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#i feel like the nose isn't right but it is what it is

rafeandonlyrafe · 3 days

Text

heavy heat

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, like twooo?? mentions of daddy

“okay, you're absolutely doing it on purpose now.” you cross your arms with a slight stomp of your foot.

rafe looks up, confused. “doing what babygirl?”

“teasing me! first you took your shirt off and now you're just… sitting there!” you gesture towards rafe. “in those gym shorts with your legs spread like that.”

“it's like 100 degrees out, y/n.” rafe laughs at your evident frustration. “do you want me to overheat?”

“no, but we are inside with air conditioning! and you're still basically naked with your freaking… balls! on display!”

“want me to close my legs then?” rafe waits for you to answer as you pout at him.

“well… no.” you groan, frustrated.

“what do you want me to do then princess? or what would you like to do to me?” rafe raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response.

you huff in frustration and stomp closer to rafe until you sink to your knees between his thighs. “i hate you, you know.” you say, pulling at his waistband until he lifts his hips and allows them to be pulled away.

you growl when you realize rafe isn't wearing any underwear either, his cock sat soft on top of his heavy balls, practically begging for relief.

“hey.” rafe takes your chin in his hand right at the moment you attempt to make contact with his cock. “you're being a brat. you need to apologize first then suck my dick.”

“sucking your dick is my apology.” you try to move forward, but rafe squeezes your face tighter.

“you said you hate me. you think being a dirty slut and sucking me off is gonna make up for that? come give daddy a kiss.”

you hate looking your prize right in the eye only for it to be snatched away, but you know rafe won't let you do anything until you do whatever he deems to be proper.

you move to straddle his thighs, in very minimal clothing yourself. rafe keeps your chin in his grip until you press your lips against his.

“‘m real sorry daddy.” you kiss him over and over again. “i don't hate you. i love you.”

“i know, baby.” rafe nods. “you're just being all bratty because it's real hot outside. it's got you pissy. that's okay though, you can still suck my dick.”

“yesss!” you cheer, hand reaching down to grasp his now half hard cock as you kiss him again. “thank you.”

you slide off his lap and back onto your knees, sighing when they hit the plush carpet.

you keep your hand wrapped around the base of his cock as you kiss up and down his length, feeling him harden against your lips.

“feels so good, sweetie. but you can't take forever because rose will be home soon.”

you let out a little grunt in frustration, wanting to take your time, but also not wanting to move into the bedroom, not when rafe looks so good right now, looking down at you with his hair falling on either side of his forehead.

“once you're done here we can go upstairs, yeah? fuck you in the cold shower since it's so hot.”

you nod rapidly, loving when you branch out to have sex someplace other than a bed, even if it is just in the attached bathroom.

“alright, good girl.” rafe nods at you, a silent cue for you to get moving as you wrap your lips around the head of his now fully hardened cock, letting it slide against your tongue as you lower your head until your nose touches his skin.

you sit there for a moment, despite knowing you need to keep your pace fast, enjoying the way rafes cock fills your mouth and throat, leaving you to think of nothing else but the way he's sitting heavy on your tongue.

you bring a hand to fondle his balls, gently squeezing them as your head begins to move up and down in slow, steady motions.

rafe rests a hand on the back of your neck, a steady presence pushing down, keeping your movements deep.

you can feel your throat constrict around his cock but manage to avoid gagging, wishing you had all the time in the world to swallow his cock and toy with him.

“keep going, baby. come on.” rafe encourages you.

you begin to move faster, head moving up and down with rapid speed, wet noises and glugs spreading through the living room.

rafe smiles down at you, glad his planned worked. he knew you wouldn't be able to resist him shirtless for long, especially when he sat with his legs spread, thick, muscled thighs and calves on display.

“gonna cum in your mouth baby, yeah?”

you nod rapidly, not pulling off of rafes dick as you persist, focusing on getting him off as you feel his cock swell inside of your mouth, pushing further against your tongue until he releases, long ropes of cum shooting down your throat, which you are happy to swallow.

you pull away once he's done, using you tongue to clean up his cock, getting it ready for you to use in the shower once he's had time to get hard again.

“is that what you wanted princess?” rafe cups your cheek, tilting your head up, but you don't really see him, eyes glazed over in pure bliss.

“mhm.” you hum, nuzzling into his thighs.

you're quickly snapped out of your state when you hear keys in the door, jumping up as rafe pulls his shorts back up to cover himself.

“shit, that was close.” rafe laughs, pulling you to sit on his lap as rose walks in.

“hey.” she says dismissively, arms full of bags.

“good afternoon, rose.” rafe says with a laugh as you roll your eyes at him.

“come on, let's go upstairs.” you try to stand up, but rafe pulls you back tight against him, his torso sheened in the slightest layer of sweat.

“not yet.” he hums, burying his face in your neck. “let me just enjoy holding my girl for a minute.”

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battymommastuff · 21 hours

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To be Mine

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Warnings: A bit of NSFW

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Masterlist

(NOT MY GIF)

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

"It's a shame isn't it? Watching someone you thought loved you, be with some else?" The voice spoke into your ear before moving some of your hair to the side. You could feel his golden mask press against your cheek. How did you end up here? One minute you were in the mansion...now you were standing on a building watching Batman with Catwoman. After weeks of hiding, the Court found you. He found you. You left your window open by mistake, and it was easy for them to sneak in an grab you. Alfred would have never known...

"And you are so beautiful...simply perfect." The Grandmaster whispered to you while running a hand along your waist, "How about we strike a new deal? Instead of becoming one of my Talons, you become mine?" Your eyes went wide when he said that. His? As in his lover? His wife?

"I will worship you. Protect you...nurture you. What has Batman done for you besides break your precious heart?" He asked while gesturing to the couple only a few buildings away, "Take my hand...and I swear I will show you what it means to be loved." He purred. Your eyes moved down to his hand. The black, leather glove had become more tempting. Who were you to resist such a tempting offer?

"Would I still be a part of the circus?" You asked, and the Grandmaster nodded. The circus...your home...your family. You could go home, and everything would be okay. Hesitantly, your hand extended to his. Despite him wearing it, the glove was cold to the touch. The Grandmaster smirked under his mask then pulled you close, "Welcome home, my love." He whispered, guiding you away from the edge of the building.

Selina had her head tilted to the side as Batman kissed her neck hungrily. A smirk on her face as she almost had him right where she wanted him. Then she could make her daring escape...as usual. That is, until she saw a group of people watching her from afar. "What the hell?" She whispered, getting Batman's attention. He pulled away from her neck then turned around. His eyes widened when he saw your hand in the Grandmaster's. How did the Court get to you?

Leaving a very confused Selina, Batman made his way across the rooftops as quickly as he could. He couldn't let them take you away. He tried so hard to act like he didn't care for you. He wanted to shut you out, but he couldn't. Even when he was kissing Selina, all he thought was about your lips, your neck...your everything. Batman...Bruce Wayne, they couldn't live without you.

By the time he got there, all that was left was a cloud of smoke. Batman fell to his knees and panted softly. Even though you weren't there, he could still smell your perfume. That smell would never leave him.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><

"Woah woah woah. You mean to tell me, you married the Grandmaster?!? Of the Court of Owls???" Jason asked as he got up from your bed. You smiled awkwardly while rubbing your baby bump.

"It wasn't my proudest moment, but I was young...and heartbroken." You explained then looked over at Dick who was just staring at the photo of you with him and his parents. You reached over and gently took the photo from his hand, "I loved them...as if they were my family. They were my family..."

><><><><><><><><><

Tonight…nearly two years later, your husband was hosting a masquerade ball in order to do some under the table business deals. You were also there. A golden mask that matched his, but only covered your eyes and nose. A black floor length gown that sparkled more than the diamonds on your finger. You were his bride, his trophy. Which made it very easy when a certain billionaire decided to attend.

This was your first public appearance in almost two years. The Court could keep you hidden from Batman, but not from Bruce Wayne. He wasn't on the guest list, but money always seemed to get him into the most interesting of places. Now here he was, walking up to you as you picked up a drink for you and your husband.

"Hello, (Y/N)."

That voice had chills running down your spine. Turning you saw his beautiful face. He was the only one not wearing a mask.

"Bruce…"

TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl69 @ilovetaquitoesmmmm @irelanrose @asterelz @angelxx7 @millies0bsimp @marie0v @starmansirius @amberpanda99 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @inutheangel @chaoticevilbakugo @mellowdiy @luvly-writer @enretrogue @zanzie @backyardfolklore @olivewisp @celestair @birdsdieatmydoor @teddyinks @bluusugar @murkyponds @nuttyrebelflower @bee-studio @miks-delusional-blog @luxky-aish @my-anime-garden @zanzie @cleocat246 @animegirlfromvietnam

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fromagony · 2 days

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@jegulus-microfic | cease - may 4 | 831 words @ecstarry @godsofwoes @bellaxisworld prev part

“You are unavoidable.”

They waited for each other to talk, but they didn't. James felt like fainting, or maybe that was the alcohol in his veins, who knows?

His mind was racing, he wanted to scream at him, he wanted to shake him until he pulled the words out of him. He couldn't do it, and he was never good with silence.

“Reg—”

“James, you are married.”

James closed his eyes shut, his words stank like a needle. He was right, of course. Fuck, he was right.

“I am aware.”

“Then what is the meaning of this?”

James was on edge, he was tiptoeing around the edge, and he knew he was going to fall into the pit anytime.

“Look,” he forced out the words, “Regulus, this isn't easy, okay?”

“I guess—”

“No, no. Don't fucking talk, okay? Just listen to me. God, you don't have any idea how hard it is for me to talk right now. I don't care if you don't talk, I don't care if you end up hanging up on me. I just need you to listen.”

Even though he expected him to talk again, Regulus didn't. He did what James said, he stopped and started to listen.

James took a deep breath and inhaled deeply, his eyes were still closed.

“It was a mistake to invite you to my wedding, I'm going to forever regret it.”

“Why?” Regulus asked, his voice was tiny, almost whispering and maybe he was hurt.

“Ever since then, I can't stop—” he couldn't say it, he couldn't admit it, he didn't want it to be true. Yes, he thought about it. But telling his feelings and thoughts was something else. He was going to make them real. He still didn't want it to be real.

But, at this point of this misery, what choice he had left?

“I couldn't stop thinking about you, about us.”

Saying out loud made it ten times worse but, he felt as if something lifted off his chest. Now he was sure that he should do this. It was wrong but he didn't care. For the last two years, this feeling ate him alive. He couldn't tell anyone, not to Sirius, not to his wife and for sure not to his parents. There was nobody but Regulus. He would understand, and even if he didn't, James had no choice.

“It's funny, isn't it? I was the one who broke up with you and got married but look at me now. Calling you because I have been bearing these thoughts every day for two years.”

“James…”

James took a sip of his whiskey and continued, “I know how this sounds, believe me, I know. I just— it's just—”

He began to laugh, squeezing the bridge of his nose, he felt everything in an unbearable amount. This wasn't fair, nothing was fair.

“James, calm down—”

“I CAN’T FUCKING CALM DOWN!” he screamed, “I CAN’T EVEN FUCKING BREATHE FOR THE LAST TWO YEARS!"

“I can't fucking breathe, and I tried. Fuck, I tried to stop thinking about you, I tried to forget how you tasted, I tried to erase the memories of holding you in my arms, but you are just— I can't shake you under my skin. The more I try to stop, the more I think about you. And this is— this is just— it is not fair, okay? Not fair, I have a wife for god's sake! A wife, Lily, my Lily.”

He didn't notice when he stopped laughing and started letting the tears down on his face, it was torture.

“You have your Lily,” Regulus replied with a dry voice, “Yet, here you are.”

“I am here, yes,” James said, “I am at your mercy, and I hate every second of it.”

He took a deep breath, “ I hate that telling you all of this is making me feel better. I've been suffering for so long, knowing that confessing my feelings to you is going to be my salvation. But this felt wrong, having all these feelings as a married man. I am fucking married, Regulus.”

“I am aware, James. I was there, watching you make your vows to each other. I was there, remember?”

“Why did you come? Why did you join my wedding, Regulus?”

“Because,” Regulus said, “I wanted closure.”

James slowly sank to the floor and palmed his face. He couldn't talk, it was impossible to function. Maybe doing all this was his way to destroy everything he had. He never considered himself as a destructive person, but now, all he could think of was shattering everything he had cared for, for Regulus. This had to cease to an end, he knew it, but he didn't have the heart for it.

“Did you?” James asked quietly, “Did you get your closure?”

Regulus waited for a minute.

“Yes,” he said, breaking James’ heart in pieces like he did to Regulus years ago, “I got my closure.”

James couldn't say anything in return.

#jegulus microfic #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #regulus x james #marauders

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imfinereallyy · 2 days

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I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 4

part 1 part 2 pt. 3

this one i am excited for, i hope you guys like it...

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

February 1991, Chicago

Robin has a particular hatred for winter rain. It’s cold, damp and makes everything grey. She doesn't mind the rain in the summer—where it makes everything smell fresh and makes all the greens look bright.

Winter rain, though? Belongs in a circle of hell.

Admittedly, it's more than the way the downpour chills her to the bone. It's always a bad omen, a sign of what's to come. Most people find her paranoid, except Steve. He always nods his head in understanding; Robin can't tell if it's because he just understands her or because the winter rain makes his bones ache.

Robin shakes the water out of her hair as she walks up the steps to her apartment with Steve and Eddie. The bad feeling in her stomach doesn't ease up, creeping further and further up her throat until she worries she might choke on it. She takes her time going up the six flights of stairs, taking deep breaths, convincing herself that everything is fine and it's all in her head.

By the time she makes it to the door, Robin feels lighter.

Pushing through the doorway, Robin lets a small smile rest on her lips as her eyes look around to see who's home.

Her eyes land on Steve, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

It's then she notices Steve is home, but Eddie isn't.

Steve lifts his head, tears in his eyes. "He's gone, Robs. Eddie left."

The rain could eat shit. Fuck.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Robin waits until Steve leaves and a few minutes extra before making her way into the living room.

She knows the bastard is still here; Robin saw it coming from a mile away.

Trudging towards the couch in Steve's boxers and what she is sure is her ex-girlfriend's t-shirt, Robin smacks Eddie upside the head.

Hard.

"Ow! What the fuck, Buckley?" Eddie squirms, rubbing his head with a pout.

"Oh, shut it, Munson. You know that a slap is the least of your worries. You better believe something on you will be broken by the time you leave again." Robin huffs, her face going red.

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Will you at least come talk to me before you cause me more bodily harm?" He pats the spot on the couch next to him like it isn't Robin's fucking couch.

Robin begrudgingly decides he's right and plops down next to him with a glare. "Trust me, Munson. We will be doing plenty of talking. And by we, I mean me."

"Don't you want to hear my sid—Ow! Birdie, for the love of god, stop hitting me." Eddie rubs his arm.

"No."

"No you won't hear me out, or no you won't stop hitting me?"

Robin levels him with a look so vicious that she is almost certain if he holds eye contact any longer, he will be set on fire.

Eddie's shoulder's slump, "Right."

Robin huffs through her nose, trying to fight back a smile. She will not crack around this idiot, even if torturing him brings her a special kind of joy. "Munson, unless the reason was 'if you didn't leave, Steve was going to die,' then you don't have a good reason."

A small smile makes its way onto Eddie's face, and Robin lightly slaps his knee. "Why are you smiling? You don't get to smile right now."

Eddie deosn't even flinch, "Nothing, it's just you specified Steve dying, and not the two of you or anyone else. Like Steve dying would be the issue. It's nice to see some things never change."

"You see that's where you're wrong, Munson." Robin gets really close in his face, "We've only gotten worse."

Eddie's smile is a full-blown grin now. Robin can't help but be a little charmed.

If Robin is honest with herself, and Steve encourages her to do so more often, she really misses Eddie. Despite her being angry at him, she's happy to have him here to be angry at. But once she's over that, she will be kicking him the fuck out of their apartment.

Something twisted lands in Robin's stomach as she makes her way back into her spot on the couch. Eddie doesn't get it that he left them. He left not just Steve but Robin, too. They were best friends, and suddenly, he's gone.

And on top of that, Robin had to watch Steve crumble, and it just isn't something she thinks she can ever get over.

For years, Robin watched Steve pick himself up over and over again. Resilient, brave, and sometimes a little stupid. That's her Steve. But after Eddie left, she was worried that this time he wouldn't get back up.

She can't go through that again.

Unfortunately though, Robin fears she might need Eddie's fucking help with something.

These boys will be the death of her.

"No more smiling, Munson. This is serious." Robin clears her throat.

"Right." His grin slips off his face. "You were saying you wanted to do the talking?"

Robin looks to the doorway, nervous. As if Steve is going to walk through any moment, despite not leaving all that long ago. She just knows how dates with Drew go. Sometimes Steve will come home early, frustrated and quiet, closed off in ways she hasn't seen in a long time. Other times he won't come home for days, Drew deciding he needed some alone time with Steve.

Robin isn't sure which she hates more.

She shakes her head, knowing she is being unreasonable—not on the hating Drew part (which is really what it is, down to its core) but on Steve coming back early. No matter what happens between Steve and Drew, Robin knows he is dreading coming back to this apartment with Eddie in it or, even worse, with Eddie gone.

"You're going to help me."

Eddie's eyebrows furrow, and Robin almost expects him to question it, to demand answers. Instead, he surprises her. "Okay, what do you need?"

Robin takes a deep breath, "We need to get Steve out of a bad relationship."

Worry falls over Eddie's face, "Is he okay? What happened? Is she hurting him?"

Ah. Robin forgot about that part. Eddie doesn't exactly know about Steve's sexuality. It isn't like the man isn't out—Steve has been out to their friends for years now—but it feels wrong to tell Eddie without consulting Steve yet.

She is going to have to work around it.

"Steve's...fine." Robin doesn't reall know actually. Lately, it's been like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk about Drew. She fucking hates that man. "He's unhappy, though. This person isn't good for him, and I think me saying it isn't enough."

Eddie rubs a hand down his face, "And how am I supposed to help that? Steve doesn't exactly want me around." His arms gesture towards the room in a dramatically flair.

Oh, this silly, silly man, Robin thinks. Unfortunately, he's exactly what Robin needs—more specifically, what Steve needs.

"True."

"Okay, hurtful."

Robin waves him off, "I'm not going to lie to you, Munson. We are both pissed at you. But I am worried about Steve. And I care more about him than I am angry at you. Despite all the shit you did, he cares about you. Because this is Steve. He cares a whole lot and gives a whole bunch without expecting anything. And he deserves better. And I think—no, I know, if he has two of his oldest friends showing him that, maybe he'll listen."

Robin fails to mention that regardless of how this plan goes, she will have her revenge on Eddie, to, ya know, even the score.

Eddie huffs through his nose, "Okay. Of course, I'll help. Besides, I was already planning on sticking around. I don't want to run away, not this time."

"Good." Robin lets a small smile slip onto her face, "Besides, you're a terrible athlete. Don't know why you insist on trying."

A dry laugh escapes Eddie, "Wow, thanks, Bridie. Missed you too."

Robin pushes him playfully. "If you're gonna stick around, maybe I'll hear you out, Eddie. But not now. Not yet. Don't know if this going to be long term; consider this a temporary truce."

Robin expects him to whine and contest it, but instead, Eddie looks delighted. "You called me Eddie."

Robin groans, "Don't ruin it."

Eddie grabs her hand, their rings clanking against each other, and gives it a squeeze. "Sorry, no take backs."

Robin says nothing, but squeezes back.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

i don't get to write her pov very often, but it is so fun. next update we will finally get a peak into Eddie's whole deal. Tag list is closed, but you can put notifs on the first part, I always put the link on the there.

tag list! (closed):

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @yesdangerpls @themoonagainstmers

@lingermirth @steddiecameraroll @my2amgaythoughts @stevah-hawcett @steventhusiast

@adealwithher @antonymeanonyme @stevah-hawcett @samsoble @mugloversonly

@stripey82 @anaibis @mycatsstolemybiscuit @flustratedcas @alfhitchblonde

@s0ft-strawberries @slavicviking @theheadlessphilosopher @friendlyorange @lunaraquaenby

@l1lpip @emmabubbles @arepaconchocolate @scooby-dum86 @awkwardgravity1

@thesuninyaface @hallo-spaceb0y @dykelips @bookbinderbitch @valinwonderland

#see? it's getting happier #kinda #trust me it's going happy places #we just gotta build #also thanks for the hype it motivates me #also i know some of you at this point live in my walls #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #platonic stobin #ficlet #angst #hurt comfort #i wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3

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perksofbeingpoet · 16 hours

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a small thing that is promised to calm todd down when everything gets too overwhelming is playing with or brushing his hair.

which, unfortunately, is way too intimate a thing to ask his friends for- they help as good as they can already, trying to be quieter when todd gets that very intense look, passing him food that isn't too spicy or salty, talking loudly when a teacher is looking for people to get up front to the board, so that they'll gleefully pick the loudmouth.

but this is different; involves a kind of gentleness, of vulnerability that todd can't ask for. it means baring the parts of him that are most sensitive, revealing he's a baby bird in thunderstorms, asking for whispers and warmth in a place that doesn't offer these things.

neil still finds out.

which shouldn't come as a surprise to todd - neil has a way of catching him where he's most vulnerable, closing his palms around him as if he was a ladybug in a child's hand. careful now, don't hurt it. i'll keep it safe. i'll carry it off the pavement, put it where the grass sprouts in may-coloured strands.

so neil finds out, when they're laying on todd's bed (better sun in the evening), neil reading the script of his newest play, todd just breathing, trying to match the tides of neil's heartbeat below him, trying to slow down his own. and neil isn't sure what happens, because to his mind, nothing's changed, but suddenly todd's eyes have that frozen panic in them.

neil thinks he can feel the way todd's drowning in his own thoughts, and todd's thoughts tend to be quicksand in these moments. it's desparation, in the end, that gets neil to bury his left hand in todd's hair, carefully weaving his fingers through the sandy strands. he knows it's silly, but the urge to physically wipe the thoughts off todd's head is what makes him lightly trace his nails across the other's scalp, gentle, always so gentle.

and todd melts.

his breathing slows, and suddenly he's back, and neil's heart flutters like a dragonfly drying off its wings. he can help. not much, not always, but he can try.

he soon discovers that it helps after showers, too - todd is embarrassed enough to snap at him the first time, the first time neil's heard him rashly angry, but it only takes todd a week to come back and apologise, to say neil was right, but could he not make a big deal out of it. (and neil perry, king of theatrics, doesn't)

because showers can be overwhelming in these times, when todd's mind is a bridge wobbling on brittle foundations- standing there all wet, knowing he'll need to get out the stall, and dry off, and get his clothes and put them on and they'll still stick to him a bit and his toes will stay wet because the floor is cold, and- it's too much.

but neil can brush his hair, still wet and darker than usual, and the scratch of it along his scalp grounds him, puts his thoughts on a leash. neil will hum a song, and todd will ache with the sweet cruelty of love, the stinging tenderness of vulnerability.

and when todd gets into bed in exam season, and the sheets are fluffy and full of fresh air, smelling of spring and melancholy, he breathes in deeply through his nose. and neil walks over to him for a second before going to his own bed, three extra steps that make todd close his eyes and bury his face in the pillow.

and he runs a hand through todd's hair, and it feels like warm notes on a cello. like autumn sun falling through tall tree trunks, like a mug of cocoa, like a childhood kitchen table. his fingers trace lines across todd's scalp, reminiscent of the contrails of the plane that divides the sky three years later, like neil is already dreaming of it.

todd breathes and smiles.

good night, little poet <3

(i put this on ao3 even though it's ridiculously short, so you guys know what that means- the time of poet writing dps fanfiction has started, and the next ones are gonna be way longer)

#dead poets society #dps fandom #dead poets headcanons #dps fanfiction #dead poets fanfic #dead poets society fandom #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #neil and todd

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generalsdiary · 20 hours

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there is no rain without clouds

rain deity!Dr. Ratio x nonbeliever human!Aventurine

warnings: kissing (?)

word count: 6.5k

a/n: the intro will be the og post reframed- jump to keep reading to get to the added writing, one cannot escape Ratio being tsundere wherever you go (it’s literally canon), not beta read Firefly you better come home

description: an au, sorta soulmate vibe of a rain deity Ratio and human Aventurine falling in love (with an alternative ending), a smidge of angst; mostly fluff

What if Ratio is a type of deity with control over the rain/sky and Aventurine is a nonbeliever except for his immense luck given by the Mother Gaiathra Triclops.

And what if every time before it rains, he feels a drop on his shoulder or person much earlier than the rainfall actually begins- like a warning to seek shelter. And when he realizes that others don't notice the rain that early on, he feels somewhat special.

And on one day he is walking below a gray sky and a drop, tiny, smaller than any other, falls on his lips. And he smirks to himself and says to the sky, why do you kiss me in the form of rain?, he wipes it off with his thumb like there's an intimacy between him and the oncoming rain, a lingering feeling on his lips. A minute passes and another tiny drop falls to his nose, he assumes the rain will fall down any second now.

But in all actuality, the deity of rain, Veritas, is blushed and looking away, frozen, not making the rain fall because he is shocked and flustered from being called out on his very obvious bias.

And what if when he swims in a body of water, Aventurine feels light and free, comforted by the waves of the sea or the current of a river. But almost every time he is swimming the rain starts to fall. It is a gentle, soft one and he feels even more in tune with himself. Like he is being hugged, held. Veritas can't help but be obvious with his preferences in every universe.

Ratio would curse the deity of the sea, because why doesn't he hold those powers so he may feel Aventurine in his embrace, he'd beg the nymph of the river to take their place for a moment only to be denied. So he caresses him in the form of rain, from which Aventurine seeks cover. He curses the sage of the wind, because why can't he dance across the blond's skin, feeling the softness of his cheeks. Cursed to bring rain. Bold to make a drop fall on his lips, and now have his feelings revealed.

It won't rain for days, he is hiding, out of fear of being rejected, ignored... Vulnerable.

So when the rain does fall, weeks later, the great deity of rain is on his knees in the sky upon the sight of Aventurine sitting down on the ground in the downpour with a smile on his face.

“I want to kiss you, hold you, hug you, have you- just-” he sighs, “and I know love and relationships can be much more than physical-“Aventurine exhales, looking up to the sky, his voice turning lower, “Why do you touch me like this?... Why does the water make me imagine your lips in their place- when I have never even seen you, why is it your hand which I wish to hold when I feel raindrops on mine... Why do you caress me,... Why do you touch me- it feels so personal every goddamn time and so… teasing.” When the skies bring no answer except the soft occasional raindrop, he turns and goes back inside. About a week later the rain came again. Aventurine is standing behind a casino, catching a break from the heavy air inside. Veritas decides this is the right moment, the rainfall shifting to act as a waterfall and merely showcase an invisible silhouette like a ghostly figure, creating his shape. “It is not easy to take a physical form.” There's no sound, Aventurine cannot hear his voice with his ears, but with his mind. His eyes widen upon seeing the elemental shape, he walks closer. This is the confirmation of everything- he isn't insane- well, that's still debatable, for some reason he doesn't feel shocked, surprised would be the better word. Aventurine reaches out with his hand, fingers moving through the rain which shapes a cheek. It is just water. Feels less real than the same drops that warn him. “I don't think you can call this a physical form.”

“I am not.”

“Why me?”

“Indeed, why you?”

Aventurine ponders, a rain person, and his shape- it is a tall shape that much he can conclude. “I wish to see you partake a physical form.”

“I do not have to.” With a small wave of his hand, a larger raindrop falls on Aventurine's bottom lip, making him close his eyes. It isn't just the water, it gives him this feeling, this image of being kissed- of lips pressing into his own.

“I can feel you, through the water- don't you wish to do it yourself?”

The elemental shape is quiet. “Things are more complicated than you know, Aventurine.”

Aventurine raises his eyebrows in small surprise from hearing his own name, “Introductions are due?”

“You know my name.”

“How could I possibly know your name, Veritas?” There it is. He stops, shocked, how do I know that name?

“Did you really think I'd make droplets fall to your lips without leaving my name there? It would've been rude.”

“This feels right- but I know it is wrong- I don't know anything about you.”

“Yes, you do, you just need to think- we have been communicating this whole time.” Within a blink of an eye he leaves, nothing left behind to mark his existence.

The facts list on in Aventurine's mind like pretty organized bullet points, Veritas is a rain deity, cold in nature, knowledgeable, etc.- and the list turns into... Memories? Or perhaps future memories; his mind fills with images, a fact of Veritas' dark blue hair showcased by Aventurine pulling his fingers through it, the high cheekbones shown with his lips on it... Aventurine feels dizzy, leaning back onto the wall of the building for support. What is this? It feels like he left a list, he wouldn't leave the second part as is. What is going on?

Veritas’ eyebrows furrow whilst observing the human. Why is he stumbling over a list- I didn't leave anything of such a mark on it. He didn't drink... Is he feeling ill? He moves past his worry when Aventurine goes inside.

III

One could ask the rain deity when it began, and how it started, this is what he would say.

„Darling… you ask a difficult question,“ Veritas says softly. His gaze shifts lower, and with soft eyes and a small smile he continues, „Allow me to quote a book…I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.“ With a sharp inhale Aventurine wakes up from the dream. He cannot remember what the man looked like and his voice is even fading from his memory. What was this dream- it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a memory that hadn’t happened yet. The dizziness he knows from the first time is there again. Luckily he is still lying in bed. From all the given information, he concludes this isn’t the doing of the deity… Veritas. This is something else entirely, frightening and eerie. Aventurine is now aware of the rain deity, and his strange preference… and whatever they have together. Opening his phone he checks the weather forecast- it will rain. When leaving the apartment building, he leaves his umbrella by the door on purpose.

Going about his day and obligations to the IPC, Aventurine ultimately forgets about today’s forecast until he feels the soft raindrop on his hand. It feels like putting on noise-canceling headphones, everything quiets down and slows down for him. He can feel the lingering touch, “Why don’t you hold my hand yourself?” Aventurine decides to call Veritas out early on; he has grown used to the water hitting his shoulder or shoes, and the rain deity is getting bolder by the day. Out of the gambler’s sight, Veritas has his hand over his mouth, dumbfounded and astounded at the younger man’s forwardness. The second raindrop meaning to hit Aventurine’s shoe misses and falls beside him- out of pure lack of focus from Veritas, once again frozen and… one would dare say blushed. Much like the previous time the rain falters and falls later than the deity originally planned. Veritas can only observe from the sky as Aventurine smirks and walks cheerfully along; the happy feeling he has clears the sky of its clouds. When Aventurine decides to go home, he is met with gentle rain outside. He somewhat regrets leaving his umbrella at home. The knowledge of how this communication works puzzles him, for a moment it is there and for a moment it isn’t. He speaks aloud, “Must we dance around like giggling teenagers? I will warn you, I am not a patient man. especially when teased like this.” He regrets saying the last sentence as soon as it leaves his mouth, I am so fucking touch deprived, I should keep my mouth shut. The same elemental shape, that even if anyone saw would brush it off as nothing, shows up and walks beside Aventurine. “No umbrella?” This is his moment, he will go all out. It is all or nothing. “I wanted to feel you on my skin.” Unfortunately for him, Veritas came prepared, “Why don’t you walk naked then?” he asked with a snicker in his soundless tone. Aventurine tilts his head, “Good one… maybe I should.” He teases, turning his head to look at the shape beside him. Fortunately for him, Veritas isn’t that well prepared. With a silent cough, he quickly tries to think of something. “You could get ill.” Aventurine stops in his steps, “Then take a physical form. I may then relish in your warmth” he pretentiously declares. “Is this really something you want?” Veritas softly asks, or at least it seems soft in Aventurine’s mind. Another memory fills his sight and overwhelms him; his hand on the man’s cheek, breaths mingling- standing together- he can almost make out his eye color, the one of dawn? He can feel the warmth radiating from Veritas’ skin, the frequent how does he know it is frequent? blush in the man’s cheeks warm under his fingertips… Light-headed again. Aventurine blinks a few times, stabilizing in the present again. There it was again, he almost fainted. Is he alright? “Are you okay? You seem unwell.” Veritas mumbles. “I’m fine, don’t stress about it” Another typical hand wave from the blond. “Yes, I- I’m sorry, I..” The dizzy feeling threw him off his game, “Can we continue this conversation another time, I have to get home.” Of course, the rain deity leaves silently.

Aventurine ponders his…memories, visions? under the warm water of the shower head. They feel amazing and real and genuine- and overwhelming, exposing. Why is he seeing them- feeling them… living them?

Veritas is a deity who loves rationalization, thereby he is confused as to why he is so drawn to the human, so defensive over him. What made him make an actual move after a couple of years of silent appreciation passed? It would’ve not been an actual move hadn’t Aventurine called him out on it. Veritas feels like he knows him, like he knew him before… well, before anything he knows at this moment. Like they knew each other elsewhere, spent time together. Why must there be history here and now; to justify his feelings? It is not a crime to love what you cannot explain. I am one with the water and it too flows through me as do the affections I feel.

What can you expect from a gambler than to gamble? And this one uses his life as a chip.

Aventurine exits the worn-down building, made of brown moss-covered bricks, through the side door into an empty alley. A dead end one. He had fun, getting all the hard-earned and well-needed information from the players at the poker table and quite a bit of money. One of the men followed him out, asking for another round, which Aventurine dismissed with a wave of his hand. They chat along, the man making different suggestions regarding other gambling businesses and potential scams.

“As intrigued as I might be, I prefer to work alone- and, you know, stick to what I know,” Aventurine says with a thousand credit smile. “Yeah, yeah, understandable- but listen I got this gig- you will love it, it is made for you…” The man’s tone suggests hidden intentions, his body betraying him- the shaky hands, his eyes jumping all over the place… Maybe it is due to the strong smell of cigars and heavy alcohol that clouds Aventurine’s perception, or perhaps the few drinks he had (he isn’t actually drunk, not even tipsy), maybe he is tired or maybe he is just feeling so cocky at that moment that he doesn’t notice the imminent threat.

A heavy raindrop falls onto his shoulders, the prior blue sky turning a silvery shade of gray, almost purple. He knows this, what it means, even in his mind he disregards it, waving his hand around; seek shelter, yeah, yeah, it will rain. I’ll live. The conversation continues and a few more heavy raindrops fall onto his frame, unusual. The overblown self-confidence makes him ignore it, ignore the obvious warnings he doesn’t even see. It’s just rain, nothing more. It was never used for anything else except for a sign it would rain. Well except that one time… Aventurine keeps talking, more raindrops fall- showing the rain is getting impatient, he even feels annoyed with the way it only keeps falling on him and not in the general area.

The rain knows, he- Veritas knows. He recognized the man’s intentions early on and tried to warn Aventurine, to no effect. The time ran out, the man gnarling his teeth and hitting Aventurine’s head, making him lose consciousness and fall limp on the concrete. A heavy downpour with sharp raindrops starts, and those sharp ones of course avoid the blond’s body. As if someone emptied a bucket of water, a curtain forms between Aventurine and the man. He appears surprised, but it doesn’t stop him from taking a step forward before a flash of lightning spooks him for a second. The lightning flash blinds him for another moment, Veritas tries his best to protect the young gambler, but it will not be enough and he knows it. Another flash of white and the curtain of heavy water normalizes, the man’s vision clearing up to see a tall man standing menacingly before him, practically towering above him. He has dark violet hair which is dripping with water, long dark indigo, and blue robes that flow to the ground, and a white shirt that is sticking to his torso. The arm which isn’t under the cover of the robes reveals a well-defined muscular shape. It is strange, the way the tall man appears to be soaked and completely dry at the same time. The water sliding off of his robes like off of a duck’s back, meanwhile, his shirt is stained and his hair drenched. There is power in his presence, the unnatural way he appeared already sent fear down the other man’s spine. Veritas raises his head, the sharp amber dawn-like eyes flashing a light blue when he in a deep voice with a sharp tone commands, “Leave.”

The man scours away in a blink of an eye. Veritas doesn’t turn back to look at Aventurine, he can hear him inhaling sharply and he disintegrates with the rain, leaving as quickly as he came. When Aventurine comes to, there’s an ache in his head and his clothes are wet. He is disoriented, confused as to where the man left. His eyes drift to his jewelry and his personal belongings- all safe, all still here. He frowns. What happened? Slowly he stands on his feet, walking away to get a cab. While he stands in the heavy rain he ponders what went on. Was he really warned? It isn’t real, it can’t be real. Rain is just rain. And after all, he is a deity, why would he trouble himself over a mortal? Aventurine enters the vehicle and goes home.

With a yellow soft towel, he is patting his hair dry and looking out the window to the white sky. That man would not leave without robbing him or beating him up, he should’ve been more careful. A deity wouldn’t help. Why would they? They never did in the past. Despite his thoughts, he doesn’t yell at the sky for explanations or behave like an angry toddler. For some reason, there is a certain amount of respect there. He can’t find it in him to converse in a rude way, even when he doesn’t believe in any of it. At the end of the day, it is just rain, and it isn’t anything special. Aventurine simply writes it off to his luck.

Veritas isn’t observing him at this moment. He lets the rain fall heavily down, not caring for it. How dare he be so careless with his life? He scoffs to himself, arms crossed and pacing around. Veritas feels angry and the masked emotion washes off of the rain deity to reveal the worried god underneath it. Thus, when Aventurine walks out on the balcony to grab a jacket left there before the weather changes, a raindrop falls on his cheek caressing it as if to say, don’t do that again. And it is those simple, intimate moments where Aventurine feels like he is going crazy. How could he possibly explain all of it- or any of it? He felt water on his lips before so why did it that day feel like a kiss? A kiss he wants more of… why did this drop on his cheek feel comforting? No, he is losing it. I am not falling for rain- I cannot ‘fall in love’ with rain, what is going on? The rain stops and he finds himself drawing his fingers to the lingering drops on the outer side of his balcony door. If it isn’t real, why does this feel… like that? Cold droplets turning warm under his fingers, he sighs and leans his forehead on the glass door. Would the rain be able to hug? Maybe I’m just touch deprived… with that he goes back inside and ends his day.

Aventurine is standing under a red umbrella and conversing with Veritas. Both gravitate to each other with slight confusion as to why it feels right- good. They are trying to have a normal conversation, and sort of get to know each other, yet the more they talk the more they realize that they already do know each other. “I could show you so much, my favorite places; food, music…” Veritas’ voice fades off in Aventurine’s ears- another one of his visions…before the sound switches to normal inside this memory. “I will show you so much, my favorite places; food, music, art, culture- history of the world,” Veritas utters the sentence between kisses he places on Aventurine’s knuckles, looking up at him with a smile. Aventurine laughs, “And I will show you how to have fun- you will learn poker and so many fun, fun games and how to dance-“, Veritas jumps in, “I do know how to dance, and I am incredibly clever I will pick up poker easily for you, my love.” In a cloud of smoke, he loses focus and falls back into reality.

“… if you’ll let me.” Veritas notices the way Aventurine wavers, losing balance as his eyes turn back into focus. “You worry me.” He whispers.

The hand wave every time, “It is jamais vu* from what I managed to find out.”

“From my knowledge, that doesn’t cause dizziness.”

“It is often related to migraines”

“You are not experiencing migraines.”

“How would you know my lack of pain?”

A sigh, “The same way you know things about me.” Veritas prettily forms the sentence to avoid the question he has no answer to. He simply knows, how could he not know?

Aventurine tries not to think about the intimate scenes the memories show him, he doesn’t want to spiral down the rabbit hole. And when he does try to recall how Veritas looked in them, it melts away from his mind like chocolate in the summer sun. The memory stays, with the visual and audible facts fading if he focuses on them too hard. He isn’t allowed to see them yet, is what he believes. The touch, the warmth- that doesn’t go away, it stays, lingering like the raindrops on his fingertips. It feels exactly like Veritas.

Weeks pass with them having conversations and confused thoughts, shifting between yearning, flirting, and curiosity. The air around them stops for a millisecond when Aventurine makes a suggestion, “I want to show you my apartment.” He expressed with a smile, with no ulterior motive, but to show a more private part of himself which is his home. The elemental form, expressionless as ever is silent. “I am certain you’ve noticed we only converse while it is raining and I take this shape, how would I go inside as this?” Veritas makes an excuse. “Come in through the balcony- you can stay there if you must drip like that- but there is a way, don’t play dumb with me, oh great rain deity~” He flails his arms about and rolls his eyes with a big smile while he teases Veritas. The shape disappears due to Veritas losing his concentration and falling to his knees once more from the teasing use of his title.

An hour later, Aventurine is back at his home, he takes off his jacket- staying in a white button-up shirt. He walks over to the glass doors to the balcony, sliding them open and his fingers drift to the unmoving raindrops on the glass, it takes his full attention… giving him comfort and he closes his eyes, turning the tables as to who is touching who through the raindrops.

In his waterfall shape, Veritas appears in front of Aventurine- the gambler didn’t even have to call him, he felt his touch. What a strange feeling… He stands still as ever, no emotion readable off of his figure, no voice able to be heard. He felt the… teasing way the phantom touch is, and felt a tad impatient- he would have great use of a few breathing exercises at that moment. To reframe his thoughts and ground- instead, he is on the balcony, in a distant form, as he said he would be.

“Ah, Veritas. You came! Allow me to show you my home~” Aventurine cheerfully exclaims and steps backward into the apartment, “Unless you plan on bringing the water inside- in which case you can observe through the glass…” Aventurine’s voice fades off exactly when the elemental shape shifts and Veritas takes his actual physical form, taking a step forward into the building, towards Aventurine. His eyes are the colors of dawn… The tall, attractive man steps closer until Aventurine’s back meets the wall behind him. Memories become clearer- the indigo hair, the dark blue robes, the deep baritone voice that soothes his ears- “Is this the form you wished so hard to see?” Veritas tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. Aventurine is speechless upon the sight of a literal god in front of him. He did expect him to look good, he is attracted to him, but oh dear gods, this is… wow. Why is he standing so close? Aventurine can feel the change in the room’s temperature, turning slightly warmer. “…yes…uhm, it is good you… changed and now you can get a tour of the place.” It took Aventurine a few moments before he softly answered. His eyes shift around, surprised by the moment, despite it all, his thoughts calmed down since Veritas is physically here. Aventurine feels at peace, safe, and content. Until his eyes fall to Veritas’ lips and everything is out of the window, his head filling with thoughts of how it would feel to actually kiss him. Their breaths are mingling, why is he standing so close? he barely notices his hand moving the Veritas’ side to pull him even closer. The air feels heavy, filled with electricity and the scent of another man which is entirely new, but then again it is a scent he knows all too well from his memories- focus allowing only now to remember it clearly. To Aventurine’s surprise, he isn’t the only one feeling like this. He watches Veritas summon a raindrop between his fingers and drop it onto his bottom lip. Veritas eyes trained on the way it falls, then closing them relishing in the feeling. It also makes Aventurine close his eyes, and he holds on to not just crash his lips against his.

“Why?” Aventurine asks.

“I… don’t know,” Veritas admits.

With the droplet still on his bottom lip, Aventurine raises his chin and presses his lips onto Veritas’. The heavy air, frozen, flows again when they connect. Lips opening to get closer, hands hesitant and shaking to bring the other closer, fearing to not get overwhelmed, minds connecting to ask the same question, why does it feel so good… why does it feel right? Aventurine’s hands travel up, one rests on Veritas’ chest and the other one cups his cheek, it is as soft as he recalls. Veritas embraces Aventurine, his arms wrapping around the shorter man’s torso and pulling him closer. Clouds fill the sky and no rain falls. The moment is theirs and it is hidden. It felt like the built-up pressure in the atmosphere right before a storm, was released. The tension loosens up when they finally feel each other’s touch and not through water. When the kiss ends Aventurine’s head fills with questions such as, how dare he gatekeep this form- why? Veritas, still close, quietly points out an observation, “Your eyes glow in the dim light.” “So do yours.” Silence. They spend the next few minutes staring into each other’s eyes, Veritas is the one to break the silence and ask for a tour of the place that was promised.

They fit together like puzzle pieces, perfect in every way. Veritas takes his physical form much more often and spends most of his time beside Aventurine, going on walks, dinners, and spending simple time together. Veritas still sends the raindrops to his lips, embracing him through the rain. Their physical affection turns simpler and is shown through occasional lingering fingers and short-lived hand-holding. They find solace in each other’s company much more than anything else. It is another one of the simple days, both sitting on the couch, Aventurine is fidgeting with Veritas’ hands when he asks, “Are you immortal?” “Hm… what a strange question. I am not immortal in the true sense of the word, I am meant to live forever- well as long as there is rain.” He explains in a gentle tone, causally watching the man caress his fingers.

“You will outlive me. I will die. I am…” he sighs, “just a human. I have, what, maybe 50 years left at best?”

“I will be by your side through every day then- and after, I will find a way, I will not leave you and you will not leave me- do not worry, dear gambler.”

Beat. Aventurine ever so slightly slumps, leaning back and looking up. “Are you sure?” he presses on in a shaky voice which he desperately tries to hide.

“I promise. I will do my best to make it happen.” Somewhat reassured by his words, Aventurine moves to rest his head on Veritas’ shoulder.

It can’t be all sunshine and rainbows- or in this case, clouds and rain. There’s turmoil happening inside the rain deity. Doubts fill him, guilt poisons his head, and self-consciousness traps him in a spiral of negative thoughts regarding his feelings and actions. He knows all emotions flow through him, water takes on any shape, and therefore at some point in time, it will take the shape of a whirlpool. The rain deity feels chained by his thoughts, trying to solve them- work them out, only for the bounds to get tighter. The days turn into weeks, the rain no longer warning Aventurine- he cannot focus, and the sky turns a shade of dark purple, calling thunder and lightning at times, it is loud, terrifying. Aventurine can’t help but worry, is someone punishing him? Every loud snap and whip sound burns his ears, Aventurine mumbles his name sometimes in distress- to no avail.

Months later, he stands on his balcony. Uninvited, he waits for Aventurine to return home. When he does, most part of the conversation is silent, Aventurine opens the door- sees him, and stares. Thoughts are exchanged without a sound, of Veritas’ pain and regrets, and of Aventurine’s anxiety. Am I even human anymore, why can I do this? He ignores that thought.

“Talk to me next time- let me help-“

“This isn’t something that would be safe to have you around for.”

“I agree, since when do you have control over the thunder and lightning?”

“I do not… When a deity, a sage, a nymph, or whichever being; goes through strong emotional turmoils- their power expands because they lose control over it. I apologize for making you worry.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“I cannot promise it won’t happen again.”

“I’ll make you promise” With furrowed eyebrows and a firm step he walks over, looking up at the rain deity with a frown. He shall put it in words even Veritas will understand, “Lack of your well-being leads to me not feeling good. If you care about me as much as I do about you, you will do better. I expect of you to do better- no better yet- I demand it.” Aventurine stands tall, chin raised and proud, putting a god in his place- equal to him, right by his side. His eyes focused on the man in front of him.

Veritas is weak, too weak to say no- to deny anything Aventurine may wish… He is the air I breathe, how could I ever reject him? His eyes scan his face, not a single tread of fear in the shorter man. Veritas nods, “I will have you near me, next time such a thing occurs. I promise.”

Aventurine’s shoulders relax, he nods to himself and steps back in, “Come inside, you’re cooking tonight.” Veritas politely follows with a shy smile on his face, his eyes looking down at where Aventurine’s fingers are pulling him and leading him inside.

VII

A century passes. Aventurine passed away years ago, and not a day nor night has gone by without Veritas building up his power to summon him here. Until he succeeded. A bright light blinds him, making him turn his head and look elsewhere in the plush, warm-toned clouds he was sitting in. Turning his head back he is met with a smiley Aventurine who immediately jumps and embraces Veritas- making him lie on his back.

“You did it- you actually did it! Took you long enough!” Through warm laughter he greets.

“It was no easy feat. It, indeed, took too long.” Veritas’ arms tighten around Aventurine’s frame, inhaling the scent of the perfume he missed so much, “I missed you- it feels so good to actually feel you- the human realm cannot convey the feeling of touch the way it does here.”

“It does feel different.” Aventurine props his elbow to look at the rain deity better.

“Now, it is a tad more complicated than I… originally explained. You are a… cloud deity now.”

Aventurine tilts his head and narrows his eyes, “A what now?” He laughs softly, “Aren’t you in control of that?”

Veritas slowly explains, “No, I am in control of the rain- and yes while clouds are water- they are not rain. By controlling the rain, I pull also the clouds indeed, but for example- I could never pull a cloud over a desert area where it won’t rain. Whereas, you can. Clouds are timeless and everywhere- you are free to manipulate them- all across the space and time.” He ends it with a smile, “There is no rain without clouds, my dear.”

The pieces all fall into space, their connection, his memories of the future- they have yet to happen right here in these clouds- he saw them happen, the way he felt less and less natural and more supernatural, the way they communicate- he knew Veritas wasn’t controlling that. It is also obvious that the rain deity did not plan for this, it is simply the way it all worked out. He provided them a… forever. The visions made so much sense now- clouds are timeless. It flows for him, time flows- he smiles and kisses Veritas’ cheek. “I knew this would- I- thank you, I am overjoyed to be here with you.”

All the memories become, soon enough, memories. Now, they spend their time almost always in some time of physical contact- hands never separating. They float around and smile at nature, Aventurine very excitedly leads Veritas through old games he had won, teaching him poker and blackjack, they laugh and enjoy this powerful life to the fullest.

On one of those countless days, Veritas takes him to the waterfall and the river, where he had previously begged the nymph to borrow their powers to hold him.

“Ah, Lord of the rain… and Lord of the clouds, what can I do for you today?” The nymph of the river smiles, their hair, the color of a cherry tree, flows with the wind, sending a scent of strawberries. The easygoing smile relaxes both men.

“We were passing by- how did you know about Aventurine?” Veritas is surprised, they do all know each other in the end- maybe it has something to do with his partner’s time-related affinities.

“It is written, the Lord of the rain will bring forth the Lord of the clouds. And no matter when he is brought forth, he shall be gifted the control of time so he has always been with us.” They say without a tremor in their voice like it is a well-known fact.

“I have not read this in the writing, Ro.” Veritas crosses his arms, mentally recalling every line in the very long text.

“You cannot know the lines which refer to you. Just as I didn’t know the ones that were related to me and my Lady of the Flower lotus.” Ro nods, the smile unmoving from their face, they seem at peace, content… happy. The beings of nature live pleasurable lives, and Aventurine feels fond of it.

“Wait- you have told me the previous time I was here that you loved a human and no one as well had borrowed you their powers to come closer- is this the same Lady? You didn’t tell me of this.” Veritas continues, Aventurine floats off to the familiar beach and jumps in the water, partaking in his old physical form. “I mean, I was aware of what was written… The nymph of the river will love the flower lotus.”

“Veritas, we have been over this, do not fret- enjoy the Lord of the clouds- and I shall go have tea with my Lady, it is late afternoon and I refuse to keep them waiting. I’d be more than happy to have you two join us, but I am afraid we won’t have enough biscuits for today- how does tomorrow sound?”

Veritas nods. “Enjoy your time, Ro. Tomorrow is fine.” Veritas leaps out of the clouds, taking his physical form as well and diving into the water. Aventurine is quick to swim over and put his arms on Veritas’ shoulders, “The water feels amazing, and you look good like this- we should go swimming more often~”

“Don’t belittle me, you just like the sight of me shirtless,” Veritas smirks, and Aventurine chuckles. Veritas moves his arms to his lower back.

“Mhm~ Yes I do, doctor” Aventurine moves closer to kiss him, there are drops of water on their lips and they mix along with the kiss, the sun shines brightly illuminating the water's surface and the wind blows over their shoulders. What a perfect world they got so lucky to exist in- together and in love.

VIII (alternative ending)

Aventurine’s eyes suddenly open, with a hollow chest and faster breathing than normal. He turns to his side to see Veritas already awake, his hand on Aventurine’s cheek wiping away… tears?

“Bad dream, darling?” He whispers.

“No- I… a lovely dream. I don’t know why I am crying…” He moves closer to Veritas, seeking his warmth, “You were a rain deity and I suppose the tears might be happy ones?... It feels like a beautiful world was ripped away from me… It was so real.”

“A rain deity? You truly have creative dreams…” Ratio pulls his head into his chest, hand in the blond locks soothing his partner. “You have me here, I am not going anywhere.” A soft kiss is placed on the crown of his head.

“I love you… thank you for being here. It was a nice dream, maybe somewhere utopian where it is all perfect and where we could be happy… it was a bit unrealistic but comforting. Although I could feel you were missing something, you also were human before you became a deity so perhaps you didn’t recall what drove you. Your motivation for knowledge and spreading it- I missed it in the dream.” Aventurine draws small circles on Veritas’ chest. The digital clock shows 3 am, they should go back to sleep.

“I love you too,” He whispers.

“When did you… when did you realize it? That you… ‘loved’?” Aventurine inquires, a sleepy mind asks strange questions.

“What a strenuous question…” Veritas answers softly, his eyes travel lower to meet the colorful ones of his partner, his own softening when they meet. With a small smile, he goes on, “To quote a wonderful writer; I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Aventurine’s eyes widen, dreams spill over into reality and every scene flashes before his eyes, he feels overwhelmed, his head running around with so many thoughts… “I hope you will even in this reality kiss me in the form of rain.”

Tiredly, Ratio nods and freezes once the words register in his head, “Mhm, yes, wait what- excuse me? That I will do what now?” The surprise is evident in his voice.

“Hush, go to sleep- I have an interview in the morning.” With a quiet grumble he listens to Aventurine a goes back to sleep.

a/n: s/o to J. Austen for being an amazing author; the quote is from the book called Pride and Prejudice, *jamais vu - a French loanword meaning "never seen", is the phenomenon of experiencing a situation that one recognizes in some fashion, but that nonetheless seems novel and unfamiliar

tags under: @starfall-reef

#dr ratio #aventio #honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #ratiorine #dr ratio fluff #veritas ratio #aventurine fluff #angst #au #rain deity x human #golden ratio #raturine #rain deity x nonbeliever

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lottesreads · 2 days

Text

Why Me? - Part 10

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

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, ANGST, violence, nightmares, mentions of PTSD, mentions of child abuse, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, smutty (smut-ish?) (horny thoughts, idk), mentions of drinking, Rooster being ok for once. (Let me know if I missed any, there's just a lot going on in this one)

Word Count: 13.5k (IM SO SORRY)

Summary: You're facing the consequences after Phoenix's party, knowing what you want isn't fair to you or Bob. After a bit of a setback, you go back to work more than ready to prove to yourself you are part of the squad for a reason. And it doesn't take long for you and Bob to realize avoiding each other isn't the right way to go about things.

A/N: An extra long part, just for you lovely bunch. I just want to personally thank each and everyone of you for sticking around! I am so sorry this took literally two months to get out, but ya girl was going through it man. I wrote and re-wrote this part so many times and I hope you all like it. Again, I love to hear what y'all think!

I should also mention I was listening to TTPD on repeat while writing, so do with that what you will.

Masterlist

Despite the cool temperature seeping through the night air, your skin is unbelievably hot. From your head down to your toes you are burning up. Right as you think you have it under control and can go back inside to the party you’re reminded about what happened moments ago and the cycle starts from the beginning. Your tongue runs over your lips as you attempt to get your breathing under control again, but the taste of Bob lingers. What did you just do?

Bob is doing all he can right now. Which is simply sitting behind the steering wheel of his truck, staring at the dashboard with his heart in his throat. He just kissed you. Well technically, you kissed him first, but the second one… He started that one. Right after he told you what he promised himself he never would.

His forehead falls to the stitching of the leather wheel as he lets out a breath. It was like you appeared from his thoughts when you followed him out the back door. It took everything in him not to look at you because he knew if he did, he would have ended up telling you exactly what he did. And then you apologized. On behalf of some woman he wasn’t interested in, who was kinda mean to him. The embarrassment of his supposed “date” for the night making out with Rooster was shortly overthrown by your hands on his face, tugging him into what he would call the best part of his night, no- year- lifetime? Ugh. He takes his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You’ve got him all messed up. Either way, it wasn’t a dream this time, and you told him you wanted to kiss him. You’re the one that initiated it! That must mean something, right?

He keeps running over what happened, trying to figure out where to pick up from where you two were interrupted. Ok, first he confesses his feelings, two, you kiss him. YOU kissed HIM. And you told him you wanted to, which is why three: he kissed you. Oh god, he kissed you, held you, and everything about it was… perfect. Your lips were so soft against his, you smelled like flowers and tasted like his favorite soda. But then, before you could do or say anything else, the back door was opening, and now he finds himself behind his steering wheel. Oh god, did he really just leave you there?

Placing his glasses back on his face, Bob stares out the window of his truck at Phoenix’s house. You were probably still out in the backyard, or maybe you went back inside after he abandoned you. Either way, there’s no way he can walk back inside and act like everything is normal. Not now, maybe not ever. His hand falls to his key in the ignition, and as slow as he can, he turns it, roaring the truck to life. Before he gets too far down the street, Bob takes one last look in his rearview mirror, the glow from the house getting dimmer the farther he drives away.

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

It’s not long after you’re able to collect yourself to your utmost ability that you quietly creep back into the kitchen. The party is still in full swing in the living room, and Phoenix catches your eye as you head toward the front door without anyone else noticing. She slips away from Rachel for a quick second, heading in your direction.

“Are you heading out?”

“Yeah”, you reply apologetically. “Thanks for having me over.” Her eyes roam over your face, as yours dart toward your feet, hoping she won’t notice something’s off.

“Ok…”, she lets you go, “Thanks for coming over, it means a lot to us.” Her face gives you a shy smile, something you don’t see her sport a lot. It makes you forget about your own dealings for a moment and remember why you came over in the first place.

“I was happy to. Rachel’s a keeper.”

“Oh don’t start getting all sappy with me”, she teases as she gently hits your shoulder. You’re halfway across the lawn when she calls out to you one last time. “And Mantis?”

“Yeah?”, you ask, turning toward her voice.

“If you see Bob will you just tell him I need to talk to him?” Your mouth goes dry, and you force a small smile to your face.

“Uh-huh”, it comes out a little more squeaky than you hoped, but she understands you nonetheless. She closes the door and you turn back to your car, face heating up once again.

Somehow you managed to drive home, AC on blast, trying to cool yourself down. Flashes of Bob’s rough hands being so gentle with you alight your senses, giving you butterflies. You can practically feel his lips on yours, the way he gripped your waist, ran his hand up your back, has you closing your eyes, somehow hoping you’d be able to feel it all again. You can’t help it as you walk to the front door, but the feeling of his lips chasing your own has your mouth shifting into the smallest smile. Everything is right with the world as you reminisce, but you know from experience that good things never last.

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

Your mind is hazy as Bob’s lips move in sync with your own. It’s comfortably warm as his hands trail down your sides, your own moving up into his hair. He stops, just for a second, and you’re able to look around at your surroundings. It’s your room, but it’s not yours. It’s the room in your mom’s house back in Ohio. It looks the same way it did the day you started packing. Like it’s been perfectly preserved in time. Only, Bob is here, and there’s a mysterious haze surrounding the two of you. That panicky feeling starts to rise as you notice each and every detail your mind had stored away long ago, you didn’t even remember how many picture frames you had on your dresser until this very moment. All four of them sit in their exact spots, each depicting a moment with your dad, Carole or Bradley.

Bob’s mouth makes its way back to your own, and you forget about where you are, allowing yourself to get lost in this dream. Each moment spent not focusing on Bob paints a clearer vision of the place you spent a majority of your life wishing you could escape. But right now, all you want to do is stay. Your feet lead the way to your twin bed, pushing Bob onto the pink covers as you straddle his lap. You so desperately need to know how it feels to have him in this position, but your mind, only knowing what it feels like to kiss him won’t allow you to fulfill your fantasy. You push harder, needing to feel him all over. He starts dragging his lips down your neck as you grip the back of his neck, trying as hard as you can to hold on to him in the only place you know you can. Where there isn’t an outside world telling you it’s against some rule to feel the way you do.

A car door slams shut, disrupting your flow. Your blood runs cold as you freeze in his hold. Your heart thrums in your chest as you sit quietly in his lap, waiting for the following sound of the front door. He continues to kiss up your neck, distracting you as you sit and wait. You flinch as the front door is forcefully closed. You’re vaguely aware of the ghosting of Bob’s hands, his lips, but you wince with each clack of a heel up the wood paneling of the stairs.

You know it’s not real. You know it deep down. But the sound is uncanny as the click of heels gets closer to your room, and now you can barely feel Bob anymore. As if this dream version of him can sense what you’re thinking, he turns your head as you collide your lips together. You can’t hear anything, feel anything other than Bob, and the recent memory of what it felt like to kiss him. The rest of the room is slowly wiped away as you and Bob part, choosing to just hold him instead. You can almost make out the beating of his own heart, as if he were real. The dresser, like a fog, slowly drifts away, the frames on it, the few posters on your wall, your desk. It’s as if you were never teleported back here in the first place.

Moving your head, you take a glance at Bob. You’re still perched in his lap as he gives you a gentle smile. A peaceness falls over you and this hazy version of him. You move to touch the freckle at the base of his hairline, only to feel nothing. That’s something you wish you could have done before now, so you could do it a million more times. You see his head move to kiss your wrist, but feel a breeze where his lips meet your skin. Leaning down, you softly connect your lips with his, at least you know what that feels like. But that only means you will torture yourself with the memory. It does its job now to soothe you into a calm state. For a few brief moments.

The doorknob twists as a large wind sweeps through the room, knocking the door into the wall. Your heart leaps out of your chest as your mother stands in the doorway, smoke practically fuming from her ears.

“YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!”, she screams. Your hands attempt to grasp on to Bob for dear life, but as you look down you’re only holding air. Bob is nowhere to be found. You squeeze your eyes as hard as you can, bringing your hands up to your face in an attempt to wake yourself. Rubbing as hard as you can so hopefully once you open them she’ll be gone. The all too familiar feeling of sharp nails and the pressure of your mother’s hands wrap around your wrists, forcing you to look into her borderline black eyes. You’re paralyzed in fear, shaking in her grasp as she squeezes tighter and tighter.

“DO YOU EVEN HEAR ME?”, she screams, tacking your name on at the end. First and middle, cursing a pang through your nervous system. A response you thought you had rid yourself of until this very moment. A hand moves to squeeze your cheeks together, stopping you if you even had the guts to say anything. It hurts. It hurts like it did when you were seven, when you were seventeen, and that’s what scares you the most. If this is still a dream, how can it hurt so much?

“YOU NEVER THINK!”, she screams in your face as you try to lean away. Her breath is the same, spearmint gum with an undertone of whatever wine she got into this time. You feel so weak in her hold as she pulls you closer. In a split second the pain from her grip is gone until her palm cracks against your cheek. Hard enough to have you falling off your bed. The palms of your hands tingle as you fall, and it feels like an eternity until your back hits the hardwood flooring.

You awake with a gasp, then a groan as you blink your eyes open. There’s the soft glow from the morning sun streaming through the blinds of your window. Your heart feels as if it’s about to beat out of your chest, it’s hitting your ribcage so hard. The glow falls on your dresser, the one from IKEA your dad insisted on getting you when he started renting the house. The house. The home your dad made in North Island. You look for the picture frames on top, there’s the ones of you and your dad, and Carole, but none of Bradley. You’re home, you’re safe.

Your head falls to the cool wood of your bedroom floor, the sweat oozing from your pores causing your skin to stick to the material. Your back and shoulder are a little sore, probably from falling off your bed, but your wrists and face feel fine. Even so, you lift a shaky hand, eyeing any possible bruising. Nothing. Just the faint green from the fading bruise on your knuckles. You kick the blanket twisted around your legs, rubbing your eyes to avoid tripping to the bathroom. There you turn the faucet on, running your hands under the cold water then splashing some on your face. An attempt to ground you in reality as you stare back in the mirror. Only, you can’t see yourself. You can only see every defining feature that reminds you and everyone else of the monster from your nightmare.

The blood rushes to your ears as your fear makes way for anger. It eats you up, taking over your senses the longer you stare. The face of a person who doesn’t care if you live or die stares back. Throwing down the towel you were using to dry your hands, and clad in your pajamas, you race down the stairs. You barely register your dad asking what that noise was, but you don’t stop, set on making it to the front door. You didn’t even bother putting on shoes, not like it matters, as you start walking. Where to, you don’t know. You just need to feel something real. Know there’s life outside of your head. Away from her.

“Where are you going?”, your dad asks from the front door, you’re a house down when from the lawn he yells your name. And even though it’s coming from your dad, you still flinch, making you all the more mad. He’s taken aback as you turn on your heel.

“I’m going for a fucking walk! Is that ok with you?”, you yell back. He stands there nothing short of aghast as you clench your fists at your side.

“Where the hell did that come from? Are you ok?”, he asks as he holds his hands up in surrender, trying not to set you off anymore than you already are.

“I’m fine”, you spit. The recoil on his face coupled with the worried look has you feeling the tiniest bit remorseful. “I’m sorry, I just- I need to be alone right now.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I just wanna know when you’re planning on being back.”

“I don’t know, just give me a minute.”

“You’re just gonna walk around barefoot then?”

“I don’t fucking know”, you huff. “I’ll be back. You don’t need to worry about me.” Without sparing him another glance you start walking. Your dad sighs and curses under his breath as he watches you storm off in one of his old t-shirts and your plaid pajama shorts.

You do as you say. Walk. That is until a flash from your dream causes a tremor in your hands you’re doing your very best to ignore. The image of her standing in front of you, in your mirror has you shaking in anger, and that’s when you start running. Where to, you don’t know. You just need to get away for one goddamn second. The slam of your bare feet against the cement hurts in the best way, letting you know this is real. It’s not some nightmare you can’t escape from.

It’s not fair. The way she haunts you, ruins every good thing you get your hands on. You curse the fact that ever since you were little people were always telling you how much you looked like your mother. She lingers in the mirror every time you try to look at yourself. It makes you wonder if she sees you whenever she catches sight of herself. Then again, you always thought one of the reasons she despised you so much was because you reminded her of your father. A constant reminder of her biggest mistake in life.

The only real way you know time has passed is the way the sun rises slightly higher in the sky. You haven’t stopped running since you started, and it isn’t until the feel of sand beneath your bare feet slows you down. Your calves are burning as you trudge your way across the warm grains. It gets colder as you get closer to the water, and once the salty waves lap at your feet you stop.

Quickly realizing how out of breath you are, you back up and fall into the warmer sand. Your hyperventilating moves into gasping breaths as your chest heaves. You glance up to the light blue sky, then down to the deep blue of the Pacific. You’re reminded of Bob’s gentle eyes, and his kind smile. You allow yourself to get angry again. Just for a little bit. He left you last night. After saying those wonderful things about you, and then granting you a moment you won’t be able to forget in this lifetime. And again, in your dream. He left. Just like everyone does. Not that he had a choice. You can’t be selfish and expect him to stay when you know it’s a risk for the both of you. You hang your head, placing it in between your knees as you hug them closer to yourself. It’s just not fair.

You could ask yourself why. Why after almost 11 years of not seeing your mother, why she still haunts your nightmares. But you know. You were doing something you shouldn’t have. Every time you misstepped, misspoke, she was there to punish you. And even now that she’s not a part of your life, she will always exist in that little part of your brain that punishes yourself. Maybe the two of you aren’t as different as you like to think.

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

After a restless night, much to the chagrin of Sylvia, who ultimately decided to sleep on the floor rather than next to the twisting and turning of her dad, Bob checks his phone. There’s a couple texts from Phoenix asking him to call her, one from Fanboy confirming their movie night later in the week, but nothing from you. To be fair, he was the one who ran away in the first place, but every time he picked up his phone to draft a text to you, it seemed all wrong. What could he say through a text that could convey how he felt, or how much he wanted to talk to you again? Tossing his phone to the pillow next to his own, he huffs out a breath, running a hand over his face. Everything is just so confusing.

As he stares at the ceiling, his phone starts to buzz. He squints at the screen after reading the name, surely it can’t be. Grabbing his glasses and placing them on his face he double checks the caller I.D. So he had it right the first time, huh. Maverick’s contact name comes up as it continues to buzz, and Bob answers it with a shaky hand. There’s no way this was on purpose. The only reason he even had his number was so Maverick could coordinate everything for the initial beach day. And then he told everyone to keep his number for emergencies.

“Hello?”, Bob asks as he breaches the silence of his room.

“Bob, hey. It’s Maverick.” Ok, so he does know he called Bob.

“Hey, Mav. What’s up?”

“Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s Mantis.” Bob swallows, trying to clear the frog in his throat at the mention of you.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. She ran out in a hurry this morning and she hasn’t been back since. I normally wouldn’t worry, but she left her phone and it’s already been a while. Listen- have you seen her at all?” Bob’s thoughts are running through his mind, wondering if you’re hurt somewhere.

“No sir”, not since you had your hands all over him last night. His face heats up at the thought, but immediately he refocuses his attention on worry, clearing his throat. “Not since last night. Have you checked with Phoenix?”

“Yeah, she hasn’t seen or heard from her either. I just thought that since the two of you are friends she might have said something. Did she seem ok last night? Or did anything happen?” Bob’s heart sinks as the thought that he might be the reason you’re gone moves to the forefront of his mind.

“Um- yeah she seemed fine last night.” Bob’s mind is reeling, you did seem ok. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, actually. But then again, maybe it’s not about him. “I can go out looking for her”, he rushes out.

“No, that’s ok. I think Phoenix is already doing that. Stay put, maybe she’ll show up at someone’s house”, he sighs. Bob can tell he sounds stressed. He can almost picture him standing on the front porch of your house, waiting for you to come back.

“Ok. Will you just uh- have someone let me know when you find her?”

“I will. Thanks Bob.”

“No problem, sir.”

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

The beach has gotten a little louder, a little hotter since you arrived. But all you’ve been doing is staring out at the waves. The cool breeze shifts loose hair around your face, the unruly locks that haven’t been taken care of after you woke up this morning. The weight of a hand on your shoulder takes you out of your trance as you quickly try to move out of the grasp.

“Get the fuck away from me!”, you yell. The hand retreats almost as fast as it landed, and squinting, you look up to identify the face.

“Whoa, easy there Hulk. It’s just me”, Natasha lets out as you readjust yourself in the sand to your previous position. Wordlessly she sits down next to you, making sure to keep a safe distance.

“Sorry”, you whisper so quietly you’re not even sure she heard it.

“It’s ok”, she responds softly. She lets the two of you sit in the silence, anticipating what you’re going to do next.

“How long have you been out here?” You shrug in a silent response. “What’s going on?”

Your mouth twitches as you stare at your feet. Shifting the sand in between your toes. “Nothing”, you lie. “I’m fine.” You hear her take a deep breath before she speaks again.

“Your dad called me, asked if I’d seen you at all.” Internally you scoff. You told him you’d be back, it’s like he won’t let you do anything now- “That was two hours ago”, she finishes her thought. Oh.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know.” You shake your head slightly. It had only felt like you’d been here for 10 minutes. How have you been here for longer than an hour? You don’t dare to look over, you know that the brown eyed gaze of your best friend is already looking you over in worry.

“It’s ok. Do you wanna head inside?” You squint at her words, confusion clouding your mind.

“Inside?”

“Yeah, just inside the-”, she stops mid sentence, redirecting her questioning, “Mantis, do you know where you are?” “I’m at the beach”, you respond flatly.

“Ok. Do you know which beach?” Swallowing, you look around for the first time since you arrived. There’s a lifeguard station with the number 6 on it just down to your right, and you can still hear the faint hum of cars from the road behind you. “That’s ok”, she lightly responds, deciding you do not actually know where you are. “Let’s go inside.”

She allows you to stand on your own, just knowing that you’d follow her. When you turn around, she directs the two of you to your right, and there it is. The Hard Deck. Somehow you had made it all the way from your home, down to the Hard Deck, without stopping. You fold your arms, keeping them close to you. Penny is already waiting at the back door, granting you a small smile as you walk up the couple steps to the bar. Phoenix stops you before you go in, placing a pair of sandals in front of you to step into. Huh, you didn’t even notice she was carrying those. It’s only after you step inside Penny’s sanctuary that you realize how bad your feet and legs hurt.

They sit you down at a table and slide you a glass of water. Neither moves to touch you, even as Penny sits down with you while Phoenix steps aside to call someone, presumably your father. You’re quiet as you stare at the grain of wood in the tabletop.

“Are you hungry, hun?”, she asks as you continue to stare at the table.“I can fix you something in the kitchen”, she offers as you glance up at her, giving a small shake of your head.

She sighs before starting again, “I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but when my dad started having flashbacks and nightmares, it really helped him to talk to someone. Got him an actual diagnosis which helped with treating it.” You furrow your brows as you cock your head slightly.

“Diagnosis for what?”

“PTSD”, she grimaces as she tries to cover it with a half smile. She probably thinks this is some work-related thing

“Oh- this isn’t, it’s not Navy-related”, you’re a little slow to correct. She sighs again and reaches her hand out for you before thinking better of it and placing it in her lap.

“Just because it doesn’t come from being in the Navy doesn’t mean it’s not real.” You clench your jaw and look away right as Phoenix finishes her phone call.

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

Nat drives you home in silence as you mull over Penny’s words. Was it really that obvious you had a nightmare? It just hadn’t happened in so long. You thought it wouldn’t come back. That she wouldn’t come back. She promised she wouldn’t be a part of your life, you guess that’s just her lingering charm that’s sticking around.

“What started it this time?”, she asks. You turn from staring out the passenger window and glance at her. The dream comes back to you in flashes, Bob’s hands on you, your lips over his, and then… You flinch slightly at the glimpse of her face in your head, the feeling of her grip.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, you respond lowly.

“OK”, she replies.

“How did you know where I was?”, you question as she spares you a look before turning back to the road.

“I was already out looking for you when your dad called and said Penny thought she saw you sitting on the beach. She wasn’t sure what you would do if she approached you, and I had to convince Mav not to book it down there himself.” You’re eternally grateful for Phoenix for knowing exactly what you needed in that moment.

“He’s just overreacting”, you try to shrug it off. She parks in front of your house, and you cringe at the blue Bronco in the driveway. So he really just called everyone, huh?

“Is he, Mantis?” She looks over to you, and you look down to your fingers for solace. Deciding you’re not up for a conversation you move on.

“Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I always will, you know that.” And you really do. Phoenix has been there more often than not to pick you up when you fall. She was the one person you could count on back at the Academy, and she’s been there for you ever since. Especially when you weren’t even sure you could trust your dad to let you stay in school. Even when she graduated two years before you and went on to flight school, she never kept out of touch.

She follows you up the steps to your door, and before you’re able to step one foot into your house, your dad is pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. You’re a little uncomfortable, and you’re sure anyone can read it on your face.

“Dad”, you wheeze, “Dad I’m fine.” He moves as you push him away, only to hold onto your upper arms.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”, he raises his voice, causing you to flinch. “Do you know how worried I was?” You didn’t actually see him before now, but Rooster is grabbing his arm, urging him to let you go.

“I’m sorry. I just- I needed to get out for a second.”

“A second? A second- You were gone for hours. You didn’t have your phone with you, didn’t have any shoes, you’re still in your pajamas for Christ’s sake!” With every word he throws at you, your brow furrows and your lip trembles a little more.

“Mav”, Rooster starts as he grabs your dad’s attention, “Ease up, man. You’re scaring her.” And even though he might be a little bit right, just the sound of his voice irritates you to no end. Him and his stupid Hawaiian shirt. A switch is flipped and you’re back to being angry again.

“No one fucking asked you Rooster. Why the hell are you even here?” He blinks at your sudden change, and shakes his head, trying to find an answer.

“Hey!”, your dad exclaims as he turns back to you with wide eyes. “He came over here because I was worried. I didn’t know if you went to someone else’s house, or were kidnapped, or god forbid, were hit by a car or worse!”

“Well obviously I’m fine.”

“I know that now. But it still doesn’t explain what you were doing for so long, or how you even ended up at the Hard Deck.”

“I told you I was going for a walk. And I don’t really think I need to explain myself to you.” You brush past the two of them without sparing a second glance, but you can hear your dad following after you.

“We are not done here!”, he yells up the stairs as you close the door to your room.

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

Bob is aimlessly walking around his kitchen as Sylvia stares on in confusion. They just got back from a run, and instead of resting like they usually do, he’s still pacing. He knows your dad told him to stay put, but if there was a chance that maybe he could find you while with Sylvia, he was gonna take it. He’s heard nothing from anyone since he first picked up the phone this morning, and that was hours ago. He’s starting to get really worried about you.

Deciding that walking around isn’t going to help anything, he decides to take a shower. He’s undressed, about to hop in when his phone starts ringing. He doesn’t even check who it is before he answers.

“Hello?”

“So you won’t answer my texts, but you’ll pick up a call? Good to know Floyd”, Phoenix’s voice echoes in his ear. He forgot all about them in the chaos of this morning.

“Is she ok?”, he immediately asks, ignoring her question. She sighs from the other end of the phone.

“She’s home and… she’s safe”, she utters as Bob takes a breath of relief.

“Is she ok though?”, he urges. She’s silent for a moment as he waits for an answer. “Phoenix?”

“It’s not that simple. She’s been through a lot.”

“She told me… about her mom.”

“She told you?”, Bob can tell by the shock in her voice you probably haven’t had the same kind of conversation with her. “She’s never actually said anything to me. Just that her mom wasn’t very nice. I kinda figured it out after we started rooming together and she’d wake up crying, just drenched in sweat. She wouldn’t let anyone touch her and- God I shouldn’t even be telling you this.” Bob hangs his head and nods as if she can see him. As much as he wants to know, he also knows that if you haven’t shared it with him yet it was probably for a reason.

“You’re probably right. Where- where did you find her though?”

“She made it all the way to the Hard Deck. Craziest thing is that she didn’t even know where she was.” Bob huffs out a breath and rubs his forehead. You seemed completely fine last night. And for some reason, he feels like he’s to blame. He didn’t stick around after to see if you were ok, or if you regretted any of it. God, he’s such a dick.

“Geez”, he breathes out.

“Yeah. Listen, just ignore my texts. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Bob’s grateful she’s thinking the same as him. What happened with Emily last night really doesn’t take precedent right now. He’s just so glad you’re home.

“Ok, see ya tomorrow.” And with that he ends the phone call. His shoulders slump as he turns the handle on the shower, the water runs as his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. Worried ones mostly.

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

The water is as hot as it can go as you wash the morning from you. Dirt from your feet makes the water murky as it swirls down the drain, the sweat from your nightmare and all the running is washed away as you clean yourself.

Stepping out, you quickly change into a clean set of clothes. Something comfortable, because you have a feeling you’re not going anywhere else today. Most likely back to bed to overthink your entire existence again. Taking your hair out of the towel, you move to wipe the fog off of the mirror, but you pause at the first swipe. Dark circles hang underneath your eyes, frame the face you wish didn’t belong to you

You’re tired. Your body, your mind, are all tired. You’re tired of trying to hold in your tears, of trying to be angry in order to cover up the fact that you are actually very scared of becoming the woman that you see in the mirror. Someone with the capability to ruin other people's lives. Falling to the floor with a thud, you allow yourself to cry. You barely hear the knock coming from your bathroom door, but you wipe your nose on your sleeve, and reach up to unlock the door.

Your dad is immediately on his knees in front of you as you reach out to him. His arms wrap around you securely as you sob harder into his shoulder.

“It’s ok sweetheart. I’m here”, he reassures you. “You’re ok. Just let it out.” You start to cry even harder at his words. You were so mean to him earlier, and why? Because you were mad at your mom? At yourself?

“I’m sorry”, you manage to speak through broken cries.

“Shh, hey. It’s ok. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was just- so worried about you.” He rubs at the back of your head as you cry harder. He holds onto you a little tighter and you let him. It’s not suffocating or claustrophobic, it’s comforting. He’s somehow able to convey in his embrace that he’s not done fighting for you, that he’s sorry he ever let you down in the first place. “I got you”, he whispers as he kisses the top of your head.

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

You aren’t at work the next day. He should have expected it. After everything that happened he still hasn’t texted you. He wanted to reach out, but thought better of it. Knowing you, you might feel more embarrassed than anything if he brought attention to the fact that your dad called him. Even so, it feels… off. For the first time in weeks he doesn’t save a seat for you at lunch. And then out of the blue, as Phoenix sits down across from him, Rooster sets his lunch bag next to hers. He glances up with wide eyes as Rooster gives him a cordial smile

It’s quiet for a moment as the three of them dig into their food. As Bob reaches for a baby carrot, the table shakes. He moves to look up at Phoenix who is trying and failing to discreetly glare at Rooster. He can only assume the movement was her kicking him under the table. Rooster clears his throat, garnering Bob’s attention. He rubs his mouth before looking back at him.

“Listen, Bob, I’m really sorry about Saturday.” Oh this is where this is going.

“Oh, there’s no need to-”

“Yes”, Phoenix cuts in, “there is. Please continue, Rooster.” Rooster winces at her words, and ultimately turns back to Bob.

“Right. Um, turns out Emily thought she was being set up with me the entire time. Not you, which explains why- uh everything happened the way it did”, he chuckles awkwardly. “Anyway, so I’m sorry about that kind of wrecking your night.” Even though his glasses are sitting perfectly on his face, Bob pushes the bridge of his wire frames even further onto his nose as an excuse to distract himself from the awkwardness of this conversation.

“Listen, it’s fine. Really.”

“Bob”, Phoenix whines, “No it’s not. I’m sorry, too. Apparently I never even told her your name. Just that you were one of my friends, so she naturally assumed it was Rooster.” Emily was honestly the last thing on his mind since that night. It all seems so trivial since yesterday. He just wants to see you. Confirm with his own eyes that you’re alright. Right now it kind of feels like you fell off the face of the earth, even if he did see you two days ago. It was two days too long.

“Phoenix”, Bob levels, “It’s ok. I wasn’t putting too much pressure on anything working out anyway.” He starts to play with his food, kind of the same way you do whenever you’re uncomfortable. Just moving stuff around, never actually picking anything up to eat. He can’t help but have every thought wander back to you somehow. He wonders if you’ve maybe done the same thing about him, but he quickly rids himself of the thought. Why would you do that? Just because he overthinks and rethinks everything doesn’t mean you do, too.

Your hands are trembling as you open the car door and head into base. Not in a bad way. Not at all. You need to get in a jet. Need to feel some sort of control over anything in your life. In the air, that’s where you feel free. You have to be laser focused on what you are doing at all times, there is no voice in your head telling you to be better, or that you’re not good enough. If she had it her way you wouldn’t be there at all. The world of aviation is one where your mother’s voice is silent. She simply doesn’t exist. You’d like to keep it that way.

So yes, your hands are trembling. And you welcome it. It’s the incessant thumping of your heart against your rib cage as you get closer to the classroom that is bothering you. Bob. You haven’t seen or heard from him since Saturday. Since you kissed him. But this is a professional setting, one where under its rule you are not allowed to feel the way you do for him. Or him you, apparently. So, you’ll pretend for both your sakes that nothing happened. It’s the way it has to be. That way you can’t ruin his life. Can’t- won’t be like the one person you swear you would never end up like.

And then, right as you walk in the door, Bob’s eyes are on you. His cheeks pinken just the tiniest bit at the sight of you. But more than that, there’s a look of relief on his face. Before you can give him any kind of indication you notice him, his attention is being directed away by Fanboy. Deciding it’s best to let it slide, you walk past Nat on his other side, giving her a slight smile as she winks at you. And even though before the day even started you had decided to avoid looking at Bob, it is so damn hard as his profile sits right in front of you. Rooster’s still mandated to sit next to you, so his incessant breathing helps to distract you.

The rest of the day until lunch is entirely boring until you’re given your chance to get up in your jet. There’s the regular spiel from Maverick about which maneuvers you’re going to practice, and then there’s another storm warning. A so-called hurricane is supposed to sweep southern California over the weekend, so they’re trying to give everyone as much air-time as they can before it starts. Fine by you. You don’t even care that you’re paired with Hangman, that’s how badly you need to get back up there.

Settling into your seat, you take a deep breath in, and out. This is what you were made to do. There’s no other feeling quite like it in the world, and your hands tingle as you grab the yoke, just waiting for the all-go. The roar of the engine is so loud you can hardly hear your own thoughts. Just the way you like it. You twitch in anticipation before Hondo gives you the hand signal, waving you for take-off.

Before you know it, you’re back on the ground, and the next group is getting ready to go up. You stay close to your jet while Phoenix and Bob pass to get to theirs. You don’t notice his glance your way, but as you take a quick look he’s already climbing the ladder into his seat.

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

Bob isn’t exactly sure where the two of you stand at this moment. He knows that right now at work is not the best place to discuss any of it, but he also knows that he can’t go on pretending forever that Saturday night didn’t happen. And then there’s the fact that something happened on Sunday to set you off, so he decides he’ll just wait for you to approach him. He doesn’t want to add any more stress to your life, just glad you seem to be in better spirits. He still saves you a seat at lunch, but 10 minutes pass before he decides you’re not coming. Phoenix finally fills an empty seat across from him, and before he can ask where you are Fanboy takes the seat he is no longer saving for you.

“Ok”, Fanboy starts, “I’ve got all three Indiana Jones on blu-ray that I can bring over since those are the only ones that matter, you still ok to do it at your place?” Bob nods at the plans mindlessly, eyes staring down at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“You sure? Cause last time I was over your dog avoided me the whole time. She fucking hates, me dude.” Bob winces and holds back a small laugh.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just… shy.” He explains.

“It’s true”, Phoenix cuts in, “Although, the last time I saw her she finally let me pet her. It was amazing.” Bob smiles at her as he finally digs into his lunch. Sylvia had already taken a quicker liking to you than anyone else Bob has introduced her to. It’s kind of a shame she won’t be seeing you as often as he’d like anymore. And just as the thought of you pops into his head, he spots you walking over to another table. Damn it.

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

As much as you like talking to your dad, you absolutely despise having to go over what you missed yesterday. Which is why your lunch was cut approximately 15 minutes short today. He was nice enough to make lunches for the both of you today, so with your brown paper bag in hand, you make your way over to the mess-hall. You stop right after entering, trying to find an empty seat among the crowd. You spot Bob and your heart skips a beat. Fanboy is in your seat, and even though there’s an empty spot next to Phoenix, Payback sits down before you can move. It’s probably for the best. As much as it hurts, you need to stay as far away from Bob as possible. It’s the only way you know you can’t ruin his career. Or yours for that matter.

Taking in a deep breath, your eyes move to the corner of the room where the only empty seat remains. Great. Begrudgingly, you make your way over to the table and place your lunch before you as you sit. Rooster’s eyes widen as he slowly chews his bite of food at your action. He’s still staring at you as you open your bag. Rolling your eyes you finally decide to speak, “Don’t look so surprised.”

“Am I not supposed to be?”, he asks as he swallows his food. Exasperation crosses your face as you take a bite of your pb & j. You don’t even pay attention to him as you rip into your food, but you can still feel him watching you. “What?”, you ask with a mouth full of peanut butter.

“Nothing”, he shrugs as you raise your brow at him. He clears his throat before gingerly asking, “How are you feeling?” You squint your eyes and dust any crumbs from your hands before folding your arms across your chest.

“What is this? What are you doing?” He shrugs again.

“What? I can’t ask you how you are?”

“Why are you doing it though?”, you counter. He looks away as he mutters an explanation.

“I just- I want to see how you’re doing.”

“Really? Or do you just want to know if I’m going to blow up on you again? How about this: ask me how I’m feeling again and find out.” He guffaws at your cavalierness as you move back to eating. Although, he really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

“Ok sheesh, Miss bossy”, he comments. He just really knows how to get on your nerves, first with Sunday, then with Emily, now this stupid nickname he used to call you when you were mad as a kid.

“Oh come on, with that little stunt you pulled with Emily you should be happy I haven’t ripped into you even more.”

“Listen, for your information I already apologized to Bob about that whole….”, he pauses to motion with his hands, “...ordeal. And Emily thought she was being set up with me so… I am not the one to blame here.”

“Oh yeah? And who is?”

“Ask Phoenix! The woman never even told her Bob’s name!”, he laughs as you give him a slight smile at the absurdness of the whole situation. It’s quiet for a beat as you ponder his explanation.

“She really didn’t tell her his name?”

“Not a damn letter. And the man only has three.” You breathe a small laugh at his comment as he shakes his head. And for a second the two of you sit there and smile, enjoying the playfulness you once shared as children. Which causes you to remember a nickname you haven’t heard in years that he uttered seconds ago.

“And by the way, it’s Lieutenant bossy now. Brad Brad.” He chuckles and shakes his head, the two of you coming to some sort of silent agreement. You feel like a kid again, in a good way this time. It almost makes you forget about the six foot WSO with the beaming blue eyes sitting tables behind you.

You somehow make it the whole day without a real interaction with Bob. You’ve caught fleeting glances of him, and he seems so… normal. Like nothing happened at all. It makes you nervous, even more so than usual. But, you keep telling yourself that it’s for the best. If the two of you ignore everything, life can go on. But there’s still the tiniest part of yourself that longs to know what he’s thinking. Wants to know him more than you do. Just another voice you have to try your best to shut off.

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

Bob can’t help but tap his foot as he waits for the day to start. If you weren’t going to say anything to him, he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring up anything to you. He checks the time on his watch. Five minutes before your usual start time, but you, Halo, and Phoenix aren’t here yet. He alternates looking at his watch, and glancing at the door as the room starts to fill in. It goes on for a couple more minutes until you finally enter. He’s nervous again. Overthinking every little thing, he averts his gaze before you get the chance to look at him. His boot is still hitting the floor even as you take your seat behind him.

“Floyd”, Hangman barks, “Leave the tapping to Fred Astaire, will ya?” Bob turns his head at his remark, giving him an embarrassed smile.

“Sorry”, he mutters before turning to your father at the front of the room. He spotted you out of the corner of his eye, about to say something to Hangman, but thinking better of it as Cyclone entered the room. You could almost hear everyone adjust in their seat to sit up straight as he made his way to the back of the room. After the dust settles and Maverick takes a second in between talking, Bob swears he can hear the quietest tapping of a pencil coming from your desk.

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

You’re not paired with Phoenix and Bob… again. Which you’re grateful for, you guess. But you also miss talking to your friends. Flying with them. It’s funny, really. You joined the Navy because you wanted to be like your dad, and you found aviation fascinating. And now, you’ve found your own community, your people. Even if it was one of the hardest things you’ve had to do, the first time you stepped foot in a jet you knew it was what you were meant to do.

You’re all back in the classroom after your first flights of the day, discussing once again what could have been done better. There’s all little tweaks Maverick suggests to everyone, not just you this time. And it feels good knowing you did a good job.

“All in all, great job everyone. Have a good lunch”, he excuses the group. You move to grab your stuff and head to the mess hall before your dad calls out for you. “Mantis, would you stay back for a second?” Nodding, you drop your stuff and take Phoenix’s seat in the front row as he rounds his podium.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing good”, you nod, “Feeling good.” He chews on your words for a second before double checking.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah”, you laugh, kind of annoyed at the moment. But you understand where he’s coming from, “Flying’s been helping. A lot.”

“Good. That’s good.” He moves back behind his podium, shuffling a couple of pieces of paper before opening a file. “Cyclone”, he starts as you tense at the name, “has been talking to me. About you.”

“Am I in trouble?”, you ask out of reflex.

“No”, he reassures you. “Quite the opposite actually.” Hanging his head, he looks down at the papers before him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous. “He’s been keeping you in mind for something. Just wants to make sure you’re up for the challenge.”

“Another mission?”

“Looks like it”, his gaze is stern as he looks at the file, but as he looks back to you his eyes soften. “Are you going to be ok to do this?” With that look you know he’s not just asking as your Captain, he’s asking as your dad. Your eyes soften with his the slightest bit as you smirk.

“Always, old man.” He chuckles as you smile with him.

“Ok”, he shrugs, “Training for this one won’t start until this storm moves out. I’d expect an announcement from Cyclone sometime next week. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Will do, Captain.”

Your hands are trembling again as you navigate the halls to find a vending machine since you forgot to pack your own lunch this morning. It’s a good sort of nerves that make their way through your system. The training for the last mission was brutal, but good. It kept your mind off of anything of real importance. That’s just what you need right now. A distraction. Which is where your mind is at right now as your brain fills itself with incessant thoughts of what you need to do to prepare as well as a bag of chips, but you’re hitting something and falling to the floor before you can process what’s happening. The sound of a handful of what looks to be peanuts roll on the floor, but you can still hear an, “Oof”, through it all.

Your eyes widen as you look over to the man sitting on the floor in front of you. His eyes mirror your own as the two of you share the longest moment together since this past weekend. Shaking your head, you move to stand as he does.

“I’m so sorry Bob”, you start as he dusts himself off, “I didn’t see you.”

“That’s alright”, he rushes out as he looks over his almost empty bag of peanuts. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you either.” He’s trying his best not to look at you as he starts to pick each individual peanut off the floor. You rush to help him and he still doesn’t look your way.

“You don’t need to do that”, he tells you as the two of you clean the floor.

“I do, it’s my fault”, your hand is already full as you find the nearest trash can to throw the ruined peanuts away. You spot the vending machine he must have just bought them from, tucked in its own little hallway. Before he can stop you, you’re already checking to see if you have enough change before locating their spot in the case. There they are, B4.

“What are you doing?”, Bob complains as he throws his handful and the bag away. You continue to reach in your pocket, not bothering to answer him as he already knows exactly what you’re doing. “Mantis, c’mon. It’s ok. You don’t need to do that.” He watches you bite at your lip as you put in the first two quarters until all you’re left with is a penny. It’s obvious you were going to buy something for yourself. But he’s also pretty sure that the penny in your hand is the same one he slipped you in Phoenix’s kitchen, and the flick of your eyes to his as you clench your fist around it confirms his suspicions.

He swallows as you press the buttons on the machine. The spiral whirls as you give yourself the confidence to speak. Not look at him. Just speak.

“Bob, can we- can we talk?”. The bag drops to the bottom of the machine with a large thump, almost triggering the laughing of Hangman and Coyote as they walk through the hall behind him. He turns as they walk, his eyes wide as he looks back at you.

“Here?”, he whispers.

“No”, you whisper back as you glance over his shoulder. You bend to grab the bag, and grip it tightly before holding it before him, “Later.” You determine for the two of you. He reaches out to the clear bag of peanuts, accepting your offer as you walk around him and into the mess-hall.

Bob’s palms start to sweat as he watches your retreating form. He rounds the corner expecting to see you sitting with Rooster again, but there you are. Sitting at your usual seat next to his vacant one. He stops in his tracks, surprised at your actions, but quickly moves back to the table. Phoenix shoves her own bag of chips your way as you accept with a gracious smile. Your ability to switch mindsets so quickly baffles him as he sits next to you with a smile. The same kind of one you return to him, the ones that don’t quite reach your eyes. He’s not gonna make it through this conversation.

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

Bob’s house has never been this daunting to look at. The white shingles are practically taunting you as you sit in your car. You don’t even know how long you’ve been sitting there, just delaying the inevitable. You immediately changed into some regular clothes after getting home, but sat on your bed for a good 45 minutes working up the courage to drive over here. And even then your car took a few minutes to get started. The voice in the back of your head told you it was a sign that you shouldn’t even bother coming over, but you knew that was an even worse idea than talking about what happened. Getting up the nerve, you vacate your car, and make it halfway up his driveway before a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Oh finally.”

“Rich, don’t be rude. She can probably hear us.” Turning your head, you find two men, probably ten or so years older than your dad, sitting on the front porch just to the right of Bob’s home. One’s got a mug of what you assume to be coffee in his hands, while the other nurses a glass of what looks to be wine. They’re both taken aback as you squint at them in the setting sun. “I’m so sorry about him, I told him to go light on the chardonnay, but…”, shrugging, he rolls his eyes at the other man.

“Oh, it’s ok”, you brush them off. Moving to take another step, his voice stops you again.

“It’s just, we were wondering why you were sitting there for so long”, the one you assume to be Rich pipes up. You suppose you were warned he hasn’t a filter this evening, but your eyes still widen the tiniest bit at his remark.

“Leave the poor girl alone.” Rich waves the other man off, turning back to you.

“We hardly see anyone coming or leaving that boy’s house, but we saw you leaving in a rush the other weekend and were just wondering-”

“We were not wondering anything, because we are not Bob’s nosey neighbors. Those are the ones on the other side of him, the Terrance’s.” You try your hardest to stifle a laugh as they continue to gossip.

“Oh do not get me started on the Terrance’s. ‘Oh Richard’”, he mocks, “‘It is against HOA policy to have a flag hanging in your window.’” You take a look around the well manicured neighborhood, taking note of flag poles proudly displaying the American Flag.

“But you can have a flagpole?” You ask.

“It’s not where it was that was the problem”, Rich responds, “She just did not want to see our beautiful rainbow among the red, white, and blue. That same red, white, and blue we served under, for her information!” The more level-headed one of the two reaches a hand out to Rich in an attempt to calm him. It pushes him further into his seat, and he takes a swig from his glass.

“Easy now, Miss-”, he turns to you as you’re taken out of your spectator seat in the conversation.

“Mitchell”, you reply. He smiles, and turns back to Rich who’s brow is set in a furrow.

“Miss Mitchell here probably has more important things to attend to with Bob”, he emphasizes, catching Rich’s attention,”Than sitting here listening to our quarrels with the neighbors.” As he moves his hand to motion over to Bob’s house, you take notice of the class ring on his finger, the ring that looks all too familiar to the one collecting dust in your closet.

“Do you?”, Rich asks, distracting you from the ring on the other man’s finger.

“Rich!”, he chides.

“I do- actually”, you shy away, remembering why you came over here in the first place. “But it was really nice meeting you-?”

“Oh how rude of me, I’m Harry, and this is my husband Rich”, he motions as Rich nods at you.

“Well, it was very nice meeting you Harry, and Rich”, you smile as you turn back toward the house. Taking a deep breath you move toward the front door. Clenching your fist in your hand, you raise it hoping it will knock on the door of its own volition, but you’re not sure if you’re ready. Screw it, you’re already kinda mad at him. He’s the one who left you and then ignored you at work! You never should have kissed him, even if you long to do it again and again.

“Do you think she’s gonna take longer on the porch than in the car?”, Rich asks in a poor attempt to whisper.

“No”, Harry gives in, “I think her arm will get tired by then.” Turning your head, Harry gives you a sad attempt at trying to look apologetic.

“I’m starting to think you’re just as bad as your husband!”, you shout from across the porch.

“I’m sorry!”, Harry shouts back, “This is the most exciting thing to happen to this neighborhood since Patty down the street got divorced!” You laugh through your nose, only turning back to the task at hand when the sound of the lock alerts you to Bob opening the door. You stare up at his ocean eyes as he blinks at the sight of you. Those same eyes flash in your mind from Saturday night, blinking rapidly before he-

“Hi”, he whispers. The raspiness of his voice catching you off guard.

“Hi”, you whisper back. His gaze moves to your still raised fist, and ever so slowly it moves back to your side. Without meaning to, your eyes fall to his pink lips and the feeling of his body against yours has you shaking the memory out of your head.

“Can I come in?”, you gently ask.

“Of course”, he responds, quickly moving out of the way to let you in. You’d usually slip your shoes off at the door, and as much as you want to spend longer with Bob, you’re pretty sure this is going to have to be a swift conversation. Just ripping the band-aid off.

Bob leads you further into the house, and soon enough you spot the fluffy black and white tail you’ve come to know and love. He must see you smile at the sight of her, because before you’re able to do anything about it, Bob is calling her over. “Syl, your best friend is here”, he taunts. Her head rises to rest on the cushion, and once she catches your eye she’s trotting over as you bend to pet her.

“Oh hey you sweet girl”, you praise her as she rolls on her back. Once her dad takes a seat on the couch, she’s up to grab his attention instead. You follow behind her, and for the first time, you are uncomfortable in Bob Floyd’s presence. It’s not even his fault, it’s your own. You watch him smile at her, scratching behind her ears until his hand stalls.

“Why are you ignoring me at work?”, you start. Taking in a deep breath, he sighs as he fidgets with his fingers. God damn those hands.

“ I could ask you the same thing”, he retorts, “But if I’m being honest I didn’t want to cause you any more stress than you were already dealing with. I thought that maybe if you wanted to talk you would come to me.” Stress? What stress- unless.

“Wait a second, what do you mean what I’m dealing with?” He hesitates before answering, still not looking at you.

“Your dad called me on Sunday.”

“Oh Jesus Christ”, you relent, “I had one bad day, I am fine now. I just wasn’t sure how to talk to you about”, you motion between the two of you with one hand, “this.” Bob’s staring up at you from beneath his glasses, that same look of pity everyone always looks at you with once they know. “See”, you point at him, “Right there. That is why I don’t tell anyone anything.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to pity me, or feel bad for me”, you huff.

“It’s not pity, Mantis. It’s worry. I worry about you”, he explains as your heart drops in your chest.

“If you really worry about me, then why did you leave me?”, you question. There’s the slightest tremble in your voice, one that most people wouldn’t pick up on. But Bob isn’t most people. He’s on his feet immediately at your words, slowly making his way over to you.

“I panicked. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get you in trouble, I guess. And I just ran.” You feel for him deep down, your own panic had taken hold of you. It just didn’t present itself until you fell asleep.

“I’m sorry, too. For waiting this long to talk to you. And for kissing you.” His brows crinkle as he cocks his head.

“You’re sorry for kissing me?”

“I didn’t- I shouldn’t have done it.” Bob is quick to interject. He knew it. He knew it all along that you only kissed him because you felt bad for him.

“No, I shouldn’t have said anything. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do anything you didn’t want to do.”

“Bob, I never said I didn’t want to do it. I just- I shouldn’t have acted on my feelings. I cannot stand to ruin your career, your life. I can’t.” His breathing just about stops, but he uses any oxygen he has left to swiftly correct you.

“How would you ruin it? I mean- you’ve already made it so much better.”

“Bob”, you sigh, “I will not let you give up your career. Or mine for that matter, over stupid feelings.”

“So my feelings are stupid?”, you glance back up at him as he furrows his brow at your insinuation.

“No! That’s not what I meant. Mine are.” You’re starting to wring your hands, it’s obvious you’re not getting your point across as eloquently as you would like.

“Well, what are your feelings? I told you how I felt, you never returned the favor.”

“Probably because you were already gone before I had the chance to say anything!” You argue. He frowns at your words, knowing it was a bad move on his part. “And it doesn’t even matter, Bob. It can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t ruin you! I can’t be selfish!”, you finally yell. He’s taken aback as you breathe heavily in front of him. It doesn’t even matter what he thinks, you look like you’re on the verge of another panic attack, so as slow as he can he walks up to your heaving form. He ever so slowly reaches out to your shoulders, and with a nod from you, he wraps you in his strong arms. You’re quick to wrap your own around him. His embrace is so warm, like finally being wrapped in a blanket after being out in the freezing cold for so long, only this time you know the cold is just waiting outside his front door to encase you once you leave. But you let yourself hug him, for the sake of getting to do it one last time.

“I can’t do that to you, Bob”, you whisper into his shoulder. He takes a step back and your arms fall from each other. He moves to push a piece of loose hair behind your ear absentmindedly as his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. “We can’t give each other what we want.”

“You haven’t even told me what you want”, his deep voice whispers as he gazes at your face, almost as if trying to memorize every inch and freckle.

“You already know”, his eyes flick back between yours at your whispered words. Your faces are already so close to each other. All it would take was a simple push from either one of you to be kissing again. You exhale a shaky breath, and before either of you can do anything, Bob’s jumping away from you again at the sound of the doorbell. Sylvia is retreating up the stairs at the noise, and Bob realizes who it is.

“Shit”, he curses under his breath.

“Who is it?” Bob stands there staring at you, wincing as Fanboy’s voice carries from the hall to the living room.

“I hope you don’t mind man, the door was open. And I brought pizza!”, lo and behold Fanboy is walking into the living room a little surprised to see you there as you give him the fakest smile you can muster. “Hey Mantis, are you here for movie night?”

“Of course! Why else would I be here?”, you grit through your teeth as you turn to Bob. He’s avoiding your gaze as he takes a dvd from Fanboy to get it all set up.

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

So here you are. Sitting on one end of Bob’s couch while he is on the other, Fanboy sitting in between the two of you. Completely clueless. He takes his third slice of pizza from its place on the coffee table, then leans back into the couch as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. You’ve been sitting watching Raiders of the Lost Ark long enough that Indy and Marion have made their initial escape, and are now sailing away, comfortable as she starts kissing him better. From the corner of your eye, you spot Bob shifting slightly in his seat as you do the same. Fanboy is perfectly content, sitting against the cushions as the two of you think about the other night. And what was about to happen before he showed up.

Your eyes are taken off the screen as a shrill ringing comes from Mickey’s pocket.

“Sorry”, he mutters as he takes it out. “Oh shit, it’s my mom.” He stands as he moves to the front door, yelling on his way out, “Pause it for me, will ya?” Bob does as he asks and the two of you don’t make any motion to move. He stares at the frozen screen, of Indy and Marion being so intimately close together before he speaks.

“Would you do it again?” You look over to him as he stares ahead, and then back to the screen.

“Bob”, you shake your head, “We can’t, you know the rules-”

“I didn’t ask if you could. I asked if you would. If you would want to.” You’re left staring at Bob with a blank face as he takes a deep breath in, anticipating your answer. His jaw clenches as you give the slightest nod of your head. You can’t lie to Bob. Along with the feeling of safety he encases you in every time you’re with him, the fact remains you can’t lie to him, and that scares the absolute hell out of you.

“Would you?”, you whisper, unconsciously glancing at his lips. His eyelids flutter at your movement and he swallows.

“Yes”, it comes out more as a breath than an actual response, but you understand it nonetheless. You look away from him, the weight of his gaze knowing you both want the same thing too much for you to handle. The hand that was fiddling with the rip in your jeans moves to settle where Fanboy once sat. You can see it out of the corner of your eye as Bob slowly moves to rest his hand next to yours, almost as if he’s scared you’ll move away if he gets any closer. His hand only rests next to yours until he reaches his pinkie out to sit right against yours, testing the waters. You ignore this altogether, reaching your hand to clasp over his, squeezing as he squeezes back just as softly. It has been too long since the two of you held hands, and you couldn’t go one more minute without the feeling of his large hand encasing yours.

Turning his head, the two of you watch your hands as he rubs his thumb over the back of yours. You look towards him completely and chew your lip as he brings his gaze back to your face. And like the two of you are magnets, completely attracting one to the other, you slowly move your faces closer and closer. You can feel his breath on your face, your hand still over his as he squeezes it tighter until- the sound of Mickey slamming the front door closed jolts the two of you back to your ends of the couch. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you stare straight ahead at the tv, it’s gone black now from being paused for too long as you try to focus on the bouncing logo. Saved by the damn bell, you guess.

Mickey slumps back into the couch with a quick apology and the movie starts back up. Almost as soon as he sits down, you’re on your feet. Met with two pairs of wide eyes, you give a brief smile to Mickey.

“I have to go home”, you rush out with an apologetic smile.

“What?”, Mickey asks, “The movie’s not even over yet.”

“I know, but my dad’s waiting for me. You know how it is”, you attempt to excuse yourself.

“No I don’t actually, because I’m not in High School anymore and I don’t have a curfew”, he laughs. Your dad didn’t technically have a curfew for you, but after your little walk on Sunday, he did tell you he’d like to be in bed by a certain time. And he was most definitely going to wait up until you got home. Shrugging, you make your way around the back of the couch until Bob shoots up out of his seat.

“I’ll walk you to your car”, he urges. He follows you to the front porch, and softly closes the door behind you. The sun has long set by now and the only thing you can hear is crickets chirping. You can’t help but find the parallel to the last time you were outside on a night like this… with Bob. Only this time, you’re sure you are going to go home knowing that Bob can only be your friend, your teammate. He stops short of his lawn as you turn around.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”, you ask with a sad smile. He gives you the same one back, the good old courtesy ones you were so sure you were done seeing him give to you. He nods as you move to walk to your car, but the feeling of his large hand encasing your fingers and slightly tugging has you spinning back around and into his chest. While still holding your hand, his other moves up to your face, his calloused thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheek.

“Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll let you go and I won’t ever do this again.” His blue eyes bore into yours as your heart picks up speed. And you know you shouldn’t, but right now you just can’t care to give a damn.

“Don’t you dare”, you whisper. His lips are on yours immediately as your hands tingle, moving to touch him wherever you can. He hums in surprise as your hand moves up to run through his hair. With one hand still on your face, the other slides from your hand to your waist as he pulls you closer against him. Your lips are moving so fast against each other, it’s hard to discern who deepens it, but you don’t really care as his tongue slides against your own. He’s kissing you like a man starved, and you know you’re just as hungry for him as you pull him against yourself.

It’s almost a mirror of the other night as you start walking backward, hitting the passenger side door of his truck this time. You can’t help but whine into his mouth as his hand slides to the side of your neck, just the feeling of his hand on your bare skin is enough to have you seeing stars. With your free hand, you run your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him impossibly closer to you. With an “oomph”, he allows himself to press his body completely against your own. The pressure sends a tingle down your spine, and you’re quite positive that if he wasn’t holding you up, you’d be melting into a puddle at the feeling.

Reflexively, your hips move forwards to meet his as he sighs against your mouth. Allowing himself to take a miniscule break, resting his forehead against your own.

“Please”, he pleads as his lips graze yours. And even though the kiss is just about over, you know what he’s asking. “Just- just one more”, and who are you to not give into the pleadings of a man who wants exactly what you do? This is not what you came over here to do, but you kiss him with fervor anyway, as his spit-slicked lips meet your own once again.

If you weren’t so distracted with the passion fueled meeting of your lips, you’d almost think his belt buckle was hitting your pelvis. But you know for a fact as your fingers tighten in his belt loops that he’s not wearing a belt. And that’s how you know this is affecting him just as much as it is you. Oh god.

Almost as if he knows what you’re thinking, and just how turned on you are, he moves so his thigh is slotted in between your own. He must feel you clench your thighs around his muscled one. And the pressure just feels so good, causing you to whine one last time against his mouth before separating and resting your forehead against his chest. As much as you want to keep going, you know you need to end it before you go too far. Or before you get arrested for public indecency. Then again, you’ve already gone much farther than you should have with Bob.

“You ok?”, he breathes as he rubs at your neck, a hint of his southern twang peaking out with the ask. You’re still breathing heavily, but Bob feels you nod against him.

“Uh huh”, you muster before you look up at him. Clearing your throat, the two of you don’t break eye contact until you look to his pink lips, swollen thanks to you. You rub any remainder of yourself off of his mouth with your thumb before looking back into his wide-eyed blues. Your hand lingering on his face. “I’ll um- see you at work tomorrow?”

Bob can only nod, knowing full well that this was a goodbye of some sorts. Not as friends, not as teammates, but as whatever could have been. You would be remiss if you didn’t take advantage of this opportunity, so you do. With the gentlest touch of your lips against his, a stark contrast to what you were doing seconds ago, you drop your hand from the slight stubble of his jaw.

“I’ll see you tomorrow”, he whispers. You nod at him this time, deciding to not give him a smile you both know is fake. Slipping out of his arms, his hand lingers on your arm as you walk toward your car, until your fingers fall from his. He watches as you go, and takes a moment to stare up at the night sky with his hands on his hips.

That was a little more hot and heavy than he thought it was going to be, so he takes a moment to collect himself before walking back inside and pretending absolutely nothing happened. Taking his glasses off with one hand, he runs a hand over his face with the other. He forces himself to think of anything but you, baseball stats, mowing the lawn, picking up after Sylvia. That seems to help cool him down as he darts back up to the front door.

“What I wouldn’t give to be kissed like that.” Bob’s head whips over to his right, and takes note of Harry sitting on his front porch, taking a sip from his cup of coffee, sudoku puzzle to his side.

“Oh God”, Bob mumbles as he turns back to his house, not bothering to say anything else to the man.

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

Taglist:

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@hunbomb

#why me?#top gun maverick #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd x reader #mavdad #robert bob floyd x female reader

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 3 days

Text

There has never been enough of me (and I have nothing left to give)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1k

genre: fluff kinda, comfort

warnings: they're gonna talk abt their feelings, timmy and reader are both so judgy but they get through it, they are both keeping so many secrets

a/n: more timmy bc he's on the brain rn

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why a PI? Why not a cop or something?" Tim asks, feet swinging off the edge of the rooftop as he sits next to you.

"Never really had much respect for authority." You shrug.

"Can I ask you something else?" Tim continues. You huff out a laugh.

"You can ask me anything," you respond simply.

"You're way too smart for the work you do."

"That's not a question."

"You know what I mean, though."

"Ask me anyway. Say it," you respond, turning to look at Tim, eyes locking with his under the faint moonlight.

"Why do you waste your life and your talents chasing cheating, rich husbands around Gotham? You could do so much more." He says pointedly, a frown tugging at his lips. You turn away from him, tipping your head back to look up at the night sky as you sigh.

"Why do you think I'm a waste? Hm? Why do you think my life isn't worth it?" You ask plainly. Tim tenses next to you.

"I didn't mean that."

"But you did say it." You respond, tilting your head to look at Tim again as he opens and closes his mouth, searching for whatever words will make this right. You sigh again and lift your legs up, tucking them under you as you turn to face him in crisscross. You pointedly ignore the alarmed sound he makes and the way his hands shoot out at the idea of you moving around so close to the edge of the roof.

"What are you looking for here, Tim?" You ask firmly. Tim shifts, eyes wandering away from yours.

"What do you mean?" He mumbles, his gaze avoiding yours.

"It's just… people like you - they spend their whole life trying to make something of themselves - trying to be someone… thinking that their life is a waste unless they, I don't know, find some constant way to justify themselves and the space they take up. You look at your reflection and see yourself - see your worth based on that." Tim looks back at you, finally, lines etched in his forehead as he furrows his brows.

"People like us, you mean," he says gently - too gently for someone who was just insulted, you think bitterly.

"No," you shake your head. "No, I'm not like that."

"Yes you are, you've just… swung too far the other way."

"No, I… don't push this, Tim." You turn away from him again, swinging your legs back over the edge of the rooftop and looking pointedly away from him.

"Do you ever think about the fact that you let your talents waste away because if you actually try, there's a chance of failing? If you try to actually be someone… actually do something, there's a possibility that you just didn't have all that talent that you thought you had?"

"Tim, I swear to god…"

"Because you're wrong, you know-"

"Tim," you snap. "…stop. You don't know everything about me. You don't know everything about my life or my job or why I've chosen to live the way I do or become the person I've become. And even if you did… you of all people have no right to judge me on this." You frown, hands clenched into fists on your lap as you stare at Tim intently. He sits up straighter at your words, his chin lifting defensively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks wearily.

"Oh, come on," you sigh. "Rich boy who grew up in Wayne Manor, taking over his father's company? You can't… you can't say you're any different."

"You don't understand it," he says defensively.

"Then enlighten me," you quip back.

Tim opens his mouth, then closes it. I'm Red Robin, he wants to say. I've made something of myself. I couldn't possibly make more of myself.

"I'm…" he stops, eyes searching yours. "There are things you don't know about me or my life, either," is what he settles on.

"Well," you say stiffly, "maybe neither of us should judge, then."

"…I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Silence blankets the two of you, both of your faces tilted up to watch the clouds pass over the moon, cloaking you in darkness before bathing you in light again, and again, and again. Tim glances over at you, his brain going foggy at the way your eyes flutter closed and a sigh escapes your lips.

"What did you mean earlier?" he muses. You arch a brow questioningly, eyes still closed. "You asked me what I was looking for here. What did you mean?"

"I…" you open your eyes, turning to look at him with a vulnerability that makes him wish he could cover himself up more. "You… think you have succeeded where I've failed. You think you've made something of yourself and I've chosen not to - I think it's the other way around, but whatever. My point is… why are you here? With me? Do you… want to make something of me, too? Or do you want to be with someone who isn't anything, so that you can get away from trying to be something? Because either way, I don't like that. I won't be with someone who sees me like that."

Tim looks at you for a long while, his expression softening in a way that makes you shift, feeling naked under his gaze.

"Maybe I like being with you because I feel like, no matter what I do, I'll never make enough of myself, " he says quietly. "And maybe it's just nice being with someone who sees themself the same way. Maybe you just make me feel seen and heard and… maybe you make me feel like I'm enough."

"Oh," you say haltingly. "…oh."

"And maybe," he continues, taking your hand gently in his to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. "Maybe we could both learn to be a little less defensive." You huff out a relieved laugh at his words, burying your face in the hand not holding his.

"And maybe a little less judgemental," you add. Tim laughs.

"Yea, that too… that, too."

#smsn.writes #tim drake #tim drake fluff #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake fic #tim drake wayne #tim drake x you #tim drake dc #red robin #red robin x reader #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine #red robin tim drake #red robin dc #red robin fanfic

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allfortzu · 19 hours

Text

hand in hand

-- nayeon / tzuyu. 2.7k, fluff, slightly suggestive ; celebrity!tzu. MEN DNI

to be in love is to know love.

nayeon loves being in love.

she loves that fluttering feeling in her chest; loves how it makes her heart soar and skip and all of the stupid things that come with it.

how her mind ever only wanders to one person now, and how she tries to distract herself from it only to be distracted by it.

really, nayeon loves knowing that she's in love.

kookeu must feel it too, because he huffs and leaps off her lap, unable to ignore her tapping foot.

if it were any other day, she'd pout and wail for him to come back — but right now, she's brimming with so much giddiness she can barely fathom any emotion that isn't pure excitement.

when tzuyu texts back, nayeon's heart bursts.

tzuyu

almost done with the shoot :)

call her lovestruck or smitten; deeply infatuated, even — nayeon is all of these things at once.

she grabs her keys in one hand, her racing heart in the other, and sprints out the door.

i'm here, i'm here.

she probably breaks every speed limit on her way over and then some, and when breaking speed limits is no longer an option, she risks a parking ticket and runs the rest of the way.

the path is dark and they’re all covered up, but nayeon wouldn't be nayeon if she didn't know what true love looked like.

“tzuyu.”

she's clad in a cap and mask, hidden from prying eyes. though, nayeon couldn't possibly miss that familiar shine.

“unnie!”

she isn't sure how many steps it takes for her to reach tzuyu because her legs move before she can start counting. nayeon pummels into tzuyu with a puff. they both stumble with the force, but tzuyu keeps her stance steady enough to engulf nayeon just as forcefully right back.

they don't kiss, not yet; nayeon throws her arms over tzuyu's shoulders, and tzuyu gathers her up in kind, laughing, chest fluttering.

she inches down the brim of her cap when nayeon presses eager lips to her cheek, over her mask. the polyester is cold and rough, nothing like tzuyu's skin, much to nayeon's dismay, but it is enough. tzuyu giggles, shy and slightly wary; nayeon nuzzles in anyway.

“hi to you, too, stranger,” tzuyu muses. “were you waiting for long?”

nayeon buries her nose into tzuyu’s neck. it was a little long, but she'd be willing to wait longer if need be, if it was for tzuyu, so — “not at all,” she says. “you finished early today.”

tzuyu's eyes curve, crinkling adorably at the corners. “well, i had very important things to do after.”

“that so?” nayeon beams. “what kind of important things?”

“you know…” tzuyu drawls.

“do i now?”

“yeah,” tzuyu drops her voice. “like… kissing my girlfriend, and all that.”

nayeon laughs. “you make it sound so scandalous.”

“some people think it is,” tzuyu says, and nayeon knows she's right. at this point, they've been standing here hugging for so long even this might be scandalous. “i do really want to kiss you now, though.”

nayeon grins her bunny-toothed grin, affection blossoming under her skin and a giggle bubbling in her throat. if anything good could come out of being apart for longer than either of them want, it's that tzuyu's always terribly needy by the end of it — the kind of needy nayeon knows tzuyu only feels for her; the kind of silly attachment she can't say she doesn't adore or absolutely love reciprocating.

“what happened to taking me out on a date first?” nayeon jabs playfully.

tzuyu tightens her embrace, a little pleading, but still complying. “okay, dinner date first. then kisses…… then i’m staying over at yours, right?”

nayeon's expression softens. “i could stay over at yours, too — if it’s easier,” she suggests.

tzuyu has been talking about this since the day she left for her overseas shoot, but nayeon always feels like her place is lacking. tzuyu’s penthouse is bigger and nicer, and she can't bear keeping her away from her home any longer than work has.

“you probably miss home.”

“no,” tzuyu insists. “i missed you. and i like your place much, much more.”

nayeon laughs. “my dingy little one-bedroom apartment?”

“it's not dingy,” tzuyu frowns sharply. “It's cosy; much cosier than my empty shell of one.” she leads them on their way, walking in the vague direction where nayeon came from and trusting nayeon to guide her if she strays. “and it smells like you.”

“it smells like me?”

“yeah,” tzuyu says. she slips a hand into nayeon's, then tucks them into her coat pocket. “like home.”

it's a little too warm for the weather, but nayeon thinks tzuyu is wonderfully lovely for it all.

in the car, tzuyu gets a call.

nayeon watches her face fall, and she knows why it does.

“it's my manager,” tzuyu announces. she picks the call up anyway.

nayeon has never been around to hear tzuyu speak to her manager before — they're always talking in hushed voices and different rooms when nayeon's around. she's met her manager briefly, in between dropping tzuyu off at her place or picking tzuyu up from a shoot, but never any longer.

in the span of two minutes, nayeon realises why tzuyu has never tried introducing them, and why tzuyu never talks to her manager when nayeon's around.

“i don't care if you think i shouldn't be dating anyone right now,” tzuyu hisses into her phone. “i told you i'm taking a break this week, so i am. you can waste your time waiting for me outside my door, i don't care.”

nayeon can't hear the other side of the conversation, but by that point, she decides it might be in her best interest to simply tune out the rest.

when tzuyu hangs up, she tosses her phone to the backseat.

nayeon debates saying something, but tzuyu speaks up first.

“sorry.”

at this time of the night, the roads are empty, so nayeon chances a glance at tzuyu. “what for?”

“you shouldn't have had to hear that,” tzuyu says. “you know i love you, right?”

nayeon wishes she had more comforting words, but all she can think to say back is: “yeah, i know. and i love you, too.”

she takes tzuyu’s hand and hopes it’s enough.

“do they… do they know you're with me?”

“i’m sure they could tell.”

“you don't have to force yourself to meet me if it gets you in trouble, you know?”

the grip on nayeon’s hand tightens. “don’t say that — i want to do this. and i don't care if it gets me in trouble.”

nayeon squeezes back. “but i worry.”

it's not like she never knew this was going on behind the scenes — it was something that was implied the second tzuyu decided to enter this line of work, anyway — but she didn't think it would be so prevalent; that there would be people pestering tzuyu and watching her every move, even those who were meant to be on her side. and she didn't realise the extent tzuyu went to to keep these issues from her, to make sure these problems weren't as big as they were.

“you don't have to,” tzuyu huffs. “i care about you much, much more than them; i'll always put you first, i don't want you to think otherwise.”

“i know that,” nayeon sighs. “it's them i'm worried about. i know you want to keep our relationship private, but who knows what they could do?”

she sees tzuyu open her mouth to refute, only to close it before any words come out.

they fall into silence until tzuyu breaks it again.

“what should we do, then?” she whispers, and it's so hesitant it's as if she's already predicted an answer and didn't like it. “i don't want to stop seeing you, if that's what you're suggesting.”

“i'm worried, not out of my mind,” nayeon gapes. “what i'm saying is that… if you need us to lay low or something, just to get your managers off your back, i'm okay with it. and if i can't pick you up from work everyday, that’s fine, too.”

tzuyu's fingers tense. “absolutely not. you're the only thing i look forward to after work, how am i supposed to get through the day if you're not there at the end of it?”

nayeon softens. it's an achingly romantic sentiment she can't bear to ruin.

“would you just promise me you'll be careful?”

“i will,” tzuyu assures. “but i'm also ready for whatever they could throw at me, okay?”

it's a type of determination and courage that nayeon admires, but sometimes she does fear for tzuyu, especially when it begins inching into stubbornness.

“you could lose your job,” nayeon warns gently. “they could take everything.”

“that would barely amount to losing you,” tzuyu says. “you're my everything. so — as long as you're here, i'm not scared.”

nayeon's never been strong enough to stay away from tzuyu, anyway.

“okay,” she says.

she knows only this one other thing as earnestly as she knows her love for tzuyu.

“then i'm not scared either.”

tzuyu makes sure her cap and mask are fitted snugly over her face before they leave the car.

“i can go get the food — it's dangerous for you,” nayeon had told her, but it only made tzuyu want to go with her more.

“i'll be careful,” tzuyu reassured. she simply winked and pointedly pulled her cap down further. “you're always doing these things for me — let me.”

nayeon still worries, even though the cashier acknowledges them with nothing more than a tired smile when they walk in.

now, tzuyu squats with her in front of the cold foods rack. she already has two ramen bowls in her hands.

“should i get a rice ball or ramen?” nayeon ponders.

“you know a rice ball wouldn't be enough.”

“but i’m craving rice,” nayeon pouts and pokes at the plastic. “and i’ve never seen this malatang chicken flavoured one before.”

tzuyu tilts her neck back, angling just enough to peer through the tiny slit she'd left between her pulled-down cap and pulled-up mask. she's quiet for a bit, then she takes the rice ball before nayeon has to decide.

“we'll get both.”

“both?”

“yeah, my treat.”

“... and chuu-hi?”

“and chuu-hi.”

nayeon beams. she grabs two cans and holds her arms out to retrieve the rest of their things from tzuyu. it's usually how it goes in places like these — she’ll speak, pay, walk in front, for fear tzuyu might be recognised if she ever does any of those things in public.

but tzuyu picks the cans from her hands instead and keeps whatever she’d been holding.

“i'll do it this time.”

she watches in stunned silence as tzuyu makes a stiff beeline to the cashier. in the middle of an anxious thought, nayeon realises why tzuyu had insisted so adamantly to come along.

i'm not scared.

tzuyu shifts in place at the end of the line, but her hands are balled into fists.

for a while, nayeon keeps her distance, cautious to be seen around tzuyu herself — cautious of tzuyu being seen around her. maybe tzuyu had been looking forward to this moment, or at least gearing herself up for it, but nayeon hadn't.

yet, tzuyu’s fingers begin to fidget.

nayeon can't help herself despite the obvious foolishness.

she hastily grabs another rice ball and can of chuu-hi, and rushes to the counter. maybe she’ll come off as another unassuming customer. for tzuyu's sake.

she can't see tzuyu's face, and she's not even sure if tzuyu has any peripheral vision left with the way her cap is pulled down. she worries.

she tugs on the hem of tzuyu's jacket as subtly, as gently as she can.

below the counter, tzuyu curls a quiet finger around hers.

nayeon’s heart settles.

tzuyu doesn't forget to give nayeon a kiss.

in between bites of ramen and rice balls, after countless careful glances around, she leans over and dips her head until their lips meet.

nayeon hums, pleased.

“in public?”

“i said i wasn’t scared,” tzuyu tells her.

they sit by a river near her apartment, the same one they've sat at since they met. ramen has always tasted better outdoors, and their lips have always been particularly irresistible when they weren't allowed to kiss them.

nayeon pulls the brim of tzuyu’s cap back down, readjusting it after their kiss had pushed it back.

tzuyu chuckles. “i'm sure anyone who wanted to see has seen already.”

nayeon wants to cover tzuyu's hand with hers, but after that stunt, she decides some cautiousness is due. “when did you get so brash?”

tzuyu smiles. she brushes a finger against nayeon's pinky. “you make me want to do stupid things.”

nayeon hooks her finger around tzuyu's, relenting.

she feels something emanating off tzuyu in quiet waves, an uncomfortable uncertainty and restraint in her speaking that she’s never enjoyed. that bashful tone always meant more than it did on the surface.

“you can tell me what's really on your mind, you know? what was the kiss for?”

tzuyu's eyes shift downwards, though her pinky remains still in nayeon’s. she's silent for a long while, long enough that nayeon gets nervous, but she waits for tzuyu to speak first. she's always needed time to collect her thoughts, and nayeon knows tzuyu is still thinking about her when her pinky curls tighter around her finger.

when tzuyu speaks again, her voice comes out as a whisper, in thoughtful, carefully picked words.

“i’m thinking about coming out.”

nayeon’s brows raise, startled. “what?”

“yeah,” tzuyu says. “i want to kiss you wherever i want, and i want to tell the world about you eventually. we can do all that when i do.”

nayeon can't help the silly grin that spreads across her cheeks. they’ve talked about it before, in stray comments and idealistic dreaming, in impulsive moments, but even then — only in ifs and imagines, never wants, never when, never with so much certainty.

“you must be going mad.”

tzuyu laughs with her. “maybe i am; maybe for you. i’m greedy.”

“you really are going mad.”

“i know i am,” and she keeps laughing. “but doesn’t it sound nice?”

“it sounds wonderful.”

at home, nayeon kisses tzuyu. without reserve, without caution.

tzuyu sighs into the kiss, melting into her touch. her fingers latch onto the collar of nayeon’s hoodie, tugging her in eagerly.

“i’ll do it next week,” tzuyu says. “i’ll tell everyone then.”

nayeon pulls back slightly, eyeing the brim of tzuyu's cap. she lifts the cap off tzuyu's head and tosses it to one side. “i suppose there’ll be no need for this anymore, then?”

it seems like tzuyu takes it as a sign to hold back a little less as well.

“not at all.”

she pushes in further, desperate, longing. tzuyu swallows all the air in her lungs and settles all the noise in her mind. she covers nayeon's lips in soft saccharine pecks, then slower, longer kisses, ones that fill her chest with so much warmth it makes nayeon wonder if the cages of her ribs are deserving of such heaven.

tzuyu reaches over to clutch onto her waist, pulling at the hem of her hoodie to bring them closer. her kisses grow hungrier, fingers eventually dipping under nayeon's clothes to touch skin.

nayeon can sense the eagerness; the tugging and fumbling and impatient grasps, the recapturing of her lips when she leaves for air, all of the waiting from before spilling over in this singular, infinitely intimate moment. tzuyu breathes out like every kiss is a new revelation; love in its most honest, most earnest, most raw.

nayeon kisses back with equal fondness, as much as tzuyu deserves.

she kisses her until tzuyu hums, and tzuyu giggles like she’s in love, like she’s kissing nayeon for the first time all over again, like she’s everything; she smiles and laughs and breaks the kiss between moments she can’t help breaking, and nayeon does too.

“i want you,” she whispers.

“you have me,” she whispers back.

between their mingled words and encapsulating touches, between steps to a bedroom they share and backs to sheets that smell like them — nayeon knows this must be all of love, right in her two bare hands, tender and real and kind.

okay so what if the plot is just abt two people being in love??? that is not a crime! it's been a while since i wrote just absolutely mindless fluff (i always say this but i'm sure it hasn't bc what else do i write) it feels that way at least! i love writing about love

anyway! thank you for reading and interacting! it means the world <3

#twice imagines #nayeon x tzuyu #twice fluff #im nayeon #chou tzuyu #natzu #twice fics #when i say slightly i mean slightly

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madeforstarker · 1 day

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[ tags: secret relationship, half of end game never happened, repost from old account ]

Peter sat stiffly beside Mr. Stark as he started the engine of his car, he's driving Peter back to his apartment in Brooklyn, a three hour drive at three in the fucking morning. Peter hates it. He hates that they had to hide whatever they had. Whatever sinful, whatever deep, whatever profound thing that they had.

"What's on your mind, kiddo?" Mr. Stark asks softly, affectionately. Peter doesn't argue with the kid or the kiddo that always seemed to be a habit for Mr. Stark to adress him when the older man felt like it.

"I just hate this." Peter whisper softly.

Mr. Stark's eyes doesn't leave the road. Three hours, Upstate New York to Brooklyn. Peter could book an Uber, but Mr. Stark always drives him back, it was an extension, an excuse to have more time spent together.

"This drive? or... me?" He hears the older man ask.

"Never of you." Peter answers, without second thought. like a knee-jerk reaction whenever Mr. Stark voices out his insecurities.

"What is it that you hate then?" The older man asks, his fists tight against the luxurious wheel of the equally luxurious but low-key car. A car no one knew Tony Stark had.

"Of this," Peter gestures the whole car, "Of us being a secret, of us hiding, of you losing sleep just so you can drive me back to my apartment, of me not being able to talk about you to my friends, how amazing you are, how great you are, how much I love-" Peter stops, his voice was shaky, on the verge of crying.

"Pete, baby, I love you," Mr. Stark starts, he takes the next exit, a longer route back to Brooklyn, "But we can't right now. Not right now, baby. Not when the divorce is still on the process. The press, baby, the press will eat you up, they'll drown you with lies, they'll make you into someone you are not."

"But, I am the reason. What they'll say? It'll all be probably right. I did get in between you and Ms. Potts-"

"No, you did not." Mr. Stark snaps, "Peter, you never came in between me and Pepper. We had this coming. And you know that we didn't marry for love. Even the engagement was a back up plan. The fucking wedding was an implusive anguish-ridden move because I thought I lost you. But right now, Pete, this is going to look so wrong to the outside eye."

"Then maybe I don't want to be right. I just want you, Mr. Stark. Sir, I just-" Peter sobs, as he clenches his fist against his eyes, he couldn't stop the tears that fell from his eyes, he hated this, he hated being so needy, he hated that he felt scared that Mr. Stark might change his mind and stop the divorce and-

"Hey, hey, baby, talk to me, come on, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" The older man asks worriedly, he pulls over by the curb, parking the car, as he slaps his seatbelt off, turning his body towards Peter.

"What-, What if you get tired of me? What- fuck, What if you change your mind and stop the motion for divorce? O-or, what if you find someone else better than me? What if he or she changes your mind and then you'll have the divorce but not for me? Wha-"

"Let me stop you right there, Peter." Mr. Stark says gently, he slides his seat back, and pats his lap, inviting him to crawl over to him, which Peter does in an instant. He slaps his seatbelt off and scramble to sit on Mr. Stark's thighs.

"Isn't it obvious that you're meant for me and I'm meant for you? Every piece of you fits me perfectly, Every second, I wish I was with you instead, Every thought, it's you. Jesus Christ, it's always been you, Peter. It's wrong, I know, but God help me, you're the one I want to be with until the end. No one will ever come close to you. Nothing will ever come close to what I feel for you." Mr. Stark whispers as he holds Peter in his arms, carding his thick fingers through his soft curls.

Peter buries his nose on the soft expanse of the older man's neck, bathing his nose with the scent of home, his love, his Mr. Stark.

"One day, Pete, I'll hold your hand on the streets, I'll dance with you at every gala, I'll have you on my arm as my date to every party, I'll shout out my love for you from every roof top in New York. But for now, we have to wait, baby. I don't want you to be painted in a bad light, you deserve better. You deserve only the best. You're the only good thing that had ever happened in my endearingly bad life, I will not let other people ruin it. I love you, baby. And that will never change." The older man says with such a gentle tone, soft and filled with emotions. Peter doesn't argue anymore.

"I love you too, sir. More than you'll ever know." Peter whispers back as he presses a kiss on the older man's stubbled jaw.

Mr. Stark doesn't let Peter leave his lap, the car starts and it's on auto-drive, Peter falls asleep in Mr. Stark's arms. Sated and happy.

#starker #tnpt #made: prompts!#made: writes!

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fluffyhare · 2 days

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(sad/comfort, tickling)

Hey, there you are! I've been looking for you all day! What are you up to, friend?

Oh, no... What's wrong?

Oh, honey... my poor little peach... come here.

There, there... it's okay... I'll just hold you for a minute and rub your back. You don't have to say anything, okay? Shh, shh... you're safe now, I've got you. That's it... just let it all out, sweetheart. This world is so hard on soft things like you, it just isn't fair... oh, that I could take this pain away from you, I'd do it in a heartbeat...

Here, let me dab your face with this... does the cold feel better? Yeah, I bet... you are so flushed, just look at your poor cheeks... let's get your forehead and your neck, too... oh, honey, you're crying again... here, blow into this tissue. Oh, hush, I've seen worse! Just blow. There you go... feel better? Good... let's dab your red nose, too... there, now. You're already starting to look a bit better, do you feel better at all? Oh, I'm so, so glad.

Here, take a sip of this water. That was a big cry you just had, so you need to rehydrate, okay? If you don't want this, I could make you soup, or get you a gatorade instead, or... oh... you look sleepy, now. Are you getting a bit sleepy? That's what I thought... not surprising, really, after the day you just had. Hey, don't apologize! You can absolutely sleep here, I don't mind one bit. Here, let's get you more comfortable.

I hope my couch is comfy for you... you can lean against me if you want, I'll wrap this blanket around us. Oh, you're not quite ready to fall asleep, yet? Well, that's alright! Why don't we put on your favorite movie, and you can drift off when you're ready? No no, don't get up... I have it downloaded already, I'll just get it started for you. Hehe, I actually haven't seen this one in a while... I'm happy that we're watching it together.

You keep squirming... Are you uncomfortable? You... want to get closer? Well, of course you can! Here, there's plenty of room for us to lay down... Oh, pff, are you kidding? I love to cuddle! Let's put this pillow under your head, and you can just scoot back against me, there you go...

...!

Oh, no, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to nudge you so hard. That was a pretty loud squeak, are you alright?

...Whew, I'm so glad... I would feel just terrible if I hurt you. Are you just sensitive right there, or something?

Hm...? I can barely hear you, can you speak up, please?

Wait a minute...

You're not... ticklish, are you?

Ohoho, I see... so, if I just... tickle your tummy, right here, that doesn't tickle?

...

Ehehehe! Awww, your laugh is so cute! Are you embarrassed about being ticklish, is that why you didn't tell me? It's nothing to be shy about, you know... it's pretty adorable.

...

Ohhhh... I think I'm catching on, now... well, in that case... let's see, what other spots should we test out? How about right here, on your side? People with ticklish tummies usually have ticklish sides, too... and it sounds like you're no exception, hehehe! I guess you didn't know I moonlight as a tickle monster, hm? Too late to run, now! Tickle, tickle, tickle! Awww, you have the sweetest laugh when you're being tickled! What about your ribs, I wonder?

...

Ticklish here, too? Goodness! You're just ticklish all over, huh?

Uh oh~ not here...? Not right heeeeeere, under your arms? Hehe, oh, but everybody likes it right here! Tickle, tickle! Wow, I didn't know you could laugh like that! Is this your worst spot~? Your special tickle spot? Oh, gosh, look how red you're turning! You poor thing, so blushy and ticklish... god, you're so cute. Alright, alright, I'll give you a break, now. Don't think I'm not gonna find your other spots, later, though...! Hehehehe~

Here's some water... I bet you're winded after all that laughing. Oooh, you look very sleepy now, too... are you? Oh, good... you really need to rest. I'll pull the blanket back over you... that's it. Just take deep breaths, now... don't you worry about a thing, sweetheart. You are so safe and loved, here... I won't let anything happen to you. Just rest your sweet head, close your eyes...

Goodnight, peach. 💙

#I needed this... from both sides #hurt/comfort #tickling #fluffychatter #comfort #I'm never sure what to call these #they aren't really fics #what do you call a doodle but for writing #i don't even think this is a two of hearts situation #tickle scenarios #maybe?

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argisthebulwark · 16 hours

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Nothing Left For Me, I Am Pleading

summary: The fallout after you learn he's cheated on you. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Cicero warnings: angsty hurt/no comfort. cheating in an established relationship. swearing. reference to sexual acts, nothing explicit. masterlist

Vilkas' fingers are uncharacteristically chilly when they grab your arm. Your stomach churns at the contact - mere hours had passed since they'd touched someone else. "Don't go." You see every muscle in his body tense - does he anticipate you lashing out at him? Your anger is far too cold for that, a detached hatred that drowns out any love you've felt for him. "Give me one good reason to stay." You sniff, glaring up at the man you've loved so deeply that it hurt. Your heart is shredding in your chest but you refuse to show him. After last night, he does not deserve to see you hurt. You will grant him no opportunity to comfort you. "I thought of you the whole time." "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You seethe, wrenching your arm from his grasp. "How kind of you to remember me while fucking some stranger at the tavern." "Please." His voice is caught in his throat when he steps closer, hand still reaching uselessly toward you. "I - we just lost Kodlak. He's the closest thing I've ever had to a parent and I felt so fucking lost. I didn't know what to do with myself." His nose wrinkles and you know he's fighting back tears. Strangely, you feel no urge to comfort him - all you want is to escape this damned room. "I was there." You curse your voice for wobbling. "Farkas was there. Our friends were right there - we were all there grieving Kodlak. Together." "I know." He mumbles, sucking in a shaky breath. "I should have talked to you - I don't know why I did that. Nothing makes sense." "You should talk to someone, maybe your brother." You press your lips into a tight line, clamping down the sob tearing at your throat. "I hope you can figure things out, Vilkas." You do hope that he can figure things out. Grief is messy but when you turn away from him, there's a sense of finality to it. You clench your fists to stop their shaking and before you can take that first step away from Vilkas, his voice stops you dead in your tracks. "Can we try again someday?" His voice is so defeated, as if he already knows your answer. Why did he bother asking? "I know that Kodlak meant a lot to you." You squeeze your eyes shut against those damned tears. "But I can never forgive this." "I understand." Vilkas sniffs and you're glad you turned away. The sight of him crying could break you. "I'll always love you, though." You can't think of a response that doesn't break your heart.

"It meant nothing, Mal Dov." You smack away Miraak's hand - you know he wants to caress your face, to calm your nerves as he has so many times before. You can hardly think past her fucking voice ringing through your head. "After that, my hopes of being named High Priestess don't seem so far-fetched. Our lord truly is blessed, isn't he? Well, I suppose you know that better than anyone." She'd bumped into you like it was a silly little mistake, dragon mask pulled aside to display the messy state of her lipstick. The thought of what she'd done for Miraak - the thought of him with anyone else, it makes you sick. "Nothing?" You spit the word back at him. You hate that look on his face, the tears gathering in his eyes. He has the audacity to make you feel like the hurtful one. "In my time, it was quite common to maintain a concubine -" "Oh, fuck you!" Angry tears spill down your cheeks, that hot ball of rage fueled with every word that passes his lips. "You would burn Tamriel if another man dared to kiss me, yet you expect me to be alright with some priestess getting on her knees for you?" "My beloved, please allow me to explain." Miraak reaches for you once more, an offer that feels so loaded. You know that if you take his hand he will whisper sweet apologies in your ear and promises that he will spend the rest of his unnatural life with you. He will tell you that a passing moment with a priestess means nothing compared to an eternity at your side. "No." You reject, gulping past the knot in your throat. Drying your tears you turn, hands shaking when they clench at your sides. "No explanation will undo your actions."

Sunlight bursts over the horizon, bright and cheerful. Farkas' snores echo across the hall as your weary eyes wander toward the window to watch. Your throat is raw from swallowing those ugly sobs and your cheeks are stained with war paint and tears. Clutching your knees to your chest you wait, stuffed into the same chair you've been seated in for hours. When the doors creak open your heart leaps into your throat. You've practiced the speech over and over, memorizing the words and praying that you won't stumble but it's all gone when you see her. The woman is half dressed when she scurries through Jorrvaskr, offering you a kind smile when she spots you. "Sorry if we kept you up." Her voice holds no malice - you're certain that she's interpreted you as a disgruntled housemate. "Can you point me toward the exit?" Your voice ceases to function, merely pointing her toward the front doors. Uncertain of how much time passes you remain there, knees tucked to your chest scrambling for the words you'd planned out so carefully. "Gods, it's bright." Farkas' rich voice causes a fresh wave of tears. Through blurry vision you watch him emerge from the living quarters, one hand shading his eyes from the sun. "My love - what day is it? I thought you weren't back until Middas?" "The assignment was easy." You gulp, hating the way he kneels right in front of you. His thumb traces through the mess of war paint on your face and you suck in a deep breath. "Everyone acted so strange when I returned. I thought perhaps it was because I was a bit early - they were all fairly drunk." "We drank far too much last." Farkas moans, still scrubbing at your cheek. "I can hardly remember anything past dinner." "When Aela tried to stop me from going to bed I knew something was wrong." "My beloved -" "I saw you." You sob, shoving at his bare chest when he attempts to hold you. Your heart is cracking deep in your chest, fat tears spilling down your cheeks but you can't let him piece you back together. "I heard you, Farkas -" "It was a drunken mistake. Please," rough hands cup your face but you're shaking your head. You can't see him through the tears but you know he's crying too. "Please don't leave me." "I can't stop seeing it." You hiccup, curling deeper into the chair. "I can't even look at you."

"I would have raised him better than that." Karliah's hand pats your shoulder. "The Brynjolf I knew would never do that." "He did." Your voice sounds scratchy and far away. Whether it's from rage or the alcohol you aren't certain. You're lying flat on the bar, Vekel's infinite patience saving you from the floor as the world tilts and dips around you. "I have some friends in the Brotherhood." Delvin pipes up from somewhere far away. You aren't sure if you're laughing or sobbing at his comment, noises and tears slipping out of you. "Want me to kill 'im?" "I could kill him for you." Vex offers and you bury your head in your arms. You feel sick - you'd hoped that too many drinks would rid that image from your brain but it persists. His lips on her skin, her fingers in his hair, the sound of her sighing his name. "There you are." His voice still sends shivers down your spine. You bury your face in your arms, mind still stuck on the way his hand wrapped around someone else's waist. "I've been lookin' for you -" "To what?" Vex snaps. "Looking to do some more damage?" "Love, gimme a chance." "Get away from me." "C'mon, I know it was fucked up but we were together for years. I told her I'm with you, that we had to stop before things went too far -" "I said get away from me." You whirl toward him, the world spinning and your stomach flipping dangerously with the motion. Warm hands are there to steady you, Brynjolf's familiar scent filling your nostrils as your bleary eyes struggle to focus on him. "Talk to me, love. Just for a bit, yeah?" "We are done." You stare up at him, hating the way his eyes still make your heart flutter. "I'm taking some time off -" "Don't say that. Think of the Guild - we need you, I need you." "You should've thought of the fucking Guild!" You sob, hands smacking against his chest. "You should've thought about me! You don't get to do this, you don't get to make this my fault." "I know sweetheart, trust me I know it's my fault." "You should probably leave for now, Bryn." Karliah taps his shoulder when you devolve into a mess of sobs. His hands slip from your face and gods help you, after everything you hate to feel it. "Give it time." "I'll be here, love. Whenever you're ready I'll be here waitin' for you."

"I'm sorry." Cicero snivels, falling into your lap. "Cicero's so sorry, Listener - please don't leave me, don't leave your awful Keeper." The indecision is paralyzing; so badly you want to comfort him, to comb through the mess of his hair and wipe at his face until he's calmed down but you cannot. You can't stop thinking about the dreamy look on his face after someone else's lips touched his. "Please, Listener." He gasps, fingers screwed up in the front of your armor. You can't bring yourself to rebuff him but do not have the capacity to soothe him. "Please, Cicero is so sorry - they were helping with Mother's rituals and so kind to me, so sweet helping with prayers and honeyed words." He hiccups, a sob breaking up his explanations. You want nothing more than to forgive him, to wipe at his tears and tell your beloved that everything will be alright, but find those words too difficult. "Was I not enough?" Your voice breaks, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. The flood of emotions is too much all at once when Cicero buries his face in your shoulder. God it hurts - you've known hurt but nothing like this, betrayal that cuts down to the bone. "You're everything!" He howls, both your bodies shaking with the weight of his sobs. "Terrible, awful Keeper - I don't deserve that title, the Listener deserves someone much better." "Calm down." You urge, unable to resist rubbing a hand down his back. The sensation of his body curling into yours is so familiar but there is no warmth, no love in the way he clings to you - only guilt. His voice is torn as he mumbles your title over and over, apologies mingled in as he professes his guilt. "Love you, Listener. Love you, love you, love you..." he trails off, wet kisses placed along your throat. "Silly Cicero made a horrible mistake but oh, how I love you." "You know I love you." You choke on the words, shocked at how hard it is to say. You do love Cicero, you always will. "But my beloved -" "Don't, Listener - please, your Keeper begs you." He sniffles, breaths finally evening out. "Don't leave poor Cicero. Anything, I'll do anything, just don't leave." "I don't think we can get past this." His arms tighten around your middle, tears streaming down your face as the raw pain pounds through your body with each beat of your wretched heart. "You know I love you, my Cicero, but I don't think there is any mending this." You sit there, clutching Cicero to your chest and crying until your lungs threaten to give out. You are both painfully aware that as soon as you let each other go that is the end. When he slides from your lap he will no longer be your Cicero, you will simply be two Brotherhood members who cannot look each other in the eyes. So you hold him, allowing him to cry into your armor and shedding endless tears over the love you've both lost.

#writing #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #angst #vilkas #miraak #farkas #brynjolf #cicero

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passionateseadruid · 1 day

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Snake King’s Bride

Part two The Meeting

Say hello to my intersex Imp Styx. As I'm sure many of you know the evenly stripe horns are indicative of male Imps and the thin strips white are Female. And also my hellhound Pluto. Also Vagqie is 5'4 and when lucifer met her they were about the same height; but also keep in mind that he was wearing heals (that's canon, like it's in the episode). Finally, I can't believe that he has a nose

When you woke up you were still in the old wedding dress and heals. The veil had fallen from your head, you had slid it back on and flipped the veil back over your face. Whatever brought you here isn't going to get to have you so easily.

You wandered around to the halls of the place you fell into. They were red with gold columns lining every few feet. The walls were lined with apples and the columns were accentuated with what appeared to be snakes coiling around them. "Whoever designed this place needs to be fired."

On the other side of the palace, in the thrown room, Lucifer was panicking.

"Okay! Everything's going to be fine!"

A little Imp wants in. They were taller than most Imps and had big horns that curled inward towards each other like a heart. Their hair was slip down the middle. White on the left to match the male Imp horn that was slightly bigger than the one on the right; which was female in origin with black hair that was almost tinted dark blue from some angles.

"Styx! Did you get everything set up?" Lucifer asked panic evident on his face.

"Yes sire!" They saluted him. They stood at about 4'11 and wore black leather pants, a short burgundy corset, and a white shirt with long sleeve frilly.

"Good! good."

"Sire. It might be a good idea to take off your ring as to not scare or confuse the young miss."

"Oh! Yeah, I guess." He slid off the ring that had matched Lilith's. The first time he'd taken it off in seven years. "Can I really do this Styx?"

"Well it is up to you, but if you want you could let her go."

"But then I'd be alone again."

"I suppose so Sire."

Lucifer looked down at his ring again and materialized a black box to slip the circlet if gold into. "I can do this, somehow I know it."

You hadn't gotten very far in your expedition of the strange new place you'd found yourself in. You found a library though which was good. Always good to have a place to hide. Eventually a small fluffy creature resembling a bull dog. She had grey fur and wore a loose black dress that went down to her knees, with a red wine colored bodice. She was only 4 and a half feet tall.

"Good evening my lady." She curtsies and you awkwardly due the same. "Please my lady. Don't feel the need to bow at me. Please follow me to the thrown room."

"Thrown room?"

She sighed. "Yes. Where the king is." She looked back at you and saw you planted firmly in place. "Come on!" she motions for you to follow.

"What's going on? Where am I? Who are you? What was with the spooky fiery rift in space back in the store?"

"Are you serious right now? You sold yourself to the king of hell. Don't play dumb and pretend like you have no idea what's going on. And what's with the wedding dress? Do you actually think the king would choose some lowly human like you?"

"I'm sorry I seem to have misheard you. I thought you said the king of hell."

"I did."

"...hell? ...as in-"

"Lucifer yes." She cut you off.

"There has to be a mistake! I didn't sell my soul to him! I shouldn't be here!"

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't."

'Maybe I can convince him to let me go. He can take Regan or Kaitlyn, I don't care!'

"Head inside." The bulldog ordered.

"May I please have your name."

"Pluto."

"I hope you have a good day Pluto."

You walked into the room.

"Darling!" A short man ran up to you and pulled you into his embrace. You struggled as best you could but his grip was firm and unrelenting. "Sorry, to tight?" He lessens his grip and you shirk away.

"Please don't touch me. We don't know each other."

"Oh of course! My apologies. Lucifer Morningstar, your new husband~"

"What? No... um I think there's been some mistake. I don't belong here."

"Of course you do! You're going to be my bride! That little bug wouldn't have dressed you up like this if you weren't the one intended to be my new wife!"

"But I didn't exactly want that to happen."

"Well you're here now so you might as well make the most of it!" He cheered coming closer to you.

"Wouldn't you rather have someone who wants to be with you? I'm sure there's plenty of goth girls or satanists who would kill to get this opportunity."

"Ugh. You know you humans are really ignorant. Him and I aren't the same. Neither are I and Beelzebub."

"Okay...?"

"That's not important right now." He came even closer and you back into the door. He grabbed the bottom of your veil and you snatched his wrist.

"Doll..." He sounded serious. "Show me your face."

"No thank you."

"Sorry Doll but that wasn't a request." He yanked out of your grip and took your veil off with him. "There! That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You backed up as close to the wall as you could and actually got a look at him. He was about 5'4 and had platinum blond hair. His eyes seemed to glow piss yellow while his pupils were blood red. He wore a white suit with a pink and white stripped vest underneath. His books were black as were his hands though you weren't sure if those were gloves or his actual hand color. 'but he's so pale.'

"Hm? Take a picture it'll last longer~" You rolled your eyes. "You know darling if you're so interested in my hands I can give you a demonstration of what they can do~" Your face heated at his words, and the face that he brought one of his hand up to his mouth in a V shape and licked his lips.

"Why me?"

"Because you put on my ring!"

"But I didn't know what I was doing! Why not choose someone who knows what they're agreeing to?"

"I want you Doll. You're beautiful and my heart is calling out to you. The moment I saw you for the first time in that store i knew I needed you. Come on! We have a Wedding to plan! I'm thinking next month."

"Next Month?!"

"I know it's far off but We'll need to give our guests time to prepare gifts and of course we'll need time to send out the invitations."

"Well I was thinking of more of an August wedding. But eleven months is basically a year and I'm sure it'll still be warm in hell in September so... maybe we should make it a year from now?" Your voice grew meeker as you spoke. "It would also give us a year to get to know each other."

"If I make it a year from now will you be willing to marry me?" He asked excitedly.

"Um maybe?"

"Good enough for me! Come on then! you're probably tired and you'll want to get out of this old thing."

He takes your hand and leads you through the palace.

"Mr. Morningstar?"

"Call me Lucifer! You'll be a Morningstar soon! I suppose I'll have to talk to heaven about turning you immortal. Charlie had begged me for siblings when she was younger, so I'm glad to finally be able to fulfil that."

"Lucifer, I think that we should stay in separate rooms."

"What? But why?" He whined.

"We just met." 'and your the devil.' "And I'm rather traditional." 'No I'm not but you don't need to know that.'

"Alright if that's what you wish Darling."

"And one more thing. Wouldn't it be so romantic if our first kiss was the one we shared on our wedding day?"

"Ooooohh! Like the ones in those romance novels that are so popular on earth!" She squeaked.

"Yeah... like those."

"Well here we are! It's the best guest room in the place! I'll have Styx put on some new warm sheets on the bed and I'll get you some clothes. You probably want to go take a bath."

"Um I'm good I'll shower in the morning."

"Nonsense Doll. Unless this is a backhanded way to invite me to join you~"

"I'll go take a shower ON MY OWN!" You said running out of the bedroom.

"What am I going to do?

After your shower you cracked the door and looked down to find a pile of clothes and no Lucifer in sight. You changed into them and found the shirt tight on you and the thong given to you a bit too revealing for your taste. "What am I going to do? I can't walk out there and show everyone everything."

"Yeah, I'd prefer this all saved for my eyes only." Lucifer's voice called from behind you.

"Ah! What are you doing in here?"

"Just admiring the view." he slowly gazed up and down at you tracing the curves of your body.

"May I please have something that actually fits me?" You rolled your eyes and your arms came up to cover your chest.

"Fine..." He huffed annoyed. "But I think the size of my old shirt looks cute on you." He snapped his fingers and the shirt grew so long it basically became a night gown.

"Is this really okay to do to your clothes?"

"It's an old shirt I don't wear anymore."

"This thong better not have belonged to your kid."

"No! no. nonononono! It was uh, my ex-wife's."

"Oh. That's a bit weird isn't it?"

"I'll take you out shopping for clothes tomorrow, but for tonight you can either use those or go commando. I know which option I'd rather see~"

"Goodnight Lucifer!" You pushed him out of the room.

"Goodnight Darling!"

'What am I going to do?' You thought.

#vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin yandere lucifer #yandere #yandere lucifer x reader #yandere lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne x reader

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hatshepsutrossignol · 2 days

Text

Astarion x m!Tav

Everything could have been so perfect if they had met at another time, two hundred years ago. Astarion doesn’t remember the color of his eyes, but he has no doubt: if they had talked for twenty minutes, he would have lost his head. So handsome, with his stern look and a strict line of mouth, so righteous; Astarion would fall in love hopelessly and quickly, young and unbroken.

They kiss, lying together in one sleeping bag, under the quiet crackling sound of a dying fire. Tav doesn’t touch him below his waist, doesn’t try to get his hands under the shirt. He licks Astarion's fangs and his tongue, and everything could have been so wonderful if Tav wasn't aroused. Astarion rests his forehead on his shoulder; the silent demand for pleasure resonates in him with a tense, almost painful expectation of something bad.

Tav kisses his hair.

Something bad never happens.

Everything could have been perfect. Asrarion would count every kiss, but now, when the count goes into thousands - does it matter? Tav asks - is it all right? - every time before he touches, and Astarion hates that he knows, but it would be even worse if he didn’t.

Tav wears a scarf around his neck to avoid questions, and every night Astarion touches his neck with his lips, presses the vein with his tongue, before he bites, and doesn’t ask: Gods, what do you want from me.

Everything could have been a little worse if they had met later, in a dark tavern, over a glass of disgusting beer. People like Tav don’t go after a stranger to pin them to the wall and fuck, don’t sell themselves for sweet words and promises of pleasure. People like Tav want it to be real, even if they have to open themselves up and down for it, they are ready for pain, which has nothing to do with pleasure. If Tav had followed him then, everything that could have happened that night still would be much better than a couple of decades of hopeless waiting and two hundred groveling for the sake of survival.

They sleep on the floor in the tiny room in Last Light Inn, through the cracks in the boards Astarion can see a silver shield, and behind it darkness squints. A hand on his waist is something about a desire to protect, not about a desire to hold.

It would have been better even if Tav came to him in the darkest, hopeless year of punishment, like he came to many unlucky idiots who don’t yet know that they have no one to count on but themselves. Astarion gets angry every time, every time - somewhere deeper: you are always where you need to be, why wasn’t you there for me?

It isn't his fault, Tav wasn't even born yet, but Astarion has to blame someone.

Astarion buries his nose in Tav’s hair - he smells of pine needles and fire - when Tav giddily talks about Halsin’s offer he never thought to accept. The two of them only kissed, nothing more.

“Don't you want anything?” Astarion asks.

Tav looks surprised.

“Only with you.”

They could make love - if only Astarion knew what it means and how to do it.

In the Elf Song Tavern, Astarion and Tav have a separate room. Alfira invites them all to listen to her music, but Astarion rejects the offer and, for the first time in a long time, he is left alone.

He wants to try to feel something.

Astarion thinks about everything that hasn’t happened and undresses, leans back on the cool sheets and closes his eyes. He touches himself like a shy lover; rubs a nipple inquisitively, runs his fingers between collarbones, strokes his inner thighs with gentle touches. He says out loud: “I want this.”

Astarion touches his dick with his fingertips, trying to get aroused by the sight, when the door makes a quiet sound.

“Well, of course,” Astarion groans and drops his head on the pillow.

“Astarion,” Tav says hoarsely, and embarrassment and confusion in his voice could be amusing if Astarion wasn’t so annoyed. “I can… leave.”

Astarion gives himself a few seconds to think, then raises his head from the pillow.

“Don't.”

Tav looks at him. Even in the meager light Astarion can see how his eyes have gone darker, and he suddenly has a feeling: everything will work perfectly well.

“Stay,” he asks, licking his lips.

Few people are bold enough to object Tav, and even fewer dare to order him around.

“Okay,” Tav says.

Astarion takes his dick into his fist; there is no lubrication, and it’s unpleasant, but he has high pain tolerance.

“Tell me something,” he asks. “Anything.”

“I love you,” Tav says immediately.

“Something else,” Astarion shakes his head. “That's good, but make it better. You make everything better. Even me.”

Tav handles words in the same way he handles his sword. Astarion has to learn to take a blow. Now Tav is not so sure, as usual, he is shy, and exhales sharply when Astarion spreads his legs wider. But he doesn’t move, because Astarion said so. And yes, yes, yes, it’s good to feel wanted, to be heard. Astarion got hard every time salty blood filled his mouth, but it wasn’t him, no more than the scars on his back or every memory of dirty, painful and always doomed intimacy.

“Touch me?” Astarion requests and closes his eyes.

Tav asks - yes? - so many times that Astarion is ready to hate him for it.

“Let’s do everything as if we met two hundred years ago,” he asks, running his fingers through Tav’s hair.

Tav kisses his neck, rubs the old bite scar with the tip of the tongue, and excitement boils hotly inside Astarion, mixing with the cracked expectation of inevitable punishment.

All good things come at a price, and Astarion had nothing better than this.

“You have to wait two hundred years for it,” Tav promises and smiles, stroking his sides, slightly shaking with excitement. He looks into Astarion’s eyes, and this, of course, is another promise.

Astarion laughs on the edge of tears and hugs Tav like everything will end right now, everything will turn into a deception of the hag, false hope, sleep in a boarded coffin.

Something bad never happens.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate #astarion #bg3 tav #tav #astarion x tav #baldur's gate fanfiction #baldur's gate fic

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wakeofvultures · 5 months

Note

Demetri and the sincerity color palette?

Demetri with what is supposed to be Aro and Amun's hands on his shoulders. He's just a sad boy who got turned into a vampire and then forced into hiding (and then recruited by the organization that forced the group he's with into hiding)

color palettes (still open for requests and probably will be until the end of the week. I will just be slow at getting to them. I'm open to people asking for multiple requests by the way. This is a small fandom.)

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