felt Franklin speeding up his thrusts, his hips slamming against your ass. You were feeling a bit sensitive. “Ooh, wait Daddy…”

“Nah, ain’t no wait. This is part of your punishment. Let me look at that pussy.” He declared, bringing your legs up and smashing your knees into your chest. “Damn, look at her glistening for Daddy.”

“Mmnf!” You groaned, feeling the table shake under you at his hard thrusts. Your eyes closed as your body was completely worked over by him. He was fucking your soul.

You heard his moans and growls increasing frequency as his hips sped up. You could feel him everywhere. He was staking his claim on you. With a final deep thrust, you felt his cum release inside of you. You were on birth control but he was so damn far inside you felt like he was personally delivering his seeds to your ovaries. You’d have time to worry about that later.

He placed kisses along your thick legs as he slowly brought them back down to wrap around his waist. He’s still inside you and you haven’t moved at all. You couldn’t. You were wore the hell out.

You felt his eyes on you as he soothingly rubbed his hands up your thighs over your belly between your breasts and over your shoulders. He massaged you as he waited for you to regain yourself.

Your eyes opened and connected with his. You gave him your prettiest smile. “I love you.”

He smiled that rare grin of his. “I love you too.” He leaned in to kiss your lips and you closed your eyes leaning up to meet his lips only to be met with air.

Your eyes opened to see him staring down at you. “Don’t ever pull no shit like this again.” He sternly ordered.

You brought your hands up to rub his hair and cup the back of his head. “I won’t baby. I’m sorry.”

You were ready to accept Franklin for everything he is. He was your man and you were gonna stick beside him no matter what.

[spnbabe67]

Darling, Can I Be Your Favorite?

Kinktober Day 13: Morning Sex (T.O.)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, Somno? Morning sex, fingering

Summary: Slow mornings lead to even slower sex. Loretta couldn't ask for a better way to spend the morning in bed than with Tyler.

Word Count: 1383

Authors Note: Title based off the song Favorite by Isabel LaRosa

If there’s one thing Loretta loved, it was sleeping in. Tornado season had come to a close and with it, Tyler had come home with her. The rest of their friends had given them no shortage of shit when Tyler had packed his bags into Loretta’s truck saying he was gonna spend the next couple weeks recuperating with her back in Texas. Loretta smiled to herself as she slowly became aware of the world around her, of Tyler’s warm body curled around her. A heavy arm was slung over her waist, his fingertips having wormed their way under her tank top to lay against her tummy. The inviting scent of him enveloped her as she laid in the crook of his arm, his bicep taking the place of a pillow, warm and safe, tangled in her sheets. Through her closed eyelids she could sense the soft sunlight from the early morning bathing the room in warm light. What a way to wake up. I could get used to this. Tyler’s even breaths ruffled her tawny brown hair, probably tangled into a rats nest, but Loretta couldn’t find it in her to care, not when she could feel something hard poking against her ass. 

Loretta grinned against Tyler’s arm under her head, pushing her ass back against his morning erection. She bit her lip cheekily as Tyler made small sounds, his hips slowly rocking against the swell of her bottom, still asleep. She continued to wiggle her ass against the front of him until Tyler slid his hand from under her shirt to grip her hip. 

“Good morning to you too, Doll.” Tyler rasped, voice still rough with sleep. 

“Good morning, Cowboy.” Loretta hummed, smiling proudly as Tyler tucked her hair away from her neck, leaning in to place honey-sweet kisses to the junction of her shoulder and neck. 

Tyler took his sweet time, kissing every inch of her shoulder, hooking a finger under the flimsy strap of her tank top, dragging it down her arm. Loretta tipped her head back, granting him access to her skin, resuming the way she had been grinding back against him. Tyler’s hand lazily became re-acquainted with her body, sneaking under her shirt, calluses scraping against the soft skin of her tummy, making lazy circles. Loretta sucked in a shuddering breath as Tyler’s tongue dragged against her pulse, teeth grazing her skin, as his hand dipped south under her underwear to cup her mound. 

Tyler was hard as stone now as Loretta ground against him, arching herself to chase his fingers just barely brushing against her folds. Tyler swore as his fingers found the wetness between her legs, arousal he’d conjured with those skillful hands of his and his sinful mouth. Loretta moaned breathily as his fingers brushed up the seam of her before setting a delicious rhythm on her swollen clit. He worked his fingers across her core in long, slow, strokes that had her grinding herself against his hand, trying to get him to just pick a spot. She rolled her head back against his shoulder, moving on his hand as he slid a finger into her, causing her to release a desperate moan. His thumb took over rubbing her aching nub back and forth as he plunged his index finger in and out of her core, curling upwards to caress the spongy, sensitive spot that had her keening and bucking her hips, panting against her growing arousal.

Loretta didn’t know where to focus on, couldn’t as Tyler plucked and teased and caressed her; his mouth was attached to her neck, one hand between her legs, pushing a second finger into her channel, wiggling them against her inner walls. So much attention on her body in places that had her rapidly approaching that finish line. She panted heavily, gripping Tylers arm as her body began to tremble. Her orgasm rolled over her body in waves of euphoria before she got a chance to steady herself. Loretta’s body shuddered, her inner walls clenching around Tyler’s fingers, a shiver brought on by immense amounts of pleasure snaking its way down her spine.

“That’s it.” Tyler cooed against her shoulder, his nose bumping against her neck. “Good girl.”

His words instantly had her going loose again, feeling her arousal coat the inside of her thighs as Tyler pulled his hand away. She helped him remove her panties with one hand, shoving them down around her knees, the other hand scrambled to free his cock from the confines of his boxer shorts. Loretta moved to twist and face him but Tyler held fast with the arm around her waist, keeping her back against his front as he guided his cock between her legs, aided by the way she was soaked with her arousal. She reached behind her, gripping the back of his neck, her nails digging into his skin; she managed to twist far enough around to look at Tyler over her shoulder, watching him slide his cock between her folds. Loretta captured his mouth just as the head of him shoved its way inside her. Tyler hissed against her mouth, Loretta’s lips falling open as he filled her to the brim, sliding deeper and deeper; he slid in and in until he was impossibly deep within her inner walls, stretching her with that pleasurable sting that she would endure a hundred thousand times over to just to feel this, feel him. He was inside her and all around her all at once, his name on her lips like a broken record, a plea, a prayer, a thanks to whatever was out there that had brought her to him.

“You okay?” Tyler murmured against her mouth, stilling his shallow thrusts, waiting for her to adjust.

Loretta nodded her head, nipping at his bottom lip. “You can move.”

Every part of her was screaming for more, more, more as Tyler began to move, lazily and unhurridly fucking into her. Loretta kissed him deeply, sweeping her tongue across the roof of his mouth. The kiss was sloppy and raw, neither one of them caring and having all the time in the world to just feel this. She moved her hand from his hair, gripping his bicep as his other hand slid under her, holding her back against him more securely. 

“Takin’ me so well. You feel like heaven, Baby.”

The lazy pace Tyler set had her sucking breaths between her teeth each time he bottomed out inside her. He grabbed her thigh, placing it higher on the bed, the change in position somehow sending him deeper within her walls. Loretta fisted her hands in the sheets, the tightness in her belly a warm, dull throb that gradually got more and more intense as Tyler kissed what seemed like a thousand kisses to her back and shoulder. He was impossibly gentle, even as he sent his cock ramming into her. Sweet nothings tumbled from his plump lips, murmured against her skin, beaded with sweat. Everything he did was for her pleasure, his fingers dancing across her body until they found home between her legs, caressing her already sensitive clit. The sensation had her arching her back, moaning loudly.

“That’s it.” Tyler nipped at her shoulder blade. “My pretty songbird. Soundin’ so sweet for me.”

That damned southern twang had her heart melting to nothing but liquid like the arousal between her thighs. That gentleness knocked the air right out of her lungs, Loretta breathing him in as they both came closer and closer to their climaxes. Tyler came first, his hips stuttering once, twice, before she felt him cum deep inside her. His fingers tweaked and pulled at her clit, maintaining that same lazy speed until her own had her moaning shakily into her pillow, body going tense and loose all at once. 

Now, Tyler let Loretta twist around, his cock now soft slipping out of her with the movement. She smiled softly at him, cupping his face as she kissed him properly. His hands ran up and down her back, both of them coming back down to Earth, panting in each other's essence. 

“What a way to wake up.” Tyler mumbled against her mouth, hugging her close to him. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too, Cowboy.” Loretta answered. “Me too.”

[little-diable]

Crimson River - Tyler Owens (smut)

This came to me while overthinking a situation I'm currently stuck in lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Tyler have been chatting online for months, and now it's time for them to finally meet in real life. Porn with some plot

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, some spitting, full on fluff

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.5k words)

“So, when will I get to share these songs with you face to face?” Her thumbs were hovering over her keyboard, eyes flickering from his text to her calendar. (Y/n)’s heart was pounding, beating in her chest while her teeth tugged on her lower lip.

It could be easy, too easy almost. 

“How’s the weekend looking for you, you busy tornado wrangler?” Heat shot to her cheeks, leaving her to burn up while putting down her phone. This was crazy, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to back down, not when she could finally meet him.

Him, the guy she had been texting for months now.

Him, the guy she had first bonded over music with, sharing a similar taste. 

Him, the guy whose every storm chasing stream she had watched ever since he had shared more about himself with her. 

“If it means I get to see you, I’ll hold it free, sweetheart.” A chuckle broke out of her. (Y/n) deeply exhaled before shaking her head at her screen. This was crazy, but the best kind of crazy, something she desperately needed to rip herself out of her daily routine. 

“Count me in, I’ll book my flights now.”

……

Her thoughts were racing, just like her heart. (Y/n) moved with the big crowd, knowing that she was about to step out into the arrivals hall, where he was already waiting for her. She was unable to shake the heat sticking to her, still not fully realising that she was about to cross paths with the man she had been in touch with for months without ever meeting him. 

And then she instantly saw him, eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame, a gravitational field that left her buzzing in excitement. His strong arms found their way around her, pressing (y/n) against him while she sank into the hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” With a kiss pressed to her temple, Tyler let go of her to reach for her bag. She could only smile up at him, taking in the handsome face she had seen on her screen too many times to count.

“Thank you for picking me up.” (Y/n) tried to rip her gaze from him, eyes set on the crowd he directed her through with one hand placed on her lower back. Her mind picked apart every little detail, their height difference, the scent of his cologne she’d probably never forget again, the way his warm hand felt pressed against her back. All of it left her buzzing, tingling in excitement. 

Only as she found herself sitting in his truck did she allow herself to relax and breathe. Tyler had instantly managed to lure her into a conversation, making her feel as if they had met up numerous times before today. And yet (y/n) still struggled to realise that this was really happening, that she was so close to the handsome man she had fostered a crush on for quite some time now. 

“I thought tonight we could go for something slow, maybe watch a movie? And tomorrow you’ll get to meet the crew.” He shot her one of his signature smiles, hand finding her thigh for a second. The touch felt intimate, shooting heat straight to the spot while her mind hyper fixated on the way electricity kept pushing through her as if lighting kept hitting her over and over again. 

“That sounds perfect, thank you.” She could already tell that a weekend was not nearly enough, parting again would hurt more than she could even imagine at that very moment. 

……

The screen of his TV kept flickering on, casting shadows in the spacey living room. It had been a while since they had arrived at his place. Both had opted for some downtime first before they’d get to cooking and sharing a meal. Even though she was slowly adjusting to being around Tyler, it still felt somewhat surreal, like a dream she’d be ripped from too soon.

“Hey, are you okay?” She had her feet pressed against his thigh, eyes flickering to them as Tyler softly squeezed her skin. The touch made her sink further into the couch, hoping that the way he made her feel wasn’t all that obvious to Tyler. But the smirk slowly tugging on his lips told her that he was all too aware of the way she struggled to hold it together, unable to speak much. 

Only a hum broke through (y/n), a sound that turned into a quiet gasp the second he tugged on her feet to place her legs over his thighs. One of his hands found space between her knees, grabbing her flesh while the other settled on top. 

How in God's name was she supposed to survive this? 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” Tyler stopped the movie without taking his eyes off her features. She couldn’t help but wonder how he was already able to read her that well, how he managed to pick up on micro expressions even her closest friends would most likely miss. 

“It’s just surreal, all of this, finally talking to you and being close to you. I knew we’d get along well, but,” the rest of her sentence was lost in the quietness of the room. Tyler’s thumb stroked along the fabric of her trousers, patiently watching her.

“But this is different.” He finally managed to finish her sentence, unable to bite down the smile both couldn’t shake now. “I know what you mean, I was hoping it’d work that well like it does when we text, but this is so much better.” 

Another hum left (y/n), she pulled her legs from his grasp to shift around, finding confidence in the way he had just expressed what she had also been feeling. Slowly, carefully almost, (y/n) placed her head against his chest, instantly pulled closer by the arm finding its way around her. Tyler pressed a kiss to her hairline before he started the movie again, unable to see the bright smile she now wore, perfectly matching his.

……

(Y/n)’s legs were dangling off the kitchen counter, eyes following Tyler around as he cooked for them. Music was filling the kitchen, playing a playlist both had crafted over the past months, their own personal blend. Ever since their moment on the couch, both had been unable to shake their smiles, hearts racing in sync. 

“Here, do you like that?” Tyler found himself settling between her thighs, looking at her while pushing the spoon past her parted lips. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, pushing heat through both of them. (Y/n) could only nod her head, not noticing how her legs had loosely found their way around his thighs, keeping him close.

Tyler’s thumb found her mouth, brushing away a bit of sauce clinging to her skin, a touch that made her breath hitch in her chest. She kept looking at him, getting lost in the piercing eyes that had seen more tragic glimpses of this life than (y/n) could ever imagine, and yet they were filled with a burning longing. 

For a few more seconds they kept holding eye contact, torn apart by his phone timer going off. Tyler had to clear his throat before he could focus on finishing dinner, trying not to pay her intense gaze any of his attention. He knew all too well that he was close to snapping, close to crossing the last line between them to press his lips against hers.

But as much as Tyler wanted to kiss her, to taste her like he had done numerous times in his dreams, he knew that he should take things slow. He didn’t want to push things too far on their first night together, all Tyler was focused on was seeing her comfortable and happy.

“We could eat outside if you want, stars should be out by now.” Her heart was close to jumping out of her chest, freed by the heat his words made her feel. Months ago he had shared a picture of the starry sky he was fortunate enough to look at whenever he was home, a sight that had left her to confess that she desperately wanted to see them too.  

“Thank you, Tyler.” (Y/n)’s words carried more meaning than he picked up on, not seeing through the adoration swimming in her pupils. 

……

“Tyler.” (Y/n) mumbled his name, eyes set on his features. They were still sitting on the bench outside his home, sharing a blanket to keep them shielded from the cold night. His eyes flickered down to meet hers, patiently waiting for her to keep on speaking. “Will you finally kiss me?”

Her words drew a loud laugh from him, he shook his head at (y/n) who could only grin up at him. Tyler’s hand found her cheek, wordlessly asking her to keep on looking at him while his eyes wandered over her features, “And here I was trying to be a gentleman.”

(Y/n)’s reply was lost on the tip of her tongue as he dipped his head down. Tyler’s lips ghosted over her’s, drawing a soft whine out of (y/n) as he kept a small distance between them. Only as her hand found his jacket, tugging on the fabric to pull him closer, did he properly kiss her. 

The kiss shot shudders down her spine, making hairs rise on her forearms while shuffling closer. Within moments she found herself straddling his lap, front pressed against his to cross any distance still lingering between them like two lonely ships crossing the sea to find back to one another, guided by nothing but their need to be close. 

Their lips moved perfectly together, the kiss wasn't rushed, but it was fuelled by their longing which had grown stronger over the past months. Tyler’s hands settled on her waist, fingers toying with the hemline of her sweater, set on feeling her warm skin pressed against his. For a moment they broke apart, grasping onto new air to fill their burning lungs. 

“Stop me anytime you want, sweetheart.” (Y/n) searched his lips again, not giving Tyler a chance to speak another word while his hands found her burning up skin. Her wandering fingers found his hairs, brushing through them to draw a moan from Tyler, a sound that vibrated on her lips and through her whole body. 

He didn’t speak a warning as he suddenly stood up, holding onto (y/n) to carry her back inside. With her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, she let him carry her inside and towards his bedroom. Both were heavily breathing after pulling apart, chests rising and falling while chuckles broke out of them.

(Y/n) let him pull her sweater over her head, exposing her bra to his wandering eyes. The groan rumbling through Tyler made her grin, letting her hands reach for his belt loops to pull him closer, expertedly undoing his belt, “I know we should take this slow, but I really need you to fuck me now after all these months.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart.” Their eyes held contact as she freed his hardening cock, letting his trousers drop to the ground. Tyler’s moans spurred her on, allowing her to marvel at the handsome man while pumping his length a few times. But Tyler didn’t have the patience to drag this out long enough, he gave her a push back, tugged her trousers and panties down her legs while (y/n) undid her bra. “You’re the prettiest sight, fuck, I’m the luckiest man.”

“Says you, I mean look at you.” She could only stare at him as the rest of his clothing was dropped, exposing his abs and his muscular chest – all while his fingers began to wander up her legs. He pressed kisses to her soft skin, sucking on her flesh as his fingertips ghosted over her warm folds, feeling her arousal already sticking to her skin. 

Tyler kept his gaze on her features as he spat down on her heat, spreading his saliva on her warm skin. He circled her pulsing bundle a few times to draw soft moans from (y/n), needing to hear them as if they were his favourite drug, high on her sounds. For a second, he parted from her to find a condom, to roll it down his cock, and to brush his tip through her folds. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) looked up at Tyler, feeling herself getting choked up from the way he looked at her. Something she’d only be able to describe as love swam in his pupils – a love so intense it only grew stronger as he pushed into her. Her eyes instantly fluttered shut at the sensation, fingernails scratching at his skin, walls fluttering around him. Tyler held still for a second, giving her time to adjust before he dipped his head down to kiss her.

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing (y/n) to feel him deep inside of her, stretching her with every move. With every contact even more sinful sounds began to claw through them, reverberating through his bedroom like a song woven together from shared experiences and unspoken longings. 

“You feel so good, fuck, Tyler.” Her words left him chuckling, he kissed his way down her throat, finding the spots that made her arch her back while she tightened the grasp of her legs around his waist. Tyler was fully focused on making her cum first, needing to watch her fall over the edge while knowing that he was the reason for the sweet sensation she was about to get tangled up in. 

“Touch yourself, sweetheart, make yourself cum on my cock.” Tyler’s voice grew raspier and lower with every syllable he spoke. Both were staring at one another, wordlessly telling them that they were ready to let go any moment now. Her fingers moved fast, giving herself the needed push with his name bleeding from her lips.

Tyler found himself falling in love with (y/n) some more as she came, eyes taking in every inch of her pleasure drunken features. He gave it a few more thrusts before he came, letting go with a groan while (y/n) kept clinging to him. 

“Christ, you’re perfect.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before pulling out. And at that moment, Tyler knew that he’d have to confess his feelings soon. Not tonight, perhaps not tomorrow morning, but the love bleeding from the tip of his tongue like a crimson river would pave the way for their following time together soon enough.

[dovesdreaming]

Chasing the calm

Summary: Boone and reader are complete opposites yet they compliment each other in every way

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

Boone was a force of nature. Not in the way that a tornado was but in the way he approached life. Every day was an adventure, every moment an opportunity for excitement, and every challenge a chance to prove that nothing could bring him down. His energy was infectious, his grin a permanent fixture on his face, and his voice carried through the storm chasing headquarters with a vibrancy that rivaled the wind itself. And then there was you. You were the calm in the eye of the storm. While Boone thrived on adrenaline, you found solace in the numbers, the data, the intricate patterns that made sense of the chaos. You could sit for hours, pouring over weather models, programming algorithms that predicted the unpredictable, all without a word. You needed the quiet, the solitude, the focus. Boone was a wildfire; you were the gentle, steady rain. It was a wonder to anyone who knew you both how the two of you had ended up together.

“Hey, babe! You gotta see this!” Boone’s voice boomed across the room as he burst through the door, clutching a tablet with the latest storm report. You didn’t look up. “Boone, I’m working” you replied, your tone measured, not unkind but firm. Your eyes remained fixed on your screen, numbers and graphs reflecting in your glasses. Boone bounded over anyway, dropping into the chair beside you with the enthusiasm of a golden retriever. He leaned in close, too close, his breath warm against your ear. “C’mon, just take a look! This supercell’s got the potential to be the biggest one of the season! We gotta get out there and see it in action!”. You sighed, finally turning to meet his sparkling eyes. “And by ‘we,’ you mean you want to drag me out of my perfectly quiet, controlled environment to chase another storm with you?”. He grinned, completely unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm. “Exactly! It’s gonna be awesome!”.

You stared at him for a moment, then shook your head with a small, affectionate smile. Boone was relentless, but it was part of what you loved about him. His energy, his passion. It was everything you weren’t, but maybe that was why it worked. He was the spark that kept you from getting too lost in your world of data. And you, in turn, were the anchor that kept him grounded when his excitement threatened to send him spiraling. “I’ll think about it” you said, knowing full well that Boone would be back to ask again in five minutes if you didn’t give him a definitive answer. He beamed, leaning in to press a quick, soft kiss to your cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”. You hummed in response, trying to suppress the warmth that bloomed in your chest at his touch. “Just let me finish this analysis first, okay? We’ll talk after”. Boone hopped up from his seat, still buzzing with energy. “Deal! But don’t take too long, we’ve got storms to catch!”. As he bounced out of the room, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself. Boone was a lot, and sometimes it was exhausting just trying to keep up with him. But as you turned back to your work, you realized that your heart felt lighter, your thoughts a little less heavy. His excitement was contagious, even when you tried to resist it.

The hours passed, and before you knew it, Boone was back. He was quieter this time, almost tentative as he approached. “Hey” he said, softer now. “You ready?”. You looked up at him, at the boyish excitement still lingering in his eyes, and felt the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. “Yeah, I’m ready”. The two of you headed out to the van, Boone practically bouncing as he drove, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel in time with the music blasting from the speakers. You let your head rest against the window, the rhythmic thrum of the engine a comfort as you watched the landscape blur by. It wasn’t long before the sky darkened, the telltale signs of a storm brewing on the horizon. Boone’s energy shifted, his excitement now laced with focus as he started navigating the roads with practiced precision.

“See that?” Boone pointed out the windshield, his voice hushed with awe. “That’s gonna be one hell of a storm”. You nodded, your analytical mind already processing the data. But even as you did, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Boone. The way his eyes lit up, the sheer joy he got from the chase, it was a sight to behold. “You really love this, don’t you?” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. Boone caught your words and smiled, reaching out to take your hand. “Yeah, I do. But you know what I love more?”. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable cheesy line. “You” he said simply, squeezing your hand. “I love that you’re here with me, even though I know you’d rather be back in the lab. I love that you’re willing to put up with all this crazy because you know how much it means to me”.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. You squeezed his hand back, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you. “You’re worth it” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Boone’s grin was as bright as the lightning flashing in the distance. “You know, I think we balance each other out pretty well”. You nodded, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder as he drove. “Yeah, I think so too”.

As the storm raged outside, you found a strange sort of peace in the chaos. Boone was your storm, wild and unpredictable, and you were his calm, steady and unwavering. Together, you made sense of the madness. And in that moment, as the thunder roared and the rain poured down, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[bomber-grl]

Date night

10:00 P.M

You run as fast as you can, leaping off buildings and almost slipping on the fast falling snow. You know you can’t keep this up forever, and you know, one wrong move, and it’s game over.

Robin is quick on your heels and with the cold, almost burning air that hits across your face and how difficult it is to breathe in, you’re sure you’ll get caught in no time.

Finally you stop and slide across one of the rooftops of what you can only assume is an apartment building.

“Hey Robin, I know we’re like arch enemies or whatever but I’m running a little late to my date so how about we make this quick?”

Robin usually loves to be your complete opposite, however to your surprise he says “I agree” and goes to kick you. If it weren’t for your quick reaction time by using your fore arms to shield yourself you know you would’ve been toast, still it might leave a bruise.

“What’s with the sudden compliance? Don’t tell me you’re already falling for my charms? You ask this feigning surprise.

“Don’t kid yourself, if anything your best feature is your fighting. He goes to use his spear but you counter with your own.

“Oh? So you admit I’m good?” You can see the disgust spread across his face and you take this opportunity to slash him across the face with your dagger, only that you barely managed to knick him in the chin.

He staggers back but is quick to recover, he pushes against you and pins you down. “I honestly can’t help but wonder why you care much, it’s almost like you’re falling for me.”

With your current position with your back against the wall and how you’re pinned up by him, you can’t pass the opportunity. “You’re right Robin, I think I really am falling for you.”

he lets you go with disgust blatant on his face but when you smirk he realizes this was all a ploy. With the golden opportunity to escape you take a swan dive off the building, the only imagine is of him peaking over the ledge watching you plummet into the darkness of the cold dark night.

-

11:30 P.M

You practically barge into the small cozy diners front doors, the atmosphere very much contrasting that of the windy coldness outside. You quickly spot Damian and make your way over to him where’s he’s seated, setting your things down and taking a seat, still panting.

“Finally, I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it, that not really a good impression to make, especially on the first date [l/n]” he teases.

You initially met Damian while at Gotham academy and while he wasn’t what you’d describe as a ray of sunshine, he was still amazing. He always seemed like an untouchable guy and you were so late to a once in a life time date that others would kill for, all because of that Robin!

“I know I know, I’m so sorry Damian!!” You take a seat, fixing your disheveled clothes and patting down your hair. “What’s with you? You seem like you got hit with a tornado or something?” He smiles.

“Sorry!! I uhh fell asleep while reading a book so I was rushing!” You give an embarrassed laugh. “I’m just teasing, I barely got here myself.”

“What???” You ask pouting. “Sorry sorry, I was just busy with useless rich people things, as you like to put it.” He says this obviously referring to that once time where you told him rich people don’t do anything.

“Hey! No fair!” Before the two of you could continue your discussion a waitress came up to your table and began taking your orders.

After the waitress left, you started feeling the diners warmth was a little too warm, especially with your large jacket. You took off your jacket and set it aside, rolling up your long sleeve shirt.

You were about to tell Damian something random that came to mind before you noticed something. On Damian’s chin there was a faint scratch, almost like the one you gave Robi-

No no no, no way, there’s just no way Damian could be robin. Damian is incredible, he’s so nice to be around, and gosh is he hot.

Not that Robin isn’t

What the hell were you thinking-

You suddenly feel Damian’s fingers glide across your fore arm. “What happened?” He asks as he looks up at you expectantly.

“Huh?” You look down and low and behold the bruise that Robin gave you with his kick. Damn you knew it was gonna bruise.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just fell and landed on my fore arms.” You add a couple nervous laughs and hope Damian doesn’t notice.

Soon enough your orders are served but slowly but surely more signs are showing that Damian is Robin. Soon enough it gets late and that’s when you decided to make your move.

“Look ro-Damian, I really need to get going so-“ and with that you practically bolt to the door, however as your hand lands on the handle you feel a hand rest on your shoulder.

You slowly turn around, however before you can react you hear one sentence that makes you feel chills run down your spine.

“Are you [v/n]?”

Part 2?

V/n: villian name, l/n: last name

[ravenclawboyy]

— ultraviolence ‧₊˚

—

- The air in the Memphis mansion was thick with mystery, dust motes swirling in the amber glow of the fading sun. You found yourself in the grand parlor, adorned with vintage posters and a piano that still held the essence of its last master’s haunting melodies. The shuttered windows creaked softly, like whispered secrets begging to be heard.

You gazed out at the lush green grounds, heart racing with an anticipation that felt almost illicit. The kind of thrill that coursed through your veins when you listened to that one sultry song, the one about love so raw and violent it could tear you asunder. It was the same thrill you felt when you thought of him.

Elvis Presley. The King. His name was like a wicked spell that twisted your insides and made your heart ache. His voice, a velvet caress that could ignite your soul, whispered through your thoughts even when he wasn’t around.

Just then, the door swung open, and he stepped in, all leather and desperation, a wild combo of swagger and vulnerability that sent shivers down your spine. His dark hair fell over his forehead in a way that made you think of classic film noir heroes, handsome yet dangerous—a tornado wrapped in a human form.

“Elvis,” you breathed, not even knowing how you managed to utter his name without collapsing into a heap.

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that made your skin prickle. “You like it here?”

“It’s… enchanted. Like something out of a dream,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

He approached you, a predator closing in on its prey, but in the most tantalizing way. “Dreams can turn dark, baby. Sometimes being in a dream feels like being in a nightmare.”

You felt a shiver race down your spine as his gaze locked onto yours, those blue eyes swirling with secrets and shadows. “Do you ever wonder about the things we keep hidden?” he asked, his voice dipping into a tone that sent your heart racing. “The things we would do for love?”

It was as if he was reading your soul, pulling threads of your very heartbeat into the light. You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of unspoken confessions. “I’d do anything,” you admitted, your voice trembling with a mix of yearning and fear.

Elvis stepped closer, a predator stalking its prey, and you could smell the leather on him—a mix of gasoline and something sweet, intoxicating. “Anything?” he challenged, his breath warm against your skin.

Uncertainty shot through you like fire. “What do you mean?”

There was a glint in his eyes, mischief swirling beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break. “The world isn’t kind to dreamers, sweetheart. It can be cruel and beautiful, and sometimes you’ve got to embrace both sides.” He took your hand, intertwining your fingers, his touch sparking a fire in your veins. “Ever thought about what we could create together? A symphony of passion and chaos?”

You leaned in, entranced by his magnetism. “With you, I would dance on the edge of oblivion.”

His grin widened, revealing a glimpse of the wild man behind the charm. “Let’s make some noise, let’s be a beautiful disaster.”

As the sunset dipped below the horizon, the shadows cast stretched long and sinister across the room, the walls almost pulsing with the energy between you. You could almost hear the mournful strains of song playing in the back of your mind—a rhythm both haunting and gloriously alive.

In that moment, with Elvis Presley’s fingers laced with yours and the promise of unspeakable ecstasy looming closer, you knew you were stepping into a whirlwind. His world was raw and reckless, a symphony that could shatter you—or create something breathtakingly beautiful.

“Promise me,” you whispered, the weight of the truth palpable in the air, “promise me we won’t be just another tragedy in the stars.”

He leaned closer, lips hovering just a breath away, darkness and light mingling in the depths of his gaze. “With you?” he murmured. “We’ll be a legend.”

And as his lips finally met yours, the world collapsed into a kaleidoscope of color, chaos, and sweetness—the beginnings of a story written in blood and velvet, the shadows welcoming you both into a dance of ultraviolence and timeless love.

tags : @zablife / @xxanaduwrites / @tickettride / @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler / @dreamingofep / @wanderingelvis / @lustnhim / @stvolanis / @starryschoolgirl / @youaintnothinbuta