#where she could let down her guard and just feel at peace

[metallicames]

hi so this might seem weird lmaoooo but I can't take out cowboy James out of my head 😩

but like imagine, AJFA or Black Album era James living in a small town somewhere in the Midwest, he's not married or has a woman but the women around town want HIMMM.

Then one day, a young girl in her early twenties moves in next to him, she's some kind of artist or just a girl who got tired of LA or some other big city.

There's tension between them immediately and the rest is for you to ponder on (smutty or not)

Can't stop thinking about him 💔

Connected Souls

Warnings: fingering, oral sex (f receiving) sex.

In 1991, the first leg of Metallica’s world tour had just ended. With guitar strings still etched into his fingers and his voice hoarse from shouting alongside thousands of fans, James felt the need for something different: silence, solitude, a return to himself.

He left behind private jets and city lights to return to his refuge: a secluded ranch in the heart of the Midwest, where the horizon seemed endless. That place, hidden among gentle hills and vast wheat fields, was his safe haven.

James spent his days on horseback, hunting, or simply sitting on the porch with an acoustic guitar in his hands, letting his fingers find slow, intimate melodies born from silence. There, far from everything, James wasn’t the metal legend — he was a man, with his scars and joys, rediscovering the pulse of life in its purest form.

It was a late summer morning when James woke up early and decided to head into town to run some errands.

His ranch was just outside a small town, where no one asked too many questions, though he often noticed the intrigued looks of a few women trying to catch his attention — without success. James loved women and feminine gaze, but in moments like those, he needed to fully disconnect and reconnect with himself.

He stepped into a record store — the scent of vinyl, wood, and nostalgia drew him in more than any fashion display or recording studio ever could.

That day, though, something was different. As he walked in, his eyes landed on a girl near the folk section. She had long blonde hair tied in a messy braid and wore jeans and a white tank top, simple, just like her. Her eyes were focused on a vinyl copy of Blue by Joni Mitchell.

James stopped for a moment, unsure why. There was something about her that caught his attention. Not just her beauty — delicate and genuine — but the quietly sad and introspective aura surrounding her.

“Joni Mitchell, huh?” James said, breaking the silence with his rough yet gentle voice.

The girl looked up slowly. Her eyes — clear, green — met his. There was a brief pause.

“Yeah… her lyrics feel like they speak to me. I like the depth of her music,” she finally replied, calm, though slightly affected by the unexpected interaction.

James smiled. “Interesting… I thought I was the last one still listening to this kind of stuff.”

“Y/N,” she introduced herself, reaching out her hand trying to appear casual.

“James,” he said, shaking her hand. She had recognized him the moment he crossed the threshold of the shop, but she was discreet and didn’t overreact, so that he could feel at ease, even though she had the band’s entire discography at home, carefully guarded.

“Nice to meet you, James. What brings you around here?”

He looked down, realizing she had recognized him, then slowly looked back up. “Trying to recover from the tour… I need to enjoy a bit of silence.”

Y/N smiled, and in that moment, something passed between them. It wasn’t instant attraction or a movie-style spark. It was like the perfect note in the middle of an unexpected song — familiar, intimate, impossible to ignore.

“And you? You’re not from around here, are you?”

Y/N gave a shy, half-smile. “No… I’m from Los Angeles. I came here to hide out. I’m trying to write a book.”

“A book? About what?” James asked, genuinely curious.

“Psychology. I’m still studying, actually, and I need peace and quiet to focus.”

James smiled to himself, tilting his head slightly. “Damn, does that mean you’re already analyzing me? I’m a tough case…”

Y/N laughed — partly surprised by his ironic tone, partly because the joke felt like a small opening, almost an invitation into his world. She looked into his eyes — those deep, melancholic blue eyes full of untold stories — and for a moment, she felt intimidated by the intensity of his gaze.

“Who knows… you might be an interesting subject for my research,” she said lightly, with a hint of sarcasm. “Jokes aside, don’t worry. I’m discreet.”

James smiled, this time with a touch of complicity. “I appreciate that. Really.”

They left the store and stopped to talk by James’s pickup truck.

Their conversation became more intimate, and Y/N was struck by the complexity and depth of a man she had, until then, only seen through the persona he’d created — rough, guarded, introverted.

James took a deep breath, the newly bought vinyl in his hands. “You know,” he said, staring at the horizon, “the hardest part of all this — the music, the tours, the chaos — it’s coming home and not knowing what ‘home’ even means anymore.”

Y/N listened without interrupting. She sat cross-legged, fingers playing with a hair tie around her wrist.

“Have you ever felt like… you don’t belong even inside yourself?” he asked.

Y/N slowly nodded, lowering her gaze. “Yes. Like I’m playing the role of myself, waiting for the moment the spotlight fades so I can finally breathe.”

A deep silence settled between them. It wasn’t awkward. It was connection — the echo of things never said, finally shared with someone.

Then James smiled. “You know what I think? Some people come into your life to remind you who you are when you stop pretending.”

Y/N looked up at him, and for a moment her face lit up with wonder and surprise. There were no promises, no rushed declarations. But in that moment, two lonely souls had recognized each other.

“I feel like this place might be healing for the soul… nature has this almost magical power over me, I already love being here,” Y/N said, trying to shift the conversation to lighter ground after noticing a shadow of sadness on James’s face.

He turned to her, lifting the brim of his cowboy hat.

“Yeah, this place is special. When I need to shut my mind off, I go ride — makes me feel more alive than ever.”

“You have horses? That’s amazing! I love them — they’ve always been my favorite animal,” Y/N exclaimed, amazed.

James flashed a full smile. “You can come see them anytime. I’ll bring them into the paddock late tomorrow afternoon… if you feel like stopping by.”

Y/N genuinely felt like she was living a waking dream.

They said goodbye, agreeing to meet the next day, hugging each other. In that first embrace, there was already everything: anticipation, discovery, desire.

The next day, Y/N arrived at James’s ranch. She felt unusually nervous for no apparent reason, but she could still sense the tension the embrace had left hanging between them — as if they both knew this meeting would lead to something inevitable.

James looked up as he saw her approaching the paddock and immediately felt a jolt of adrenaline surge through him. His gaze dropped to her bare legs, then moved up her hips wrapped in a slightly tight summer dress that hinted at her curves. He realized he was staring and looked away so as not to make her uncomfortable — not knowing she wanted to be seen by those eyes that had captivated her from the first moment.

James was leaning against the paddock fence in his usual faded jeans, cowboy boots, an unbuttoned plaid shirt revealing part of his chest and his cowboy hat shielding him from the sun slowly setting over the hills around the ranch.

“I just realized we’re neighbors. I didn’t know this beautiful place was yours,” Y/N said as she stopped in front of James.

He smiled and approached, hugging her as if he’d known her forever — as if it were the most natural thing to do.

James whistled, and the horses trotted over to them.

“They’re so obedient, and beautiful”.

“They listen because they know it’s dessert time,” James said with a playful tone.

“Go ahead and pet them,” he added, seeing her hesitate. He took her hand and gently brought it under one of the horses’ noses, letting it sniff her. Then he slowly guided her hand up toward its muzzle in slow, soft movements.

“Good… Black loves to be petted. I’ll go grab some carrots,” James said, stepping into the nearby stable.

“Need help?” Y/N called out, raising her voice slightly. When she got no answer, she walked in his direction. She entered the stable.

The sunset light filtered through the wooden beams and the open door. In the dim light, James was about to grab a bucket when he stopped, eyes fixed on her. Then he moved closer — slow, sure steps — his imposing figure towering over her. The silence grew heavy with tension and rising desire.

She lifted her gaze to his face, his intense blue eyes seeming to read her soul. A faint smile curved his lips as he raised a hand to gently touch her cheek, and their lips met in a slow, intimate kiss filled with desire.

The kiss deepened as their tongues began to touch and move in sync. James pulled her tightly into him, one hand moving to her back, closing the space between them before sliding down to lift her dress and firmly grip one of her buttock with his strong fingers. His breath grew deeper, warm against Y/N’s skin.

She gave in to instinct, her fingers climbing along the fabric of James’s shirt, feeling the tense muscles of his shoulders beneath her hands.

James suddenly lifted her, pressing her against one of the wooden pillars, his lips never leaving hers.

His fingers brushed over her skin with a tenderness that felt like raw strength—a touch that didn’t ask for permission, but one she had always longed for.

James broke the kiss and lifting Y/N in his arms made her lean against a table not far from them, carelessly moving with one hand all the work tools and objects that were resting on it which ended up on the floor. Y/N found herself sitting on the table while James in front of her lifted her dress to reach her panties, slowly pulling them off her legs and then positioning himself on his knees in front of her. He dropped his hat to the ground and started to kiss every inch of her inner thigh greedily, biting and sucking the sensitive skin sending shocks of pleasure along her spine. The sensation of his mustache and lips against her delicate skin was electrifying, Y/N didn’t understand how it was possible to feel such strong sensations, so quickly, with someone she had just met.

She felt dizzy, it was like a sweet vertigo that started in her stomach and radiated throughout her body. She had kissed before, sure. She had been touched, desired. But nothing had ever made her feel like this: as if finally someone knew exactly how to touch her to make her feel alive.

James’s hands took her from her hips pulling her towards him, the confidence in his gestures made her tremble. Before lowering his mouth to her groin he looked up – that gaze – that now did not just look at her. It penetrated her.

Y/N instinctively dropped her head back as she felt James’s tongue making its way between her folds shiny with pleasure, she let out a soft moan and brought her legs over James’s shoulders opening them further like an invitation.

From that moment on, James’s movements became more intense with the sole purpose of making her lose her mind as she had done with him from the first moment she entered his life. His tongue and his mouth were tireless, insatiable and just seeing her in that state of pleasure and smelling her perfume made him desperate, needing more of her.

When his tongue reached her clit sucking it Y/N jumped, she felt close to the peak of pleasure, her hands gripped the edges of the table but when James gently pushed a finger into her throbbing pussy she had to cover her mouth to not scream, james stood up to look at her. His eyes dark with lust:  “No uh …I want to hear you moan” he said breathlessly as he added a finger pushing it all the way in slowly then increasing the pace and pressure while his eyes never left Y/N’s face for a moment as she began to shake and moan louder  finally removing her hand from her mouth so that James could hear her enjoying his touch.

She felt the orgasm take over her body and mind, she couldn’t speak only moaning enjoying every moment of that wonderful sensation, gripping the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“My god, you’re amazing.. f-fuck” Y/N said breathlessly after the last shocks of pleasure left her body making her feel numb.

James kissed her as his hands reached her breasts groping them, Y/N pulled her dress over her head remaining naked under the hungry gaze of James who looked at her as if he were going to devour her.

Y/N fumbled with James’s shirt as  they melted into another heated kiss, but he tore off the remaining buttons himself, letting it fall to the floor and exposing his chest. Y/N’s eyes were glued to James’ body as he undid his pants making them fall to the floor along with his boxers exposing his big and hard cock that stood against his abdomen just below his navel. James was beautiful almost a god and Y/N couldn’t understand how she had ended up in that situation bordering on the surreal.

“Everything okay?” he whispered approaching her ear, his voice low, sensual.

She nodded, unable to speak. Because yes, everything was okay. For the first time, everything was perfect.

James brought the head of his length closer to her heat still soaking wet and hypersensitive and pushed himself inside her slowly holding her with one hand behind her neck and squeezing her hip with the other. His half-open mouth let out a low and vibrant moan as he pulled Y/N close to him giving her time to adjust and stretch out for him.

“Feel so good, so warm and tight..god” James let himself go pushing inside her again slightly increasing the pace moaning against her neck.

Y/N wrapped her arms around James making his chest adhere to her breasts while James increased the pace slowly losing control and giving in to the pleasure. The table Y/N was leaning on began to bang harder and harder against the wooden wall of the stable but neither of them seemed to notice, not even when an old lamp fell to the floor and shattered next to them.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop.. mhhhh” Y/N urged him, feeling that intense sensation of pleasure that was starting to make its way back into her lower abdomen. James, without ever stopping, lifted one of Y/N’s legs and blocked her against his side, using it as a pivot to penetrate her even more intensely and vigorously.

Y/N was enchanted by the way James managed to be delicate and animalistic at the same time, she liked being dominated by him and letting him take control of her body, making her feel desired like never before.

“So fuckin’ good fffuck!!” James growled  through his teeth along with other barely whispered curses as Y/N felt his thick cock inside her filling her completely, driving her crazy. “I- I’m so close James..” Y/N said panting irregularly as she clung even harder to James’ back “me too.. come with me ok? Come for me”.

Y/N let out incoherent moans and whispers as James slightly changed the angle of penetration, stimulating her cervix deeper, bringing both of them to the point of no return. James with a quick movement removed himself from Y/N’s shaking and exhausted body and a hot jet immediately covered her abdomen, leaving James trembling in turn and with his mind completely clouded by pleasure. His eyes remained closed for a few moments, he wanted to savor everything of that moment every sensation. When he lowered his head and saw Y/N’s naked body under him he couldn’t hold back: “You’re something else… got me completely spaced out.” That compliment said with that warm and sensual tone interspersed with deep sighs made Y/N blush as she was slowly recovering from the torpor of the climax.

“Stay with me tonight” said James, it wasn’t a request. There was no room for doubt, no space for hesitation. Her heart skipped a beat. A warm wave rose from her chest to her throat, and her legs felt as light as air. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She smiled at him, and in the silence that wrapped around them like an embrace, Y/N knew, this was exactly where she was meant to be.

[cinaminrolll]

me @ johanna mason

[xan-izme]

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐬

Part 2: The Dead Ones

Tag list: @pix-stuff, @sweetconnoissurgarden, @craftymoonchaos, @jsprien213, @hebaoffside, @bunbunboysworld, @melonylla, @numbu5, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @formulas-bitch, @fantasyhopperhea, @otterluver05, @caged-birdies-blog, @minkyungseokie, @una1002289, @vanessa-boo, @welpthisisboring, @sirenetheblogger, @salfishers, @meeeeeeee-stuff, @eylsiankub, @lilithskywalker, @midnightprocrastinator, @lilyalone, @cloudserenity, @wizzerreblogs, @reallynotsoconfident, @deliajo, @bitternsweet, @astterrial, @jjggdfvvy

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---__---___---___---___---

You and Bruce were in his office, you let out a puff of smoke as you stood by the window. Taking in the view.

"You know, in Arkham, there wasn't any bars on the windows. More like, plastic glass, so blurry I couldn't even see the moon clearly." The cigarette shortened even more as you took a long drag from the cigarette.

Bruce watched you from his desk, an unreadable expression on his face. You look so. . . it's hard for him to see you as who you are right now. Deep down Bruce knew you'd change some way after Arkham. Which was his sorry excuse for not visiting you. Only reading three of your letters, and stopped, he felt shame when it came to you. For which one of you, he doesn't know.

There are times, he did feel shame of being your father. Horrible, he knows. He's the worst father alive. And that's when he feels shameful of himself.

You let out a small sigh before turning to Bruce, you see the complex expression he had.

". . . You know Daddy, I don't think I ever seen you smile."

You walked closer to his desk and took a seat on one of the chairs. Bruce just silently stared at you. You still call him Daddy. He wanted to feel happy at the fact one thing stayed the same with you. But the way you said it. You said it in such a mocking way. Like it was a joke. Him being your father was a joke to you. It hurt. He rather you call him Bruce in the most hateful way you could.

"Y/n, I'm sorry-" Bruce tries to apologize, but you cut him off with the wave of your hand.

"I'm not here to fish out any apology from you."

Silence fills the room. You sighed again, putting out the cigarette by dropping it into a glass of water. You stood up and approached the vinyl player, you start it up as Bruce raised his brow in confusion. You turn around to face him

"Come on daddy, let's dance." You approached the older man, grabbing his arm and tugged him to stand. Even with how random your request was, Bruce complied, and you two began to slow dance together, the feeling was foreign to both.

The slow music continued as you two danced. You let your head rest on your father's shoulder, staring blankly at nothing. Bruce squeezed your hand. You began to realize. You have never been this close to Bruce. Always 4 feet away.

"When I was a little girl, there was this daddy daughter dance at school. . . I always wanted to dance with you like this. But you were busy. I understood, but it still hurt" Your statement caused Bruce to hold you a little tighter. Before he could attempt to apologize. You spoke up to shut him down.

"Don't you dare apologize."

The two of you continue to slow dance. You closed your eyes as Bruce rests his chin on your head. Closing his eyes. The two of you swaying to the music.

This moment should be a peaceful, loving moment between a father and daughter. But it felt more like an ending to a story that was going nowhere.

"Daddy, I have a question for you."

Bruce hummed in acknowledgement, still holding you tight.

Your eyes slowly open. "Have you seen Mommy recently?" Your question caught your father off guard. Visibly frozen. You lift your head up and see his expression turn a little sour.

"Why?" He spoke, slightly offended. Your spending time with him, why not focus on him?

"She's been missing. For a month. Not even her own family knows where she is. . ."

"Well, I don't where she is. I haven't had contact with her for years."

You sighed and pulled away, turning your back to him. A sign to show you were upset with his answer. Bruce frowns a little at you pulling away, his arms stayed up, almost to reach back for you.

"She visited me, every week, for several years. So please, understand I need to find her." You really were hoping to see if Bruce knew anything. But of course, he disappoints you with nothing. Again.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

You got a text from Rex; your grandfather needed you back at the manor. You didn't have enough time to get your things from your old room, so you left Bruce in his office, walking to the front doors, where Alfred waited for you with your coat, along with Dick, Tim and.. . someone else you didn't recognize. But you focused on Alfred, and gently smile to the older man.

"Thank you for the food, Alfred, probably the one thing I missed the most while locked up." You spoke in a joking manner as you turned to let Alfred put your coat on for you. Alfred smiled a little.

"Thank you, miss."

You look up and give the three men a small nod "Dick, Tim . . . And?" You gave the third man a small look of confusion.

"I'm sorry I don't believe I got your name." You adjusted your coat as you stared up at the man and gave him your hand to shake. But the man just stared at you, Dick had to nudge him to snap him out of it.

The man snapped out of it and quickly took your hand and held it as gently as possible. You took notice of the scars on his calloused hand. He spoke in a nervous tone

"Jason, Jason Todd"

You instantly come to a pause.

"I- Uh, Jason Todd?" You know the name. Very well. But the name doesn't fit the face you remember.

But the look on everyone's face says it all, you know this family would not lie about this. You stepped closer to Jason, your hands hovering over his face, Jason could see your eyes glossed over with incoming tears that never fell.

" How. . .I thought you were dead. . ." You spoke in almost a whisper.

Jason lets out a weak chuckle.

"I thought you were dead too."

No words could express how much he missed you. When he came back from the dead, back into the family. No one dared to mention you. Even when he asked about you. They acted as if you were dead. But you were only a few miles away. Locked up. The thought alone angers him, he could have saved you sooner.

"Heh, I seem to get that a lot." You coil back and felt your phone buzz. Your ride was here.

"Do you have to leave Miss? It's late, why not stay for the night." Alfred tries to have you stay for at least a night.

"You just got here" - Dick

"The crime has gotten worse lately"- Tim

"Please. . .?"- Jason

You sighed as you opened the door,

"Sorry boys, no can do. Maybe another time." You gave them a small smile and turned to the car that was here to pick you up, but when you took a few steps down the staircase, you turn around where the entrance door was still open with Alfred and the boys stood.

"Oh, and Jason" Hearing you speak his name, Jason immediately perked up

"It was good seeing you. . . alive and all." You gave him a small toothy grin, before finally getting into the car.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Do you understand, how angry Jason was right now? After all this time thinking you were dead, his sweet little sister gone, you were alive, in a cage full of crazy's. He doesn't care if you took a few lives. You didn't mean too, it was an accident.

He was furious with Bruce for letting you get locked up for so long. Because you're staying with the Falcone's, a bunch of criminals that resort to anything if kept on the top.

"She was alive this whole time, and you knew."

Not only was it Bruce, but Dick knew to. Of all people to keep this away from him, Jason wouldn't think Dick of all people would lie.

"No one said she was dead Jay." Dick tried to calm Jason in some way.

"No one said she was alive!" Jason was quick to snap at Dick who just frowned at Jason's tone.

Your reappearance was indeed a shock to everyone and a lot of them are still trying to process it. As for the ones who never knew of your existence, they were trying to find out more about you. Your name has never been uttered, no pictures of you. Nothing. It was like you never really existed.

Thank Tim for that. Who had to remove you completely, so the Wayne name had less pressure on them. But now Tim is trying to gather what kind of rehabilitation you were in. He felt suspicious of your return. The way your eyes would bare into everyone in a sort of creepy way. As if analyzing them, Tim knew if he brought it up to either Bruce or Dick they would not listen to him. Especially by the way they reacted to your return.

So he was lucky Cassandra and Duke came to him first.

"The way she stared at me, I don't know man it gave me the creeps." Duke wasn't saying this out of meanness. You were genuinely making him uneasy every time you glanced at him, even more nervous when you gave him a smile.

Cassandra felt threatened by you. No one but her noticed how you stared at her the most.

"Something isn't right with her." Was all Cassandra said. Something was indeed wrong with you.

". . . Well, she just got out of Arkham, maybe she's a little. . . ?" Duke trailed off. Not wanting to say the word crazy just yet.

Tim silently listened to Duke and Cassandra's concern about you.

"Haven't you known her longer Tim?" Duke questioned.

Tim sat back in his chair as he let out a small sigh. You might have not noticed much, but he was always watching you. From the moment Bruce took him under his wing. You were small. Quiet, and simple. Not like that was a bad thing. At that time Tim wanted excitement, thrill. And you were none of those things, due to the fact you were practically a toddler.

But now, your different. Of course. It's a no-brainer Arkham would change you, he saw it coming. But your change was, unsettling. He hoped you would stay for him to find out more. But it seems your occupied with the Falcone's at the moment. Whatever it is, he's going to find out.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

"𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎?"

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Future Holds Me (billy hargrove)

Summary: You and Billy get interrupted by Max and Eleven.

Warnings: Fluff

WC: 1K

requested: by @fandom-princess-forevermore my beloved <3\\ You asked about domestic fluff for Billy Hargrove. It's simple for me: Billy and his girlfriend are enjoying some quiet, intimate time when Max and Eleven interrupt to talk boys or other stuff. They all bond, and when she returns to Billy, the subject of kids is brought up, and she pictures Billy as a cute girl dad.

Read on A03!

--

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Billy’s bedroom, casting a warm light across the quiet space. You and Billy were tangled up on the bed, limbs intertwined as you lay in the comfortable silence. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm while you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“This is nice,” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at him. His lips curled into a rare, soft smile, his usual cocky demeanor melted away in the comfort of your closeness.

“Yeah, it is,” Billy replied, his voice low and husky. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, making your heart flutter. Moments like this were rare, where he let his guard down completely, and you treasured them.

Before you could lose yourself completely in the moment, the door to Billy’s room swung open without warning. Startled, you both sat up, your peaceful bubble instantly burst by the two girls standing in the doorway—Max and Eleven.

"Hey!" Max greeted cheerfully, completely oblivious to the intimate moment she’d just interrupted. Eleven gave a small wave, her expression more reserved but curious as ever.

Billy groaned, flopping back onto the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t you two go bother someone else?”

Max ignored him completely, her attention already focused on you. “We were looking for you!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “We wanted to talk about boys.”

“Yeah, boys,” Eleven chimed in with a small smile, though her understanding of the subject was still a bit limited.

You laughed, sitting up a bit straighter. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve come to the right person.”

Billy rolled his eyes and sat up, clearly irritated at being interrupted. “You’re really going to leave me for this?” he asked, half-joking but with an edge of genuine annoyance.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. He grumbled something under his breath but let you go.

You followed Max and Eleven out of the room and into the living room, where the three of you plopped down on the couch. The conversation flowed easily, with Max teasing you about Billy and Eleven asking curious questions about relationships. It was fun, bonding with the girls, and you could feel the sisterly affection Max had for you, especially now that she trusted you with her brother.

“Do you think Billy’s…good boyfriend material?” Max asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow as if genuinely unsure. Eleven’s eyes widened with interest.

You chuckled, thinking about how soft and gentle Billy could be when it was just the two of you. “He’s a lot better than he seems,” you admitted. “He just doesn’t show that side of himself to everyone.”

Max made a face, clearly not convinced. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Eventually, the conversation shifted from boys to other things, and by the time you were ready to head back to Billy, you felt a deeper connection to the two girls. They waved you off, satisfied with their bonding session, and you made your way back to Billy’s room, where he was sprawled out on the bed, looking impatient.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled as you crawled back into bed beside him.

“Sorry, we got distracted,” you said, snuggling up next to him again. “They’re really sweet.”

Billy sighed, wrapping his arm around you again, though this time there was something more thoughtful about his expression. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

“You’re good with them,” he said softly, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “With Max. And even with El. I’m not really…good at that kind of thing.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. “You could be,” you said gently. “You’re good when you try. Max looks up to you, even if she doesn’t show it.”

Billy’s expression softened, his blue eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “I dunno,” he muttered. “Sometimes I think maybe I wouldn’t be so bad at that…you know, having kids.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You had never talked about the future like this, not seriously. But now that he’d brought it up, you couldn’t help but imagine it — Billy as a dad, maybe even a girl dad. You could picture him with a little girl on his shoulders, her giggles filling the air as he pretended to be annoyed but secretly loving every second of it.

“You’d be cute as a girl dad,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Billy looked at you like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “A girl dad?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning now. “You’d be overprotective and teach her how to stand up for herself. She’d wrap you around her little finger, and you’d let her get away with everything.”

He snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you teased, imagining a little girl with his blonde curls and piercing blue eyes, running around causing trouble just like him. “She’d be your mini-me.”

Billy’s smirk faded a little as he considered it, his expression growing serious. “I don’t know if I’d be good at it. I never had a good example, you know?”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand. “You’d be better than you think, Billy. You’ve got a good heart, even if you don’t show it to everyone.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were soft, filled with an emotion you rarely saw from him. “Maybe,” he murmured. “One day.”

“One day,” you echoed, your heart swelling with the thought of a future you hadn’t fully considered until now.

Billy smiled at you, a real smile this time, before pulling you closer. “Guess we’ll see.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in his arms, you couldn’t help but believe that maybe, just maybe, Billy could be the dad you pictured him as — protective, loving, and better than he ever gave himself credit for.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

twin sized mattress (rafe cameron)

summary: What happens when one moment you’re coming home to change for a secret date, and the next you’re being dragged away to a "wilderness therapy camp" with no warning, no goodbye.

Kitty Hawk isn’t a camp. It’s a prison disguised as a lesson, a place designed to break people like me. No contact. No escape. Just rules, isolation, and the constant reminder that this is my fault.

I don’t know how long it’s been since I last saw Rafe Cameron. Maybe he moved on. Maybe he doesn’t even know I’m gone.

But if he does? If he finds out where they sent me? Then I don’t know who should be more afraid—me… or the people keeping me here. based on this request

word count: 6590

trigger warnings: forced disciplinary camp, isolation, emotional manipulation, toxic positivity, gaslighting, coercion, PTSD-like symptoms, mentions of forced labor, exhaustion, restricted food, physical abuse (in the altercations with the security team)

A/N: i take this topic so seriously because I know that even though Kitty Hawk is a fictional location, there are real camps out here that are doing this. there's a few real impactful documentaries on netflix (among so many others) that talk through the horrors of these programs. Please take care of yourself in reading this - I'm really proud of it but it is a much heavier topic.

I never thought my parents would do it. Truly. I mean, of course I thought it was possible. Hell, they’d threatened it the entirety of freshman year. That was the year John B’s dad disappeared, the year that Kie went off to Kook Academy. It was a rough year for all of us. So sure, they’d threaten the idea if I kept hanging out with ‘that Maybank kid’, if I kept up my ‘attitude’ or my ‘late night sexcapades’ as my mother called them.

I could still see her face, just last weekend in the kitchen pouring another cup of coffee. The night before, we’d been out at the Boneyard having a few beers. I could still see the pinch in between her brow, could still see the tremble in her upper lip as she scolded me. “Keep this up, see what happens. I swear, if I wake up one more time in the middle of the night to find that you are still not home…if I find out you were partying with those criminals - you are done, do you hear me?” 

We’d always landed somewhere between Pogues and Kooks, having moved here after my dad took a job in the Coast Guard but living on The Cut to save on moving costs. I’d always found myself at peace with the Pogues, surfing during the summer days and boating in the evenings. It was always lighthearted. Work hard, play harder. I should’ve known it would bite me in the ass someday. 

Dripping from the rain and in desperate need of a change of clothes before heading out, I didn’t even have a chance to tug my key from my pocket when the door swung open wide. 

A strange man stood in the doorway, staring down at me menacingly. I raise a brow, try to peer around the behemoth of the man. “Am I at the wrong house?” I mumble, backing up a little bit to get my bearings. My back slams into something dense and I turn, noticing another man with his arms crossed. “What the–,” my heart drops to my ass and bile rises in my throat. 

It’s a blur after that of hands on skin, flip flops displaced on the wet grass, of screaming and promises and begging. Bruises form from kicking against the car door, from punching against the glass. I get a glimpse of my mother sobbing on the porch as I’m driven away in a black SUV, my father wiping his mouth. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I have just enough time to stare down at the incoming text message.  I just parked, let me know when you get here?

I try to quickly press out a response, send an SOS but I’m not quick enough. The man sitting to my left snatches it from my grasp and all hope of escape, of stopping the nightmare of some therapeutic wilderness camp for troubled teenage girls. 

______

It feels like too much time passes in the dark of the woods by the time I see the sign, illuminated by solar lighting on the side of the road. Kitty Hawk. The hellscape that Kie’s parents had threatened a few months back. At least Mike and Anna had come to their senses that listening to your child had been the solution to their rebellion instead of a traumatic kidnapping and manual labour. How peachy. 

Bigfoot pushes me from the slick leather and out of the car, wrapping a stiff hand around my bicep and all but drags me up the dirt path to a cabin at the top of the hill in the center of the facility. It’s dark; rows of evergreen cabins line the paths through the trees. It’s too quiet, the only sound coming from any direction were crickets and a quiet echo of shouting. Creepy.

Inside the main office, a woman with a toothy tight smile and tired eyes tells me that this is a chance at redemption. “This is a chance to right your wrongs, to really make something of yourself.”

“I’ll pass,” I tell her, nodding absentmindedly at the cat bobble head that sways on her desk. “I should really be getting home…I’ve got a date.” 

“You do…with your future.” She covers it with her hand, forcing me to look up at her. Her smile tightens, stretching too far. “And I have high hopes for you,” she says. 

“No, like an actual date, it’s important,” I say, blinking a little and frowning. I think of him, sitting out on the beach waiting for my text message. He’s probably looking out at the ocean, watching the storming waves and wondering if I’m blowing him off, if I’ve finally called off whatever it is that we had before things could get serious; before we told anyone anything. Probably wondering if I was coming to my senses. What Pogue would ever want to get into a serious relationship with the Kook Prince anyway? 

“Sweetheart, we need you to work with us here. Alright? We can work together to make things better, okay? Can you trust us?” the woman says, leaning forward like we’re friends. 

I stare at her for a moment, disturbed by the optimism. “I need to atleast make a phone call.” 

She shakes her head, waving to the goof in the corner standing at the ready. “Patients cannot use their phones or have contact with anyone for the first six weeks of the program-,” she continues to rattle off a series of rules. They go in one ear and out the other.

And when Sasquatch finally comes in to drag me off to a cabin, all I want is Rafe’s hands on me instead. And when I lay on the thin mattress on the bottom bunk in the overcrowded girls’ cabin with springs digging into my back, I try to imagine the soft sand underneath me and the scratchings on the plank of wood above the stars. I try not to think about how heartbroken he must be, not knowing that I’d been sent away.

____

Days pass in a daze of survival; of medication trials, gaslighting unqualified therapy and lots of splinters. Between group sessions of talking through our wrongdoings and ruthless workouts to ‘sweat out our sins’, the counselors are convinced that becoming lumberjacks will cure us of whatever illness has caused our disobedience. My hands quickly become calloused from the endless hours of splitting wood with an old axe, my shoulders sore from carrying logs to and from one site to another. There’s no real structure, just ragged breathing and murmurs of toxic positivity quotes that hard work builds character. 

No one talks about the horrors of being taken from their homes and families, of the depression that causes them to act out. I watch a girl, maybe a year younger than me, sway on her feet. She’s holding an axe that’s longer than her arm and I worry she’ll hurt herself. I step forward to steady her, slip the axe from her loose grip. 

Betsy Sue or whatever the fuck her name is steps back with a wide gaze. 

Big Boss Man appears almost out of nowhere and rips the axe from my grasp. He tucks my arm behind my back, like I’m a threat to his stature. 

“Threatening a counselor in your first week,” Betsy Sue says, shaking her head and scribbling something on her stupid clipboard. “That’s two weeks in the Reflection Cabin for you. I hope you’ll take that time to really think about how you want your experience here to go,” she says through clenched teeth. 

“No, no - I wasn’t even threatening you-, no, get off,” I try to shove their hands away like a scared cat. “She was going to pass out, you barely feed us-,” I grunt as I’m shuffled through the woods, kicking and screaming. They close me inside the dim cabin, leaving me to the dust glinting through slips of light from under the sealed windows. They’re cracked open just about two inches, allowing the cool breeze to seep into the room like a crushed straw. I notice the lack of sheets on the thinner mattress and the state of the dirty toilet. Fuck.

—

It's been days since he’s heard from you. Rafe Cameron wasn’t someone who normally got left on read and yet that alone didn’t even cause him to stop thinking about you. He didn’t know how it happened but he knew that your laugh is infectious. He had never pictured himself settling down and yet, he had thought about what size your ring finger was. 

You’d been around Sarah ever since Ward’s death…the first time. One of the annoying Pogues who’d been treasure hunting around Kildare like you were Jack Sparrow and yet, he couldn’t help but search for your face in a crowd. And one late night, long after he and Sarah had agreed to be in each other’s lives, he found you staring up at the stars on the patio. The rest of the Pogues were passed out throughout Tannyhill from a night of partying but you? You were curled up on a covered wicked chair, hair twisted into two lazy braids and hand deep into a bag of cheese puffs.

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” he grunts, looking at the mess your friends had left. 

You just crunched away, unbothered by his tone as your dirty orange fingers pointed up at the sky. “Meteor shower.” You held out the bag for him, “Wanna watch?” 

Rafe didn’t know what he was doing when he settled down below the wicker chair, shoulder bumping yours as he stared at your dirty fingers holding the big bag. “Those are disgusting,” he mumbles, staring at your profile and the way your lips curled up. 

“And?” you said, turning to look at him with a raised brow. 

He felt like he could kiss the smirk off of your face. So he tried. And you tasted like artificial cheese and malibu. He swore he fell in love. And then you stood him up, there on the beach a few nights ago. And then he noticed that you hadn’t been around the house with his sister either, nor at the farmer’s market with Kie and Cleo, not even at the marina with the boys. 

Were you avoiding him? What the hell had he done to deserve the silent treatment and a no show. It wasn’t like he could just straight up ask Sarah where you were hiding. You’d never really gotten to the point of making it official, of sharing with your friends that you’d done the unspeakable. You’d gotten involved with Sarah’s recovering assaholic of a brother. 

It’s not until a few days of stewing later that he decides he can’t take it anymore, that he can’t move on until he’s seen you. That what you guys had felt too real for him to just shrug it off. When he walks into the kitchen though, he’s not expecting the whole clan to be there again. But he counts only six and deflats until he hears their conversation. 

“They said she went on a trip to go visit family out of state,” Pope shares, leaning down and shaking his head. 

“There’s no way she would’ve left without telling someone something,” Sarah shakes her head, leaning on John B. “It’s just not her.”

“You don’t think they could’ve—,” JJ drags a finger across his throat and gets a few groans, a pinch from Kie. 

“JJ, not funny. No, the only thing that they’ve ever threatened her with is–,” Kie looks up at the sound of Rafe’s footsteps, catches his curiosity. “Rafe? What are you doing here?”

“Where is she?” he asks, crossing his arms. Sarah notices the strain of emotion settling into his jaw, his hands tucked into themselves to stop from shaking. She tilts her head in realization, she’s always been too perceptive. 

“We don’t know,” she says. “But from the way you’re shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you have something you’d like to share with the class.” 

Rafe huffs out a sarcastic noise, somewhere between an amused snort and an annoyed laugh. “Cute, real cute. Your little friend was supposed to meet me out on the beach the night of the storm. Never showed. So, because she won’t answer my calls or texts – you can tell her that she can come out of hiding now and tell me to fuck off like an adult.” 

“The night of the–oh my god,” Kie covers her mouth. “Dude, her parents pulled the trigger.” 

“I knew it,” JJ shouts, slapping the countertop in confirmation but Kie shuts him down. 

“No, listen, her parents told her two weeks ago that one more late night and they were sending her away to Kitty Hawk. That’s the day that we were stranded on Figure 8 because someone-,” she looks at JJ, “forgot to put enough gas in the Snapper.” 

Rafe stiffens, guilt washing through him for thinking that you would’ve walked away without a single word. He’s reminded of the soft commentary woven into your conversations; that your parents were absent, harsh.

“You really think her parents would send her away?” John B asks.

“Yes, 100%. My parents got the name of the place from her mom. They’ve been threatening it for a while now. We just laughed it off…” 

“Lets go get her,” Rafe blurts out. The whole group turns in confusion at his outburst, watching as he grabs his wallet and keys from the bowl on the counter. He looks like a man on a mission and they freeze. When he realizes no one is moving, he glares. “What are you all looking at me like that for? Do you want to go rescue your friend or not?” 

They share a look, a six way silent debate and decide that no matter how strange it is – having Rafe Cameron on your team was better than against.

—

I don’t know how much time passes, unable to tell the difference between sunshine through the dirty windows and the beaming lights spotlighting movement through the facilities. I start to get restless after a day of reflection, pacing up and down the rows of empty bunks and reciting all the joyful things waiting for me outside the doors of the cabin, outside the walls of the camp. 

Two days later, one of the fake therapists comes in with another stupid clipboard to chat through my diagnosis. She gives me some mumbo jumbo about defiance and attention-something or other. I’m too distracted by counting the steps it takes to make it around her and through the door. How quickly could I run to the gate and get to the main road…could I flag someone down in time?

I wonder if anyone even realizes I’m gone. Do the Pogues think I’ve just left without a word? Does Rafe? Are they looking for me?  

She asks me a question, calls my name. 

I run for it. I should’ve tightened my shoelaces. 

Stumbling over myself, losing the momentum of surprise, Jack and the Beanstalk easily grasp onto both my arms and shove me back into the cabin. I struggle in their painful grips, swinging wildly to see if I can break free. It’s futile and eventually Beanstock just tosses me harshly to the ground. I lay there longer than expected, stomach aching from my one meal a day. My arms start to bruise from the handling and a hopelessness washes over me. 

“I was really hoping you would’ve made some progress but it looks like you’re still unwilling to let us help you,” the woman clicks her pen and tucks her clipboard snug under her arm. “We’ll try again next week, hmm?” She turns to leave, taking the big brutes with her.

I scramble to my feet, desperate to stop the door from closing. The light is snuffed from the room, the heavy sound of a padlock grinds against the wood and I’m alone again. “No, no, please,” I shout, slamming against the sturdy framework. 

I didn't get a meal for a long time after that. I notice a subtle shift in lighting outside and if I squat near the two inch opening, I hear a buzzing noise that almost seems like a shift in setting. I scratch a notch in the wood of a bunk post when I hear it. The bologna and melted cheese sandwich is not nearly enough to make my stomach stop hurting and my throat is too raw from screaming to be able to enjoy the meal. 

—

The drive to Kitty Hawk is tense and quiet, Rafe’s knuckles turning white at the thought of you being forced from your home. Kie had filled him in on all she’d heard about the program, the mocking website with the sense of community and enthusiasm for growth. It made his stomach churn. 

He checks the rearview mirror, ensuring your loyal and idiotic friends are still behind him in the Twinkie. Sarah watches the stiffness in her brother’s movements, the tension in his limbs. She ponders a little, feeling bold with just the two of them in the car. “So,” she takes a sip of water, “how long have you guys been seeing each other?” 

Rafe’s head snaps toward her, eyes flickering back to the road as he tries to collect himself. “Seeing who?” 

“Rafe, I’m your sister. We may have been at odds for a long time but I know when you’re tucking something away because you don’t want someone to see you vulnerable,” Sarah says. When he says nothing in response, she smirks a little, looks out the window. 

“It’s been a few months,” he says, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth. He taps his fist against the steering wheel, frustrated with his honesty. Rafe feels like he’s betraying your trust a little, sharing a secret you both hadn’t agreed to share. “We weren’t official…not yet anyways.” 

“But you lo-,” she stops herself, not wanting to scare him off, “you care about her.”

Rafe gives her the side eye, noticing the signage up ahead for the damn camp. “I love her,” he admits, turning into the place. He watches as the twinkie rolls off to the side, leaving just the two of them puttering down the dirt road. He stops for a second, foot hitting the break impulsively. He’d just gotten his sister back in his life, finally getting on good terms with her. Rafe couldn’t lose another person. Not with all that he’d done to make amends. “Are you…are you like, mad?” 

Sarah looks at him with a softness that he still wasn’t used to. He didn’t know where she’d inherited such a look, not having been raised with it himself. “Rafe, she’s been lighter and brighter in the last few months than I’ve ever seen her. I’m going to make the assumption that you have a lot to do with that.”

“Really?” He can’t help the smile that stretches across his face, the burning in his cheeks at the admission. 

“Yes, really,” Sarah laughs, amused at the site of him being bashful. “And you’ve become way less snappy and more tolerable, so I’m happy as long as you’re both happy.” She covers his hand with hers, smiling “Let's go get our girl.”

He nods, squeezing her hand and starting to drive up to the men walking around in front of the gate ahead. 

“So like…do you…have a plan?” Sarah asks, tensing as they wave them to a stop. 

“We’re going to buy the camp,” he says, rolling down the window and looking over at her. He looks over the stern man, feeling a subtle rage underneath the surface of his skin. But Rafe is Ward Cameron’s son after all and he knows how to manipulate his way through a deal. He’s made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t be that person anymore, wouldn’t become his dad. But sometimes, the toolbox comes in handy for the greater good. 

“This is private property,” the man grunts, nodding to the road. “You’ll have to turn around.” 

“We’re here to meet with the director of the camp about an investment deal,” Rafe says, oozing with an authority that Sarah hasn’t witnessed in quite some time. It sends a wave of discomfort over her but she stays quiet, letting him work. “Elliot Calloway?”

“Investment deal? You?” the man says, raising a brow and looking back at the other security. 

“Yeah,�� Rafe pulls his business card from his visor, flashing it at the guy without care. “My family is pretty big in the development?”

“Mr. Cameron, give me just a moment,” the man’s tone changes, stepping away to radio someone. He comes back after a few minutes, nodding to the gate. “Central building just beyond the parking lot with the buses. Mr. Calloway will meet you there.” 

—

I sit against the wall under the windowsill, staring absentmindedly at the door frame. I try to listen for the hum of the lights switching, swaying absentmindedly to a tune stuck in my head. My head lifts at a voice dancing through the wind outside. It’s a newer voice, unique from the roulette of voices that I’d gotten used to in the time since arriving at camp. 

The first thought that runs through my head is that the new voice is Rafe. The thought that follows is that I have gone crazy. The voice is gone before I can even stand and try to peer out the window. It would be a waste because I was certain at this point that I was forgotten about, that no one was coming to save me. This was my new reality.

My delusions prove correct because the voice doesn’t come back, doesn’t drift through the window as time passes. What does come back is the hum buzzes and another sandwich – just cheese this time – is slid through the door. The cabin gets chilly as I deconstruct my sandwich on my lap, ripping parts of the bread away and eating slowly to pass the time. 

There’s a commotion outside the door and I glance up from the slice of American cheese when I hear the padlock click open, hear the hinges squeal. There’s a stream of light that hurts my eyes as the door is pushed open but it's gone as quick as it came. My shoulders tense as a figure ducks a little, coming closer in the dark of the cabin. I stay pressed against the wall, deciding that a splinter from the unfinished framing is better than whatever the security guard is up to. 

“Please, I promise not to try to escape,”  I whimper, scrunching my eyes shut in hopes that this is all just a terrible nightmare. 

“Well, that’s a waste I guess.” 

I blink, eyes straining in the dark to look for a sign that I’ve officially lost my mind, that I’ve started to hallucinate in the solitude of isolation. He’s kneeling down a few steps back, dressed in the classic black uniform of a guard. “Rafe?” My throat tightens, the dam breaking as all the feeling rushes back through me. 

“You didn’t think I’d let it slide that you missed our date, did you?” he murmurs, crawling forward to wrap his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. 

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, tensing against him. I melt into his warm, finally feeling protected in his caring embrace. He smells like the beach and feels like home. 

Rafe’s hands slide under me as he tugs me forward, pulling me into his lap. I can’t stop the sobs that wrack through me, trying to cover my mouth so that no one will hear how loud I am. It’s scary how much I had convinced myself that I could survive without  softness, without being held in a way that wasn’t aggressive, and wasn't forceful. 

“How many days has it been?” I sniffle a little, shaking. 

Rafe reaches up to wipe away the tears, cradling my cheek as he searches my face. It’s easy to recognize the frustration in his brow, the tension in his jaw. “It’s been a week but we’re breaking you out of here, okay?” He rises to his feet, picking me up with ease. He takes my hand and guides me to the doorway. 

My stomach churns, heart racing as I suck in a breath. Something deep inside panics and I tug at his arm, hesitating in the middle of the cabin. “Wait, wait,” I whisper, staring at him wide-eyed. 

Rafe looks back at me, tugging a little on my hand. “Doll, c’mon, we don’t have much time.” 

The way he tugs at my hand causes my throat to tighten again and I pull back, like his touch burns my flesh. I hold my hand against my chest, curling into myself. “Rafe…I don’t…” I start to say, losing my breath. “I don’t…what if they–”

“Shhh, shhh, hey–hey,” Rafe steps back cautiously back into my personal space, hands up as if he’s trying to show me he means no harm. His blue eyes are flecked with worry as he takes in my state. “What did they do to you?” 

I don’t know how to respond, the nightmare of the apparent week since I’d last seen him dying on my tongue. I open my mouth but nothing escapes me. I look down, feeling so unlike myself.

Rafe steps closer, slowly moving his hands to hold my face again so he can stare down at me. His thumbs smooth over the apples of my cheeks, his skin cool. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here but I promise you, no one comes near you again – okay?” 

“Okay,” I whisper, looking up at him. 

Rafe nods, gives me a little smile and checks his watch. He looks to the door and starts to move with a little more intention. He can peel the black hoodie from his slender torso, checking his watch one more time. “You trust me?” 

I nod without hesitation. “More than anything.” 

He steps forward, pulling the hoodie over my head to cover the stupid Kitty Hawk uniform from view. It’s dark only for a moment before I’m staring up at his face again. I’m swimming in cotton, the clothing big enough that it covers my shorts. Rafe takes care as he brushes his hands along my neckline, freeing my hair from the collar. “Alright, here’s the plan. We’re going to head into the woods down by the water…it seems like no one really goes down there. We’re not gonna run, that’s going to draw attention to us,” he rushes to explain.

I can’t help myself, rising up on my tippy toes and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for coming to get me,” I whisper, fingers poking out to clutch at his shirt. Before he can respond, before he can react - there’s a loud burst of noise outside in the distance. I gasp out as we’re suddenly engulfed in darkness. “Rafe?”

“That’s our cue,” he says, sliding the hoodie over my head and lacing our hands together. “Once we get outside – don’t stop moving, okay? Head down and don’t let go of my hand, alright?” I nod, trying to ignore the thoughts racing through my mind and how hard my heart beats in my chest. 

Rafe turns to the door and squeezes my hand tightly before pulling it open. It’s pitch black outside but I can hear loud shouting. “Tug that door shut, okay?” he says. 

I pull the handle to shut the door behind us as we take off down the creaky stairs, trying to take slow breaths as I keep my eyes on the ratty sneakers I’ve been issued. Rafe’s grip is firm as he leads me quickly along winding paths and between cabins as if he grew up at the camp. I can almost see the opening in the trees that leads down to the water when he pushes me hastily behind a cabin. 

“What tha’ hell is goin’ on?” he shouts to someone, his voice disguised with a deep drawl.

I worry that they’ll notice he’s not one of them but my shoulders relax a little when whoever he’s talking to sounds like they haven’t stopped moving. “I think a transformer blew, the generator’s old.”

“Where you need me?” Rafe responds, stepping a little out of my view and I have to press against the cabin to stop myself from following him.

“Get the mouthy one from isolation, bring her for count in the mess hall,” the man responds, his voice further away as he leaves the conversation. I taste bile in my throat at his words, breath hitching as Rafe’s ‘assignment’ to get me. There’s a ringing in my ear and I sway, dizzy with fear. I jump a little when his fingertips brush my wrists. 

“Hey, hey, you still with me?” he bends a little so he’s eye level. His voice is soft. “What did I promise you?”

“No…” I swallow. “No one will come near me again.” 

“No one will come near you again,” he repeats, nodding in agreement. “You ready, brave girl?” I nod, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he pulls me back onto the path and we move at an intentional pace toward the treeline. I can see more flashlights, zipping across the area as we step out of the view of the cabins. I stumble a little, tripping on roots as we move closer and closer to the water. The rough and rocky path turns soft, making it hard to keep a quick pace. 

“Rafe, how are we going to get back home? The water is the opposite direction from the main–,” my mouth falls open, seeing the outline of a few small boats beached ashore. 

Rafe turns to me once we are at the shoreline, winking. His hands smooth over my waist to pick me up and into the boat. “Duck down, okay?” 

I slide down against the seat, trying to steady my breathing as he pushes the boat slowly back into the water and jumping in once we’re floating far enough in the middle of the water. I watch the way he reaches down and tugs on the pull-start with purpose. Panic settles in my bones when nothing happens. 

“C’mon,” he says, tugging again. He tries again. Nothing. “Son of a bitch.” 

“Hey, what are you doing?” someone shouts from the beach. Flashlights shining over Rafe and along the boat, shouting as Rafe tries again to start the dinghy. I notice the split second of fear on his face as he struggles to tug the pull-start one more time. Coming back to myself, I stand up and shuffle to his side.

His hands are shaking as he frantically tries to start the boat. “Hey, get back here,” a man shouts, water splashing as they rush into the water to catch up. 

“Let go,” I mutter, pushing his hands out of the way to grab the handle. I give it one swift tug and breathe out in relief when the engine roars to life. Rafe grabs the helm and quickly steers up away from the man, causing him to stumble into the water behind us. As the camp and the security disappear the further we get, the more weight lifted from my shoulder. 

I tuck my face in my hands, feeling shocked that Rafe actually just pulled a near prison break to come get me. My chest rises and falls as I wipe away my tears.

“Hey, are you alright?” Rafe says, fingers stretching over my thigh. 

I can’t respond, hearing a low whistling noise over by the shoreline. My shoulders tense until I see six idiots, jumping and waving in front of the Twinkie and Rafe’s truck pulled over on the side of the road. A laugh escapes me as the boys jump onto the weeds, helping Rafe pull us ashore. JJ ushers me out of the boat and the girls all engulf me in a hug, echoing their relief that we’re safe, that I’m safe. 

I turn around, seeing Rafe biting at his thumb as he speaks with John B in hushed tones. He turns back to us, catches my eye.

“Hey, we should get the move on…that security could be sending someone along the water to find you,” Pope interrupts, pointing toward the road that leads back to the camp. 

“I feel awful leaving everyone else behind,” I admit, still staring at Rafe. “We should call someone.”

“Don’t worry,” JJ says, climbing into the Twinkie, nodding to Rafe. “Your boyfriend has that covered…its a…it’s a good plan – even I can admit.” 

I turn to look at Rafe, feeling the heat rush to my face at the word boyfriend. He just smirks, nodding to the truck. “C’mon, I’ll explain on the way.” I look at Sarah, sitting in the passenger seat in the Twinkie. She scrunches her nose, a wide smile on her face. 

“Go,” she says, “we’ll catch up to you.” 

I turn to his truck where he’s waiting for me with the door open. He helps me up into the seat, standing there as I tug the seatbelt down to buckle in. I’m hyper aware of his frame, so close to me. “Rafe,” I call out his name, pulling him from what looks like a trance. He blinks, big blue eyes looking up at me in a way I hadn’t seen before – in a way that up until a week ago, would’ve scared me. 

He nods, swallowing and closing the door so that he can run around to the driver’s side. He takes off down the road, not even wasting time in pulling his seatbelt on. 

“Seatbelt,” I murmur as we peel off onto the main road. When he doesn’t respond, I say it again a little louder. 

Rafe gives me a look, huffs and begrudgingly yanks it down with one hand. I reach over the bench, taking it from him and pulling it the rest of the way to clip into place. “What a waste this romantic rescue mission would be if you ended up through the windshield in the getaway?” I say, smiling a little as I settle back into the leather seat. 

“It was pretty romantic, huh? Who would’ve thought – me, a romantic,” he says. The tension seems to dissipate a bit, the safety of his truck a veil of relief. Inside, we’re just…us. But things feel different from the last time he’d drive me around, taking me for a late night rendezvous to the beach. Now, he’s the guy that ran toward danger to save me. He’s the guy who set a plan in motion to break me out of an at-risk youth facility. 

“I did,” I whisper, looking forward as the words strip me vulnerable. “So, what’s this good plan you’ve come up with?” 

“I tried to buy the camp,” he says, causing me to look over at him in shock. 

“What?” 

Rafe looks over at me, grinning. “You heard me.” 

“You were going to buy my way out?”

“Hey, contrary to popular belief, I do try these days to go the legal route first,” Rafe says, holding his hand up. “But the director was taking too long to agree to the deal so we hitched this plan to break you out as a backup.” 

“So he didn’t take the deal,” I say, turning to look at him. “How much did you offer?”

“Oh no, he took the deal. I gave him a good faith deposit of 250K in a briefcase. The sleazy bastard nearly fainted. I told him I’d–,” 

“Rafe,” I hold a hand up, speechless. “A briefcase?”

He glances over at me and keeps going, not phased by my surprise. “Yeah, I said I’d wire the rest of the money over but it’d take a day or so to confirm with the bank but we could make a gentlemen’s agreement. And in the process, he disclosed all the legal troubles he’s been riddled with in the process of closing the deal. Which was bold considering I,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls a tape recorder out with a grin, “Got this from my dad’s office before we left.” 

He clicks the play button and we listen as the man discloses a few lawsuits and unpaid debts he has lingering, how much of a relief it will be to get the place off his plate. My mouth falls open as Rafe stops the tape, placing it in the console. “So we are,” he glances over at me, triumphantly, “are heading to the air strip to meet Shoupe and give him this evidence. And while Shoupe works with the SBI to dismantle Kitty Hawk, we’ll be under witness protection until the trial…but you wouldn’t have to testify unless you wanted to. I made sure that Shoupe knew that.” 

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. “Witness protection? Where?” 

“Wherever you desire,” he looks over with a cute smile, scrunching his nose. “Sarah’s already made the call. Pilot will be waiting for us on the runway. Shoupe won’t tell your parents until we’re situated.” 

I’m at a loss for words as I try to take in what he tells me. He glances over at me, face falling a little. 

“You…situated,” I stutter out, breathless. I try to process his words, process what he’s done. My pulse races. “Pull over,” I blurt out weakly, palms sweaty as I glance behind us and notice the empty stretch of dark road.

“Are you alright?” he repeats, looking repeatedly between me and the road. 

I click the button to release my seatbelt as Rafe turns the wheel in a haste. “Are you sick?” I don’t answer him, reaching up a hand as we pull onto the shoulder. Dust kicks up around the truck as he pushes the stick into park, watching me wide-eyed. “What the hell is hap–,”

I tug his face toward mine, pressing my mouth to his with a fierceness that I’d never felt before. It’s quick and I pull back, breathless as I search his face. It felt like my nerves were on fire as we kissed, fanning an ember into a flame of desire. 

Rafe’s pupils are blown as he reaches forward and yanks me firmly back toward him. We lock lips. It’s messy and rushed and passionate. His hands find my thighs, scooping me up so I’m flush against him. 

There’s a searing heat and for the first time, it’s clear that it’s not just sexual tension. It’s survival. It’s praise and gratitude. It’s a confirmation that I’m real, and a guarantee of more. We jump a little, pulling apart when the truck horn blares out in the dead of the night – prompted by my ass.

It causes me to giggle, nuzzling into his neck with a snort while sliding from his lap to sit beside him. Rafe combs his fingers through my hair, unable to control his own laughter. I snort again, leaning into his bicep and looking up at him with a loving gaze. “Was it your idea to blow up a transformer?” 

“Well that was really Maybank’s idea…but it did the trick,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead and putting the truck back into drive before taking my hand. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

well, i'm in love. if you would like to make a request, i write for all the main characters of obx and you can send them here or let me know what you thought of this story :)

[gf2bellamy]

Can I request something about Spencer Reid being scared that he's going to forget about the reader ever since his mother got diagnosed with Alzheimer so he starts to write down all of the moments they had together so he doesn't forget her (they're not in a relationship yet) one day on the jet back home she sees him writing down stuff so she decides to snoops in when he falls asleep (nosy) but he catches her and then they kind of just melt into confessing their feelings to each other and it's fluffy at the end

memories — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: alzheimer is not exactly mentioned but more so implied , a tiny bit of angst , reader burns her hand on hot coffee a/n: hiii !! i hope this is what you asked for ! also i won't lie this made me so emotional </3 ngl i'm really proud of this one and i hope you like it <33

You watched Spencer write with intensity, his pen moving rapidly across the page. You were sitting in the seat in front of him, the two of you the only people in the otherwise empty section of the plane.

You leaned back in your seat, but no matter how much you tried to relax, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Spence,” you mumbled softly, almost afraid to interrupt the silence that had settled between you. But the words left your lips before you could stop them. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but instead finished the sentence he was writing. When his pen finally stopped, Spencer looked up at you, blinking a few times as if startled. 

“Hm?” His voice was soft, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours right away.

“Are you alright?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. You leaned forward slightly, your eyes searching his face for any signs of distress. You could tell that were was something on his mind.

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his eyes shifting to the side as though considering his response. Finally, he gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his lips pressing together in a faint, reassuring smile. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, but there was a lack of conviction in his voice. 

But before you could ask anything more, he returned his attention to the notebook in front of him, his pen moving again with relentless speed. You raised an eyebrow, concern creeping into your expression. 

“What are you writing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Spencer didn’t look up this time. Instead, his pen paused for a second before he closed his mouth, clearly searching for the right words to deflect. 

“I—uh… just some notes,” he replied, his tone guarded. He quickly returned to writing, as if trying to shut you out. 

That was Spencer for you—always shutting himself off when things got too personal or heavy.

You knew better than to push further, so you fell silent, as you leaned back into your seat. You turned your gaze to the window, your mind far from the clouds outside.

Some time had passed. You had tried to sleep, but it was useless. Your mind wouldn’t settle. With a sigh, you opened your eyes, resigned to staying awake. 

That was when you noticed Spencer. 

His head was tilted slightly to the side, his mouth just barely parted as soft, even breaths escaped him. His notebook lay open on the small table in front of him, as if he had been writing right up until he fell asleep. You smiled faintly at the sight, warmth spreading through your chest. He hardly ever let himself rest. It was nice to see him get even a moment of peace. 

Carefully, you stood, making your way toward the small kitchenette at the back of the jet.

A quick glance around told you that the rest of the team was asleep as well—apparently, you were the only one who couldn’t drift off.

With a sigh, you made yourself a cup of coffee, letting the warmth of the cup seep into your fingers as you turned back toward your seat. 

But then, you stopped. 

Spencer’s notebook was still lying open, its pages slightly bent from where he had dropped it onto the table.

You hesitated. 

You knew Spencer was private—especially about whatever had been weighing on him lately—but concern tugged at you, pressing insistently against your ribs. He had been acting strange for weeks now, closing himself off more and more, and you couldn’t ignore the gnawing worry in your chest. 

So, against your better judgment, you took a small step closer, your eyes flickering over the open page. 

A date was scrawled in the upper right-hand corner. 

And then, the words: 

"She hugged me today. It was nice. So nice I didn’t want her to let go. She was warm too. I don’t want to forget that. Ever. She smells so nice. She gives the best hugs—the kind where she doesn’t let go until I do. And if I could, I’d hug her forever." 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

Your hands trembled slightly around your coffee cup, but curiosity got the better of you, pulling your gaze to the next page—the one he had been writing on just before sleep claimed him. 

"The case we were working on was difficult. But she was there. Like she always is. I don’t think I could do this without her. I don’t think I could do anything without her. She’s sitting across from me right now, and I think she’s concerned. I don’t want her to be. I don’t like it when she looks at me like that. I like it more when she smiles at me. Because when she does, I feel like everything will be okay." 

Your fingers tightened around the coffee cup, and for a split second, you thought you might drop it. 

Your heart was pounding so loudly , it felt like it was louder than the entire plane. 

You had no idea. 

You had no idea he felt this way. 

The moment your eyes met Spencer’s, the cup actually slipped from your grasp. You managed to catch it before it hit the floor, but the hot coffee sloshed over the rim, searing your skin. You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the sting. 

But that wasn’t what made your stomach twist. 

It was the way Spencer was looking at you. 

His face was unreadable—his expression a careful mask, but his hands moved without hesitation. He closed the notebook in one swift motion, his fingers lingering over the cover.

He didn’t say a word. 

Your stomach churned. 

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words died in your throat. 

He didn’t look angry. Not exactly. But there was something behind his eyes, that made the guilt weigh even heavier in your chest. 

Slowly, you sank back into your seat, glancing down at your hand, which still ached from the burn. But the pain was nothing compared to the way your heart pounded unsteadily against your ribs. 

Before you could say anything else, a hand suddenly reached toward you, holding out a tissue. 

You hesitated for half a second before carefully taking it from Spencer’s outstretched fingers. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice softer this time. 

You dabbed at your hand, the warmth lingering on your skin, but your mind was far from the burn. Your thoughts kept circling back to the words you had read, the ones etched so deeply onto the pages of his notebook—the ones that had been about you. 

Tentatively, you lifted your gaze to meet his again. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” you whispered, biting your lip. 

Spencer looked at you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. You could see the red creeping up his neck, spreading to the tips of his ears. His fingers twitched slightly where they rested on his notebook, as if debating whether to grab it and tuck it away completely. 

“How much did you read ?” His voice was quiet, hesitant—like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. 

You felt a fresh wave of embarrassment crash over you, guilt tightening in your chest. But underneath it—buried deep—there was something else. A tiny spark of something warm. Hopeful.

Because the words you had read kept replaying in your mind, his handwriting burned into your thoughts. 

I don’t think I could do this without her. If I could, I’d hug her forever. 

Your fingers tightened around the tissue in your lap. 

“Just—just two pages,” you admitted softly. 

Spencer inhaled sharply through his nose. His gaze flickered away for a brief moment, his hands clenching slightly before relaxing again. You could tell he was fighting the urge to retreat, to shut you out completely like he always did when something got too close. 

“They were open on the table, and I just—” You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes for a second, trying to find the right words. “I was concerned about you. You never talk about what’s bothering you, and I just—” 

You opened your eyes again, looking at him with nothing but sincerity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” you mumbled, your voice small but genuine. 

Silence settled between you. 

Spencer’s fingers curled tighter around the edges of his notebook, his knuckles just barely turning white. His eyes flickered downward for a moment, like he was searching for something—maybe the right words, maybe the courage to say them. 

You inhaled softly, heart pounding in your chest. And then, before you could second-guess yourself, the words slipped out. 

“I don’t think I could do any of this without you either.” 

His eyes snapped back up to yours. 

Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, the color creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared, as if trying to process what you had just admitted. 

Your pulse quickened. 

“And…” You hesitated, but his silence wasn’t rejection. So you took a breath and kept going. “And I like hugging you. A lot.” 

His grip on the notebook tightened. 

There was another pause—another moment stretched too thin between you. You could practically hear your own heartbeat in your ears. 

Then, finally, Spencer exhaled. He set the notebook down on the table, fingers lingering over it. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. 

“I’m writing these moments down so I don’t forget them.” He swallowed hard, glancing down for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “In case I—” He stopped, inhaling sharply. His brows furrowed as he took a deep breath, trying to will himself to say it. 

He didn’t have to. 

You understood. 

His mother. The fear. The possibility that one day, his mind might betray him, might take these moments—you—away from him. 

Your chest tightened. 

“I just don’t want to forget you. Ever.” 

The vulnerability in his voice shattered something inside you. 

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill, so you blinked rapidly, willing them away. But Spencer saw them anyway. 

A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I hope you also read the part where I said I prefer it when you smile at me.” 

The unexpected comment caught you off guard. A surprised laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. You wiped at your eyes quickly, shaking your head. 

“I did,” you admitted, sniffling slightly as you met his gaze. “And for the record, I like it when you smile too.” 

Spencer’s lips pressed together like he was trying—and failing—to keep himself from smiling even more. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. But this silence felt different. Lighter. Warmer. 

You glanced down at his notebook, the one still sitting between you on the table. Your fingers itched to reach for it again, but instead, you looked back up at him. 

“Can I ask you something?” you said softly. 

Spencer nodded, his expression open, if a little nervous. 

“Why me?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly as nervousness crept in. 

Spencer blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. His lips parted like he wanted to answer immediately, but no words came out. Instead, he studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face as if trying to find the right way to explain something so deeply ingrained in him. 

You almost regretted asking. 

Spencer’s fingers toyed with the corner of his notebook, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Because I’m in love with you,” he whispered. 

The words hung in the air between you, soft yet heavy, delicate yet undeniable. 

It practically took your breath away. 

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Your mind scrambled to process what he had just said, but your heart—your heart had already caught up, hammering against your ribs like it had been waiting for this moment all along. 

Spencer’s fingers tightened around the edge of his notebook, his knuckles going pale. His whole body was tense, like he was bracing himself for impact. Like he was waiting for you to tell him he had just made a mistake. 

But he hadn’t. 

Because, God, if he only knew. 

“Spence…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. 

His eyes searched yours, uncertain, vulnerable—waiting. 

And suddenly, all you could think about was every moment leading up to this. The way he always found you in a crowded room. The way his entire body relaxed when you were near. The way he had been writing down memories, terrified of losing them, terrified of losing you. 

You had always known Spencer loved deeply. But you had never let yourself believe—never let yourself hope—that he could love you like that. 

Until now. 

You let out a shaky breath, a slow smile tugging at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. 

“Good,” you murmured, your heart racing as you finally let the words slip free. “Because I’m in love with you too.” 

Spencer’s breath hitched. His eyes widened just slightly, as if he hadn’t let himself hope for this either. And then—slowly, tentatively—his lips curved into the softest, most relieved smile you’d ever seen. 

[swaqcenix]

Is it casual now? | robber!yelena x gn!reader

Summary: A trip out to your usual coffee shop did not usually go wrong. That is until a robber decides to enter, threatening to kill everyone if they didn't give her their money. Shots fired, the gun landing on you. Yet, it appears Yelena has changed her interests from money to something, well someone far more valuable.

Warnings: 18+, gun shooting (no deaths), smut, gun & knife play, fingering (r), mirror sex, public sex, dark!yelena, dumbification, g!p yelena, penetration, (sort of nude photo)

Pairings: robber!yelena x civillian!reader, dark!yelena x reader, slight age gap, g!p yelena x reader, beefy!yelena (?)

Word count: 4K

DC: cafekitsune

AN: Well you can blame Nox for this.. Yes I got carried away! @yelenasdiary tag for you unhinged.. Side note being I wrote this while sipping on my wine also being an unhinged whore..

P.S, I've never written g!p before so bare with me!

Strolling in, the smell of the café hit you instantly. Your head directed towards the small corner of the room, where your regular table lay empty calling your name from afar. A soft smile painted upon your lips, as a sigh passed them.

You'd become renowned for having that little seat in the café, watching as the bustling crowds of New York passed you by. A small cough a few feet in front of you drew you from your thoughts.

Steve, the local barista was training up someone new. Ophelia, you believed her name to be. She seemed sweet enough a little shy of course, but that was a tendency bound to happen on one's first few shifts.

He nodded at you knowingly to which you responded with a toothy smile, nodding politely back to him. There was no need to ask him for your order, you'd been going to the café for three years and he'd been serving as a barista for two.

Feet carrying you to the small table in the corner, you gently pulled the chair out before sitting down a content hum leaving you as you did so. The café seemed content, the atmosphere always had a homely feeling like a comforting film you'd sit down to watch at night.

The crowds outside were loud, streets bustling and sounds of hectic life. It seemed so completely different, almost like you'd stepped into another dimension when walking into the quiet four walls of the building.

A coffee cup along with a small plate residing a cake made you jump slightly catching you off guard. Steve glanced at you, casting an apologetic look towards your way.

"Penny for your thoughts there, Y/N?" His voice guiding you back to reality.

A small laugh tipped past your lips as you shook your head. He was always a pleasant kind guy, one of the few friends you'd made in the city when you'd moved over.

"You know me Steve. Constantly distracted, yet forever in this café," you jokingly stated earning you a laugh in return.

With that, he turned his head realising the new Barista looked like she needed some support behind the counter. Your eyes drifted to her, giving her a small smile to convey she was doing okay, to which she sheepishly returned.

He returned to the his job behind the counter, serving the coffee, taking orders and overall handling everything well. This allowed you to once again return to your inner thoughts and glances out of the window, looking at passers by.

The smell of your drink, drifted up to your nose bringing you to a sense of peace and tranquillity you'd never find anywhere else. Not even in your hometown, that was. Moving to New York was frightening, big city and the concept of needing to meet new people. Yet, you felt it was the right place for you.

Never had you encountered anything chaotic except for the odd stupid misogynistic cat calls that was, you'd tended to refer back to the middle finger for that. Overall, this café had become one of home, where you could let yourself go and just dance away into the winds of the city.

Steve's voice called out once more, yet it wasn't directed at you for a change. Instead as you turned your head to the entrance you'd noticed a peculiar figure standing there. A cap placed upon her head, blonde short hair slicked back slightly, peaking out from underneath. A black leather jacket hung upon her figure admittedly making the mysterious figure attractive.

Yet, something about her seemed, off. Her stance and the way she portrayed herself. The back of her jacket seemed to be hiding something large, not that you could make it out. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, making it impossible to identify who she was. Something about her sent chills down your spine for one reason, yet made your stomach flip for an entirely different reason.

Your eyes glanced back towards Steve's direction who made eye contact with you. It was a look that couldn't be placed, but if you had to it would be one of worry and an uncomfortable feeling on his face. As if the world slowed down, you saw the blonde figure slip her hand into the back of her jacket towards her jeans reaching for something.

Bile began to shoot up towards your throat, yet you felt your hands go clammy and stress overtaking your entire body. It was invading your chest and you glanced between the figure and Steve, trying to sink into your seat.

It was as if everything happened in a flash, tome physically slowing down as her nimble yet long fingers whipped out a gun, a large one for that matter pointing it into the air. Cups around you smashed all over, followed by the screams of civilians who were rightfully so petrified. Steve didn't seem to move, even as the woman's voice called out to him and Ophelia.

"Let me make this very clear. This will go well, if you open the cash register and give me what you have within there."

Something about the husk in her voice, made you feel things that should shame you in many ways. The woman stood in your favourite café holding a gun in an attempted robbery. However, the way she spoke and stood, the way her lips tilted up into a smirk that would send anyone running hit straight into your core.

Steve, never reacted and Ophelia looked like she had tears spilling down her face. Not daring to move, you kept your body slumped down in your seat, the silence in the four walls seemed deafening, aside from the heavy breathing and soft crying from civilians.

"Am I talking to my fucking self?" The woman snapped, causing Steve to jump.

Ophelia attempted to stagger forward, the fear in her eyes as evident as the clouds in the sky. Her brown hair was now falling down her face, completely messy and unkempt as her teeth chattered together.

"We-We don't have much," She whispered.

The blonde woman, scoffed moving to a nearby table, where a wife and her husband were sitting. You recognised them as frequent visitors like yourself, not that was any matter now. All the woman did was glare at the couple and they scrambled out the seats cowering into the corner of the café.

It was then, she shrugged her black leather jacket off, throwing it carefully over the chair with precision. That was when you saw her. Laced in tattoo's, all over her shoulder's and arms and by the love of god they looked admittedly hot.

One particular tattoo stood out, it was the shape of a Rose that spiralled slowly into a sort of motorbike, like it was attached to the end of the bike spelling out words you couldn't place. The words looked almost Russian to you, but you were sat from a distance.

She flexed her shoulder for a second, your eyes widening as you gawked at her. The muscles on her flexed as she did and holy shit you could tell she worked out. Ether that or at the very least did some sort of muscular style of work area.

The blonde robber stalked over to the cash machine yanking it from if's place with such force, it cracked. You observed in silence not daring to even breath let alone shift in your seat as she dragged whatever little cash the café had within it's machine.

Her eyes, narrowed before she whipped off her glasses, her eyes coming into view from your angle. They were the colour of the earth, green and captivating even if you said so yourself. A hard grunt left her lips as she gawked at the cash in hand, before glaring up at the two Barista's. Steve and Ophelia didn't dare shift themselves, their feet almost glued to the floor eyes cast down towards the blonde's gun.

"Right change of plans. Everyone in this café will give me what cash they have, or anything of value. I don't want to leave here empty handed," She husked between gritted teeth.

The blonde began to walk around the room as you watched in silence, body frozen over like a blanket of ice held you down. She walked over from person to person, collecting anything of value. The gun was clutched hard in her hand, showing her power and domination over anyone who looked like they were going to question her.

"This is all I have Ma'm," a younger man stuttered out earning a sheer laugh that was bone-chilling from her.

"That will do, also if you leave this place at least pass my name off as Yelena," she stuttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Yelena. The name wanted to slide out from your mouth, the desperation of testing it out on your tongue seeping over you. Obviously you didn't dare, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention to yourself, the least you wanted was for the blonde to know you found her insanely attractive.

Instead your head removed focused on being lowered, hands clasped tightly together underneath the table. The heels of Yelena's boots hit the floor as she walked with authority around the café. Your heart began to hammer hard and fast against your rib cage, practically trying to leap out of your chest. The boots got closer to your table until the silence once again succumbed to the room.

Someone behind you attempted to stand, before a deafening shot was fired into the direction. A nerve wrecking sob escaped from behind you and for a moment you breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful Yelena hadn't actually shot them. At least not yet.

"That's what happens if you try to shift or retaliate. Just behave and follow instructions and you won't have issues. God I hate people."

She muttered the last sentence in an accent and you realised then. She was definitely Russian. The ringing in your ears made it hard to make the sentences out or any sounds, but you didn't need to. Your eyes landed on her black laced army boots, the painful reminder hitting you that you were next.

Rather than lifting your head up, you simply drew the cash out of your pockets. You usually carried an obscene amount of it in your pockets which to no surprise you'd often been lectured before. Never have you had to be grateful for once that you had made smart choices in carrying the cash.

Shifting it onto the table, you swore you heard a half gasp at the amount you'd placed in front of Yelena. However the sound went as quick as it came, instead replaced by what sounded like a pleased grunt before the boots began to walk away.

A small sigh of relief overcame you as you felt the sense of dread slightly lift off your shoulders. The sheer urge to get out of the café became overwhelming, despite knowing or at least believing in your safety. However, the relief was quickly replaced by dread as the boots returned to your table stopping in front of you once again.

A few small murmurs passed around the room and you could easily imagine the absolute horror and fear on Steve's face even with your head down. No breath left your lips, instead your settled on holding it dreading what might happen. What made this horribly worse was the fact somehow this scenario, the fear and knowing the blonde carried herself with such an authority and a significant look only turned you on. You felt like you should be disgusted by that, embarrassed even, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

"Raise your head up," She instructed her voice firm and leaving no room for arguments.

Part of you wished to argue against it, but deep down you knew how stupid you'd be making yourself look if you did so. Therefore, rather than causing a whole scene and making everyone else around you be put in danger, you followed the instructions lifting your head up to meet her firm gaze.

It was as if time itself stopped when your eyes connected. A glimmer of something you couldn't quite place, reflected within Yelena's eyes her lips twitching slightly. Almost as if the blonde was fighting the urge to smile and you felt like it wouldn't be a fake one if she did, making your stomach flutter slightly.

As quickly as the look came however, it snapped back into one of authority and dominance. Her smirk now replaced with lips pressed together into a thin line. Yelena's arm roughly grasped onto your own, her hand sending a heavy amount of arousal into your core making your cheeks flush.

If she noticed, she didn't comment only dragging you up off the chair and pulling you firmly with her. You didn't dare question stumbling with her as your body followed suit.

The blonde dragged you into the corner of the room, towards the mirror in the corner of the café. Albeit you'd always questioned what it stood there for, Steve always joking saying customers liked to take aesthetically pleasing photos in front of the mirror.

You'd never questioned it since and now. Yelena had your front against her back, pushing you forward so you are now facing the mirror, eyes connected with her own through the glass. Her lips tilted up and she whispered into your ear something of Russian before a husky laugh escaped her lips.

Yelena's hands wrapped around your throat, instantly causing you to freeze. You'd noticed everyone in the café was now watching, some frozen in fear others in complete shock. However, something in the back of your mind lingered and you couldn't bring yourself to care. The arousal now coursed through your veins, cheeks tinting with a heavy pink as it spread over your face.

That's when you felt something hard pressing into the crevice of your ass, it appeared to be getting harder by the second. Your eyes widened when you realised what the hardness was, lips parting open as you stared at her. Yelena's eyes merely darkened a low chuckle escaping her lips.

Her thumb dragged firmly across your lower lip before slipping it into your mouth raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. Not wanting to risk anything else happening, you took her thumb into her mouth, sucking on it with a skill you hadn't realised you possessed, keeping eye contact at all times.

Her member dug into the back of you, hard and firm causing wetness to slip out of your underwear. She wasn't unknowing of this, the blonde's grin turning into something of a devilish smirk, lips moving to your ear.

"If you say stop, I will. I might be a robber but I'm not a monster," she husked quiet enough for only you to hear.

Did you want her to stop? Your brain screamed at you to be seriously logical, not to be some sort of pathetic whore for five minutes. However, your arousal was going to drive you mad. Even if you did say yes, the wetness that had dripped down your thighs would still have to be taken care of either way. Therefore you merely shook your head, cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment.

"Let's make them watch you hm, watch my fingers slide into you while you're up against the mirror. Seeing yourself behave so well for me while looking like a filthy whore in front of them," She husked out, glad you'd accepted to be her small toy.

"What about the m-money?" The new barista, Ophelia spoke up, her voice sounding petrified.

"Fuck the money, I have my mind set on a different reward isn't that right pet?" She mumbled lips pressed into your neck as her cock got harder pressing against you.

Her cock felt hard and incredibly good pressed into you, even if you couldn't touch or even feel it fully yet. Instead all you could do is let out a small, whimper shame in the back of your mind at what you had become.

She started without warning grinding you back against her member, the feeling of arousal filling your mind blocking out anyone in the café. Yelena's hand slipped underneath your jeans, hiding you away from prying eyes of the customers.

The blonde's fingers slipped inside of your underwear, slipping instantly into your folds dipping in and out. Your cheeks flushed and you tried to hide your face in her neck not wanting to remember you were in a café. They could all see you and it lingered in the back of your mind. Yet, your arousal, desires and needs were too high and too overwhelming to bear and Yelena knew this.

She grabbed a fist full of your hair, pulling your face back to the mirror, her fingers moving with a more forceful power now, slipping in and out with clear intention. Her muscles flexed against you, slipping back around your throat squeezing slightly eliciting a gasp from you as you bit down hard on your lip. She smirked, shifting her cock against you once more, moaning deep into your ear.

"You're taking it so well little whore," her accent emphasising on the word whore.

Her free hand slipped into her back pocket, drifting a knife down your neck and that only turned you on further. Hips slightly bucking into her hand as you felt gross yet so turned on looking into the mirror. A small trail of blood trickled down your neck that Yelena quickly kissed before biting down on your jugular.

Without warning her hand slipped to her phone taking a small photo of you, positioned in front of the mirror. Her cock buried into your ass while her fingers worked against you. You felt like a pathetic toy, for her to use and the others to see how ridiculous you were for some stranger, but you were too wet and desperate to care.

Just as you were approaching some form of high, Yelena yanked her fingers out shoving them into your mouth. Obediently, you took her fingers slightly whining at the withdrawal and wanting to chase your high. She laughed shaking her head, before spinning you back around.

"They're not seeing you cum Detka. That's for my eyes," She gritted out her voice filled with lust.

Without warning using all her muscular strength, she picked you up with ease into her arms beginning to walk to the back staff room. Your legs instinctively wrapped around her waist, face hidden into her neck with embarrassment.

As soon as she entered the staff room and shut the door behind her, Yelena pinned you up against it. Her knife yanked back out, ripping your top open and pushing her own jeans and boxers down.

Yelena's cock instantly freeing, you realised just how turned on she was for you. Her pre-cum slipping down and out of the tip, your eyes darkening in desire. Instinctively, your fingers wrapped around her, pumping up and down, rubbing at the tip as she threw her head forward biting down on your neck.

"You're a filthy little slut aren't you? Needing my cock that badly, needing me that badly you let me do that in front of those people, stupid pet."

Her gun dragged down your stomach the cold metal of it making your skin prickle and shiver. The fear you should be feeling was nowhere to be found. Instead the fear was replaced by an overwhelming almost painful sense of desire. It was making the feeling of being horny almost foggy and impossible to function.

She slapped your hand away, your body still being held up by her muscles and strong build. Hands caressed over her muscles, running over that one tattoo you'd become fixated on. Her eyes fluttered with something for a moment, body freezing as you did so. Yet, as quickly as it came the flash was over.

Yelena began to pump her hand up and down on her cock, moaning excessively loudly. It was evident from her moans and excessive whining she wanted, even perhaps needed the others outside of the staff room to hear.

The wetness spilled onto your abdomen, all over your chest spilling over your jeans. You were now covered in Yelena's pre-cum, her face a picture of lust and excitement. The blonde hoisted you up further not giving you any warning before sliding into you.

She began to move her cock in and out of you at an animalistic pace, giving you no time to adjust. Yelena stretched you out before slamming straight back into you. Her cock felt warm inside of you, your head being slightly shielded by her hand cupping it with a fist full of your hair.

"You like this huh? That much of a fucking dumb slut, you needed me to fuck you in here. Some random stranger's cock. I should show the world to you. Let them see what a whore you are."

Her words only spurred you on, desperate for any sort of release as you bounced harder onto her. Each thrust caused you to moan louder, the people still most likely in the café forgotten about. All that invaded your mind and senses, your body was Yelena. Her cock, her muscles her very essence.

A particular hard thrust had knots tightening in your stomach and you knew then you were close. Judging by the look on the blonde's face so was she, her finger's slipping down to your clit.

As soon as she began to play with your clit, rubbing it in the right way you lost all thought to think. No words could ever be formed for the way you felt. Fingers digging into her skin as she pumped ferociously into your pussy.

"You want to cum hm, use your words," She husked yanking your head back."

"Please," was all you could murmur out trying to chase your high desperately.

Yelena bit down on your ear as she thrusted into you whispering something in Russian. You assumed it was dirty and asking you to release for her. The Russian words mixed with her thrusts sent you spiralling, moaning louder than you deemed possible. Your pussy tightened around her cock, walls closing in as your juices pumped all over her.

That only sent Yelena herself spiralling, quickly pulling out before releasing herself all over your stomach, dripping down onto the cold tiles of the floor. The room filled with gasps and pants as she gently pulled out of you, carrying you with such a soft way you almost questioned if it was the same woman. She lowered you down onto a nearby chair, passing you her jacket.

No words were spoken, your breath was still panting as you came back to reality, realising just exactly what the fuck you'd done. Before you could comment she was stalking to the back exit door fully dressed once again before turning back once.

"I'll see you again pet, don't you worry. I've found something money simply cannot buy."

Before you could even muster a response, she slipped out the backdoor, shutting it behind her with her hands leaving you to ponder your thoughts in question. As reality began to fade back into your view and the location of where you remained hit you, your cheeks turned beetroot red.

Stumbling over yourself, you managed to get yourself dressed your top on the floor ripped making you know you didn't merely imagine some sort of slutty scenario in your head. You slipped on her jacket, her aroma filling your senses making you almost fall to the floor there and then.

You'd made it to the back door, stumbling out of it just to see her staring back at you. Her head was now hidden behind a helmet, her body perched onto a motorbike, but you knew it was her. That explained the tattoo then..

Before you could utter a sentence her way, she sped off on her bike, heading into the open traffic roads of NYC. You stood there wrapped in what was her jacket, watching her speed away.

Yelena faded into the distance leaving with what once was your dignity and that one damned photo that she took that could land itself anywhere. The photo that could cost you your career and what was your life's worth yet all you could think about is how you were covered in her essence.

[neteyawne]

neteyam sully imagine

summary; neteyam didn’t know how head over heels he truly was for you - until he saw Ao’nung and his friends bullying you.

word count; 3.2k (really proud of this one! let me know what you think 🥹🩵💙)

THE BOND.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Neteyam knew he was going to have a difficult time adjusting to The Way Of Water. From the moment he landed his Ikran, the defensive stares he'd received from the clan had him bowing his head in shame.

He knew how bad his family looked - running away from a war and seeking uturu in a place with peace that wished to stay undisturbed.

He never talked badly about the treatment he and his family received, because he knew how big of a sacrifice they were making by letting them stay. And he was thankful.

But there was a certain part of him - a secretive, tucked away piece that desperately wished he could be treated the way he always wanted to be. Equally.

Not questioned in any way - or seen as something to avoid. That was how he wanted the clan to react. Not be put on a pedestal - like back at home, where the pressure to be perfect was crushing. And not stomped on - like some sort of a threat, something to be questioned and investigated when he had first arrived. A burden.

Oh how he hated the treatment. The glares he'd first received. The backhanded compliments from Ao'nung and his friends - boy's his own age. Even the Tsahik's comments had him up at night - tossing and turning as he wished - dreamt for things to go back the way they were. When it was just him and his family - peaceful and alone in their home.

He was walking on the sand when he first saw you. On a stroll during the night whilst his family slept - trying to clear his mind. A small movement in the water had caught his eye - and it was only natural for him to go and see what it was. He approached the water with careful steps, the bioluminescence of the underwater plants shining through as he peered down - looking for what had made movement underwater with furrowed brows. His eyes searched the water carefully - but he saw nothing.

Unbeknownst to him however, you had seen someone approach the water and swam behind one of the reefs easily. You gently lifted your head above the water, watching the boy search the sea with a curiosity you simply found adorable.

The way his brows were knitted together with confusion had you smiling - how his tail wagged expectedly behind him as your mind came up with the clever idea to play a harmless trick on your clan's guest.

Of course you had seen him around - but you had been watching from afar. Not letting him see you so you could take in the guests who'd come to your island without them noticing.

Your arms moved forward, pushing downward as you swam deep into the water - a simple maneuver to avoid any water at the surface moving and giving away your presence underneath.

He was leaning over the vines now, still positive he'd seen something as you finally made yourself visible - curls with the most colorful shells braided into them was one of the first things he saw as you met his eyes -

What an extraordinary shade they were.

You smirked, whispering a playful boo as those stunning eyes widened.

He was startled, stumbling backwards from pure surprise - you had caught him off guard, and the fact made you laugh.

He watched as you came out of the water - the act reminding him of a flower blooming with the way your beauty appeared when he'd least expected it.

The way you approached him was mesmerizing- your curls moving like waves when you walked. And the manner in which you moved your hands to do the gesture I see you had his clenched fists opening with a tender feeling too overwhelming.

He knew Eywa had heard him - knew she had given him something so special when he'd first seen your precious smile.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You were exceptionally good at making him nervous.

It was a feeling he'd been feeling a lot recently. 

Like when the Tsahik would visit his family's Marui and ask how they were doing, her piercing eyes unwavering as Neteyam quieted instantly - his palms sweaty as he waited for the news. War had come. They had to leave - any of those seemed possible with the way her eyes seemed to ice over when she looked at them.

Mastering the Ilu was another thing he'd grown nervous of - watching even Lo'ak - his baby bro - whom he'd always needed to help, master it and already bond with the fellow clan members had him saddened. The disappointment was something suffocating as he struggled every single day.

But with you, his nervousness was something different

It was like a bird - fluttering and caged in his chest, wanting to break through and fly freely.

You became the one he would seek out every morning and night, his mind beginning to recognize the familiar path from his Marui to yours. He liked how your stare wasn't something accusing - but something curious. Your gentle questions soothed him - they were calm and kind and so sweet that his face would warm due to the thrilling sensation of your eyes staring into his.

There was something different about you from the rest of the clan - something he loved so much.

Your eyes were the darkest color he'd ever seen was what he'd quickly realized. They were not the same striking turquoise as the rest of the clan, but a deep hue of blue that reminded him of home. A shade so comforting to him, one that reminded him of the sky before eclipse. Of the plants back at home - of himself and everything he loved.

Maybe they should have been alarming - it would have been to anyone else who'd never seen such a color. But for him, it was different. He could never put it into words - but your eyes never made him uneasy.

Unexplainable, was what you'd told him when he'd asked you about them, it was a trait you were simply born with.

He wondered if you had yet realized that your eyes were the exact color of his skin.

You loved exploring the island too - you'd take him with you, showing Neteyam your favorite sights and your favorite treats to eat.

When you asked him about his life before - he didn't speak with the sadness he expected to come when talking about his home, but a feeling similar to bliss came as he imagined showing you the forest. Oh how you would adore the plants - the animals - and how well you would fit into his clan. Your heart would be something they would treasure. He imagined showing you everything he loved the same way you showed him the reef.

It did not take long for him to realize that you did not have friends.

He'd see you at dinner, sitting alone but seemingly pleased as you ate by yourself.

You were in your own little world was what he'd quickly realized - you'd watch the sky a lot and close your eyes, a content smile on your face was how he'd catch you many times. He wished to be with you - in whatever world you were in.

You were like his sister, Kiri - your connection to Eywa so deeply rooted, just like hers.

He worried he was interrupting your solitude at times- but he did not want to leave you alone.

When he asked if he was in fact distrusting your peace, you laughed - a sound that had him releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding in.

No - he was not, in any form, disturbing your peace. You told him he was someone you looked forward to - and the fondness in your voice had him moving closer to you - where the two of you sat on rocks nearby the ongoing clan having dinner

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"You look forward to meeting me?"

The hesitation in his voice when he spoke was heartbreaking. He was looking at the water - avoiding your eyes. But they glistened in the moonlight, and you felt your heart break at the sight. You promised yourself to never see him so unsure of himself, to always show him how special he was. How special he was to you.

"Neteyam." You whispered

He turned, swallowing the lump in his throat as you smiled at him, unable to contain your affection for the Sully boy

"You are special. So special. I am beyond lucky Eywa has allowed our paths to cross. To me, you are my secret treasure." You teased as his familiar smile appeared - his sharp fangs peaking through as he looked at you.

"Funny. I thought the same way about you."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

He did not know when he had fallen for you, but he knew he was too caught up and entangled in your little word to even realize.

Maybe it was when he saw you interacting with Tuk the first time. He'd been looking for you all morning - worried and sad by the fact that he simply could not find you for the life of him, only to hear your bubbly laugh - followed by his little sister’s as he found both of you swimming together

"Neteyam! I made a new friend!" Was what Tuk squealed

"Neteyam, how could you hide this adorable little girl from me for this long?" Was what you'd asked teasingly, Tuk's eyes round with love as she looked up at you with nothing but pure adoration from your kindness

Or maybe he realized his love for you when you gifted him his favorite accessory - a simple bracelet with a beautiful blue shell intertwined expertly between the thin vines - your cheeks pink and your laughter nervous as you handed him the gift. His cheeks were just as red as he stumbled over his words - thanking you over and over again as you looked at him with the same eyes he loved so much

He never took it off - never would.

Sometimes he thought it was when you'd first met - but he knows that even if it was, he only grew to love you more as the months went by.

But when did he grow so protective?

He knows what day that was.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Ao'nung had been persistent, annoying you to the point where you had simply stopped replying

"I mean, I knew you were a freak from the start - but betraying your own clan, hanging out with that Sully boy? I mean - that is just low." He laughed, his goons right behind them as they only encouraged his insults with their own rising laughter

Your head was down as you continued weaving the basket in front of you, not even raising your head to look at the crowd of boys around you

"Yea, why do you even hang out with him? Found someone as out of place as you? Didn't know you'd be so friendly with those half bloods - "

The way he'd spit his words out was what angered you the most

"Do not call them that." You finally snapped, Ao'nung was unable to stop himself from taking a step back from the look in your eyes

"You are wrong - I hope you know that Ao'nung." You seethed, eyes alight as the boy bared his teeth

" I can't believe you. You should just leave with them - I doubt anyone would miss you." He spat, hands clenched by his sides as you heard a voice

"Hey!"

It was a distant sound, but your brows furrowed with alarm as you watched Lo'ak approach - immediately standing in front of you with crossed arms

"Don't talk to her like that." He said firmly as you tried blinking away your surprise - of course he'd seen you and Neteyam together at times, but you'd only spoken to him on a few occasions. Your interactions were short - but sweet. You knew he'd taken a liking to you, but you never believed he was willing to stand up for you like this. You smiled, standing up to match his height as you hissed at Ao'nung's little crowd - the boys immediately moving back and mumbling something as Lo'ak laughed - turning back to you with a proud gleam in his eyes as you merely smiled back

Of course they felt threatened by you - some thought your silence and solitude was something dangerous, but you never felt the need to explain that this was just how you were. Talkative - but not with everyone.

"Familiarizing yourself with the whole family I see." Ao'nung barked as you merely shook your head, a frown on your face as you gently grabbed hold of Lo'ak's shoulder

"Come on, it is ok. We'll leave." You insisted gently

Normally, Lo'ak would've ignored a command like that and barged head first into the argument - but Lo'ak knew his brother - he'd never spend so much of his time with someone who wasn't worth listening to. And he knew you - though very little, you were someone he trusted.

Slowly, he nodded his head, shielding your body from the group with his own as he led you away from the crowd. Unfortunately, Ao'nung's hand found your arm as he tugged you back the second Lo'ak turned his head.

You stumbled back as Ao'nung practically growled at Lo'ak

"Think you can just take every person from this clan to mix with your dirty family?" He snapped, eyes alight as he stared at Lo'ak with nothing but hate - you were trying desperately to pull your arm out of his grasp as he tightened his grip.

"Ao'nung - let go." You pleaded as Lo'ak clenched his jaw, looking towards you and where Ao'nung's hands forcefully held you before shaking his head.

"Sorry, Y/n." Was all Lo'ak said as he moved forward to attack Ao'nung with a fury she believed no one could waver - all until she heard him.

No - no she did not hear him, she simply felt his presence. And his rage was not something to be reckoned with as he split the group apart with a menacing shove - knocking some boys over as they tripped from the force of his push - their yells of surprise were silenced as Neteyam stood in front of Ao'nung.

His lips were pulled back - fangs bared threateningly as Ao'nung's face fell

"Back. Off. Now." Neteyam hissed, standing in front of Y/n and Lo'ak - the younger Sully boy almost cowering behind Neteyam - never had they seen him so... enraged.

Ao'nung scoffed - but remained silent. Looking back and forth between the three in front of him before scowling - turning away, and walking off. His little friends were following the boy's footsteps only moments later - their yells of outrage ignored as Ao'nung merely walked away.

Neteyam turned around, his eyes concerned as he immediately reached for Y/n - his hands holding her shoulders as he looked into her eyes - looking for any sign of hurt or pain -

"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" He questioned - and Lo'ak watched you nod your head, whispering I'm fine repeatedly as Neteyam wrapped his arms around you the momet you confirmed you were ok

"It is fine. We are all fine." She reassured as Neteyam finally looked towards Lo'ak - who only stared back with wide eyes

He'd never seen Neteyam so upset before. And he'd never seen Neteyam so... protective. He'd covered Lo'ak's ass multiple times - but the way he'd approached Ao'nung had Lo'ak's own teeth clattering, feared for Ao'nung's safety - but sickeningly pleased by his brother's reaction.

"Thanks bro." He managed, giving Lo'ak a gentle smack on the back of his neck as the boy merely swatted his hands away with a laugh

"Don't touch me bro!" He said, a grin on his face which faltered as he turned towards Y/n with a gentleness in his eyes that Neteyam had not seen before.

"You ok?" He asked as Y/n smiled - moving forward and enveloping Lo'ak in her and Neteyam's hug - the trio now standing with arms all around each other as she laughed

"Fine! More than fine. Thank you, Lo'ak." She cooed, gently pinching the boy's cheek. He looked away, his blush evident and bright as he shrugged his shoulders, suddenly shy as he mumbled a quick no worries that had Neteyam laughing - this time, Y/n being the one to gently swat the back of Neteyam's neck for teasing the younger Sully boy.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You were laying on the sand - the moonlight shining on you and outlining your figure.

He stood only a few meters away - his hands clutching the necklace in his hands as he watched you with the same nervousness fluttering in his chest.

Your head was tipped towards the sky - lips pulled into a content and peaceful smile - something he wished to never disturb.

And he wouldn't - but his favorite eyes peaked open, immediately catching him.

You never failed to feel his presence.

He laid down next to you, and you shifted your body to lay closer to him. His gift was tucked underneath the palm of his hand as the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the quiet.

He rested his head against yours, and you leaned your body into his as he gently grabbed your hand, moving your fingers and pointing them towards the sky.

"You know, my dad came from a star."

You listened quietly, your hand squeezing his and giving him the reassurance he needed to continue.

"That one - right there." He whispered, pointing towards the gleaming light as you followed where he’d moved your hand - staring at the faraway star he pointed to with a faint smile

"I have a feeling you are about to tell me something important." You whispered, and he looked back at you - stared right into those beautiful eyes as he grinned

"You know everything about me - but this, this is something I have not told you yet." He whispered back, sitting up as you followed his movements

"My dad tells me all the time about his love for my mother - I was talking to him yesterday about how he knew he loved her." He started, eyes gentle as his hands held the necklace behind his back - fingers running over the engravings he'd spent hours carving as you looked at him with the same curious glint in your eyes that he loved to see

"He said he did not know - he was spending too much time with her to notice how badly he had fallen in love. But - when he did realize, he said it was like her filling a hole in his heart he didn't even know he had." He breathed out - and you could feel your own heartbeat quicken as he moved his hands from behind his back to reveal the most beautiful necklace you would ever see.

"Y/n - you and I, we are made for each other. I know this. I feel it everyday - " He spoke - his voice breaking as he looked at you, tears brimming as you tried to calm yourself by taking a few breaths

"Be my mate, yawne." He whispered, his smile so bright and beautiful as you finally sobbed

"Neteyam - yes. Yes yes yes!"

He put the necklace around your neck - a courting gift - his finger tracing over your stripes as he clasped it - securing it before moving his hands to cradle your face.

He kissed you - sweet lips meeting yours.

"My sweet girl."

[luvst4rc0r3]

CAN YOU WRITE A JINX X F!READER WHERE READER HAS A KID AND JINX DOESNT KNOW IT YET??

TY IF YOU DO

Yess I love this request

“Unexpected Visit”

It’s a Saturday morning, the sunlight spilling lazily through your kitchen window as you scramble around trying to keep things in order. Your little one is still sleeping, curled up on the couch with a blanket tangled around them like a cocoon. You’ve got a coffee in hand, a mountain of laundry to fold, and the last thing on your mind is anything chaotic—until the doorbell rings.

You freeze.

Jinx.

You glance at the clock. It’s just past noon. No one ever visits unannounced, except… her. You didn’t expect her to pop by today, especially after the week you’ve had. You wipe your hands on your apron and head for the door.

When you open it, she’s standing there, her hair a mess, an eager grin stretched across her face. Her eyes are wide with excitement.

“Surprise!” she says, bouncing on her heels like a kid on Christmas morning. “You ready for some fun?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Jinx, uh… what are you—?”

But then you hear the soft snoring from the living room, and her gaze flickers behind you. Her eyes narrow with curiosity.

“What was that? Was that…?” she trails off, tilting her head.

“Shh,” you hiss, quickly stepping back from the door. “Keep your voice down. My kid is asleep.”

Jinx blinks, the words hanging in the air for a moment. Her expression shifts from playful confusion to something… more cautious. “Kid?”

You wince, realizing you didn’t exactly mean to spill that detail yet. It’s been a while since you thought about your situation as anything more than normal. You didn’t think Jinx would show up today, much less find out about your life outside of work or your occasional hangouts.

“Yeah, a kid,” you say, trying to keep it light. “I’m a single parent, Jinx. Didn’t think I’d need to mention it yet.” You let out a small laugh, but she’s staring at you, completely silent.

She steps into the doorway without waiting for an invitation, glancing around at the cozy, somewhat cluttered home. A few toys are scattered on the floor, and the smell of pancakes still lingers in the air.

“So, uh,” she begins, sounding awkward for the first time in your memory. “Is this like, uh… what, a big secret or something?”

You shake your head, letting out a soft sigh. “It’s not a secret. It’s just… complicated. And, I wasn’t really planning on telling anyone about my kid yet.”

Jinx’s eyes soften, and she rubs the back of her neck, looking around the room in an almost shy way. “Well, you’re, like, a lot cooler than I thought if you can handle that all on your own,” she mutters.

You blink at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with those familiar, mischievous eyes. “You’re doing everything. The mom thing, the work thing… and you still let me come over and drag you into my chaos every now and then. That’s cool.”

Your heart flutters a little, a mix of amusement and warmth spreading through you. Jinx wasn’t always the best at expressing her feelings, but you could tell when she meant something.

“Well, someone has to,” you reply, grinning. “And I guess I’m the lucky one.”

She bites her lip, eyes darting toward the couch where your child is still snoozing, peaceful and unaware of the chaos outside.

“Can I… meet them?”

You pause. You weren’t sure how she would act in this kind of situation, but something about the way she asked makes you want to say yes. You nod, feeling your nerves settle a little.

“Okay, but you have to be quiet,” you whisper as you lead her toward the living room.

When she sees your child, her whole demeanor shifts. Her usual manic energy quiets, her eyes softening as she looks at the little one. Jinx crouches down, her fingers hovering just above their sleeping form, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t… I’ve never really been around kids,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, a little surprised at how gentle her tone is. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”

Jinx nods, standing back up, her eyes lingering on your kid a little longer. For once, the wildness that usually marks her movements is replaced with something more reserved.

“Your kid’s cute,” she says quietly.

You laugh softly. “Yeah, they are.”

Jinx’s eyes flicker back to you, an almost awkward pause settling in the air. “I didn’t mean to, you know… show up uninvited or anything. I just… wanted to see you. Didn’t realize you had all this going on.”

You smile, your heart swelling just a bit. “I didn’t expect you to be so… calm about it.”

“I’m not that bad, right?” Jinx pouts, then grins. “Just… got a lot of energy. But if you need help with anything… I’m pretty good at keeping busy, y’know?”

The offer hangs in the air, and for a moment, you just stand there, watching her. There’s a sincerity in her words that catches you off guard, and you realize she’s not just offering to be part of your world for the fun of it. She genuinely wants to be involved, even if it’s in her own chaotic way.

“Thanks, Jinx,” you say softly, smiling at her. “That means a lot.”

She grins back, her usual playful spark returning. “No problem. Just, uh… don’t expect me to start doing kid stuff. I’m good with fun stuff.” She winks.

The little one stirs on the couch and yawns, rubbing their eyes. Jinx freezes mid-wink, watching them. You turn your head to see your kid slowly sitting up, eyes blinking in confusion. They take in Jinx’s appearance with curious eyes before looking at you.

“Mommy?” they ask softly, still half-asleep.

You bend down and smile, your heart melting. “Yes, sweetie?”

“This is…?” They gesture to Jinx, clearly confused but eager to know more.

Jinx crouches down to their level, her usual mischievous grin back in full force. “I’m… mommy’s special friend!” she says, her tone dramatically exaggerated as she holds out a hand. “Jinx”

Your kid blinks at her, then looks back at you, as if making sure it’s all okay. You give them an encouraging smile.

“Mommy’s special friend,” you confirm gently. “Jinx is a bit… crazy, but she’s a good person.”

Jinx’s eyes widen at your words, a small blush coloring her cheeks. She looks at your little one again, her expression softening. “I promise, I’m more fun than I look,” she says with a playful wink.

Your kid tilts their head, then gives a shy smile, stretching their arms. “Okay, Jinx! Can you make pancakes like mommy?”

Jinx’s eyes sparkle at the challenge. “Oh, pancakes? I definitely can do that.”

And just like that, she’s included—welcomed into your little family’s world in her own chaotic, Jinx-y way. As the morning slips into afternoon, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, having someone like Jinx around isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened.

This was a cute request

I want food

[astrcmoni]

⊹₊ ⋆ loved by you⋆ ₊⊹

MASTERLIST

synopsis: you come home after a long day out and noticed that your girlfriend seems a little stiff and frustrated, you take it upon yourself to bring her to relaxation…amongst other things.

genre: smut, fluff.

pairing: fem!reader x billie eilish

wc: 6.7k

warnings: cussing, reader!has some tattoos, belly piercing, and acrylics, soft top!reader & soft bottom!billie, fingering (billie receiving), scissoring, talk of cum, finger sucking, tender aftercare.

authors note: y’all i love me some tender aftercare, but let me know what you guys think, it’s my first time writing smut so i hope you enjoy💋

you wrap your fingers around the cool brass of the doorknob, pushing the door open with a gentle shove. bags in hand, you step inside, carrying the weight of a day spent pouring into yourself—a quiet symphony of self-love and solitude. the faint scent of vanilla and cashmere clings to your skin, trailing behind you like a whispered promise of peace. it mingles with the air as you move through the house, slipping off your shoes and setting your belongings carefully aside. a soft hum of satisfaction radiates from your chest, a quiet melody to the much-needed reset you’ve granted yourself.

the house greets you in half-light, bathed in the golden glow of scattered lamps that cast long shadows on the walls. it feels still—almost serene—until your eyes fall on billie, slouched on the couch like a storm waiting to break. her hoodie is tugged halfway over her head, dark fabric cloaking her features, while her fingers dig into her hair as if trying to pull thoughts free. her jaw is clenched, the sharp line of it catching the light, and her knee bounces in a restless rhythm, a tell of untamed energy searching for release.

the soft shuffle of your steps makes her glance up, her stormy gaze meeting yours. for a fleeting moment, the tension in her eyes eases, her guarded walls thinning as if your presence alone could calm the tempest. but just as quickly as it appears, the warmth fades. she exhales sharply, her lips pressed into a tight line, and turns her face away, retreating from the silent comfort you might offer.

“hey,” you call out softly, your voice a gentle ripple in the charged air. concern blooms in your chest, delicate but insistent, as you step further into her storm. “what’s going on?”

she glances up at you, her blue eyes clouded, the usual spark buried beneath layers of frustration and exhaustion. “nothing. it’s fine.” her words are clipped, brittle, a poor disguise for the weight pressing down on her. the sharpness in her tone, the tight set of her jaw, and the rigid line of her shoulders betray her. she’s unraveling, spiraling into the chaos of a day that’s clearly been too much.

you don’t press her. instead, you step quietly into her space, lowering yourself onto the couch beside her. the silence between you is thick but not unwelcome, a moment to let her gather herself. your hand moves instinctively, resting gently on her bouncing knee. the motion is small but deliberate, your thumb brushing slow, steady circles against her skin. her leg stills under your touch, but she doesn’t turn to look at you. her gaze remains fixed ahead, lost somewhere you can’t follow.

“billie,” you murmur, your voice soft and even, like a thread pulling her back to the present. “i need you to breathe.”

at first, she resists, the huff she lets out carrying a faint edge of defiance. but you don’t push. you stay where you are, leaning just close enough for her to feel the quiet, grounding weight of your presence. slowly, like the tide retreating, her breathing begins to shift. the jagged edges smooth out, each inhale and exhale growing steadier, softer. her shoulders, once drawn tight as a bowstring, begin to ease, the tension melting away bit by bit.

you don’t say anything else. you just stay there, your touch and the unspoken comfort you offer doing all the speaking for you.

once she’s calmer, you reach for her hand, the rough, calloused texture of her fingers grounding against the softness of your own. there’s something soothing in the contrast, a silent exchange of warmth and reassurance. you guide her toward your shared room with unhurried steps, the quiet between you filled only by the soft rustle of fabric and the faint rhythm of your breaths.

once inside, you ease her out of her hoodie, the heavy material slipping from her frame to reveal the tautness still lingering in her posture. replacing it with something softer, you move with care, your fingers brushing her skin in fleeting touches, each one meant to chip away at the tension clinging to her. her guard remains up, her body stiff under your hands, but you’re patient.

she sinks onto the bed with a quiet exhale, her movements deliberate and slow. sitting there, she looks up at you, her brown brows drawn together in confusion. the crease between them feels out of place on her face, a mark of the weight she carries, and that’s exactly where you begin.

your right thumb presses gently to the space between her brows, brushing slow circles there. “relax, baby,” you murmur, minding the delicate edge of your french tips as your left hand cups the side of her neck, your palm warm against her skin. her eyes flutter shut, and her brow smooths under your touch, the tension there melting as if coaxed away by your presence.

“you’re always frowning lately,” you whisper, your voice soft, a tender tease woven into your words. the corner of your lips lifts into a light laugh as your thumbs shift, tracing the sides of her temples with gentle precision. her sigh is barely audible, but it reaches you, a sign of the weight beginning to lift.

she lets her head fall forward, resting against the soft curve of your belly, her face buried in the quiet comfort you offer. your hands slide lower, fingertips grazing the base of her neck, exploring the edges of her tension with care. then, almost instinctively, your nails trace the faint, abstract lines of the tattoo peeking out from beneath her shirt. the designs feel alive beneath your touch, and though her body remains still, the small shift of her breathing tells you she’s beginning to let go.

her hands slide to your sides with unspoken intent, her fingers squeezing your skin gently, as if grounding herself in the moment. a soft moan escapes her lips when your fingers find the knot tucked beneath her skin, your touch firm but deliberate as you knead the tension away. her breath hitches, her body subtly leaning further into you.

"that feel better?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, warm and intimate. she nods slowly, her hair brushing against your shirt with each movement, leaving strands untamed and wild. her lips find your stomach in soft, fleeting kisses-her quiet way of saying thank you without words.

your hands find their way to her cheeks, cradling her face as you gently lift her head so her gaze meets yours once again. her eyelids are heavy, lashes fluttering as her hazy eyes lock onto you. her lips, slightly parted, curve into a small, sleepy smile that sends warmth cascading through you. a faint blush dusts her cheeks, soft pink against the cool tones of her skin, as her gaze turns warm and pleading—a silent invitation, a wordless request for more.

your thumbs move instinctively, stroking slow, rhythmic patterns along the base of her throat and the sides of her neck. her skin feels warm under your touch, and you savor the quiet hum she releases, a low sound of surrender. with another soft moan, she reaches for you, her hands finding their place at the back of your neck as she pulls you closer.

her lips meet yours in a tender collision, slightly chapped but desperate, the press of them catching you off guard enough to draw a quiet gasp from your own. the kiss deepens, her lips enveloping yours with a neediness that feels almost fragile. her tongue swipes along the curve of your lower lip, tasting the sticky sweetness of your gloss. a faint but familiar flavor of honey and vanilla lingers, and she lets out a contented sigh as the taste floods her senses. it's intoxicating—her favorite indulgence—and in typical fashion, she chases it, unable to get enough of you.

breaking the kiss, you pulled back slightly, both of you breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. a delicate string of mixed saliva lingered between your lips, glistening in the low light like an invisible thread, refusing to sever the connection between you. still slightly hunched over her, you gently guided her onto her back, her body sinking into the bed as you crawled over her, the soft weight of your presence making her exhale deeply.

you leaned down, pressing light, lingering kisses along the curve of her cheek, trailing them down to the delicate slope of her collarbone. the gold chain of your necklace swayed with your movements, the small diamond 'B' charm—her initial—dancing above her skin, catching the faint light in its tiny movements.

her hands reached up instinctively, fingers curling around your necklace as though grounding herself in its presence. the cool metal of her own chains slid across her collarbones, clinking softly as they shifted to the side. her grip tugged you closer, and she kissed you again—deeper, slower this time, the desperation tempered by a quiet intimacy.

she was the one to break the kiss this time, her lips parting from yours as she dipped her head into the curve of your neck. her kisses were deliberate but messy, open-mouthed and soft, scattering heat along your skin. your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, delight unfurling in your chest.

but when her lips lingered too long, you gently cupped her jaw, easing her away from your neck with soft insistence. her gaze found yours, her spent, half-lidded eyes searching yours for clarity, a flicker of confusion flashing across her features. you silenced her silent question with a kiss—light and tender, a reassurance of your closeness. her shoulders relaxed beneath you as she melted further into the moment, trusting your pace completely.

"let me take care of you for once," you whisper, your voice a quiet blend of confidence and tenderness. she doesn't argue. instead, she sinks further into the bed, letting her body surrender to your featherlight kisses and gentle caresses, her breaths coming slow and steady beneath your touch.

you start at her stomach, planting soft kisses along her skin, your lips brushing over the smooth, warm surface as you slowly lift her shirt. the fabric gathers in your hands, revealing more of her as you work your way upward, your mouth leaving a trail of heat along her abdomen and up to her chest.

her hands find their way to you, slipping beneath your own shirt. the chill of her rings grazes your skin, stark against your warmth, sending shivers coursing down your spine. her fingers move deliberately, seeking out the band of your bra. when she finds it, she tugs on the strap with a low whine, her silent plea clear in the way she pulls, urging you to shed another layer.

you pause, meeting her gaze for a moment before sitting up to grant her request. your movements are slow, deliberate, as you pull your shirt over your head, letting the soft fabric fall to the side. you're left in your black bra, its cups dusted with subtle, shimmering gems that catch the faint light like tiny stars. the diamond—encrusted clasp at the front glints as it rests against your sternum, adding an almost regal touch to the simplicity of your look.

your golden necklace settles against your chest, the 'B' charm now still against your skin, a quiet symbol of the intimacy you share. the faint contrast between your bra and the black sweatpants you still wear from earlier makes you feel both casual and vulnerable, a quiet kind of beauty that seems to captivate her. her eyes trace over you with a mix of admiration and hunger, and though her lips remain parted in silence, her body speaks volumes in the way her hands move instinctively to pull you closer again.

her eyes flickered to the fresh ink adorning your right side, the design still vivid against your skin. curiosity flashed across her features, but before she could fully register the image, your lips were back on her stomach, trailing heat along her sternum. your fingers moved deftly, slipping up to cup her right breast through the fabric of her bra, your touch firm yet deliberate. the faint graze of your belly ring against hers drew a sharp intake of breath from her, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating between you.

her hands returned to your sides, her grip tightening as her fingers sank into your skin, eliciting a slight furrow of your brows at the intensity, still, you didn't pause. instead, your hands moved to the hem of her shirt, easing it up and over her head, the fabric sliding away to reveal her bare shoulders. her hair spilled messily onto the pillow beneath her as your fingers worked quickly at the clasp of her bra, the tension snapping free with a practiced ease.

with the last barrier gone, you leaned back into her, your lips finding hers in a kiss that was slower this time, more deliberate. her hand slid up to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, her fingers tugging just enough to send a pleasant shiver down your spine. her other hand rested on your hip, pulling you closer as though the space between you was unbearable.

your knees pressed into the bedding for balance, the soft mattress sinking under your weight as you tried not to topple onto her completely. the thought of it—of gracelessly falling and squishing her-flashed through your mind, and an involuntary giggle slipped past your lips. the sound broke the moment just enough to lighten the air, the vibration of your laugh brushing against her lips.

the corner of her mouth quirked up in response, and a faint moan escaped her, the sound low and rough as if pulled from the deepest part of her. her hands tightened their grip on you, her body arching slightly, and you could feel the soft hum of amusement mixing with the heat between you. it was intimate, raw, and completely her—a moment where even the smallest things felt like a quiet kind of magic.

you refocus, your gaze drifting to her chest before leaning down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses around her left areola. the heat of your breath lingers on her skin, and her body reacts with a subtle arch beneath you. finally, your lips close around her nipple, your tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles over the pink bud. her taste is faintly salty, her skin warm as it yields under your mouth.

your free hand moves to her right breast, fingers molding over the soft curve as you begin to gently roll her other nipple between your fingertips. the contrast of sensations—the warmth of your mouth and the coolness of your touch—draws a shaky sigh from her lips.

"mm-fuck," she breathes, her voice low and rough as her head falls back against the pillow. her neck stretches, exposing the delicate line of her throat, her body surrendering fully beneath you. the sound of her voice sends a rush of warmth through you, and you can't help but smile against her skin.

you switch sides, your lips finding her other nipple as you repeat your actions, tongue flicking and swirling with the same deliberate care. the soft, wet sounds of your movements fill the quiet, her breath hitching with each flick of your tongue.

when you finally let go, it's with a light, teasing pop, the faint suction leaving her skin glistening. your lips curve into a smile as you glance up at her, her chest heaving with each shallow breath, her lashes fluttering as she blinks hazily down at you. there's something intoxicating about seeing her like this— completely undone, her vulnerability offered to you with quiet trust.

lifting yourself up slightly, you shift your focus lower, your lips trailing a delicate path back down her stomach. your fingertips follow close behind, the tips of your nails ghosting over her skin as they trace lazy figure eights along her abdomen. her muscles tense and quiver under your touch, a subtle but telling reaction to the sensations you're leaving in your wake.

as you reach the waistband of her grey sweatpants, your hands settle on either side of her hips. your thumbs begin to draw slow, teasing circles on her pelvic bones, the pressure just light enough to make her body squirm. her breath hitches, and the quiet desperation in her movements only draws a soft smile from your lips.

"please," she whispers, the word so faint it's almost lost in the shallow rise and fall of her chest. but you catch it—her voice trembling with raw need, vulnerability spilling out in that single syllable.

"hm?" you hum softly, your tone low and teasing as your eyes flick upward to meet hers. your eyebrows arch in playful curiosity, your movements never faltering as your thumbs continue their lazy strokes. her blue eyes lock onto yours, heavy-lidded and pleading, the kind of gaze that could bring you to your knees if you weren't already so close.

you tilt your head slightly, your lips curling into a faint smirk as if to say, you're going to have to say that again. her chest rises sharply, her mouth opening, but no words come out-just another shaky exhale as her hands clutch the bedding beneath her. the tension in the air between you feels electric, her silent plea only making you take your time, savoring every second of her unraveling.

"please, please. i-i need you," she stammers, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush, her usual confidence completely stripped away. the rawness in her voice stirs something deep inside you, a thrill at the vulnerability she's offering. her cheeks are flushed, the soft pink hue spreading across her skin, and her eyes are wide, pupils blown with need, the blue of her irises almost swallowed by the intensity of her desire.

you know your teasing is torture for her, and the thought only excites you more. her body reacts instinctively, hips arching up into yours in a desperate attempt to create some friction. but you're prepared for it. without missing a beat, your palm moves to her hip bone, pushing her gently but firmly back down onto the bed, holding her in place. the contrast of her warm skin against your hand sends a thrill through you, the subtle pressure making her whimper beneath you.

her breath quickens, and for a moment, the air between you is thick with tension. she looks up at you, eyes heavy and pleading, her chest heaving with each shallow breath. you can see the fight in her—the way her body yearns for more, yet she remains completely at your mercy. And, for the moment, you intend to savor every second of it.

“my baby wants me here?” you taunt as you cup her cunt, rubbing her slightly through the material of her sweatpants.

“yes, please..." she breathes out with need, her voice trembling, chest rising and falling erratically under your touch. the sound of her desperation echoes in your ears, and it stirs something deep within you.

you can feel the intensity building between you, and as much as you've enjoyed the teasing, you decide it's time to stop. with a slow, deliberate motion, you untie the string of her sweatpants, fingers brushing the soft fabric as you slide them down her plush thighs, savoring the curve of her skin under your touch.

not bothering to remove her panties entirely, you simply shift them to the side, your fingers grazing over the delicate lace as you expose her. the soft warmth of her sex meets the cool air, a delicate shiver running through her body at the sudden change. she lets out a sharp gasp, her back arching slightly as the coolness of the air kisses her skin, her body reacting instantly to the touch.

"look at that," you coo softly, your voice a low hum of satisfaction as you slide your left middle finger down her slit, coating it with her essence. the warmth and wetness of her response leaves you feeling a rush of anticipation, each movement slow and deliberate, savoring every second.

"oh-god," she breathes, sucking in a sharp breath as her eyes flutter, hazy with desire. she watches you through half-lidded eyes, her gaze fixed on your every movement, her chest rising and falling with shallow, erratic breaths. the sight of you biting your lip, the concentration in your expression, seems to send a shiver down her spine.

your finger moves languidly, tracing her slit with unhurried precision, the subtle pressure and teasing rhythm making her hips twitch slightly in response. each brush against her sensitive skin is calculated, drawing out her reactions, leaving her a little more undone with every passing second.

"my baby's so wet for me." you whisper, your voice thick with desire. she nods in agreement, her breath shallow and quick.

"yes, so wet just for you. my god, please," she pleads, the words slipping from her lips with a sense of urgency.

and you obliged, slowly entering your index into her, being mindful to not poke her. you take a slow, deliberate moment, allowing her to adjust to your touch. the atmosphere between you crackles with tension as you fingered her while your thumb rubbed against her clit simultaneously. every movement measured, every breath shared. your fingers trace a gentle path, mindful and careful, as you draw closer to the feeling of complete connection.

"mmm-you're so sensitive, my love," you whisper softly, the words leaving your lips like a caress, your voice thick with satisfaction. her hands find their way back into the roots of your hair, fingers threading through the strands, pulling you closer as her grip tightens, a silent plea for more.

you quicken your movements in response, white rings of her cum forming around your fingers as you continue. your fingers pressing into her with a steadier rhythm, each stroke drawing a louder gasp from her lips. her breath comes in shallow, uneven bursts, her voice a tangled mess of words and moans, a symphony of pleasure that mixes with the desperation in her tone. each sound she makes only drives you further, urging you to keep going, to bring her closer to the edge.

bucking her hips into your fingers, she lets out a soft whine, the sound trembling in the air as your movements begin to slow, the shift in rhythm intensifying her frustration. her body is aching, needy, and she craves more, her fingers still tangled in your hair as she pulls you closer, urging you to keep going.

"please, don't stop—please," she pleads, her voice breaking with desperation, the words escaping in a breathless rush. her eyes are wide and pleading, filled with a raw vulnerability that pulls at something deep inside you. she's unraveling beneath your touch, and she can't seem to hold herself together any longer.

"i'm not, baby, just wait," you console, your voice gentle but firm as you slowly withdraw your fingers from her.

she watches you with spent eyes, her chest rising and falling unevenly, her lips parted as she tries to catch her breath. you take a moment to untie the string of your sweatpants, the fabric slipping down your hips as you shimmy them off, leaving yourself in nothing but a pair of black panties. the movement gives her a better view of your new tattoo, a pair of delicate hummingbirds perched around a cherry blossom tree. the ink swirls across your skin, the rest disappearing into your back in an intricate design.

her fingers reach for the fresh ink, the cool touch of her rings against your skin sending a soft shiver through you. you gasp quietly as she traces the delicate lines of your tattoo, her touch both tender and reverent.

"pretty." she whispers, the word slipping from her lips like a quiet reverence, her gaze lingering on the fresh ink as if she were memorizing every detail.

you lean down to kiss her once more, her lips swollen and red, still slightly parted from the intensity of your previous kisses. the taste of her lingers on your tongue as you move, savoring the way her breath catches against your lips.

your fingers move with purpose, slipping under the waistband of her panties, the fabric soft against your fingertips as you slowly slide them off, exposing her to you fully. you do the same for yourself, sliding your own panties down, the fabric brushing against your skin before they're discarded onto the floor.

with a slow, deliberate movement, you align yourself with her, your body hovering just above hers, a breath away from the contact both of you are craving. the air between you is thick with anticipation, your heart pounding in your chest as you pause, just for a moment, to savor the closeness.

both of you breathed out a moan as you rubbed your pussy against hers, her cum sliding on your skin while you grinded on her slowly.

her hands rest on your waist, fingers digging lightly into your back as her hips buck up to meet yours, the throbbing pressure between you intensifying, desperate for more friction. the heat between your bodies is palpable, and her urgency makes your pulse race.

reaching down, your fingers gently grip the side of her neck, your thumb brushing lightly back and forth over her lip. she opens her mouth, eager, and latches onto your thumb, her movements slow at first, then gradually faster, bobbing her head up and down as she tastes you. her tongue swirls around your skin, the roughness of it contrasting sharply with the smooth glide of your acrylic nails, sending a shiver through you.

she lets go with a soft plop, her lips lingering against your thumb before it returns to rest against her lip, her eyes heavy with desire, a silent invitation for more.

you grazed your finger over her pink lips, the softness of her skin a stark contrast to the heat of the moment, before you gently turned her head to the right. the body mirror on the wall caught your eye, framed in sleek black, reflecting every intimate detail. you could see everything—the way her body reacted to your touch, the slight tremble in her breath, the hunger in her eyes.

"fuck—look at my pretty baby. you're so beautiful when you're not overthinking," you murmur, brushing your thumb tenderly over her jaw, your voice thick with admiration and desire.

sure, you'd fucked in front of mirrors before, the reflections always a part of the experience, but this time it was different. this time, she was beneath you, her body writhing with pleasure, and you couldn't help but drink in the sight of her. every movement, every subtle shift of her body, only made you love her more. you were lost in the moment, savoring every second of this connection, this intimacy, this power dynamic.

billie watched the both of you in the mirror, her hands resting on your thighs, both of your tattoos visible as you moved over her. your belly piercing swayed with each movement, the delicate clink of your bracelet, necklace, and anklets adding a soft rhythm to the moment. the sight of you above her, being so tender, so focused on her, was enough for billie to release the tension she'd been holding.

“ma, i’m gonna—” she hiccuped out as she orgasmed, her cum hot and warm as she released her built up pressure.

"i know, baby, i know." you coo softly, your voice low and soothing, as your hands find hers. the cool band of your promise ring clinks gently against her own, a quiet reminder of the bond between you. you keep your rhythm steady, guiding her through the waves of her release, feeling her pulse beneath your touch as you hover on the edge of your own. the tension in your body builds, the electric connection between you both drawing closer to its peak.

your movements come to a slow halt as you lean down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her head, before trailing light, almost reverent kisses along her flushed cheek. with a contented sigh, billie collapses fully into the sheets, her body surrendering to the moment as her eyes flutter closed, savoring the warmth of your presence, the lingering touch of you on her skin.

as billie's breathing evens out, soft and steady, you gently shift your weight, easing off of her. her hands fall limp at her sides, the faint tremor of the moment still lingering in her fingers. you take one of her hands in yours, brushing your lips softly over her palm, savoring the quiet intimacy between you. her eyes slowly flutter open, the exhaustion from her release softening her features. a slow, sleepy smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she gazes up at you, her expression a mix of peace and satisfaction, as if the world beyond the two of you has faded into a distant hum.

“don’t move,” you murmur, your voice soft but firm. she nods, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion as she watches you, too tired to protest. you lean over, gently tucking a blanket from behind her over her body, picking up her oversized t-shirt from earlier and tugging it onto your body—leaving her bare beneath the cool blanket, before slipping into the connecting bathroom.

the bathroom is dimly lit, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a calming ambiance as you move with quiet intention. you plug the bath drain, the gentle sound of water beginning to fill the basin, creating a peaceful rhythm in the otherwise still air.

reaching under the sink, your fingers brushed against the cool glass bottle of lavender epsom salt. with a soft sigh, you unscrew the cap and sprinkle it generously into the tub, watching as the grains dissolve, leaving a faint shimmer in the water, releasing their calming scent.

you then grab a handful of delicate lavender flower petals, their purple hue soft and delicate, letting them slip from your fingers as you scatter them over the surface of the water, the soft fragrance mixing with the warm steam in the air. next, you reach for a bottle of soap, squeezing a generous amount into the growing pool, and watch as the water turns a soft, inviting shade of milky white. you swirl your hand in the water, stirring it gently, creating soft bubbles that float lazily to the surface, the scent of lavender and vanilla hanging in the air, blending perfectly with the warmth that’s beginning to envelope the room.

reaching into a drawer, your fingers graze the familiar coolness of the lighter, the flickering flame catching the night’s stillness. you carefully light a few candles, setting them on the smooth, black marble base of the bathtub. their gentle glow dances in the dim room, casting soft shadows that seem to whisper secrets. the warm scent of vanilla rises in the air, mingling with the calming lavender, creating a quiet, tranquil atmosphere. with a contented breath, you turn back towards the door, ready to return to her.

when you return to the bedroom, she’s just where you left her—curled beneath the sheets, the rhythm of her breathing slow and steady, a soft lullaby that pulls at your heart. “billie…” you murmur, your voice a tender thread that weaves through the silence. your fingertips trace shapes across her cheek, the touch delicate, coaxing her from the realm of dreams.

“hmm?” her voice is soft, dreamy, as if the weight of sleep lingers in her words.

“come on, love, time to get cleaned up,” you whisper, your eyes finding hers. her blue gaze flickers open, the haze of sleep softening into a warm, sleepy smile at the sight of you. she meets your eyes with a quiet, trusting warmth, her features bathed in the soft glow of the candles.

she hums, barely audible, “okay,” her voice a sigh of surrender, her body pliant as you gently guide her up. there’s no resistance, only a quiet trust as you lead her towards the bathroom, her steps slow and uncertain, but still, she follows. the warmth you’ve prepared beckons, and she lets you carry her there, one step at a time, beneath the soft weight of the night.

“you didn’t have to do all this,” she whispers, her voice soft and hoarse, a trace of vulnerability lacing her words as you gently sit her in the tub, the warmth of the water surrounding her like a soft embrace.

you smile, the touch of your thumb against her cheek tender, as if trying to soothe away every ounce of weariness. “yes, i did. you deserve it,” you murmur, your words a quiet promise. reaching for a black hair tie, you gather her hair into a loose bun, fingers brushing the strands with care. you press a gentle kiss to her forehead before you step away.

you move quickly, the rhythm of the evening pulling you in its quiet flow. downstairs, you wash your hands, then start the water for pasta, the soft hiss of it filling the silence. you make your way to the linen closet, pulling out fresh sheets and a soft comforter, the fabric cool against your fingers. replacing the old with the new, the bed now seems like an invitation, waiting.

you dig through your drawers, gathering pajamas for both of you, and return to the bathroom, where she sits waiting for you. her eyes follow your movements, a small smile curving her lips as you shed your shirt, your skin exposed to the dim light. she shifts, making room for you behind her, her fingers absently playing with the delicate purple petals floating in the water.

the candlelight dances around her, casting a soft glow across her face, and for a moment, she looks like something from a dream—beautiful, ethereal, a goddess bathed in warmth. everything in this quiet moment feels like it has slowed to match the rhythm of your heart, and you’re grateful for the stillness, for her.

as you settle into the warmth of the bath, billie leans back, her head gently resting against your chest, the two of you melting together in the soft embrace of the water. your legs, tangled beneath the surface, form a quiet connection, grounded in the silence between you. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are the soft crackle of the candle flames, a steady whisper in the room, and the occasional ripple of water as your feet shift, the delicate sound of your anklets grazing against the porcelain tub.

you let your fingers wander, tracing light patterns along her arms, the movements slow and tender, as if giving her space to breathe, to gather her thoughts. patience is something you’ve always had for her—something she’s always admired. even in the tense, unspoken moments, you remain still, waiting for her to speak when she’s ready.

after some time, she sighs, a soft exhale of air that carries the weight of everything unspoken. her voice, when it comes, is quiet but steady, the vulnerability in it a tenderness that wraps around you. “it’s not just the project,” she confesses, her words fragile but honest. “i feel like i’m always trying to prove myself, like no matter what i do, it’s never enough. and then i think about what people expect from me, and it’s just… a lot.”

her voice fades softly, her heart laid bare, and in that silence, you hold her, letting her feel your steady presence as she breathes through the weight of her words.

you hum softly, the sound a gentle lullaby, and press a kiss to her temple, a moment of quiet connection between you both. with a tender motion, your left arm drapes over her, and she nestles into it, resting her head on your forearm. her fingers graze your skin, tracing the delicate cursive lines of the tattoo that wraps around it, each stroke of her touch like an intimate conversation between her and the ink.

“i get it,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing, a soft breath against the stillness of the room. “you’ve got so much on your shoulders, but you are enough. i don’t ever want you to think otherwise. but i need you to know—you don’t have to carry it all alone. i’m here, okay? whenever you need me, just let me know.”

she nods, a small, quiet movement, and her legs shift, resting gently over yours beneath the water. her fingers curl around yours, pulling them into her touch, tracing the new french tips on your nails with a delicate reverence. “i know. and i don’t say it enough, but… i’m really grateful for you. for this. i don’t think i could get through half of this without you.”

her words flutter around your heart, soft and tender, and something inside you swells—something warm and full, as though the weight of everything between you is lightened in that moment. you pull her closer, holding her a little tighter, as if to make sure she knows that, in this world, she is never alone.

as the water cools, you gently lift her from the tub, your hands moving with the same tenderness that has defined the night. wrapping her in a soft towel, you dry her skin, each motion slow, careful—treating her like something precious, like a secret only you know. the faint scent of lavender lingers on her skin as you moisturize her body, the warmth of your hands gliding over her, bringing her back to the moment.

with a soft hum, you dress her in the fresh pajamas you’d brought in earlier, each fabric fold smoothing over her skin like an act of quiet love. reaching for a brush, you run it through her damp hair, each stroke almost meditative, before weaving it into two neat french braids, the rhythm of your fingers threading through her hair like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

once you’ve dressed yourself, you lead her downstairs, her hand finding yours as you move. at the kitchen island, she sits, watching you with soft eyes as you finish preparing dinner. the soft clink of utensils and the rhythmic chop of vegetables fills the space, but the most prominent sound is the ease of your conversation, light and easy, as you tell her about your day—about the small moments, the little victories, and the quiet things that mattered. she listens, her gaze never leaving you, her hands folded in her lap, tracing the soft lines of your self-care routine with a quiet reverence.

when dinner is ready, you turn off the stove, and with a practiced hand, plate the pasta, the steam rising like a promise. you sprinkle it with cheese before presenting it to her with a quiet smile. you settle into the chair next to hers, a chuckle slipping from your lips as she pulls the leg of your chair closer to her own, the movement playful, the connection simple, but full of a thousand unspoken words. the evening, now wrapped in warmth, feels like the calm after a storm—everything settled, everything right.

billie curls into your side, her body fitting against yours like it was always meant to be this way. her head rests gently on your chest, the soft rhythm of your heartbeat the only sound that matters as she takes small bites of her food, the warmth of her breath mingling with the quiet hum of the evening. “you really take care of me,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsiness, each word a delicate confession.

you smile, a tender curve of your lips, and trace gentle lines up her side with your fingers, the motion almost hypnotic. “and i always will. you’ve got nothing to worry about tonight.”

a contented sigh escapes her, and she sinks even deeper into your embrace, the weight of her body relaxing against you, her warmth becoming a part of you. she feels the truth of your words settle within her, like a quiet promise. she loves you, and in loving you, she has found something so rare and precious—something she never wants to lose. being loved by you is the safest place she’s ever known.

in this moment, she understands something profound: that no matter the distance or the storm, you’ll always find your way back to each other. and just as surely, she knows she’ll always be there for you, too.

astrc’s tag list: hit my asks saying “add to taglist” if you want to be on my regular taglist for all billie content!

[likeamaya]

can i just say that as someone who got interested in the sonic universe only after the movies i LOVED the series?

seriously i read SO MANY complaints about the series from sonic’s fans and they make it sound so damn serious.

it was fun, it was nice and most importantly we got to see knuckles having fun and getting friends with wade and his family.

LOOK AT HIM. THE DEFINITION OF CUTENESS.

he has always been on the run, he has been ALL ALONE since his father and whole tribe died. he is not used to a normal, peaceful life. and he obviously feels overwhelmed because, despite sonic and the wachowski’s best intentions, they simply can’t understand how strange and different this all is for him.

and thanks to wade he got to feel a bit more comfortable and carefree. wade didn’t tell him what he was supposed to do to get accostumed to earth. instead, he showed him how much fun it could be if he let his guard down. and so knuckles got to act silly and open up to someone who, despite the obvious differences, he could relate to.

so yeah, there obviously were times in which i was like “where the heck is me boy?”.

but when i read people defining the series as “ridiculous” or “trash” i get pissed. it was good enough, sonic’s veteran fans gotta chill.

ALSO

she called him “one of her kids”. KNUCKLES WACHOWSKI CONFIRMED. WE KEEP ON WINNING Y’ALL.

[mya-valentine]

Hi :D! Can I request Kinich with an s/o that is pure innocent and always see the good in other, to the point she doesn't mind Ajaw behavior, despite his awful behavior she thinks that he's cute and naively thought whenever he interrupt their date it's just Ajaw wanting attention or thought he's jealous because she stole Kinich away from him, spoiling Kinich's saurian with some affection like giving him juice to calm him down so she and Kinich can enjoy their date peacefully. Even if Ajaw insult her she just thought he's cute and not offended, jokingly said that Ajaw is like their child.

Soft Hearts and Sharp Tongues: A Date with Kinich and Ajaw

It was another sunny afternoon in the lush forests of Natlan, where the air smelled like blooming flowers and the wind carried a gentle, comforting warmth. You had been looking forward to this day all week—a special date with Kinich. He had promised to take you to a secluded spot near a riverbank, where the trees formed a natural canopy, casting dappled sunlight on the grassy floor. It sounded perfect, peaceful, and just the kind of place where you could enjoy each other’s company, away from the usual hustle of daily life.

As you walked alongside Kinich, your fingers intertwined with his, you felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment. His stoic demeanor always made you feel safe, and you loved the way his soft gaze warmed only for you. His protector's instincts kicked in often, but today was supposed to be just about the two of you.

Except… there was Ajaw.

The moment you and Kinich had sat down on the soft blanket by the riverbank, a loud, familiar voice disrupted the tranquility.

"Look at you two, playing house again, huh?" Ajaw barked, his grating tone unmistakable. "Kinich, I can't believe you're wasting your time here."

You smiled warmly, not at all phased by the interruption. You adored Kinich’s companion, despite his crude and unruly behavior. While most people were put off by Ajaw’s loud mouth and constant sarcasm, you always saw something different—a creature who needed a little love, a little attention. Maybe he was just misunderstood.

"Ajaw!" you greeted him cheerfully, waving your hand like you were seeing an old friend. "It’s nice to see you! Would you like to join us?"

Kinich let out a sigh, visibly tensing. He had hoped Ajaw wouldn’t find you two today. "Ignore him," Kinich murmured softly to you, squeezing your hand slightly. "He’s just being… himself."

But you shook your head, unbothered. "I think he just wants some attention. Maybe he’s jealous I stole you away for the day?" You giggled innocently, oblivious to the look of disbelief that passed between Kinich and Ajaw.

"Jealous? Of you?" Ajaw scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Please. Don’t flatter yourself, girl. It’s more like I’m disgusted by the nauseating display of sweetness you two are putting on."

Your smile never faltered. In fact, you leaned in closer to Ajaw, as if trying to offer him some comfort. "Well, maybe you just need some juice to calm down!" you said, reaching into the picnic basket and handing him a small bottle of fruit juice. "It’s really refreshing. Here, drink this, and you’ll feel better."

Ajaw blinked, clearly caught off guard by your gesture. "Juice? I don’t need your pity juice," he snarled, though his words lacked the usual venom. It was as if he was momentarily confused by your kindness.

"Oh, come on, Ajaw, you’re like a little kid when you’re upset," you teased, eyes gleaming with amusement. "It’s like we’re your parents, and you’re our grumpy little child."

Kinich shot you a look of mild horror, and Ajaw’s face contorted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Child? You dare call the great—"

But you laughed, cutting him off. "I think it’s cute. You’re just misunderstood, and that’s okay! We all need love in different ways."

Ajaw was flabbergasted. How could you be so… unbothered? How could you look at his insults and see something cute? "You’re either incredibly naive or just plain stupid," he growled, clearly trying to regain his usual sharp edge.

"Neither!" you chirped, taking a sip of your own juice. "I just think you and Kinich are close. You don’t mean half the things you say, do you?"

Kinich ran a hand down his face, torn between amusement and exasperation. "[Name]," he started cautiously, "Ajaw isn’t… exactly the affectionate type. Don’t read too much into his behavior."

But you just smiled up at Kinich, your eyes bright with an optimism that seemed unshakable. "I know he’s rough around the edges, but I think deep down, he’s just trying to protect you in his own way. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it properly, but I get it."

Ajaw’s feathers ruffled. "Protect him? The only thing I’m protecting him from is the mistake of spending his life with someone who doesn’t know when to shut up."

You just laughed again, unoffended as usual. "You’re so funny, Ajaw! You act so tough, but I know you’re secretly sweet. You’re just too proud to admit it."

Kinich couldn’t help but chuckle at your words, shaking his head slightly. "You’re too kind for your own good, you know that?" he murmured to you, though there was a deep affection in his tone.

As the afternoon went on, you and Kinich tried to enjoy your picnic, but Ajaw continued to linger nearby, throwing sarcastic comments your way. Every time he tried to insult you, though, you would respond with kindness or a lighthearted joke, completely disarming him.

You even offered him some of the fruit you had packed, much to Kinich’s amusement and Ajaw’s growing irritation. But strangely enough, Ajaw never left. He stayed within earshot, occasionally making snide remarks but never actually leaving you two alone. It was almost as if he wanted to be part of the day, even if he would never admit it.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape, you leaned your head against Kinich’s shoulder, smiling contentedly. "This was a perfect day," you said softly.

Kinich wrapped an arm around you, his lips brushing the top of your head. "I’m glad you think so. Even with… certain interruptions," he added with a pointed glance at Ajaw, who was still nearby, pretending not to care.

You glanced at Ajaw, your heart full of warmth. "Oh, come on, Kinich. He’s like family. You’ll see—one day, he’ll appreciate me."

Ajaw made a gagging noise in the background, but you only smiled wider. "Right, Ajaw?" you called out playfully.

"Over my dead body," he growled back.

You giggled softly, unbothered by his hostility. "Maybe tomorrow I’ll bring you some different juice," you mused. "You’ll like that, right?"

Ajaw glared at you, pixels puffed out in irritation. But for a brief moment—just a fleeting second—there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to grow on him.

"Whatever," Ajaw muttered, turning away. "You two make me sick."

But as he floated off, you and Kinich exchanged amused glances. You knew better. Ajaw would be back tomorrow, grumpy as ever, but maybe—just maybe—a little less resistant to the idea of being part of your unconventional little family.

For now, though, you were content to rest in Kinich’s arms, the peaceful river flowing beside you and the sunset painting the sky in warm hues. Despite Ajaw’s interruptions, today had been perfect, just as you had hoped. And, in your heart, you believed that even Ajaw was starting to feel the love.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[mintyys-blog]

Hi loved ur zatanna, and raven inspired reader so much ✨️ 💗. I wanted to ask if you could please do a x-men storm inspired reader. On how she met main mark and how they're relationship came to be. 😘😘

THUNDERSTRUCK — mark grayson x storm! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST

Y/N had always known that her powers were not something that could be easily hidden. She was different. Her ability to manipulate the weather—control the skies, summon storms, and even influence the very atmosphere around her—was a force to be reckoned with. But she had learned to control it, to understand that balance was key. As a young woman, she had faced many battles, some literal and others more internal, but one thing she had never anticipated was finding a place where she truly belonged.

It happened one day when Mark Grayson—better known as Invincible—had arrived in her city. A young hero, just starting to make a name for himself, he was everything Y/N had heard about: strong, determined, and, in many ways, a bit reckless. But it was his heart, his genuine desire to help others, that caught her attention.

The first time they met, it was during an unexpected storm. A group of villains had descended on the city, threatening to cause destruction with no regard for anyone’s safety. Y/N had tried to keep the storm contained, but the chaos of the attack pushed her to the edge of her control. Lightning crackled in the sky, winds howled violently, and the very air seemed to press down on the streets like a suffocating weight.

In the middle of this, Mark appeared—his bright, determined figure cutting through the chaos. At first, Y/N wasn’t sure what to think. He wasn’t quite like the others she had seen—he had a naivety about him, a sense of optimism that almost felt out of place in the midst of such destruction. But as he fought alongside her, saving civilians and holding back the villains, she began to see something else in him: someone who wasn’t just fighting to win, but fighting to protect.

Their battle was brutal, but together they defeated the villains. Afterward, as the skies began to clear and the storm started to subside, Mark turned to Y/N with a grin. “That was amazing! You really know how to control the weather,” he said, his voice filled with admiration.

Y/N smiled, her usual cool demeanor still intact, though she couldn’t help the small spark of curiosity. “It’s not all about control,” she said. “Sometimes, the storm just… needs to be unleashed.”

Mark laughed, a sound that made her feel something she hadn’t in a long time: warmth. “I get that. But you definitely know how to handle it.”

From that moment, they started to spend more time together. At first, it was casual—fighting side by side, helping one another with their respective challenges. But there was a connection between them, one that neither could ignore. Mark was kind-hearted, but there was also a strength to him that Y/N respected. She had been wary of relationships before—her powers and the dangers that came with them made intimacy difficult. But Mark, despite his own struggles and responsibilities as Invincible, never judged her for her abilities. In fact, he embraced them.

As their friendship turned into something more, Y/N found herself feeling like she was finally able to let down her guard. Mark, in his own quiet way, made her believe that she could have both love and her power, that she didn’t have to choose one over the other.

Their relationship grew stronger, not just because of their shared battles, but because of the respect and trust they had for each other. When they stood together, whether in the heart of a storm or in the aftermath of a battle, they were unstoppable. Y/N’s powers became a symbol of their connection—a reminder that no matter how turbulent life got, they could weather any storm, together.

And so, through the chaos of their world, Mark and Y/N found their peace in one another. A relationship forged through understanding, strength, and the willingness to embrace the power they both held—together.

As time went on, Mark and Y/N’s bond deepened. The chaos of their world seemed to follow them, but there was something about facing it with someone who truly understood the weight of it all that made things easier. Mark had his own struggles—being a superhero, trying to balance his duties, and dealing with the responsibility of living up to his father’s legacy. But Y/N saw something different in him: a person who fought not for fame or glory, but because he genuinely wanted to make the world a better place.

One evening, after a particularly grueling battle, the two found themselves atop a building overlooking the city. Y/N had calmed the storm she had unintentionally created in her frustration with the fight, but the winds were still strong, her senses alert to everything around them. Mark, on the other hand, was tired, his suit battered from the fight, but his smile never wavered.

“How do you do it?” Y/N asked, her voice soft but curious. “How do you keep going, no matter how hard it gets?”

Mark’s expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. Then, he turned to her, his eyes steady and sincere. “Because I know there’s always a chance to make things right. No matter how many times I fall, there’s always another chance to stand up again. And besides,” he added with a grin, “there’s something about fighting alongside you that makes everything feel… worth it.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time. She had always been guarded, keeping others at arm’s length to avoid the inevitable pain of losing them. But with Mark, she found herself opening up in ways she hadn’t expected. He didn’t push her to change or become someone she wasn’t. Instead, he accepted her as she was—the calm in her storms and the fury she sometimes couldn’t control.

One night, as they sat together beneath the stars, Mark took a step closer, his hand brushing against hers. “I don’t know what the future holds for us,” he said quietly, “but I know that I want to face it with you. You’ve changed the way I see everything.”

Y/N turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart racing for a moment. “And what if things get… complicated?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if we can’t handle it?”

Mark’s expression was unwavering, a quiet confidence radiating from him. “Then we’ll face it together. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone. Not when I’m here.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had never allowed herself to trust anyone like this before, never allowed herself to believe that someone could truly stand by her, no matter what. But with Mark, she felt that pull, that undeniable connection that told her maybe—just maybe—there was a future for them. A future where she didn’t have to fight alone.

Their relationship was put to the test, though. As much as they supported one another, the dangers of their world were ever-present. One day, a new villain appeared—one whose power seemed to match Y/N’s in ways that unsettled her. This new enemy could manipulate the elements, creating storms of her own, and for the first time, Y/N found herself struggling to control her abilities.

The battle that ensued was fierce, with both women unleashing devastating forces on each other. Y/N’s mastery over the weather was challenged, and for a moment, she thought she might lose control. But Mark was there, as always, fighting beside her. He kept the villain distracted, giving Y/N the time she needed to regain her focus.

When it was over, and the villain had been defeated, Y/N collapsed into Mark’s arms, exhausted and overwhelmed. The storm within her had settled, but the emotional aftermath was still swirling in her mind.

Mark’s voice was calm, steady, as he gently stroked her hair. “You did it. You didn’t let her win.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude and something deeper. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve always been there when I needed you.”

Mark smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Always. We’re a team, remember?”

From that point on, their relationship took on a new depth. They weren’t just partners in the battle against evil—they were partners in life, supporting one another through every challenge, every obstacle. Y/N learned to trust Mark with her heart, just as he trusted her with his. They fought for each other, for their city, and for a future where they didn’t have to face the storms alone.

In the quiet moments between battles, Mark and Y/N found solace in each other. Whether it was sharing a peaceful evening under the stars or simply sitting together in silence, their bond grew stronger. They knew the world was far from perfect, but with each other, they found a sense of balance that kept them grounded.

As their relationship deepened, so did their understanding of one another’s powers. Y/N taught Mark how to tap into the forces of nature in subtle ways, while Mark’s unshakable optimism became a steady anchor for Y/N during her most turbulent moments. Together, they proved that no matter how fierce the storm, love could be the calm in the eye of it all.

[adieutristana]

Can you write fic about Isha and Jinx where Jinx accidentally saying Isha that she loves her. I mean without reader at all. And Isha x Jinx are platonic ofc. You can ignore that req, I just think it might be cute

of course! thank you for the request <3

rebel yell by billy idol on repeat rn

summary; jinx accidentally telling isha that she loves you while you’re away.

characters included; jinx (romantic), isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; fluff, early relationship, mother/mother/daughter dynamic, reader isn’t present until the end

men dni.

"hey, pass me that screwdriver, would you? no- yes, that one."

ever the little helper, isha is. while you're out making an honest living at one of the local shops, jinx is keeping herself occupied with a new experiment. trying to see how far she can push those little hex crystals. just how much power can they provide? when is the breaking point if there even is one?

jinx didn't know the first thing about children when she first found the little girl in an alleyway. she didn't know how to interact with them, especially not how to take care of one, yet over time it became second nature to her. one of the most crucial things she'd learned while caring for isha is that kids want to feel useful.

simply asking her to hold something or fetch her a spare part kept the girl happy, so she'd made it a point to include isha in her (less dangerous) experiments. seeing her wide eyes light up when told she was doing a good job and seeing her content just to organize spare parts brought jinx more joy, more peace than she could describe.

but the time seems to drag on. you're supposed to be back at the hideout in thirty minutes tops, but jinx has never been a patient woman. she'd be with you every second of every day if she could, but she knows that's not possible. so she'll settle for trying to distract herself. isha glances over at the wall clock as well, then back at jinx. she can’t read words yet, but she knows numbers.

"i know, kid. it won't be much longer."

a pout forms on isha’s face, but she doesn’t move from her spot beside jinx.

“oh, come on. don’t give me that look.”

each minute stretches while jinx continues looking at the clock, even through welding metal and sketching over blueprints. usually you’d be here taking notes for her, but you’re not. she’d ask isha, but the little girl couldn’t read or write yet, and jinx isn’t the person to ask to teach a child literacy.

it should be about twenty minutes now. jinx tries to picture it: you talking to a customer, taking their payment with that polite smile on your face. using your ‘customer service voice’ as she called it, but glancing down at your wrist watch. you’re always eager to get back, you tell her. customers tire you out. she knows you, knows that you’re eager to get back to your little family.

she lets out a dramatic, long-winded huff and sits back in her chair. sparks keep flying through the air, but this is boring. jinx swivels around in her chair to where isha is sitting, ruffling her fluffy hair in an attempt to distract herself. fifteen minutes, tops. you’re probably wrapping up with final customers now, though it’s rush time. someone else would be coming in to cover soon, you’d take your apron off and bolt out the door towards jinx’s hideout.

the both of you are still finding your footing in this… relationship business. you’d started out as friends, good friends. meeting at your job of all places. jinx wouldn't ever pay for anything, not that she could if she wanted to. your manager had been eyeing this short girl with twin braids, sneaking around and stuffing things in her pockets, and told you to go see what's going on. you knew who she was- who didn't? silco's daughter. jinx.

you'd huffed and rolled your eyes at the prospect. you weren't paid enough to be a cashier, and now you're expected to act as a security guard? but orders are orders, so you'd went over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. told her you'd seen her, you knew she was stealing- you didn't care, but your manager did. you'd taken the items from her pockets, put them back on the shelves, and been on your way. but in the midst of this ordeal, you slipped a folded piece of paper into her pocket which had your contact information written down.

it had gone uphill from there, and now, here you are, about a month into an official relationship. still awkward, a bit nervous and clunky, but so right.

"just be patient, yeah? i bet she'll bring you some snacks too. the little... sticks you like. the ones covered in sugar."

isha seems to perk up at this, eliciting a dry chuckle from jinx. she's getting a bit antsy. taking a pink pen, clicking and unclicking it, the noises and action doing little to quell her impatience. fifteen minutes. fourteen. thirteen. twelve. eleven. ten.

until finally, it's about exactly the time you're usually back, and you're not. your workplace is within walking distance from jinx's hideout, surely you hadn't gotten swept up in traffic. today was one of the least busy days of the week as well, so it's not like there was much chance of you being kept late for a rush. jinx bounces her heel anxiously, and isha rests her elbows on the cold metal of the workbench. placing her chin in her hands and looking up to jinx, as if she'd have the answers. isha had always had fun playing with you, and now she's being kept waiting.

"i know, i know," jinx huffs, rolling her eyes before glancing back at the clock. "i don't know what the hold up is. i mean, geez, i love her, but-"

jinx catches herself before she can continue. isha's yellow eyes widen at the words, and she gasps softly. she loves you. jinx had never uttered those words to or about you before this, and now, here she is, admitting it in front of your adopted daughter. yes, she does love you- she's known that longer than you've been together.

but the surprise on isha's face is obvious as well. you've both told isha that you love her, jinx often doing so upon greeting and leaving her. tucking her into bed. reassuring her after particularly scary days in the lanes. but she knows that it means something different when said between grown-ups.

“you heard nothing, kid. okay?”

isha slowly nods, though something tells jinx she’s gonna hang onto those words. great. it’s then that jinx hears the door click open, and she sees you stumble in with your satchel. clearly exhausted.

“sorry i’m late… boss insisted on keeping me for the end of rush.”

[mirrored-muse]

could you make a part two of whatever she wants??? it’s so good and cute 🥹 maybe a part two where shauna has a wilderness date with reader without knowing is actually a date bc the girls in the camp make it happen so she gives then a break of being a bitch. all of that orchestrated by taivan

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ꜰɪꜱᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 850

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛᴀɪ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴘ. ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴏᴍɢ ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ.

The twine incident doesn’t come up again.

Not out loud, anyway.

But Shauna keeps her distance a little less these days. You catch her watching you more often, arms crossed like she’s doing something important when all she’s really doing is standing there, chewing the inside of her cheek, and pretending not to care.

That’s just how she is—closed off, bristling with attitude. Mean as hell to everyone else, but just slightly less mean to you.

Which is why it’s suspicious as hell when Tai and Van approach you one morning, their matching grins stretching just a little too wide, and way too much fake innocence.

“You’re going out with Shauna today,” Tai announces, casually slinging an arm around your shoulder.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

Van nods like it’s obvious. “She needs help finding more firewood. Real far. Real serious business. Just you and her.”

You squint at them, suspicion rising. “Why me?”

Van doesn’t even bat an eye. “Because,” she says, dragging out the word, “we figured you could handle her. And maybe if she’s out there with you for a while, the rest of us can finally enjoy one single hour of peace without her glaring at everyone like we’re stealing from the rations.”

Tai leans in like she’s about to tell you a huge secret. “It’s kind of a date.”

You freeze, heart giving a little leap. “It’s not a date,” you say a little too quickly, but your pulse quickens, betraying you.

Van gives you that shit-eating grin. “Sure. It’s not. Definitely not. But you should wear your good flannel.”

You roll your eyes, clearly out of your depth. “I have one shirt.”

“Exactly,” Van says, “that’s the one.”

⸻

Shauna’s already at the edge of camp when you get there. Her arms are crossed tightly, her jaw clenched. She doesn’t say anything when you approach. Just turns and starts walking into the trees like you’re late and she’s annoyed about it.

You trail behind her, half amused, half nervous.

The woods are eerily quiet, save for your footsteps and the occasional snap of twigs beneath your boots. Shauna doesn’t speak until you’re far from camp. Really far. You’re starting to wonder if the whole “firewood” thing was some kind of joke.

“Find anything yet?” she mutters over her shoulder, her voice low and almost bored.

You shrug, trying to keep it light. “I think we’re supposed to be spending time together?”

Her eyes flick back to you, sharp and calculating. “What?”

You gesture vaguely to the trees around you. “This feels less like a chore, more like… hanging out?”

Shauna stops walking, her shoulders tensing. “Did Tai say something to you?” she asks, voice tight.

You shrug again, trying to stay cool. “Not much. Just that you needed help.”

Shauna’s eyes narrow, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. Something cold. Something sharp. “Unbelievable,” she mutters, spinning on her heel and continuing down the path. “I should’ve known. Of course, they’d set this up.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you offer, trying to smooth things over. “They just thought you could use a break.”

“I don’t need a break,” she snaps, voice low and biting. “I need people to stop treating me like I’m a fucking problem.”

You stay quiet, letting her cool off. You don’t push.

Then, after a few seconds, you say softly, “I don’t think you’re a problem.”

Shauna looks at you then, like she’s weighing you like she’s trying to see if there’s a catch in your words. When she doesn’t find one, her shoulders ease. Just a little. But enough that you notice.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t.”

It hangs in the air between you, thick and heavy. Then, to break the tension, you grin. “Well… if this is a date, you’re doing a pretty shitty job so far.”

Shauna freezes. Her head snaps to you, her eyes narrowing, the edge of something dangerous creeping into her gaze. “Oh, you’re brave all of a sudden.”

You lean in slightly, playful. “You gonna punish me for it?”

Shauna doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she steps closer, dangerously close, so close that you feel your back brush against the rough bark of the nearest tree. Her body doesn’t touch yours, but it feels like it does.

Her voice drops, low and controlled. “You think I’m scary?”

You don’t flinch. “Terrifying.”

“Yeah, you like it.”

You hold her gaze without backing down. “Maybe.”

There’s a shift in her, something unspoken flickering between you. Shauna stares at you like you’re a problem she doesn’t know how to solve. Then, slowly, she leans in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s far softer than you expected. A quiet kiss that lingers just a few seconds longer than it should before she pulls back, leaving you breathless.

Her voice is rough when she speaks again. “This still isn’t a date.”

You smile at her, sweet but teasing. “Okay.”

Shauna takes a step back, just enough to give you space to breathe, but not enough to fully break the tension between you two.

[stevieschrodinger]

The stone wall is chilly at Eddie's back, but he relishes the relief it offers in the stuffy hall. Every brazier is lit, a hog turning over in the massive fireplace. The queen is entertaining again, dignitaries and minor neighboring royals visiting to celebrate another successful season. Plentiful crops. Peace. All that sort of stuff.

"He's here you know, I've seen him," Chrissy sidles up to him. She's done something to the skirts of her maids outfit, twisted them up somehow to the point of being vaguely indecent. She only does it to tease the Queen; everyone in the hall knows if they lay so much as a fingertip on their Queens beloved paramour they're likely to loose an arm. A punishment no doubt delivered by sir Steven, the queens favored knight.

"Of course he's here, our royal highness wouldn't be in public without his protection."

Chrissy hums, "you going to go find him?"

Eddie shrugs, "maybe?"

"Not after another kiss?"

Eddie rolls his eyes, "it isn't like that and it wasn't...he was very gentlemanly." And he was, it was so chaste, as soft as a butterflies wing. And then Steve had left and now Eddie is...uncertain.

"Bet you wish he wasn't though," Chrissy's tone is lewd.

"Easy for you to say, we can't all be the Queens bed warmer."

"Slattern."

"Sow."

They watch the crowed absently for a while, making merry, doing no doubt irreparable damage to the wine cellar.

"You have a feeling about him though," Chrissy idles. Wheedling.

"He can always see me," Eddie admits.

"What, always?"

"Well...he knows I'm there, somehow. Like he can sense me."

She turns to him, gesturing Eddie up and down, "what, even when you're all the way invisible?"

Eddie nods, "and when I'm a bird...he can tell, somehow."

"Really?" Chrissy leans in like Eddie's just revealed the most interesting thing ever, "but you look just like every other scraggly crow-"

"Excuse you-"

"Okay, so slightly above average plumage but not...discernible. I've seen you as birds loads of times, but it's not like I could pick you out of a crowed."

"He can."

"Huh. Well can't you just...cast a spell or something to find out-"

Eddie sighs deeply, "Chris-"

She raises her hands defensively, "I know I know 'My magic only affects myself an inanimate objects,'" Chrissy recites in what is an unfortunately accurate caricature of Eddie.

They're silent again, Chrissy nudging Eddie with a lethal elbow when Steve appears on the dais, checking in with Queen Robin. He's beautiful. No helmet tonight, and he's got the fancy armor on, in deference to the event no doubt. He has to look the part as head of the Queens Guard. He's so shiny.

Eddie sighs, lovelorn and pathetic.

"If you're going to do something you better do it soon, his parents have him betrothed to some noble someones daughter."

Eddie swallows thickly, "and it would be very sensible of him to pursue that. Pretty wife will produce pretty kids and they can live on their no doubt very pretty dowry. It's a good match, both of their stations would benefit."

"Eddie...you are the kingdoms wizard, the only magic user at court...you're not nobody." Eddie shrugs. "What if I told you...what if I told you I definitely know it's not what he wants."

Eddie drags his eyes away from where Steve is standing, scanning the room like a holy beacon of protection. "And how would you know that exactly."

Chrissy shrugs a shoulder demurely, "they are best friends. They talk to each other. And then Robin talks to me."

Eddie scoffs, "if that's what you call it."

Chrissy elbows him again, "look just...talk to him, okay?" She squeezes Eddie's arm through his robe before she moves away.

"I know it's you," Steve says into the darkness, the same way he always does.

Eddie, briefly, debates remaining hidden. He likes the cool air out here on the balcony, and his seat on the wall is comfortable. He lets himself reappear, despite his misgivings. Even though he's sitting right next to where Steve is leaning, Steve doesn't startle. Steve never startles.

Everyone else does.

"Having a good night?" Eddie asks, keeping his eyes out on the view, the horizon, the stars.

The leather straps that hold Steve's shiny armor shift quietly as he shrugs. Steve's always very quiet, everything about his armor well oiled and well cared for, "not sure yet."

That peaks Eddie's attention, and he turns, "what will be the decider?"

Steve smiles, beautiful, perfect, his hair flopping over his forehead, "if I'm about to get another kiss or not."

Eddie turns away, huffing, "heard there's a wedding in the offing."

"Not if I get a better offer."

Eddie huffs again, Steve's hands are warm where they come to rest on his shoulders, warm through Eddie's woolen cloak, warm against the chill of the late evening. Eddie swallows thickly, reaching up, and Steve tangles their fingers together where they rest on Eddie's shoulder.

There's a soft kiss to Eddie's curls.

"Your parents going to cause trouble?"

"They can try. I don't know if you knew this but my best friend is the actual Queen."

Eddie doesn't want to laugh, he doesn't want to give Steve the satisfaction, but it slips out regardless. Eddie starts to turn, swinging his legs over the wall, letting Steve help him to slide the rest of the way, robes catching on the stone.

"Come here, my little blackbird."

"Actually I'm a crow-"

Steve shuts him up with a kiss.