#I wonder what the first thought to go through his head here was

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where YN gets a job as a bartender in a motorbike club's bar, and Harry runs the club.

author's note: suprise!! i'm back again!! i promised i wouldn't keep you waiting and i'm not. this is the first part in my biker!harry mini-series which i started a while ago and only just got around to finishing! let me know what you think and what you'd like to see in the next instalments!

word count: 11.6k of sexy biker!harry (that's it, that's all).

WARNINGS: strong language, smut, bike riding, a bar fight and talks of a motor accident.

let me know what you think of clover here!! mwah <3

1979

“Look, sweets, I’d hire you on the spot if I thought it would be a good idea,” Mick spoke from across the bar, towel over one shoulder and another in his hand drying a glass, “But it just isn’t, I’m sorry.”

YN sighed, dropping her hands down on the bar. This was the fourth one she’d tried, and so far, she hadn’t had any luck. She wasn’t asking for much – just a job to help pay for her student loans. She had graduated a year ago and bounced from job to job, and yet none of them seemed to fit. It wasn’t necessarily her dream to work in a bar, but she hadn’t a single clue about what her dream was. She had a first-class honours history degree (which she adored getting) and yet not a single idea of what to do with it.

She couldn’t think of the future at this moment, she needed to think about the now and if she wanted to continue to live in her small apartment and eat — she needed a job.

Clovers had been her last hope. It was the last bar in town that YN was yet to try, and despite its less-than-positive reputation – it was always busy, and that meant money coming in. As she turned to look around the bar, which was already quite crowded for it being early on a Friday night, she couldn’t help but imagine the cash that was funnelling through the establishment, and how she wished she could get at least some of it.

“Can I get you a drink, sweets?” Mick spoke again, offering her a soft smile, “It’ll hopefully soften the blow a little bit.”

YN smiled at the man and nodded, “Thank you. Whisky, please.”

Mick got straight to work, placing the glass in front of her, dropping an ice cube into the glass and pouring her a more than generous shot. Just as she fumbled with her purse to pull out some bills to pass to Mick, he shook his head and held his hand out to stop it. She smiled in thanks and watched as he turned and walked away, going to serve the next customer who was standing a few feet away from her.

YN picked up her drink, and just as she was about to take a drink the door beside her opened. Her lips parted, her eyes watching as a group of what seemed to be fifteen or so men, all clad in heavy leather or dark denim walked into the bar.

Of course, YN knew about them. Anyone who lived here knew who they were, but it was the first time that she had seen them this up close. The most she had ever experienced with them was the low rumbling of their engines from a distance, or possibly them riding past her but that was only ever one or two. It was their jackets that often set them apart from the rest of the riders in the town, the very specific Clover’s Riders jacket that every member adorned and what seemed like all times.

The men were loud as they stepped in, most of them heading towards the bar whilst others went to some of the other members who were already seated in the bar. YN’s eyes never left the door until the last one had made his entrance, and she just couldn’t seem to draw them away.

He was younger than many of his counterparts, probably resting at an age near YN’s or possibly a few years or so older. He was clad in the same heavy denim that many of the others wore, but they seemed to sit on his body much easier. The curls of his hair were tousled in every direction it seemed, but YN found herself wondering as to what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to her glass and lifted it to her lips. She took a large gulp of the liquid, allowing that to slip down her throat before she finished the rest of it. Mick was long gone from being anywhere near her, working at what seemed like double speed to keep up with the orders that the gang of men were giving him, and she felt as though that was probably her cue to leave. She would have to brainstorm other options for work, seeing as though this just hadn’t called through.

Sighing, YN pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed up from the stool she was resting on. Just as she turned around to make a beeline for the door through the bodies that were crowding the room, she was stopped by a body in front of hers.

“Woah, woah, little darling where do you think you’re going?” It was one of the riders, standing in front of her with a grin on his features.

“Home,” she said with a shrug.

“So soon,” The man looked over his shoulder to some of his friends who were standing close by, “Me and my buddies here didn’t even get to say hello.”

“Right, okay, hello,” YN nodded to the man in front of her and those behind him, “Really have to get going.”

The man extended his arms so that she couldn’t carry move from her space in front of him, “Let us buy you a drink little darling, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ve already had one, thank you, and it was very enjoyable,” YN offered them another small smile, “Now please move out of my way so that I can go home.”

“Hey, none of that,” The man shook his head, “Stay with us, I promise we’ll make it worth it.”

YN hummed, tilting her head from side to side lightly, “I’ll pass but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else to make the night worth it.”

And with that, YN pushed past the man and beelined for the door. She half expected him to grab her, but from the hoots and hollers of his friends, he was too embarrassed to do anything else.

The bar that YN had worked out whilst she was completing her degree had taught her a thing or two about how to deal with rowdy men, and whilst the firm but clear approach worked in most cases, YN wasn’t afraid to resort to other means if necessary. It was all a respect thing, and more often than not if you deal back to them what they deal to you – the situation usually sorts itself.

YN had just rested her palm against the wood of the door when she heard someone call her name. She saw Mick standing there, leaning over the bar to catch her attention.

“Saw you deal with those guys,” He nodded his head over to the men whose attention had been taken by another woman in the bar, who seemed to accept their advances more than YN did, “When can you start?”

YN’s face broke out into a smile and took a delighted step towards Mick, “Whenever.”

“Right now?” He raised his eyebrows at her, motioning to the men who were calling his name for more drinks, “Have a feeling we’re going to be swamped tonight.”

YN nodded and immediately dropped her purse down behind the bar and rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up.

She turned to the men who were now staring at her with their mouths slightly agape, “What can I get you?”

It was a Thursday night and YN had been working at Clover’s for around a week at this point when Mick decided that she could handle a night on her own. After being thrown into what very much was the deep end on her first shift, there had been time the next day for Mick to show her the ropes properly and anything she would specifically need to know.

Mick said that he normally wouldn’t leave such a new person on their own so quickly, but he had an important family issue that he couldn’t get out of and that she had shown enough trust that he wasn’t worried. It was a Thursday, so it wasn’t going to be too busy but even so, those who were going to be there would be Riders, and they would protect their bar from anything.

It was nearing nine, and YN would probably say that they were at a quarter of their capacity, the majority of them being riders who had been there for the last few hours or so. YN was lucky she supposed. They never ordered anything more complicated than a beer, at most a whisky or a bourbon and this was their bar so there were never any arguments about paying for the drinks.

There was a lull in the orders, so YN decided to take it upon herself to dry some of the glasses she had washed in the previous lull. This job was not for the weak she would say that, but YN would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She loved people watching and mixed with the hum of the jukebox it was the perfect combination for her.

The door to the bar opened again about twenty minutes, and in walked that same man that caught her attention a week or so ago, on that first day she was here. He looked the same, apart from he was clad in a mixture of denim and leather this time instead of just denim, and a large bruise was sprouting from under his left eye. To YN, it was obvious that the cause was a punch, for there was nothing else that could cause a bruise such as that one. He walked into the room, ignored the hoots and hollers from some of the other men and took a seat right in the middle of the bar.

YN threw the towel she was holding over her shoulder and walked towards him, resting her hands on the edge of the bar, “What can I get ya?”

The man didn’t stray his eyes away from where they were planted firmly on the wood of the bar, “Beer, and a whisky.”

YN nodded, reaching over to pop the lid of the beer, “Do you want ice in the whisky?”

The man just hummed, so YN got straight to work making his drink for him. It was different to that of the other men in the bar — watching him. Whilst they were loud and rowdy and always had something to say to someone – he was silent. He just sat, with the company of his only himself and drank his drink.

Snapping YN out of her gaze (which had been on the man for a few beats too long) was a call of her name from just down the bar. She walked over to where it came from, a man called Taylor who YN had become quite acquainted with in the last few days or so.

Most of the men (not all, obviously) that she had become acquainted with during the last few weeks were lovely. They loved to have a quick natter with her whilst she made their drinks, some of them flirted with her but she didn’t care (it was part of the job) and nobody bothered her. If one or two of the men when they were drunk got a little handsy or started to say things which would be deemed inappropriate, the other lads would circle her and make sure she was okay. She felt safe, which she was quite surprised was the case.

“A piece of advice,” Taylor spoke over the bar as YN started opening the bottles of beer for him and his friends, “Harry over there always orders the same thing, and he’ll drink the whiskey last before he leaves.”

“Thank you,” YN nods with a small smile across her lips, unable to stop her eyes beating over to him for a second – Harry.

“He’s a quiet one,” Taylor continues speaking, grabbing a few bills out of his pocket to pay for the drinks, “But harmless, I promise. To be fair, you’d think the man who founded the club would have more to say.”

YN’s eyes widen, she had no idea that Harry was the one who founded the club. She hadn’t suspected it at all.

“He founded it?” She asked with a slight raise of her eyebrow. She wasn’t trying to pry, but there were things that she wanted to know, and Taylor already had that buzz that made her know that he would be willing to answer any questions she had.

“Yeah, it was him and a few others,” Taylor shrugged, attempting to pick up the three bottles of beer all in one go, “A few years ago now, and it only grew from there.”

YN nodded once more and watched as he walked back to his table. She put the bills that he had given her for the drinks into the register and put the tip she had been given into her apron.

There was something about that man that had caught her attention from that first day, and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it. Now, it made sense. The aura that he had when he walked into the room, as well as the way he sat and held himself – he had a strong presence in the group without even trying.

YN had more questions, but she knew it probably wasn’t the best to pry right now. Instead, she just got on with everything that she had to do. She served drinks and cleaned up after herself right up until close. YN hadn’t realised when Harry had left, but he had slipped out without a single person realising.

She hummed as she swept the floors, tried her hardest to count the cash right the first time and put it in the safe before continuing with her other closing jobs. The chairs were off the floor, as much of the stickiness in the room that YN could remove was gone and the doors were locked and checked.  

Once she had stepped outside, and locked the door to the bar behind her, the late hour catching up with her very quickly – she realised at that point she wasn’t alone.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw that he was standing there, resting against his motorcycle with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. YN was confused but continued to lock the door and make sure that nobody could get inside. Then she turned, and that was when she saw Harry looking directly at her.

“Can I help you?” She muttered, fidgeting with the keys she was holding in her hand.

He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, holding it for a second or so before he exhaled, “Heard you were asking questions.”

YN’s heart drops slightly, heat pulsating around her body, “Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip, placing the cigarette back in his mouth, “Can’t stop you from doing that, but any questions you have about me, you can ask me yourself.”

YN just pursed her lips and nodded, “Okay then… do you always stalk women when they’re leaving work?”

Harry didn’t seem shocked by her words, or react in any way to them at all, which was surprising to her. But, then again, she hadn’t seen much of a reaction out of this man this entire time she had known of him.

“Only the ones that have worked in my bar for a week.”

“Your bar?” YN widened her eyes, “Thought Mick owned it?”

Harry shook his head, “I do. Mick’s my employee, and so are you.”

“Do you not trust me or something? Think I’m walking away with pocketfuls of cash?”

“I would already know if you’d done that, and you wouldn’t be working here anymore,” YN just nodded, “But this side of a town can be sketchy at night, and you never know who could be lurking.”

YN just scoffed, turning to walk away from the man, “Thank you, but I can look after myself.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry shrugged, climbing onto his bike, and kicking the stand-up. YN could hear the engine turning on, the loud rumble filling the empty street.

YN continued walking, expecting him to speed past her but he didn’t. The low rumble continued down the street, even when she turned – the sound turned too. It was frustrating and annoying. All YN wanted to do was to get home, have something to eat and get in bed. Instead, she was having to deal with what was becoming an annoying rider, who couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

This continued for around ten minutes, and with each second that passed YN was getting more and more annoyed. Just as she turned onto the edge of her street, the apartment she shared with her roommate Ashley coming into view in the distance, she decided that enough was enough.

She stopped and turned around on the pavement, Harry pulling in on his bike to stop just in front of her. YN sighed and placed her hand on her hips.

“Do we have a problem?”

Harry rested his hands on his bike still, but was facing her, “No problem.”

“Then why are you following me home?” A small chuckle escaped her lips, “You know those strange people you were talking about earlier; you do know you’re acting like one of them?”

“You’re one of us now,” He shrugs, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world – it certainly wasn’t for YN at all.

“That means you follow me home?” The confusion grows with every moment in YN, and yet Harry doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried.

“You didn’t want a ride,” He pulls his carton of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up, “Had to make sure you got home safe.”

“Right,” YN just nods, “Well, I think I can manage on my own from here. And, if I’m all of a sudden one of you should I expect my jacket in the post? Or do you do collection?”

With a final scoff, she turned and walked away from the man. This time, when the engine started, YN didn’t turn to look at Harry and instead carried on to her front door. It was only then that she turned to peer over her shoulder, just in time to see Harry speed past her and into the night.

She had an incline that this job was going to be interesting, but she had no idea just how much.

It wasn’t necessarily a normal working pattern that YN had found herself in.

Sleeping for most of the day and being awake all night wasn’t necessarily the big girl working pattern that she had aspired to when she was younger, but for the time being she was enjoying it. It did mean that when Ashley returned from her nine-to-five working as a receptionist (YN couldn’t think of anything worse to be honest), YN was just getting ready to start her day.

YN was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a half-eaten sandwich clutched tightly in her hand. She wasn’t too hungry, but she knew that if she didn’t eat something before, she left for work she would regret it later on. The second that Ashley stepped through the door and threw her bag down on the floor, she threw YN a quizzical look.

“What?” YN asked, wiping the mayo that rested on the curve of her lip off with her thumb.

“Do you happen to know anything about the smoking-hot rider staring at the apartment from across the street?”

YN’s entire face dropped, “What?”

Ashley walked over and dropped down on the other side of the sofa, reaching out to steal one of YN’s chips from her plate. Ashley seemed slightly unfazed by the newfound stalker YN had acquired, and that stressed the girl out significantly.

“What do you mean?” YN pushed herself up, making her way over to the window where there he was. Resting against his bike, cigarette resting from his lips sat Harry, staring at the front door to the building with an unreadable expression on his face,

“He’s been there since this morning,” Ashley adds to the conversation causally, running a hand through her hair which she had just pulled out of its undo, “At first, I thought he was waiting for Sandy, you know, from 2.B but then I saw the jacket and realised he must be here for you.”

“He’s not here for me,” YN shook her head, slapping the curtains shut and walking back over to her friend, “He’s stalking me, I can’t believe you’re not more stressed about this.”

Ashley just shrugged, “Worse people to be stalked by, I suppose. He’s one of Clover’s, he’ll be harmless.”

“No, Ashley, he’s not just one of Clover’s,” YN sighed, running a hand over her face before scooting around the apartment to grab her belongings, “He is Clover.”

It was Ashley’s face that dropped this time, “What do you mean?”

“That’s Harry,” YN pulled each one of her pumps on her feet, “He founded the gang!”

“You’re kidding,” Ashley all but screams, “Jesus YN, I knew I was concerned about this job, but I think you’ve done pretty alright for yourself.”

YN just shook her head. She grabbed her jacket, and her bag and made her way over to the door.

“If I go missing, you know who’s responsible,” With that, YN turned away from her friend and rushed out of the door.

She took the stairs down from her apartment at double speed, almost tripping over her feet multiple times. She pulled her jacket on just as she got to the front door. Just before she was going to push it open, just stopped and hesitated for a second. One deep breath in and out was all it took to compose herself, and then she pushed the door open.

Harry spotted her immediately, throwing the cigarette he had in his hand a few metres away from his bike, where a collection was beginning to grow. YN made sure to check the left and the right of her before crossing the road, not quite fancying becoming roadkill this early in the day.

“You’re lucky my neighbours didn’t call the cops on you,” Is the first thing that slips from YN’s lips, before she realises how stupid that sounds.

For the first time since she met him, a small smile crosses Harry’s lips. She had amused him, and oh did she want to do it again.

“You know you can’t stay out here all day,” She follows with, “I’m going to the bar now anyway.”

“I got something for you,” Harry pushed himself up off the bike and that’s when she saw it.

A denim jacket, smaller than the others that she had seen but still carrying the ever-so-known Clover’s Riders logo on the back. That four-leaf clover was known all over town, and towns for miles in every direction and now it seemed YN had one of her own. It would open paths for her but also close them as well. She knew that the second she accepted that jacket, things would change all over again.

“I don’t even ride, Harry,” She sighed, shaking her head slightly, “I’ve never been on a bike in my life.”

He just shrugged once more, “There’s always time to change that.”

YN toyed up her options, and it took a lot less time than she had thought it would to swipe the jacket from his hands. She shrugged off the one she was wearing and slipped her arms inside the material. It was the perfect fit, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. Harry beamed another smile at her and swung his leg over his bike once more.

“C’mon,” He tilted his head at her, “I have something I want to show you.”

“I’ll be late for work,” YN shook her head, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from throwing her leg over the side of the bike and using Harry’s shoulder to help steady herself as she got on.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry spoke, and that’s when YN realised that whilst yes, she was probably going to be late for work, she was also on the back of the owner’s bike – so the trouble couldn’t be too grave, “Hold on tight.”

YN did as the man said, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist. The second that the engine started, and Harry kicked the stand-up they went flying down the road, and she realised in that exact moment why he said tight. YN’s body lurched forward into Harry’s, her cheek resting against the leather of his jacket, and her hands tightening around him.

Once the initial fear had worn off, and YN finally peered over the man’s shoulder – she would be lying if she said that it didn’t feel in a word freeing. The wind through her hair, the chill of the speed at which she was going laced with the feeling of Harry pressed so closely against her. Sure, she had been scared but now she knew that there wasn’t anything to be scared of. It wasn’t a scary thing, instead, it was something to be enjoyed.

YN’s lips curled upwards, a slight giggle leaving them as she noticed they went speeding through a red light. Many, and by many YN meant most, of the riders had a back pocket full of speeding tickets, and lights that they’ve jumped and yet none of them seemed to care. It was as though all of the law-abiding parts of their brains didn’t function when they were on bikes. On second thought, even when they weren’t on the bikes the law-abiding parts of their brain didn’t function.

Harry pulled over just as they joined the road which took them out of the city. They had completely passed Clover’s, and YN hadn’t the faintest clue of how late she was for work at this point, but it didn’t matter. It would take a lot for this smile to leave her face today. Once the bike came to a stop, YN used Harry’s shoulder to push up off of it.

Harry sits on the bike, but his eyes never leave the girl. The way she almost looked like a baby deer as she got her grounding once she was off the bike, the way her hair stuck out in every and all directions, and most importantly the beaming smile that never left her face. For the first time in a long time, there were no thoughts in YN’s head. There were no worries about growing up and getting a proper job, or stress about money – it was completely and utterly freeing. She supposed that was why there were so many of the riders and she supposed they were all chasing that feeling.

“You’ve got to teach me how to ride,” She sighed, the blissful smile never leaving her lips.

Harry just nodded, “Whenever you want.”

“Really?” Her face widened in excitement.

Harry shrugged, “You’ve gotta know how to ride if you’re going to be a rider.”

YN just nodded, and almost jumped back onto the bike. Harry didn’t say anything when she wrapped her arms back around his waist, not a single gap between their bodies but it just felt so comfortable. Harry kicked the stand down once more and sprang straight into action, turning slowly around on the road before speeding up the second they were on the straight back to the town.

All YN knew was that she was going to savour the feeling of the wind in her hair.

It was another Saturday night, and it was packed in the bar.

YN was so thankful that she could stay behind the safety of the actual bar and not venture out into the rest of the room. The men had just come back from a ride, and they were all excited and loud and wanting nothing but drink upon drink upon drink. She had been there from earlier on in the day today, and when Mick showed up later in the evening, she hadn’t managed to utter a single word but hello to him since.

All she could think of was the fact that once the rush had died down, it would be her time to go home and rest. In what felt like a very long few months of working every day (at first YN hadn’t minded, but she was slowly getting more and more burnt out) it was finally time for her to have a day off. Mick had graciously said to her the other day that he could handle Sunday on his own, and those words felt like gold slipping from his lips. She didn’t have a single clue of what she was going to do with her day, all she knew was that it was going to be relaxing.

She just had to get through this night first.

At first, the night seemed fine. Everyone was in good spirits and there was nothing more than a few drunken disagreements that sorted themselves out. YN had taken that as the opportunity to make her way over to where Harry was sitting and replenish his beer while he was there. It was then that the door was thrown open, and the entire atmosphere in the room changed.

What had at first been a lovely evening had changed within the second, and it was all because of a man that she hadn’t recognised. He didn’t have a rider’s jacket on his back, and that should have been YN’s first clue that this man was going to be in trouble. This was a riders’ bar, and those jackets were almost like a rite of passage. Without one, people stuck out like a sore thumb.

It became even more obvious to YN when the man beelined straight over to where Harry was sitting. He didn’t sit and instead leant over Harry, so his focus was on him. YN stayed close, but she didn’t want to make it too obvious that she was listening. She wasn’t the only one either – she could see other riders peering over at them from where they were sitting.

“You said if I did it, I’d get my jacket,” Those were the first words that came out of the man’s mouth – not even a greeting of hello, “I did it. Where’s the fucking jacket?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a second or so. Instead, he lifted his recently replenished beer to his lips and took a swag. He was doing as he always did – taking his sweet darn time.

“I said I’d think about it,” Harry mumbles, shrugging slightly as he did, “I’ve thought about it… and no.”

The man smacks his hand down onto the bar top, the sound echoing throughout the room. It silenced everyone, and all eyes turned to the two men. YN’s eyes looked towards Mick with a panicked expression on them but he shook his head, hoping that would calm the girls down.

“That wasn’t the fucking deal,” The man spits, coming right up into Harry’s face but it didn’t seem to deter the man at all, “The deal was to drop the shipment, I get the fucking jacket.”

Harry finally turned to look at the man, his stern expression never wavering, “Do you think I want someone like you, someone that doesn’t listen wearing one of my jackets?”

The man didn’t like that response, and it seemed as though as quickly as YN could blink her eyes the man was grasping the lapels of Harry’s jacket and pulling him up from the stool. He was then pushed straight into the bar, a slight grunt leaving his lips as he did. There was the initial sound of beer stools scratching on the floor, and other Riders were reading to split the two men up but all it took was Harry lifting one of his hands and they all stopped in their places.

“I don’t want someone who’s that willing to fight one of his men wearing a jacket.”

That was all it took for the other man to make the first punch. His arm pulled backwards, and his fist hit Harry straight across the jaw. The skin immediately went red, but Harry didn’t look like a man who had just been hit straight across the jaw. The bar stayed silent, obviously waiting for whatever Harry’s retaliation was going to be.

What YN, and certainly a lot of others in the bar hadn’t expected was Harry to reach behind him, to where his empty beer bottle was sat and hit the man over the head with it. The man fell to the ground, his grip on Harry letting go instantly. Harry lifted his hand, wincing when he noticed that a shard of glass from the broken bottle had lodged itself in his skin.

He just sighed, rubbing his forehead with his uninjured hand, “Get him out of here.”

Three of the men who were watching closely immediately listened to him, walking over, and picking the man up. They carried him out of the bar and were back to their drinks in what seemed like minutes. It was as though nobody truly seemed to care as to what had just happened and were more excited to get back to their drinks truly as though nothing had happened.

YN watched as Harry threw back the glass of whisky that had sat on the bar waiting for him (courtesy of Mick). That seemed like something that YN would have to take note of. With that, he dropped a few bills on the counter and stormed out of the bar. YN watched this and immediately started to pull her apron off her body.

“Mick,” The older man hummed from the other side of the bar, “I’m going outside for a break. I’ll only be a minute.”

The older man just threw YN a look, obviously having spotted who had left the bar just before she wanted to, “Be careful.”

YN just laughed, throwing the latch open, “I’m always careful.”

The second she stepped outside; she was shocked to see that Harry’s bike was still there, but he wasn’t sitting on it. There was a slight chill in the night air, and YN looked from left to right to try and spot him, but he was still nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until YN made her way towards the alley that followed the side of the bar that she finally realised where he had gone.

It was dark, but not dark enough to miss the figure leaning against the wall with a cigarette hanging from his lips. YN wrapped her arms around herself, wanting to conceal at least some of the warmth from inside. As her shoes crunched on the path, Harry’s eyes turned to look at her. He was ready for it to be someone else, and it was almost as though when he noticed that it was her – his features seemed to relax.

“How’s your hand?” She asked, coming to a stop right in front of him.

He raised his palm towards her, “It’s been better.”

YN winced to herself slightly as she looked at his hand, seeing the shard of glass still sticking out of the skin. Whilst she didn’t have a first aid kit on her body at this exact moment, it was good that she knew where one was.

“Come with me,” She nodded, walking further down the alley to the bar’s back entrance.

YN didn’t even turn to make sure that he was following her, she just knew that he would be. She held the door open for him, and the one that opened to the office of the bar (where Mick spent most of his time during the day, sorting the books out) and pointed at the chair by the desk.

Whilst Harry sat down without a word to her, YN reached up to the shelf above them and brought the first aid kit down. Harry’s eyes watched her as she pulled tweezer, gauze, and some antiseptic to clean and dress his wound. It was all very silent, and still but caring.

“Can I?” She asked, checking sure it was okay to touch his hand.

Harry nodded, placing his hand in hers. To YN, she wasn’t sure if she was truly touch-starved that feeling of his hand in hers felt truly intimate. She got to work straight away, pulling the glass out with the tweezers ever so carefully before wiping the surface of the cut. Even though YN knew that it would have stung, Harry’s face didn’t show anything, only one raised an eyebrow slightly.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” She mumbles, face still full of concentration on making sure the wound is fully clean before she wraps it.

Harry just nodded, “You see wounds like these before?”

YN nodded, “I’ve worked in bars before – of course, I’ve seen wounds like these before.”

Harry just nods, allowing YN to move his hand at her ease to ensure that it is wrapped tightly and securely. He opened his mouth once she had finished, as though he was going to ask her something, but he closed it straight away. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that he could ask her anything that he wanted to, but she didn’t want to scare him away.

“You’re all set,” She offered him a small smile.

“Thank you,” The words sort of felt foreign, but very sincere coming from his lips, “I… you didn’t have to.”

YN just shrugged, “Wasn’t going to let you bleed out – would’ve been bad for business.”

Harry offered her a small smile at her attempt at a joke, “I’m sorry about what happened in there as well… usually we try to keep those sorts of things out of the bar.”

“Harry,” His name came out of her lips softly, hoping that would be the thing to tell him that it was okay. That she wasn’t angry at him, “I know… it doesn’t bother me – I promise.”

He just nods, “I knew that, you know.”

YN furrows her eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“That first day,” He reached out to her, and did the last thing that she would ever expect – grabbed her hand, “The way you dealt with some of the lads… I knew you were different.”

“It was you…” The words slipped out of YN’s mouth before she could truly register them, “You saw me that day.”

It all made sense. YN had noticed Harry that very first day that she’d appeared at Clover, and whilst originally Mick had said no, he had changed his mind and said yes. To YN, it had looked and seemed that Mick was the one who had made that decision, and yet it made sense that it was Harry to be the one who changed Mick’s mind. Harry, if he had been sitting at his barstool would have been a metre or so away from that conversation – and he would have heard every word that had been said.

“I did,” Harry nods, claiming every thought that YN had to be true, “I saw you, the way you spoke to them, the way you stood your ground and god, YN, I was hooked.”

That was the first time that YN had heard Harry speak her name, and she was addicted. She wanted to hear it over, and over and over again. He noticed the slight shift in her and used his legs to roll the chair he was sitting on closer to where she was resting against the desk. Then he slipped his uninjured arm around her body and pulled her down to him. She straddled his knees, relishing the feeling of his body beneath hers.

“I…” Her words came out as a whisper, “I felt the same.”

Relief. That was the look on his face – it was a true relief.

“You did?”

“God, Harry,” YN giggles, shaking her head, “I tried not to, but I would be lying if I said that most of my thoughts haven’t been filled with you. Wanting to know more.”

“You can know anything,” His thumb slipped underneath the thin material of her shirt, a heat spreading across her entire body from that one single touch, “Ask me anything, everything – I’ll answer. Whatever you want to know?”

YN pondered that for a second. She could have asked him anything, and yet there was one thought which was present in her mind more than any of the others. An hour ago, this question would have been risky – she just wouldn’t have asked it. Yet, in the safety of this room – away from peering eyes, or anyone who could make assumptions as to what it meant – she wanted nothing more than to ask it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Harry exhaled a breath, lifting his hand to rest against her cheek, “More than anything.”

YN nodded.

“Harry…” He hummed at the call of her name, “Kiss me.”

His thumb danced from her cheek, down to her lip. He ran it across the skin of her bottom lip, pushing down slightly so that her lips parted for him. The only sound in the room was YN’s heavy breathing, a response to the teasing that was on display right in front of her.

Then his face inched forward, and his lips were on hers. It didn’t take long for his tongue to slip past her parted lips, dancing with her own. This closeness to someone, the vulnerability – YN had missed it. She pushed her body forward towards Harry’s, slipping her hands in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands, never mind the bandaged one which would have still caused him pain, rested upon her denim-clad arse. They found their home resting there, and YN wasn’t about to move them.

Harry pulled away from her lips, obviously needing oxygen as much as she did. But he wasted no time in dropping his attack down her neck, his teeth nipping the skin there. YN’s hands still rested in the curls at the nape of his neck, and heavy breaths parted from her lips.

“Harry,” She gasped as he started to suck at the sweet spot where her neck met her collarbone, “I need to get back to work.”

“No, you don’t,” He mumbled, and YN just rolled her eyes.

“I’ve deserted Mick,” She continues, “He might need help.”

“Mick’ll be fine,” He pulled his head up, resting on her chest as he peered up at her, “And anyway, I’m your boss.”

YN shook her head, “I need to go.”

Harry groaned but finally nodded, “Ride home with me?”

“Of course,” YN pecked Harry’s lips one last time pushed herself up from him and walked out of the room.

Harry’s eyes never left her the entire time.  

“Harry, no, I’m going to tip over.”

When Harry had dropped YN at home last night, he had muttered the words that he would see her tomorrow. Before she could clarify that she wasn’t working, he had sped off on his motorcycle into the dark of the night. YN should have known, though, that Harry knew she wasn’t working. It became even more clear when Ashley shouted at her from the kitchen at around midday today, telling her that her Rider was waiting for her.

Instead of the annoyance that YN felt the first time, there was a skip in her step this time. She had taken some time that morning to make herself look that little bit more presentable and waited for him. After their kiss the previous night in the office, and the slight peck that he had given her when she had climbed off his bike yesterday.

When she had bounced over to him earlier, a smile beaming on his face she didn’t have a single care as to what she would be doing that day – all she knew was that she was going to enjoy it. Even when she climbed on the back of his bike and asked where they were going – the smile never left her face. He refused to tell her, though, saying that it was a surprise.

“Harry, I don’t want to,” YN shook her head, hands grasping tightly onto the handles of the bike, “I’m going to fall off, or I’m going to crash your bike.”

What Harry had planned for the girl was to teach her how to ride. Whilst at the start YN had wanted nothing more than to learn how to ride, now that she was sitting on Harry’s bike without him there – she was terrified. Harry was standing close to her, cigarette dangling from his lips and an amused expression on his face.

“You’re not going to fall,” Harry shakes his head, “I’m right here… and I promise I won’t let you crash.”

“You can say that Harry, but you can’t promise,” YN was sitting on the bike, with her feet resting on the ground and absolutely no attempt at all to move.

He threw his cigarette on the floor, moving over so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, his hands coming to rest upon hers on the handle. He turned the engine on, and even though it was YN’s hands on the handle, Harry was controlling it. They went very slow – they had to so that Harry could walk at the side of them.

“I’m going to let go,” Harry spoke after a minute or so, but YN shook her head.

“I’m not ready,” YN pushed her body into his slightly, “I’m going to crash.”

“There’s nothing for you to crash into,” Harry peels one of his hands off of hers, “I trust you… you’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t as though he was lying. Harry had driven them out to a deserted road just out of town. Close enough away that they’d be home at a normal time, but far enough away that there wasn’t any traffic which would interrupt them. There wasn’t anything but stone and grass around them, and whilst if YN came to a haphazard stop, it wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing ever – there wasn’t a lot of damage that she could do to Harry’s bike.

Harry let go of her other hand, and she was doing it. Granted, she didn’t go over 2mph, but she was still riding the bike on her own. She wasn’t comfortable enough to attempt to turn yet, so she just came to a slow stop a few metres further down from where Harry was. She kicked the stand down and climbed off the bike – turning towards Harry with a smile on her face.

“I did it!” She bounced over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his neck, his coming to rest around her waist.

“Never doubted you,” He leaned down to place a kiss on her lips, pulling her body flush against his. Before anything more could happen, the sound of crunching on the road, as well as the sound of a siren interrupted them.

YN’s heart started to beat rapidly at the sight of a police car inching towards them. Whilst YN had dealt with police before working in her previous bars, she hadn’t ever been out in the open with her and only one other person when talking to them. Knowing that Harry also ran a motorcycle gang added another level of worry to it.

Harry just pulled YN with him, going to rest against his bike. He looked completely unfazed, whilst YN truly was shitting in her boots slightly. The police car stopped right in front of them, and as the door swung open to the car, Harry lit up a cigarette and brought it up to his lips – again, making it aware that he was completely unfazed by what was happening.

“Styles,” The officer sighed, slamming his car door behind him shit as he walked towards the two of them, “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Hmm,” Harry just hums, inhaling from his cigarette, “I had no idea you were even looking for me… I wouldn’t have just stood in the middle of the road if I knew.”

The officer chuckled, placing his hands on his hips, “We had reports last night that you attacked a man.”

Harry shook his head, “Couldn’t have been me.”

“It happened at your bar,” The officer took a step forward towards Harry, “Had reports that you hit him over the head with a beer bottle.”

Harry just chuckles, “Officer Thompson, I don’t have time for this he said she said bullshit. If you’ve got something to say to me, I think you should say it.”

The officer just hummed, “Where were you last night?”

“I was at the bar,” Harry nodded, “All night.”

YN started to panic from beside him, but she tried not to make it obvious. Harry must have complete and utter trust in his riders to not say anything to the police. It made sense now to YN as to why that man hadn’t been given a jacket. He had instigated the fight, and yet he had run straight to the police with it. He was a coward and a rat.

“Can anyone corroborate this?”

“I can,” YN was surprised at how strongly her voice came out, “I was there with him all night, I work there.”

The officer hums once more, his eyes dropping down to focus on Harry once more. YN realises that it’s then that the officer has spotted his bandaged hand. YN’s mind starts to spiral slightly, hoping that one of them will be able to come up with something quickly.

“What, uh,” The officer couldn’t hide the smile on his face, obviously thinking that he had found him out, “What happened to your hand, Styles?”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so YN interrupts. She giggles slightly, knowing exactly what type of character was going to be believable for this officer. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“I’m so sorry, officer, that was my fault,” YN took a small step towards the officer, but not far enough that she wasn’t in arms reach of Harry, “See, I’m real clumsy. And yesterday, I dropped a whole crate of beer and Harry heard the crash, and he helped me clean up – unfortunately, he cut his hand in the process.”

The officer’s eyes moved between Harry and YN. There was no way at that point for YN to try and guess what he was thinking – or what he was going to say. Then, when the officer’s face broke out into a smile just the same as YN’s, she knew she had convinced him.

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss, and I hope you have a good rest of your day,” Then the officer turned to Harry, and the smile on his face dropped, “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Styles.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it Officer Thompson.”

Harry rested against his bike the entire time, whilst YN had her arms crossed against her chest. They didn’t say another word to each other until they watched the car turn around and drive away from them. It was only then that YN turned to Harry, who was running a hand over his face. Sighing, YN walked over to him, grabbing his hands (but making sure to be careful of his injured hand).

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry shakes his head, pulling her hands up so that he can place a kiss on the back of them.

“I know,” YN nods, “But I wanted to.”

Harry rests his chin upon their connected hands, “I wanna take you somewhere.”

YN would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about where Harry lived once or twice because she had. He had been to her apartment a few times to pick her up, and whilst she hadn’t necessarily wanted to be that forward and ask him where he lived, there was a part of her which wondered about it.

It was a strange circumstance. Where does the leader of a gang live? Where does he rest his head at night? Where does make his coffee in the morning? Whilst YN wouldn’t necessarily admit it, she was an inquisitive person.  

When Harry’s bike came to a stop outside of a garage, one that seemingly had an apartment attached to the top of it – it all made sense. Yes, the bar had to be doing well, with how many people were in it daily. But there had to be another way that Harry was making money, and it seemed as though this was it. She wondered if this had anything to do with the shipments that the other man had been speaking about.

He kicked the standout and gave YN the space the climb off before he did. He walked over to the shutter, unlocked the padlock, and threw it open. The apartment didn’t look too big, but the shop itself was huge. She had expected a car, maybe a few bikes – but she hadn’t expected rows upon rows of bikes lining the side of the walls. In the middle, YN could see the different stations where Harry and some of the other members worked.

“Are these all yours?” YN asked, her finger reaching out to run across the glossy black exterior of one of the bikes closest to her.

“Most of them,” Harry shrugged, dropping the shutter closed behind the two of them after pushing his bike inside, “Me and a few others, we buy them and restore them, make them better to sell on.”

“God, Harry,” YN turns to him, an expression of what could only be described as amazement on her features, “This is amazing.”

He just offered her a small smile, taking small steps towards her until he was close enough to wrap his arms around her middle. YN giggled slightly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder as he pulled her closer to him.

“Pick one.”

The features on YN’s lips dropped again, “What?”

“Pick one,” Harry repeated, “A bike.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, Harry, I’m just confused as to why.”

He just shrugged, leaning back against the workbench near the two of them. YN turned around so that she was facing him, and Harry at once pressed his hands against her waist. It was funny to YN, to see the big, scary, gang member was so soft around her, and they hadn’t necessarily known each other very long.

“You said it yourself,” He shrugged, his hands pulling her between her body between his open legs, “If you’re gonna be a rider, you’ve got to ride. Seems like you need a bike to do that.”

“Yeah, but I’ll buy one,” YN spoke, as though it was the most obvious thing in the word, “When I have the cash for it.”

Harry shook his head, “No need, rather have you on one of these. Tested them myself, they’re all safe.”

YN just shook her head, propelling her body even further forward so that she could wrap her arms around Harry’s neck and press her lips against his. It was a clumsy kiss, with both of their teeth clashing and smiles upon their features but they did not care.

“Thank you,” She mumbled against his lips, pressing a flurry of chaste kisses to them afterwards.

Harry shook his head, “No need – pick one, baby.”

YN pushed her body up and started to walk up and down the rows of bikes until she spotted it. It was about halfway down the row, a bike with dark green glossy accents, looking nothing but sleek with the dark metal of the engine. It was the one that she wanted, and the second she was standing in front of it she knew it was hers. With that beaming smile across her features, YN turned and launched herself at Harry, wrapping her legs around his waist and his arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on the plump skin of her arse over her dark denim jeans. Even though YN suspected that she had caught him off guard, he didn’t show it on his face.

“How can I ever thank you?” She asked between a litter of kisses to his lips, a boyish smile crossing his features afterwards that YN wants nothing more than to bottle up and remember forever.

“That smile of yours is enough,” Harry nods at her, pressing another full kiss to her lips.

YN tilts her head to the side, turning to look at Harry with a slight smirk crossing her features. His eyebrows furrowed as though he already suspected she was coming up with something in her head.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Maybe…” YN starts, her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip, hesitating, “Maybe there’s another way I can thank you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, as though he was finally catching on to the thoughts swimming around in YN’s head.

“We don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head quickly. “I promise I’m not expecting anything from you.”

YN just shakes her head, leaning forward to place another kiss on his lips. Her hands tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I know you’re not,” YN offers him a smile, “I want to. I promise.”

Harry shook his head, a groan emitting from his lips as he tugged her even closer to him if that was possible. YN giggles at his obvious joy at her statement.

“God,” He rests his forehead against hers, “I know it’s wrong, but I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Harry turns, as though he’s going to walk out of the garage, but YN stops him. He furrows his eyebrows at her, and she just giggles once more.

“Want it here.”

“What?”

“Want it here, want you on the bench,” Harry groans once more, moving to drop her down upon the workbench that he had been rested upon earlier.

“Are you sure I haven’t dreamt you up?”

“Nope,” YN shakes her head, “I’m real.”

YN threads her fingers back through the curls at the nape of his neck, bringing his face back to hers. It doesn’t take long for their lips to connect once more. It wasn’t sweet or light. It was rough, as though both of them were finally able to do what they had both been thinking about.

Harry’s hands start to move down her body, resting on the hem of her jeans. She can feel his thumbs pressing down into the skin of her waist, and when it registers in her brain what he was trying to do YN pulls away, shaking her head.

“Not yet,” She lightly pushes his body to the side so that she can jump off the bench, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t have to,” YN’s hands rest on the lapels of his jacket, waiting for his nod before she pushes it off his shoulders.

“I want to.”

It takes just one swipe for Harry to pull his shirt over his head whilst YN’s hands come to rest upon his belt buckle. YN’s eyes widen at the sight of his exposed chest, as well as the tattoos that litter his sin. YN knew that Harry had tattoos; she had seen the ones on his arms multiple times, but it felt different to see the ones on his chest.

Her fingers work quickly to pull Harry’s belt buckle open, working on the button and zip of his jeans next. YN drops down to her knees, pushing Harry back slightly so that he’s resting against the workbench. Harry peers down at her, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation. Her hand rests upon the grey material of his boxers, palming his already semi-hard cock through the light material.

“You like teasing?”

YN shrugs lightly, “I have no clue what you mean.”

Harry laughs, watching her intently as her fingers loop into the band of his boxers, pulling them down to expose him to her. YN finds herself unable to pull her eyes away from his cock. She knew it had to be big from palming him through his boxers but seeing it before she made her mouth water and pressure to build in the pit of her stomach.

She placed a light kiss on his tip, which was already red and leaking from his obvious arousal. YN smiled, giving it a lick from the base to the tip before she used her hand to give it a few tugs. YN was confident in her moves, even though she had only done it a few times before in her life. She gained more confidence from the moans leaving Harry’s lips; they were deep and quiet, but she could hear them, and they caused her to squeeze her thighs together in hopes that it would give her some relief.

“YN… please,” It almost sounded as though he was pleading with her to do something, and YN almost moaned at the sound.

YN wraps her lips around the tip of Harry’s cock, beginning to bob her head up and down. One of her hands rested upon his thigh, whilst the other wrapped around the base of his cock, helping her with what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her tongue lightly grazed his tip, earning a louder moan from Harry that egged her on further.

“Fuck… YN.”

Harry’s hands came to rest in her hair, helping her to move her head up and down his cock. It was a light tug that caused YN to moan around his cock, and she could feel Harry resisting from bucking his hips to meet her. Instead, she continued to bob her head, speeding up in hopes that it would help him recover from her teasing.

“YN gotta pull away,” Harry says after a minute or so, his grip on her hair tightening, “I’m gonna cum.”

YN doesn’t stop, however, instead, she keeps going until she hears him moan louder and start to cum down her throat. When she looks up at him, his head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed. She works her head up and down until he’s finished, only pulling away then. When she looks back up at him he has a look in his eyes that makes her assume that they aren’t done.

YN giggles as he puts his hands on her waist and pulls her up so she’s standing, immediately placing a kiss on her lips, seemingly not caring about the fact that his cum was on them. YN’s legs nearly gave out then and there, and she had to place her hands on his biceps to steady herself.

“Did that show my thanks?” She asked, tilting her head to the side innocently.

Harry wraps his arms around her thighs once more, picking her up effortlessly.

“Damn right, it did,” Harry starts to walk over to the door that she suspects goes into the house, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

It was quiet at Clover’s, a lull mid-afternoon on a Friday before everyone picked their spots for the night. YN had spent an hour or so cleaning and drying the glasses that had been used earlier in the day, making sure that they were to have enough for the night ahead.

The repeated motion of washing and drying gave her time to think, and more often than not, she found herself daydreaming about her morning, which she had spent in Harry’s bed, wrapped up in his arms. The two of them had been pretty inseparable before, but after he had gifted her the bike, it had seemingly gotten even worse, if that was possible. It had been weeks since that day, and YN could probably count on one hand the nights she had spent alone since then. Harry waited every night for her after work, and even when he couldn’t she would return to his house and wait for him there.

They hadn’t spoken about what they were necessarily, but that didn’t matter to YN. She didn’t need a label to know how she felt about Harry, and she assumed Harry felt about her also. For the first time in a long time YN was happy, and even though she was only a bartender and that useless history degree of hers wasn’t doing much – she wasn’t yearning for something else, for something better. YN truly felt as though it couldn’t get any better than it currently was.

The door to the bar pushed open, and whilst YN thought it was probably a rider coming in for a drink, she was shocked to see that it was Mick, obviously dropping in to start his shift. Thankfully, since YN had taken the day shift she didn’t have to stay until close tonight, meaning that she could spend more time in bed with Harry to end her week.

“Hey, YN,” She offered Mick a smile, “Just lemme drop my shit in the back and then you can go on break.”

“Thanks, Mick.”

Once he was back out, and she had passed over what she was doing to him, she made her way outside with the sandwich that Harry had made for her earlier. She was going to make her lunch, but Harry insisted that he make it for her. YN smiled at the memory of her sitting upon his kitchen counter, clad only in one of his t-shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts. They had laughed and joked and, at one point, had a break to dance around the kitchen to the song that was playing over the radio.

YN hadn’t had many relationships before, two at most she could think of, but they were never like this. They always felt transactional to YN. But with Harry, it truly felt as though they were two halves. There was a level of domesticity that YN loved more than anything with him, and every little task that they did together meant so much.

Once YN had eaten her sandwich, her thoughts filled with Harry and their morning. YN pulled her legs underneath her and began to read her book, knowing that she could get a chapter or so read before her break was over. It was a book about the Tudors she was reading, something that had been a passion of hers during her degree. It had been a while since she had read anything, but she supposed that the want came from her peace and happiness being restored.

She had just finished a chapter on Henry VIII’s Economic policy when she heard noise from the front of the bar. It was loud, and the voices that were speaking were quick, but it was muffled, so she couldn’t quite decipher what was being said. Putting her bookmark into place and closing the book, she pushed up from the chair and made her way towards the bar.

Mick was standing there, with three or four others in front of him. They looked panicked, and their words reflected that.

“Tell me again,” Mick placed his hands down on the counter, “I can’t tell a word you’re saying when you’re talking that quickly.”

“An accident, Mick,” It was Taylor who spoke, “There was an accident. We were riding along, and this truck came outta nowhere, sent him flying.”

YN moved towards them, her heart immediately starting to thump within her chest.

“Who?” Her words came out quickly, all of the men’s heads turning towards her, “Who went flying?”

“YN… I…” Taylor took a step towards her, his entire face dropping.

That was when she knew.

Her palms started to sweat, and her body felt heavy. There was a dizziness inside her head, and for one second she thought that she was going to fall to ground.

It was Harry.

“Where is he?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the tears finally starting to collect within her waterline.

“YN…” Mick started.

“No, Mick,” She shook her head, “Where is he? Tell me where he is!”

Taylor took another step closer towards her, “I don’t know. The woman in the store across the street from where it happened phoned an ambulance, I left before they came. If I hazard a guess, they’ll be on their way to the hospital by now.”

YN nodded and before she knew it she was stalking her way outside and towards her bike. Ignoring the tears that were clouding her vision she climbed upon. Just as she was about to start it, a hand touched her elbow. It was Mick. She almost broke down crying there and then.

“Don’t,” Mick shook his head, “You can’t drive like that, darlin’. Let Taylor take you. Please.”

“He has to be okay,” YN shook her head, the sobs starting to wrack through her body.

Mick nodded, helping her off the bike, “He will be. But, if you wanna get there safely, in one piece let the boys take you.”

YN nods, walking over to Taylor’s bike and hopping on behind him. Mick gave her hand one last squeeze.

“Send him my love, okay?” Mick spoke and YN nodded, not trusting herself to be able to reply in that moment.

Taylor started the engine, and before she knew anything, they were hurtling down the street. This time, though, she wasn’t thinking about the wind in her hair.

[cognitiveoverload]

A temporary goodbye (Front Man / Hwang In-Ho x reader)

summary: The first game is about to begin, and the Front Man needs to talk to his right hand man - who happens to be a little more than that.

tags: secret relationship, established relationship, fem!reader in mind

note: I had this scene in my head and just had to write it.

You’re standing next to the Front Man in the control room in silence, patiently waiting for his orders as always. There’s a lot going on in your head, so it’s not a surprise that you find yourself stealing a glance at him more and more often, because he’s the reason why you’re a little distracted today. This is the first day of the games, and while normally it’s a routine task, this year things are different. Everyone can feel it, but very few know the reason.

“I’ll watch the first game in my room,” he suddenly announces, and before you could react, he walks away. You let out a sigh under your mask, disappointed that you can’t talk to him before he springs into action, but then he calls back, his voice cutting through the silence. “Bunny, with me.”

The mask luckily hides the wide grin that appears on your face upon hearing him say this. You were supposed to have a proper code name, but he decided that Bunny suited you more, which is why you began to use it, and he even got you a bronze rabbit mask that matched his own in style. As usual, you follow him without a question, passing by the staff members who are preparing for the first game.

In his private room, the Front Man sits in the armchair and pours himself a drink, and eventually he takes off his mask too, feeling comfortable and safe enough to let it go temporarily. You can feel your heart beating in your throat as you wait for him to show any sign that he remembers you’re there. Sometimes he gets so lost in his job that you have to remind him of your presence.

But not this time. Now he clears his throat and raises his hand to signal you to go closer. “Say it,” he orders, although his voice is gentle, as it is every time he talks to you. 

Since you’re obedient enough, you pad closer and stop by his side, a small smile creeping on your lips when you look at him. Four years. You’ve been working together for four years, but he only took off his mask around you two years ago. This was his way of showing his trust, something you truly appreciated. 

“Take off the mask, we’re alone.” He finally looks up at you, a faint smirk visible as he watches you follow his order. Once it’s placed on top of his, he sneaks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. “So? What’s on your mind? I can see something’s bothering you.”

Letting out a long sigh, you wrap an arm around his shoulder and lean in to give him a tentative kiss. “Are you sure about this? Joining the game, I mean,” you clarify.

In-ho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You know perfectly well why I’m doing that. But it’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” he assures you as he rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin to ground you. Because he knows you. He knows you’re spiraling, he knows you think something bad will happen, which always kicks your brain into overdrive. 

“If you don’t get out in time, I’ll be stuck babysitting the VIPs,” you say with a pout.

“You’d be fine.” When you give him a sceptical look, he kisses you again, and he even moves his hand closer to your inner thigh. The moment a soft moan escapes your lips, though, he stops. “Since when do you doubt me?” he wonders, his eyes examining your face to see the reaction.

Shaking your head, you rest your forehead against his. “I don’t doubt you, I’m just… Look, I know you can protect yourself, and you thought of everything, but we don’t know what he’s planning. He’s a ticking time bomb in there,” you explain. 

“Keep an eye on the team while I’m in the game. Everything’s supposed to go smoothly, but if something happens… take care of it.” 

You nod without hesitation, after all, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you became his right hand man. What’s happening between you–the stolen moments, the shared life back home when you’re not busy preparing for the next games–is a secret you’re keeping to yourselves. You’re the only ones who should know about it, no one else. It’s personal, and if anyone knew about this connection, they could easily use it against him. 

In the beginning, you tried to resist the pull, you tried to escape his gravitational field, but then In-ho made you understand that it was okay, that you could make this work. He would make sure you can make this work. By now, you’re sure he would go to great lengths to protect you, he would get rid of anyone who ever dared to even look at you the wrong way. 

The moment is ruined when you hear the instructions of the first game, a sign that it has begun. You both turn to the screen to watch it, but his hand is still teasing you, even if it’s nothing more but a subconscious movement. The comfortable silence between you is based on the deep understanding of each other, but you’re a little startled when he speaks up, not bothering to look at you. 

“I love you, Bunny, never forget that,” he says quietly, as if he was telling this to himself. 

A warm smile crawls on your lips. “I love you too.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

meet me in the afterglow ✧.

s. todoroki x reader. y/a shouto

more boyfriend thoughts, nsfw below the divider, f! reader for that portion. for his birthday 🫧

inspired by afterglow

shouto todoroki, who isn’t the greatest at feelings. who expresses himself largely through actions, rather than words. who is scared that if he opens his mouth he’ll blow things out of proportion and colour you blue. who has grown up always on survival mode, never really knowing when he’s safe, seeing the people who we’re supposed to love him hurt him. who at first, jails you for things you don’t do, thinking he has reason to attack, before realizing you’re one of the few people he can confide in. from there, he’s stuck to you like glue.

shouto todoroki, who doesn’t want to break what he loves so much. who is smart, able to read you and the looks on your face. who comes across as cold and unexpressive, a bit of an asshole. but who is actually very observant, and a great listener, tilting his head and urging you to go on. who doesn’t ask “how was your day?” but instead says “tell me about your day”, wanting to know every detail. who listens with a content smile, forgetting everything else in the world but you.

shouto todoroki, who isn’t really terrified of losing what you have. who constantly self-sabotages, sometimes without realizing it, because he’d rather be alone than be left behind. who has to face the truth that he’s the one burning you down, getting into his own head about his fears. who melts like ice when you finally confront him, calling him out for the idiot he is, knowing that deep down? he doesn’t wanna do this to you. who doesn’t want you to go.

shouto todoroki, who is a gentleman in a world of boys. who calls you beautiful, darling, love, or anything that graces your face with a rose coloured hue. who is the king of romantic dates, backhugs, and forehead kisses. who wants nothing more than to lift you up and never let you go, learning that this kind of love is worth the fight.

shouto todoroki, who some nights, needs you to tell him that it’ll be fine, that he’s still yours. who sometimes loses his mind, wondering if he is good enough, if he’ll ever fully escape his past. who looks at you and sees his future, and for the first time, sees something so much bigger than just him. he sees happiness, marriage, maybe even being a father himself, never repeating the same mistakes. who knows he’s broken your heart, and wonders how he can still be the one you want in the end, but chooses not to question it.

shouto todoroki, who never fully stops doubting, but lets you kiss away his anxieties. who loves you like the moon loves the sun- wondering if its okay, if its meant to be- and doing it anyway. who melts like ice when he sees you smile, kissing you like afterglow shining on his skin. who is the only name on your lips, your future, your forever. who promises to give you everything he is and so much more.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ���.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

shouto todoroki, who kisses you until your out of breath. who constantly asks “do you feel good, love?” or “you like it when i touch you here?” who will take you anywhere- in bed, on the couch, on counters, in the shower, his car. who couldn’t care less if you’re on your period, or if you haven’t shaved, or if you’re worried he won’t like what he sees. he loves you, every inch of you, and does good in proving that.

shouto todoroki, who loves going down on you. who gets you so wet just from kissing you, trailing his lips down your body, his hands slowly removing your clothes. whose eyes look up at you when he’s in between your legs, thighs hooked over his shoulders, asking for permission. who loves to eat you out with your panties on, smirking against your clit when you whine for him to take them off. who swirls his tongue around you, eating like he’s starved, making you cum the moment he tugs your underwear off, eating you out with no barrier.

shouto todoroki, who puts your pleasure first, always. who’ll makes sure you cum 2-3 times before he even thinks about releasing for himself. who turns your brain to mush, a slow, deep, gentle lover who knows where to kiss and where to thrust. who’ll lean down to whisper in your ear, asking “do you like this position, baby?” or “how do you want me to take you, love?” who almost laughs to himself when he sees you unable to form coherent sentences.

shouto todoroki, who’ll start slow, teasing you with the tip of his cock until he sees you tear up. who kisses those tears away, pushing himself inside, letting you fully adjust before moving. who whispers praises in your ear, feeling you clench around him every time he says something. “so good, love, making me feel like this. ah, cumming already? so cute.”

shouto todoroki, who specifically asks you where you want to cum. he has to resist the urge right there when you cry out, telling him to do it in you. whose bi-coloured eyes fill with a hint of concern, double checking with you, but nearly unable to resist the way you take him. drags it out for as long as he can, playing with your tits, biting your skin, slamming his cock into you with reckless abandon before finally spilling his seed deep into your pussy. who stays there, wrapping your leg around his waist. “don’t waste a single drop, love.”

shouto todoroki, who stays there for a few more moments before sliding out with a kiss to your forehead. who is the best at aftercare, icing any sore spots, keeping you warm next to him. who is blissfully satisfied in the afterglow of sex, able to let his guard down, able to simply love you. <3

[imawreck]

Darkness

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You're left with flushed cheeks and a shared secret with the darkest part of Bucky Barnes... and you want more.

Author's Note: You guys fucking DEVOURED the last one so this is the sequel to the previous part, His. It makes more sense if you read the other first! If you like this content, drop a comment or an ask and I'll be sure to write more like it in the future! It gets a little feral and I won't apologize for it. Also, there is possibly a part three on the table if this ship sails like the last.

Warnings: Choking kink, metal arm kink, Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), Possessive!Winter Soldier, hair pulling, fingering, Dominant!Winter Soldier, hickeys, bruising, PnV, praise kink if you squint, licking, oral (fem receiving), knife play (?) and probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 6,899

It had been two days.

Two days since you’d tried and failed to lure the Winter Soldier into a cell. Two days since you’d felt his hands on your body.

Two days since he’d given you a taste of what you could have.

He’d left his mark on more than just your skin. Though bruises and love bites littered your neck, it was your mind that he’d left the most impact on.

There was hardly a moment you weren’t thinking about him, about Winter. About what would’ve happened if the agents hadn’t stormed the stairwell. If he’d been able to keep going.

And you wondered if you’d ever get another chance to see.

Bucky had recovered, his mind once more his own. You didn’t know if he remembered, or if he would say anything to you even if he did. It’d been radio silence from everyone in the tower other than Steve, who’d been checking in on you to make sure you were really alright. You were sure Thor would be here hounding you if he was on the planet too.

Apparently, the earpiece had fallen out a little after he’d cornered you. So Steve and whoever else that was watching over you didn’t hear much of the conversation you’d exchanged with the assassin. They’d had to rely on the cameras, which hadn’t been able to see you past the wall of a man caging you between his arms.

Which means none of them had seen what had happened, that this was something only you carried the knowledge of. A small part of you was relieved.

That still left one question unanswered: Did Bucky remember?

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. 

Blowing out a breath, you got up and headed towards the door. “Steve, I told you I’m fine. I—“

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Steve on the other side.

It was strange how different those blue eyes were when it was Bucky at the wheel instead of Winter. Lively, pooling with emotion where you’d seen cold calculation and unbridled lust just days before.

It was guilt swimming in those eyes now, red rimmed and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and he wore a loose pair of sweats and a black long sleeve despite the summer heat.

He looked scared and out of place standing in the hall.

“I—uh, hey.” A poor attempted smile wobbled onto his face, and he brought his flesh hand up to run through his hair—a nervous habit he had when he was uncomfortable or anxious — just like you’d guessed. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but no words left it. You could only stare up at him and nod, feet shuffling back to pull the door open further.

Bucky’s frame squeezed through the door and he padded further into your space with wandering eyes and furrowed brows.

It was impossible not to notice the changes you’d made in the last few months since your breakup. Bucky used to frequently stay with you, favoring your bright and comforting space over his own empty room. You liked your knick-knacks, and you were a sucker for creature comforts so you always had the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows. And you’d always made sure Bucky had things he liked in your space.

You used to keep his favorite coffee stocked in the mini breakfast bar you’d made on a bar cart, and his favorite pillow and throw blanket was always neatly folded in the armchair by the window. You’d even set out copies of his favorite books in case he wanted to relax in your room instead of the commons area or his own space. 

But now it was gone. The little pieces of him you’d made room for were removed along with the photos that used to line your walls and bookcase. Save for the one, of course.

And it stung to see the reality of what he’d done, the choice he’d made now reflected in the absence of everything he’d built with you. 

He pried his eyes away from the empty shelves of your bookcase and glanced back at you, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I… Steve said that I went after you when I got back.”

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds, silence crowding you both and making him tense his shoulders the longer it remained. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you. I-I never wanted you to see me like that. That- He’s not me, okay? God, I’m so sorry.” His fingers scraped over his scalp as he clenched his teeth, turning away and pacing a few steps.

Bucky couldn’t look at you, not after what he’d done. What he’d forced you to witness. He’d never wanted you to see him like that. It was one of his worst nightmares when you had been dating, and now it was a brutal reality.

“Bucky,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Did I hurt you? Did… did I do something to you?”

It struck you then that he didn’t remember what he’d done. What Winter had done. And your room was too dark at the moment to see what remained painted on your skin from the encounter.

You were both relieved, and utterly frustrated. Now what do you do? ‘Oh yeah, Bucky! I let you finger me with your metal arm in a stairwell for shits and giggles while you were all killer mode. No biggie.’ And then what, ask for him to do it again?

Yeah, definitely not.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky.” Your legs moved on their own accord, drawn forward by his obvious distress and the instinctual need to sooth his worries. “I’m fine, really.”

Bucky finally turned to face you, his eyes filled with sorrow. He chewed his cheek, his eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. “I can't remember what happened, there's just glimpses.” His voice lowered, softened by the weight of his words and the fear woven in his tone. “But I can feel him. Stronger than before. Something’s different this time.”

You stilled at that, eyes glued to the side of his face. 

“I can feel what he felt. I-it's like he’s just behind a curtain.” His right arm came up, his index finger tapping his temple, “Waiting.”

The haunted look in his eyes twisted a knife of guilt in your gut. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened, but it was unfortunately normal for Bucky. You understood it, respected his boundaries and his need to do anything he could to keep you safe. But you wanted exactly what he was keeping from you.

You wanted it so badly.

Could you tell him? Could you confide in him this secret you’d kept from lovers in the past? Something so twisted that you’d only shared it with someone equally as sadistic as you were flawed? Bucky was so much more important to you than any of them had been. You… you felt deeply for him. And it was obvious that the unknown was weighing on him heavily.

One more look at his shattered expression gave you your answer.

With a frustrated huff, you reached for his hand. You tugged it from where it’d curled itself into his hair again, and led him to the edge of your bed. “Bucky,” you started, keeping your voice as gentle as you could. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to be hard to understand, and you’ll probably think very differently of me, but I think it might lessen the burden I can see you’re putting on yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes fixed on you. Those brows furrowed over confused and tortured eyes, but it was obvious that he would listen.

You bit your lip, beginning to sweat as the nerves rattled through you. “First of all, I… I haven’t told anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but rather something that just is. And it didn’t start with you. I mean—,” you let out a sound of frustration, “Fuck, I mean I didn’t date you because of it. It just sort of grew more complicated as we got closer.”

Those brows furrowed more and twisted his face into more concern than anything.

You kept going. “When you came after me, I was scared. Of course I would be.” You winced at the hurt that flashed in his eyes, but continued on, “But I also… I liked it.” 

A shaky, bitter laugh left you. “I liked the chase. I liked it when he cornered me against the wall, when he—,” you paused, a feeling akin to resignation and begrudging acceptance settling into your bones. Your eyes found his metal hand, gazing at the light bouncing off the silver metal. “When he choked me with that hand.”

You buried your face in your palms, tears of shame threatening to leak from your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me, Bucky. He just brought to light these things I thought I’d kept from you.” 

With another breath, one that felt like needles sinking into your lungs, you went on. “He made me feel good, Buck, in all the ways I’d always hoped you would someday. I feel like the worst person in the world for thinking that, for feeling the way I do, but I can’t help it.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame was writhing in your stomach and threatening to consume you. Tears pricked your eyes and wet your palms that still remained pressed to your face. 

Bucky didn’t say a word, and you just let the silence thicken the air. You’d already said everything there was to say.

Your sin was bared for his judgment. “I get that you don’t want to be with me anymore—“

“That’s a lie.”

Your head snapped up at that, teary eyes wide as you took in his surprised expression. An expression you watched morph into confusion, and then something else. Realization, maybe.

Bucky went on, “I never wanted to stop being with you, Y/N.”

A piece of you settled deep in your soul at that confession, and you leaned in to listen. Every word from his lips an answer to the question haunting your every thought for the past three months.

“On that mission, we came across intel that there might be a mole in the tower and that they were going to try and trigger the Winter Soldier. I… I was scared, Y/N.” Grief washed over his face as he folded his hands together, knuckles turning white. “I was so scared that you’d see me like that and be afraid of me. I was terrified of hurting you, of— of killing you, that I had to make it look like you didn’t matter to me. I had to make it real, so that whoever saw you and I would think you didn’t matter and leave you alone. I was trying to make you less of a target.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, at the thought that these past two months of utter disaster had been the result of Bucky trying to protect you from himself. 

“You could’ve talked to me,” you muttered, sniffing and wiping your face in a poor attempt to rid it of the mascara you knew had run. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

Bucky’s head shook, “There wasn’t time. You have to understand.”

You nodded, even if you didn’t truly understand. The guilt and remorse on his face told you he was on the edge of crumbling, and if agreeing with him kept him from breaking, you’d give it to him.

Another long silence blanketed the two of you. You watched his face, his eyes, as his mind mulled over the information you had exchanged with him.

Those blue eyes found your’s after a while, something steely in them that wasn’t there before. “Friday?”

The AI of Stark Tower answered politely, “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Initiate Soldier Protocol in Y/N’s room and cut camera feed. Don’t alert anyone.”

Soldier Protocol. 

Your eyes widened, and a chill ran over your skin. Soldier Protocol was something Bucky had come up with when you’d first started dating. It was a safety protocol installed into yours and his own room to ensure that if the Winter Soldier was triggered, it would keep whoever was in the room safe, or keep whoever was trying to get inside from entering. It was a double edged sword, really, because if you were trapped in the room with him, then you couldn’t get out. Bucky had made sure to teach you some basic self defense moves on the very slim chance that would ever happen and had shown you ways that you could use to evade and make an escape to the bathroom if needed. Even though you’d thought of all the holes in the protocol, you couldn’t bear to voice them if it helped ease Bucky’s nerves knowing that if something were to happen, that you’d have an extra wall to keep him from getting to you.

“Confirm Command; Soldier Protocol, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, voice wavering just the slightest as you whispered, “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded slowly, giving you the confidence you needed to answer the AI.

“Confirm Soldier Protocol, Friday. No alerts or cameras.”

The calming voice answered once more. “Command Confirmed. Soldier Protocol initiated.”

Your eyes followed the windows as metal safety doors shut out the dim light of the day. One after another they locked out the outside world and left the two of you inside the confines of your bedroom. 

You and Bucky, and your confessions.

“He wants out, Y/N.” It was barely a whisper, but the low timbre of Bucky’s voice reverberated in your bones. “He wants you.”

There was concern laced in his words, but there was also more. So much more that you knew you’d have to talk about later. You’d have time to unpack all of this, what it means for the two of you, later. Right now?

Right now you needed Winter as desperately as you needed air.

“What… How can I help you, Bucky?” Your hands shook at the thought of Winter's return. Of what it would bring.

Bucky pulled his lip between his teeth, his hands running through his hair before twisting themselves in his lap. His eyes were wide, as if he didn’t quite believe he would say the words spilling from his own mouth. “I want you to trigger the Winter Soldier. Feeling him there— it’s driving me mad. An-and now that we know he won’t hurt you and that you… you want him—.”

You reached for his hand, concerned that if he kept squeezing them as tight as he was that he’d break bone. “Bucky, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, smiling softly at him, “Take a breath. There’s a few things I want to set straight before we jump into this.”

His voice lowered, “Okay.”

Bucky was obviously torn up over this whole thing. And as excited as you were to repeat what went on in that stairwell, this was someone you cared about for more than just sex. 

This was Bucky. 

This was the man who’d apologized with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever laid eyes on the day after your first encounter with Winter. The same man who’d apologized for months after with cute little notes and trinkets he knew you loved and still kept in that shoebox under your bed. The exact same man you’d opened your heart to one Saturday night over a tub of butterscotch ice cream and the third playthrough of your favorite movie. He didn’t complain that you’d watched it back to back either.

This was the man you’d fallen in love with in just a few short months.

The realization settled into your heart, and that warm tingly feeling swept over you as you tightened your hold on his flesh hand and reached for his metal one too.

Bucky hesitated, jerking it away for a moment before allowing you to tug it into your lap. “Buck,” you started, thumbs swiping over his hands in slow calming paths. “It isn’t just the Winter Soldier I like about you. You know that, right? Because if you don’t, I’ve failed as your lover. And as your friend.” 

Those blue eyes darted between your own, searching there like a man searching for salvation. You gave his hands another squeeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I love you, Bucky. You. I think I’ve known for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it out loud. I haven’t had the best run with guys in the past, and you’re so good that I was afraid I’d ruin you somehow.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, and this time he was the one to squeeze back.

“I know it’s kind of shitty timing, but I need you to understand that I’m not with you for any other reason other than the simple fact that I adore you, Bucky Barnes. Everything about you.” You shook your head, frowning. “I meant it when I told you I wasn’t with you just because of Winter. I’ve always had this attraction to… well, you know. Dating you just made it more difficult to hide when you were obviously so uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to make things hard for you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Doll,” he mumbled, the name drawing your eyes to him. You’d always loved it when he called you that. “Say it again.”

You frowned, confused for a moment, before a small smile drew itself onto your face. “I love you, Bucky.”

A choked sound fell from his lips before his arms circled around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his face inches from yours. “Again. Say it again,” he begged, his  breath fanned over your face as his fingers fisted the back of your shirt. “Please, doll, say it again.”

You folded your legs around his hips, threading your fingers into his hair and peppering kisses on his face. “I love you.”

“Me?” It was the most broken sound you’d ever heard.

You grabbed his face, tilting it up to look at you and tried your best to pour every ounce of love into your expression. “You, James. I love you. I’ll say it a billion times if I have to until I get it through that ridiculously handsome head of yours.”

He laughed at that, broken as it sounded. “I love you too, Y/N. God, I fucking love you.”

Soft lips crashed into yours, dancing a familiar dance as his flesh hand slipped under your shirt and glided up your spine. Your breath caught as the cool sensation of his metal fingers followed after it, his arm wrapping around your back. You smiled against his lips, leaning into him more.

You nearly pouted when he pulled away.

“Y/N,” those eyes, less uncertain and more determined now, swept over your face. “I want you to trigger him.”

You frowned, “But Bucky, you—.”

“I need this.” His voice was surprisingly steady, “I need to do this otherwise it’ll drive me mad. Feeling him there— Jesus, it’s like someone’s scraping a knife against my skull.”

Metal fingers drew circles against your back, “Are you okay with… with seeing him again? I’m not confident enough to do what he did yet. I need more time to come to terms with the damage this hand has done.” He pulled the appendage away, looking it over before his eyes found you again. “But I… I can tell he won’t hurt you. I can feel it,” he pulled his flesh hand away and pressed it over his heart. “Right here.”

He laughed, almost incredulously. “Even the Winter Soldier has fallen in love with you.”

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. He wanted you to trigger the Winter Soldier. He said that he loved you, and that Winter did too. 

It would really fucking suck if you were dreaming.

“I don’t know your words,” you mumbled, suddenly shy in the light of his proclamation.

This time, the smile he gave was one that reminded you of those old photos from the 40s you’d seen in the history museum. The one where the left side crooks up a bit more than the right. He didn’t release you, but instead wrapped his left arm around your hips and leaned back to rifle through the top drawer of your nightstand for the notepad you always left in there.

He pulled it back to himself and released you only long enough to scribble down a few words and tear off the page. “You’ll have to memorize them. I don’t want them to leave this room.”

You nodded, because of course he wouldn’t and you’d rather swallow hot coals than ever betray him. Your eyes scanned the page a dozen times when he handed it to you, lips moving in silence as you played with the foreign vowels. 

All the while those strong hands of his trailed along your back and hips, sometimes exploring your upper thigh. 

It made your mind foggy, and you had to keep yourself from squinting to focus.

After you’d finally memorized them, you remove yourself from Bucky’s lap and padded over to your bookcase. You snagged the candle lighter from a shelf, and then removed the bag from your trash bin. It took a few tries, but once the lighter ignited, you let the flames eat away at the page before dropping it into the bin and watching until it was nothing but ash at the bottom.

You could hear a breath of relief leave the soldier from where he remained seated at the edge of your bed. He looked somewhat relaxed, but a tension still ran along his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You returned to the bed, smiling a bit as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs.

Bucky hummed, low and steady. “M’sure, Doll.” He leaned his head against your stomach, and your hands found his hair on instinct.

He hummed again at the touch, and his arms tightened around your legs before he lifted you. Bucky turned quickly, one knee coming up onto the bed before he laid you down with a thump on the mattress.

You smiled, laughing a little as you bounced from the sudden drop. Bucky grinned back, his eyes shining. “Missed you, you know. I’m sorry for not telling you.” He leaned over you, hands planting on either side of your head. Nothing but honesty shined in those blue eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m sorry for wasting three months, and I promise I won’t do that again.”

Butterflies stirred in your belly, and you could feel the flush of heat on your neck as you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, “Better not.” 

Before you could think much of it, Bucky reached over and flicked the lamp on. You were too busy feeling fuzzy inside that you’d forgotten the very prominent marks littering the delicate flesh of your neck.

Marks that would always make Bucky drown in guilt.

“Fuck, doll.” 

He stared at your neck, horror painting his face in the lamplight. His body lifted until he was sitting on his knees over you, hands resting on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them as he took in the damage he’d left.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Hey, no—,” you gripped the front of his shirt, the sudden motion catching him off guard as you pulled yourself up to his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You would’ve liked to yank him back over you, but you lacked the ability to battle his serum-enhanced strength. Sitting up did just fine.

“You don’t get to feel guilty for this. Not now, and not anytime after this if you… if we’re serious about doing this.” You stared him down, unwilling to allow him even a glance away. “I told you, I liked it. I told you that it didn’t hurt. You need to trust me as much as I trust you in this. That’s the only way this,” you motioned between you both, “is going to work.” You lowered your voice, nearly mumbling the last part. “I can’t take another step back, Buck. Not after three months, and definitely not after that.”

Bucky’s eyes danced between yours for a few moments. They darted down to your marred skin and back again several times before he blew out a breath and nodded reluctantly. 

Your shoulders eased too. 

“Now come back here and kiss me, soldier. Your girl’s in need.” You smiled, quirking a playful brow in an attempt to draw him back in.

It worked. That smile pulled at his lips, small at first but quickly blooming as you began peppering his jaw with kisses.

The kisses started gentle and exploring, and the touches soft and sweet. You hadn’t felt his skin against yours for three long months, save for two days ago, and you’d missed everything that made him Bucky.

You’d missed how the stubble of his chin brushed your cheeks when you kissed, and how he held your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. Delicate and worthy of worship.

You’d missed him so much it hurt.

“Bucky,” you panted, tugging his shirt as you kissed him. “I love you.”

A deep, rumbling groan left him, and his tongue swept across your bottom lip. “I love you, Y/N. So damn much.”

His flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and guided your head to the side so he could place the tenderest kisses over each hickey Winter had left. “He’s a brute,” Bucky mumbled against the column of your throat, stealing your breath. “If he hurts you–.”

“He won’t, James.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, biting your lip as his flesh hand trailed all the way from your neck to the base of your spine. “I know it.”

You only got a hum in response before his lips crashed into yours again. Bucky’s hands were everywhere, confident and warm on one side and tentative and gentle with the other, much colder one. The contrast sent delicious tingles along your skin wherever he touched and only served to heighten your anticipation.

This was the first time Bucky himself had allowed so much of a brush of his metal arm against you, let alone tender touch.

His palms mapped every dip and crest of your body, his touch growing more needy with each sweep of his skin against yours. His tongue slid over your lips again, a silent request that you were all too happy to accept.

You couldn’t help the satisfied sound that escaped you as the taste of him swept over you, familiar and strong. Things only hastened from there. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t bear not to have his hands on you.

He kissed you hard, chasing you with lips and tongue like a man starved. The feather light touches of his hands turned more firm as he held your hips and pulled you closer. Bucky’s chest heaved, his breaths fanning over you between kisses in hot puffs.

You could tell he was still holding back. That he needed this as much as the burning need in your core told you that you did. “Bucky,” the sound was practically a whine, “Please.”

His fingers curled against your hips, “Fuck. Okay, okay.” Wet kisses were trailed down your neck as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to sweep calloused thumbs over your aching nipples. “Say them, doll. Say the words.”

You deserved a fucking gold metal for succeeding to pull your mind out of the fog he’d clouded your brain with. It always happened with him. Your mind just short circuited every time he cast you a heated glance, and this? Well, it was a miracle you could remember your own name.

You opened your mouth, the words you’d memorized tumbling out one after another. 

“Longing.” Bucky grunted, but didn’t stop in his ministrations as you spoke the next. 

“Rusted.” Another grunt, and a tremor through his shoulders, but his lips never left your skin. In fact, it just seemed to spur him further as his hands tugged your shirt down to reveal the delicate skin of your breasts.

“Furn-,” you gasped as his lips locked onto a nipple, tongue teasing expertly over the nub. “Furnace.”

The hum he released sent skittering tingles across your body in the most delicious way.

“Finish, baby.” 

Fucking hell. What was the next word?

“Daybreak,” his hands lowered to your ass and held it firmly against him as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin of your breasts, never missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

Those devilish hands dragged lower, fingers trailing along the seam of your panties through your leggings and along the underside of your thighs where they met the curve of your ass. Inches from where you needed him most.

You could barely suck in a breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on your skin and those hands mapping your body in agonizingly slow strokes that sent waves of need straight to your core. “Benign,” his body arched over yours, easing you into the mattress, “Nine.”

Another shudder this time, and you could see the ripple of muscle beneath that tight black shirt. God did you want it off of him.

“Homecoming.” 

A groan, and a shake of his head. It was the first indicator that he was uncomfortable.

 You hesitated at the pained sound, but you didn’t have time to ask a thing though. Not when his head snapped up and those wide, wild blue eyes found yours. “Don’t stop,” he panted, cheeks flushed.

So you didn’t.

“One.”

Wet lips trailed kisses down the exposed skin of your stomach, the tips of his dark hair trailing down as he kissed past your naval and kept going. Lower, lower, lower…

“Freight Car.” The words sounded strangled in your throat through your labored breathing.

The kisses stopped abruptly, and Bucky’s body went stock still.

You weren’t even sure he was breathing until the even rush of an exhale swept against your stomach.

And then he chuckled.

 It wasn’t the kind you’d normally hear from Bucky. It wasn’t filled with joy, or playfulness. This one sounded depraved and downright corrupt.

The hairs on your neck raised, and that sharp bite of panic jolted through you as you stared down at his large frame hovering over you. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, and the lack of any hint of what was going through his head only heightened the tension building in your body.

“Told you, didn’t I?” His voice was a rumble in the silence, and you gasped when his tongue swept a path up the center of your belly. “You fucking need me.”

Cold fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings and shucked them off in one quick motion, the cool air assaulting your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You simply stared up at him and tried to remember to breathe beneath the weight of his eyes on your body.

Those cold, lust-lidded eyes.

“Winter,” you breathed, a thrum of excitement mingling with the nerves tingling under your skin. The ache you felt was at the forefront of your mind. Bucky’s gentle touches had served to stir the need that was already brewing.

Now, Winter has come to finish the job.

He smiled, slow and sultry. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Dollface?”

You bit your lip as heat crept up your neck.

Winter’s body rose to his knees, his hands curling around your thighs in a bruising grip and lifting them over his shoulders. You yelped, but it didn’t stop him. Those thick corded forearms locked your legs in place over his shoulders, his face centimeters from your core and the stubble of his jaw tickling your thighs.

You were almost certain you'd soaked through the thin pair of panties you wore.

His hands dragged up your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at your hips as he held your eyes. 

And then he ripped them at the seams. The puny fabric fell to the mattress in tatters, and all you could do was gawk at him.

“Don’t wear those when you’re with me.” Winter ordered against your thigh, his tongue swiping a path up the inner stripe of skin. 

The action sent another wave of want through you, the anticipation of what he was going to do serving to build your nerves higher and higher.

He drew you closer by your hips, humming against your skin. The sweep of hot air over you was a welcome sensation and you arched into it. Your heart pounded, and the angle in which your body was held, your head still resting against the mattress along with your shoulders, made it hard to think. 

Winter stopped just short of brushing his lips over your sensitive clit. You could’ve cried right then and there. Blinking up at him, you caught the wicked grin plastered on his face.

The soldier above you looked downright god-like bathed in the dim light of the room. His eyes gleamed, and that silver arm danced with every move he made. Every devious stroke of cool fingers against your body.

You knew this exact image would be carved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, his grip turning nearly bruising. “Tell me how badly you want it.” His lips brushed your core, just a whisper of scruff on your sensitive skin. 

You squirmed in response, chasing the feeling. Normally, you would rather die than beg a man for anything. But Winter? He had a special way of breaking you down. “Please, Winter, please. I-I want you. I want you to–.”

He didn’t even let you finish before his tongue delved into your core. 

You felt every sweep, every brush of that expert muscle laving over you. Desperate, needy sounds were echoing through your room, and a part of you knew they were yours. That they were spilling from your parted lips in broken sentences begging him for more. You were too focused on where his tongue toyed with you to care about anything else, though. Every pass of his tongue on your clit, or a sweep against your clenching walls made it harder and harder to ground yourself.

You were crawling closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers were curled into the bedspread, and your hips ground into his face and bucked against the solid grip of his arms over your thighs. Winter groaned into your heat, the rumbling vibrations pushing you closer to euphoria.

Dazed, you tried to focus on his face, tried to make out his features in your love-drunk state. 

Winter's eyes were closed, and his face never came up once for air. Not even when you could feel his chest shuttering, and those muffled grunts became more frequent.

And God did they feel good.

Your chest heaved, your legs trying and failing to move an inch against his iron grip. As those vibrating groans shoved you over the edge with a cry.

Your brain couldn’t focus, not with all the blood rushing through your head and the thundering sound of your own heart in your ears, or the blissful sensation of release crashing over you in waves. 

“So dirty, Dollface. Letting me ruin you like this.” Winter eased his grip on your shaky legs, his hands dragging up your thighs to grip your hips. “Letting me brand you, taste you…” He licked his lips, tasting you on his stubbled face. His body leaned forward, your legs parting around his hips as he planted a burning kiss to your lips, “Fucking perfect.”

You panted, blinking to focus on his words as you came back to yourself.

Winter was lifting himself off of you, his eyes raking over your disheveled form as he slipped off the bed and stood to his full height. Those blue eyes held nothing but burning desire, muscles flexing as he yanked off his shirt and rewarded you with the view of his sweat slicked torso. 

The sight was erotic. His hair damp with sweat, and his face glossy with the remnants of your release, chest heaving as he sucked in much needed air.

Winter reached forward, his cool fingers wrapping around your ankle and tugging you towards the edge of the bed with a wicked grin. “Gonna make you come again, Dollface. Need to hear those pretty sounds you make.” His flesh hand grabbed your calf, pulling you closer. “Wanna hear my name on your lips again, and again, and again.”

His metal fingers gripped your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t bother you. You loved the reminders that littered your skin from the last time Winter branded you with his affections, and you relished each one that would follow. 

With a quick, strong motion, he flipped you on your stomach. Your chest bounced against the bedsheets, the friction against your pebbled nipples sent a jolt of pleasure down to your toes making you moan into the comforter as he brought your hips up and adjusted your knees against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He panted, pressing himself against your ass.

You could feel him through the sweats still hanging from his hips. The length of him pressed firmly against you, brushing your sensitive core and making you groan again. You wanted to feel him, needed to know what it was like to be with Winter the same way you craved intimacy with his counterpart.

“Please,” You begged. 

With a grunt, the sweats were yanked down and he thrust harshly, seating himself completely in one swift motion.

His moan rumbles through you, setting your nerves alight. “Oh god…”

And then he starts moving. 

One stark difference between James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier, was that one was gentle and kind, and everything you’d want in the man you’d take home to meet your parents. And the other? The other was the kind of man that would carve his name into your skin with a smile and defile you in unspeakable ways, rough and raw.

Winter snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, pulling out only to plunge back in with a force that made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, clinging to the sheets as he drove you into the mattress. His cock hit all the right places, those quick, constant motions driving you closer and closer to another release. His grunts and puffs of breath only added momentum.

Tears pricked your eyes, your heart hammering and your skin on fire as pleasure coursed through you, building higher and higher.

A cold palm slipped along your belly, snaking its way between your breasts and firmly wrapping around your neck, squeezing those delicate pressure points that made your head spin. He lifted you from the mattress, his pace halting almost completely as your back met his heaving chest. 

Winter’s raw voice met your ears as you whimpered at the loss of friction, teetering on the edge of sanity as your core wept for attention. “Gonna cum if I keep that up, Dollface.” His voice is choppy, puffs of air hitting the side of your neck as he talks. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

His dick pushes in again, dragging slowly along your walls as he groans in your ear, your own voice joining him in a broken harmony. “‘M gonna need this every time. Need to feel your tight cunt, hear your pretty cries…” His tongue darted out to slide over your cheek, swiping up a tear that had fallen from your damp lashes, “Taste you every. Single. Time.”

Those hips snapped back into their brutal pace, slamming against your ass as he clutched your frail neck in his metal hand, the other coming up to grip your hair and tug your head back as he sucked more love bites along your neck.

You moan, tears of pleasure falling from your lashes as you near the edge. Winter’s grunts and shaky breath vaguely registering that he’s nearly there himself.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, the combination of pain and utter pleasure shoving you over the precipice as you open your mouth in a scream. That metal hand snakes up to stifle it as his hips jerk a few more agonizing thrusts before shuddering with his strangled moan.

You’re left limp and breathless, utterly spent and draped over his arm with your head lolling against his strong and heaving shoulder.

Winter slips from you, repositioning you on the bed like an offering on an unholy altar. With his hair plastered against his forehead, those dark strands utterly soaked with sweat, he smiles down at you.

“Again.”

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[mandarinmoons]

Fluff request incoming!

Spencer and reader being on a date going to an aquarium and Spencer telling her facts about each animal/fish and then when he tries to stop her off she asks him to stay because she has something for him and she gifts him her favorite rock/crystal and says he’s her otter. 🦦

Finally gathering his courage, Spencer walked towards you at work with shaky hands as he mumbled to himself what he was about to ask you. He had seen you in a different light for quite some time now and as said by the wise words of David Ross, “Shoot your shot kid or you’ll wallow on your deathbed not knowing what could’ve happened.”

And now here you were, Spencer smiled to himself as he watched your head turn from one side to the other in awe as the both of you were surrounded by an array of different sea creatures. Spencer remembered how he had heard you talking to Penelope and mentioned the new otter exhibit at the local aquarium and what a perfect place for a first date that would be, he thought.

On one side of the aquarium there were turtles floating through the water and on the other there were dolphins coming around to greet the people on the other side of the glass wall. Seeing everyone smile and chuckle at the actions of the animals only made your smile grow, which in turn made Spencer’s smile widen as well.

“Spence, look!”

You pointed to a school of clownfish, swimming towards an anemone.

“It looks like they’re getting ready to lay the eggs.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, clownfish and sea anemones have a symbiotic relationship which means they both benefit from it. The anemone protects the clownfish from predators as well as providing food through the scraps left from the anemone's meals and occasional dead tentacles and functions as a safe nest site for the clownfish. And in return the clownfish defends the anemone from its predators and parasites.”

“That’s really cool.”

“It is yeah.”

Spencer’s hand rested on your lower back as you stood and watched the fish swim by you, lightly leaning into his embrace as his arm snaked onto your side. Spencer’s eyes still stayed on you, smiling as you pointed at the fish in front of you.

After some time of admiring the assortment of fish, Spencer took you to a part of the aquarium he deemed perfect for you. Closing your eyes at his request, you carefully followed him along and your eyebrows furrowed when you heard a tapping noise get louder.

“What’s that sound?”

“You’ll see, hold on.”

The weird sound kept getting louder and louder, but you kept your eyes closed and trusted the man guiding you.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

The sight in front of you made your heart sore. There were an array of sea otters, hitting oysters against rocks to try and break them for food.

“Oh my god!”

Spencer chuckled as you kept watching the animals in wonder. Seeing you pout at the sight, Spencer poked your cheek and laughed as you swatted his hand away. He saw the light blush on the corner of your cheeks and felt his turn the same shade.

“What? It’s cute when you pout.”

“Not as cute as the otters.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

After a good while of watching the loveable animals, Spencer walked you back home, a smile on each of your faces from the activities of the day. You kept talking about how much you adored the otters you saw and Spencer listened eagerly, seeing your eyes glimmer from the love you had for the animals made his heart soar more than he thought it ever could.

“Oh wait before you go, I want to give you something.”

Spencer waited outside of your door as you quickly ran inside. A few minutes later you returned, taking Spencer’s hand in yours and placing an item in it.

“Something that otters do is give the prettiest rock to their mates, I think it’s adorable and thought of doing the same with you.”

The rock you placed in Spencer’s hand was an orange calcite. Spencer smiled as he thought of the meanings associated with the stone: helping to bring feelings of positivity and stability, bringing courage to trust yourself better, all qualities that exude from you.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“Maybe we’ll get to do this again one day.”

“Definitely, I’ll make sure of it.”

Wrapping your arms around Spencer for a hug, a warm feeling flooded both of your hearts as you held each other. Spencer’s hand rested on your back, thumbs lightly caressing the area as you rested your head on his shoulder. You had only gone on one date, but something inside of you told you that you just might’ve found your mate for life.

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[taintandviolent]

new tattoo ; Eric Draven x Reader

summary: You’re visiting your friend, Chance, for a new tattoo; a chest piece. While he's working, one of his friends comes over to chill; someone you've never seen before. His name is Eric Draven.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.5K | female reader, smut, unprotected sex, kissing, canon divergence/alternate universe (technically), neck kissing, tattoo needle mention, sex in someone else's apartment, hook-ups.

a/n: Shelly doesn't exist in this -- all in the name of reader getting fucked good n' hard. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It’s been about an hour since Chance started on your newest tattoo; a beautiful chest piece of a bat, nestled perfectly below your breasts. The room is filled with the hypnotic buzzing of the tattoo gun, and whatever music is playing on his speakers. You tap your fingers on the table beneath you, a staccato rhythm against the smooth leather.

The light is angled over your chest, illuminating the nakedness of your torso for Chance – who is completely unfazed by the lack of clothing. He’s working, and despite doing tattoos out of his apartment, he is ever the professional. You, on the other hand, enjoyed flashing your tits whenever you got the opportunity. You could’ve brought pasties, sure, but why bother? He’s already tattooed spiderwebs around your nipples, it’s not like this is something new.

Knock knock knock. Your eyes move first, but your head follows stiffly, careful not to move your torso too much and cause an error. 

“Do you wanna’ get that…?” You ask. Chance shakes his head. 

“It’s open!” He shouts without pulling his attention from your tattoo. A thrill runs through you; whoever is about to open the door is going to get an eyeful. 

The man that walks through the door stuns you. Literally. It takes everything in you not to let your jaw hang slack like a fool, like a teenage girl who has just seen the hot new guy. He’s tall, easily surpassing six feet, wears a black jeans, and a sheer tank top that allows you to see through the fabric, letting you see all the ink that decorates his toned torso. Your eyes dance over his tattoos, wondering passively which ones Chance did. You recognize his style in quite a few pieces. Your gaze holds a weighted bias; you do love an inked up man. But even if he weren’t, you think your reaction would be the same. 

“What’s up, man?” 

“Nothing,” he says casually, his voice low and smooth. There’s a sadness there, something that you want to reach your fingers into and pull out, but you refrain, watching him quietly as he approaches the couch to your left. 

Chance pauses, pulling the gun from your chest, to introduce you to the nameless friend.  He fist bumps him and nods to you. “This is Eric.” 

“Hi Eric,” you say with an obvious, enticing smile in your voice, extending your hand nonchalantly upwards to him. You don’t seem to shy away from the fact that your tits are just… out, but Eric seems daunted by the visuals – god, is he shy? Your stomach clenches at the thought. The way he’s desperately trying to avoid looking at them is cute, and you feel your smile widen further. You let out a tittering laugh, and push your hand closer to him, urging him to take it.

“It’s okay, they’re kind of unavoidable right now…” you confess, assuring him that any glances won’t be met with a smack across the face. Secretly, you welcome them, wanting his pretty green eyes to trail over every inch of your body until he has it memorized, or can’t resist touching you. Either or. He chuckles, breathily, and takes your hand, giving it a gentle shake. Like the rest of his body, his hand is covered in tattoos, and you can’t help but play with his long fingers as he pulls away. As your hands break apart, you suppress the urge to reach for it again, pulling it back to you. Eric takes his place on the sofa, grabbing a cigarette from the pack that lies on the table. You hear the flick of the lighter, and the familiar scent fills the room.

Chance’s hands return to your chest, laying carefully atop your skin. The hypnotic puncturing of the tattoo needle lulls you into a relaxed state, but every time you look over, Eric’s enchanting green eyes dart away, feigning innocence. He looks at the window, Chance’s bookcase, anything that isn’t you. Each time, you smile, feeling like the butterflies in your stomach are going to rupture through the layers of your skin.

When you finally catch him, his eyes are sweeping along your body, watching as your chest rises and falls with each breath, watching as Chance draws on your skin, creating a permanent piece of artwork to be admired, though you gather that he’d rather admire the artwork that was your body. After painting your form with his gaze, his eyes finally meet yours, and as though by supernatural force, you hold him there, squeezing as tightly as you possibly can. He doesn’t look away, and you blink your eyes slowly, affectionately, like a cat. Eric’s full, pink lips pull up in a crooked smile, and he looks down at his hands, nodding softly. You wonder what he just agreed to in his head. There’s an undeniable draw to him, a pulling sensation deep in your stomach, and you think, with the way his eyes dance over your face, he feels it too. 

Chance interrupts the staring contest going on between the two of you. “Alright, I think we’re finished. There’s a full length mirror in the bathroom.” 

Carefully, you sit up and scurry to said bathroom. There’s a few moments of silence until it’s shattered by a high-pitched squeal; your reaction can be heard throughout the apartment. The bat is hanging perfectly between your breasts, clinging to a crescent moon, and looking so real that it might just flap away at any moment. 

“Chance!” You rush back into the living room, and clap your hand over your mouth for a moment before speaking. “Chance, oh my god, I love it! Thank you so much!” 

“What do you think?” You turn around, bouncing on your heels excitedly. Eric’s pupils dilate, black amongst the green. He watches as your ample cleavage jiggles with your enthused little steps, and makes a fist on his knee. You can see the wheels turning as he coaches himself to focus on the tattoo, to stop staring at your tits and actually comment something useful. 

“It’s really sick, man. Nice work.” 

Chance thanks him with a handshake before tapping the table again. He has a piece of Saniderm on his lap, cut to size and ready to cover up your new ink. Eric watches, knowing the process well. 

Once you’re sealed up, you hop off the table and reach for your shirt and the wad of cash that’s tucked in your pocket. You pass the cash to Chance, and shake out the tank top. Eric almost seems sad to see you get dressed, watching silently as you pull the sheer grey tank top over your head – as though it really covers anything. It’s sheer enough to see the tattoo through, and your nipples are two peaks in the fabric. 

“Hey, I’ll be back. I gotta do a tattoo downtown. You guys gonna chill here?” 

You both exchange a glance, and seeing nothing wrong with that proposal, you shrug. Eric nods his head. “Sure, we’ll hang here.” 

“Cool, cool. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” 

And just like that, you two are alone. The silence hangs heavy between you two, an adolescent awkwardness crackling in the space between your bodies. You clear your throat. He raises his attention to you, brows lifted on his forehead. 

“So… how about a tattoo tour?” 

“A… tattoo tour?” He asks, confused. 

‘Yeah, y’know. I show you mine, you show me yours.” You pause, looking into his eyes, letting the innuendo land as heavy as he allows it to. “What they mean, where we got them, so on and so forth.” 

“I get tattoos because I like them… a lot of mine are just…” 

“I don’t care,” you say, standing up. “I want to see them.” 

He stands up, and you crane your neck to look up at him. Now that you’re next to him, the size difference is staggering. “Holy fuck, you’re tall.” 

He chuckles, and tosses his shirt on the sofa. You mimic the action, tossing your own shirt over to join his. Taking it a step further, you pull your grey sweats down your hips and step out of the circles. You take a step closer, fingers outstretched to touch him. You start at his hairline. 

“Face tattoos... crazy. Commitment is off the charts.” 

Again, he laughs. 

“To someone?” Bold. Your fingers continue their path over his shoulders.

He shakes his head solemnly, fingers trailing over a quote on your forearm. “No. Not to anyone.” 

So he’s single. Good. His hands scan over your tattooed arms, ghosting over the flesh like a nervous lover. His thumb rubs over the tattoo just before the crook of your arm – a portrait of a cat. 

“My cat. She died.”

He furrows his brows, knowing the staggering sensation of loss. You hum, and continue your exploration of his body, digits gently raking over each piece of artwork that decorates his toned physique. Your fingers trail over the giant eye that stares at you from his sternum, trailing over the rays that come off it. You ghost over his biceps and his highly-inked forearms, your fingertips tasting each tattoo. 

Finally, you reach his torso, his abdomen. All taut skin and muscles. He reaches between your breasts, lightly tracing the new addition. It’s still tender and warm underneath the plastic. He smiles.

“Why is good crossed out?”

“Hm?” He looks down. Your finger hovers over the GOOD BOY tattoo.

“Are you not a good boy?” You ask, dropping the pad of your finger to his skin, and outline the words carefully. “Why’s it crossed out?” 

His cock stirs in his jeans at your delicate touch. It doesn’t help that you’re so close to him. “I don’t think I am, no. Not with all the shit I’ve done.”

A laugh tumbles from your lips and your hand trails farther down, caressing the centipede that curves past the waistband of his jeans. You long to go deeper, but in a shocking act of good behavior, you start to let your hand drop to your side. Eric’s large hand catches it at the wrist, encircling it with ease.

“Don’t… stop… please?” 

Your eyes light up with a tantalizing mixture of lust and disbelief. 

“Eric,” you mutter almost tauntingly, tasting his name on your tongue. “I can’t see the rest. You’ve got clothes on…” 

The statement is a weighted one, but it’s also factual; the clothes are impeding you from seeing the inevitable ink that decorates his lower body. His gaze drifts from yours to the couch again, before he takes long, careful steps, dragging you with him. His grip is soft but stern, his fingers circling your wrist like a shackle. 

“Sit with me.” His voice is soft, subdued, barely above a whisper and dripping with an eroticism that you want to wrap yourself in. Instead of pulling him next to you, he pulls you harshly down on top of him. Your legs spread on either side of his hips, straddling him. Between your legs, pressed against the fabric of your jeans is a growing stiffness. You look at your bodies, pressed together and spot the bulge in his jeans, considerably more prominent than before. You laugh through your nose – it’s a giddy chuckle, one that tumbles out of your mouth with an elation behind it. Hearing your laugh, Eric looks up, his brows pulling together. 

“I don’t usually do this,” he confesses. You can tell, he’s worried you’re laughing at him, poking fun at his desperation – which couldn’t be farther from the truth. To remedy that, you lean down and press your mouth against his pouted one, feeling the firmness of his chin against yours. It takes a moment, but eventually, his soft, pink lips relinquish and press back against yours. You nip at his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He grants it, and your tongue swipes along his, teasingly. 

He’s warm against you, the heat comes off his skin in waves. You wrap your arms around his neck and tug your body closer like you’re trying to melt together. His hands find your ribcage and sink downwards, trailing over the curve of your waist, and the gentle flare of your hips. You shudder into his touch, contentedly. His hips twitch up into you, pressing his hardening cock into your heat. 

“Eric,” you breathe into his open mouth. “I think you’re really hot.” 

He nods against your lips, wordlessly agreeing that the feeling is mutual. You inhale his scent as it mingles with your own and pull back, resting your forehead on his. 

“I wanna’ see the rest of your tattoos…” you whisper. Your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the dark strands gently.

Eric separates from you, just enough to bring his hand up between your bodies, to cup your cheek, completely enveloping it with its size. He looks at you, memorizing all the features of your face. He seems satisfied with whatever he sees, and pulls you back in for a fiery kiss, his tongue slipping out to wrestle with yours. 

Your hands are the ones that are wandering now, finding the button of his jeans. Breaking the kiss to free his cock, you pause to admire it. Framed by a thatch of dark hair, it’s long like the rest of him, and the head already weeps with anticipation. You pull his jeans down his hips and underneath his ass, tugging until they’re pooled at his ankles, over top his combat boots. His legs are heavily tattooed too, but your attention is elsewhere. Greedy to feel the warmth in the palm of your hand, you reach forward, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, your thumb swiping over the tip. Just as you expected; throbbing, velvet warmth. As your thumb spreads the bead of precum down the head, down the length of it, Eric’s breath hitches. 

You look up. 

He’s watching you. Intently. His eyes are locked on your hand as it moves, teasing him. Like he feels your gaze on him, without moving his head, he looks up at you. There’s a deep, deep longing in his eyes, a desperation and a plea to continue… he’s begging without saying a word. He longs for the comfort of pleasure, of knowing someone intimately. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been with someone, how long his apparent loneliness has consumed him.

Taking a breath, you let go of his dick and straighten up. Your fingertips scrape along your own hips, dipping underneath the elastic of your underwear, catching them on your hand. You continue sliding your hands down your legs, taking your underwear with them. Once you're free of them, Eric’s eyes flicker from tattoo to tattoo, but come to rest on your face, looking deep into your eyes. You suck your bottom lip, catching it between your teeth and return to the couch, straddling him once more. Tenderly, he kisses a heated line from your neck down to your breasts. His lips press against one of the aching, swollen peaks before drawing it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple. You look down, watching him and let out a particularly pornographic whimper. It feels so fucking good… he’s so attentive.

You’re on your knees, but he’s big enough to reach you, even there. Eric’s dick twitches against your aching center, twitches up between your folds. You whimper, nodding, granting him whatever permission he needs. It’s enough, because he reaches down, taking himself into his hand, and after a few strokes, he lines it up with your wet slit. He kisses you as he pushes himself into you, as though it lessens the shock of his thick cock as it breaches your slick heat. Your jaw comes down, poised in a silent scream as he splits you open, finding comfort within your clenching walls. 

He jerks his hips once, burying himself all the way inside. A deep, throaty groan erupts between you two, and you wrap yourself around him tight, supporting yourself on his neck. You raise yourself off his cock slowly, feeling the slick tug as it slides out. Your walls clench around it like they’re desperately trying to pull it back in, and you grant them their wish, slamming yourself back down on his cock with a high-pitched whine. You find a quick rhythm of bouncing on his cock, and Eric tenses underneath you, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Oh my god.” 

You nod, already breathless. Though you’re in control of the speed, his cock is bullying, and the tip kisses your cervix every time you lower down onto it. Your breaths are replaced by moans as you ride him, bouncing on his length with reckless abandon. 

Mid-movement, Eric suddenly grips your hips tight, freezing you in place. You look down at him, pupils blown wide with lust, but perplexed. He’s focused on your cunt with his debauched expression; slack-jacked and heavy lidded with lust. He bucks his hips up hard, slamming into you with a renewed fervor. You jerk forward, collapsing into his shoulder. Silently, you thank god for the music that’s cutting the heavy sound of his hips as they slam against you and the wet squelch of your cunt as it swallows him whole, otherwise, you’d be almost embarrassed. You hold yourself up on your knees, letting Eric do the work. 

“Fuck yeah, baby… you feel so fuckin’ good…” he growls, one hand slithering around to grip the firmness of your ass. He kneads the soft, pliable flesh with his massive hand, pulling a desperate, whimpering moan from your lips. He feels so good. Your senses are consumed with him; the way he looks at you, hungrily, deeply, like he’s trying to unravel you from the inside out. The way he smells, cologne, the faint lingering scent of cigarettes, and the heady mix of mutual sex and sweat as he continues his assault on your dripping cunt. The way he feels, fucking into you with an insatiable hunger, like he’s trying to get deeper than he actually can. Everything about him is consuming you and you quickly feel yourself growing obsessed with him. 

The coil in your stomach winds tight around itself, a building pressure deep in your core. Your breaths are ragged, broken with pleasurable whines and moans, as he buries himself inside you over and over again. 

“Fuck, Eric… fuck, don’t stop… don’t you dare stop…! Shit!” 

His hand abandons its place on your cheek and comes to rest between your legs. His middle and ring finger slide down to your entrance, feeling his own cock as it slides in and out; slick and coated in mutual arousal. He grits his teeth, bringing some of the slickness around to your clit, where he encircles it with tight movements with his thumb. Electricity courses through your veins, and you shudder at the explosion of white, hot  heat on your cunt, your eyelids fluttering shut in bliss. 

You feel his muscles draw up tight as he slams into you with one final, hard thrust. His cock twitches as he releases, pumping his essence deep inside your cunt. You feel it flood you and leak out the sides, running down your thighs and dripping heavily onto his. Languidly, Eric thrusts his cock up into you, feeling every clench, fucking the cum back up into you as it dribbles out. The feeling of that paired with his ministrations on your cunt makes you come. Hard. You let out a deafening moan as your spasming walls clamp down on his cock, milking it as your own orgasm washes over you. You seize up, back arching with pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red, indented crescent moons amongst the ink. 

“Fuck m-me… oh my god…. Oh my god, Eric!” 

Eric’s chest heaves as he catches his breath, still coming down off the high of the fuck. Sweat glistens on his forehead and chest, and you run your hands along the length of his torso, scraping your nails against the skin. 

“That was fuckin’ amazing,” he pants, his hands coming to rest atop your thighs. His cock softens inside you, and you almost don’t want to move. But… this isn’t your apartment and while Chase has seen your tits, he hasn’t seen you fully naked and it’s going to stay that way. 

You lift up, letting Eric’s heavy, flaccid cock fall from your cunt. You wince as you straighten up, backing off the couch carefully. Your lips are spread in a delighted smile, watching Eric as you dress yourself, pulling your clothes back onto your sweaty, fucked out body. Eric reaches down to pull his jeans back up, tucking himself into the confines of the fabric. 

You plop down next to him, laughing lightly. “That was really great. I don’t think I’ve gotten fucked like that in a long time. Maybe ever.” 

“Ever?” 

“Ever.”

By the time Chance gets home, you’re both asleep on the small sofa, back to chest, and Eric’s arm wrapped sleepily around your waist. Chance knows what’s happened, but he doesn’t mention it when you wake up.

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s a wonder how they do it, right? i mean, they don’t even speak our language and somehow they just know if you’re a good or bad person, and what your intentions are. do you think they can read it off of our body language? or what’s happening in their heads?” thinking out loud, pale blue eyes fixated on the back of her head as his hand continues to travel across her back. over her shoulder, along the bumps at the nape of her neck, inching closer and closer to her other arm. olive skin covered in suds. “mhm,” he hums softly, praying she doesn’t turn around. he doesn’t want her to see him blushing like a schoolboy. “when i first walked in here, i thought that you’d ran away, but then i saw reva blue and began to wonder why you’d ever want to leave her behind… and started to question my own sanity, asked myself if you were real or a figment of my imagination,” he admits, chuckling sheepishly because it’s embarrassing to a certain degree. “i will never cause you any harm, lucy gray. i just need you to know that, okay?” even if she won’t instantly put all her trust in him. “and if ever want to go your separate way, i won’t go after you unless you want me to.” he’s not his brother. “and your favorite dessert is blueberry pie.” noted, he remembers. but he still leaves enough room for her to correct him if he’s wrong. “but not all desserts make you happy? that doesn’t make sense,” he playfully argues, just trying to provoke her to convince him otherwise. “horses.” what an easy question, he thinks. “i love and respect all animals.” even the squirrel that became their dinner as hard to believe as it may be. “birds and dogs and cats and cows and butterflies, but horses are just so special. my mother’s friend, back at the capitol, had stables bigger than whole neighborhoods in district twelve. plenty of stunning thoroughbreds. most of them had probably been imported from district eleven or something. anyway, there was this one chestnut mare that i really admired, could watch her for hours. she could run so fast…” eyes alight at the memory, but then he realizes that he’s been rambling for a long time and must be boring her to death. “sorry, got a little carried away. um, what’s yours?” he inquires, meaning her favorite animal. too bad there are no horses in district thirteen. it’s been so long since the last time he was near one… “thanks for trustin’ me enough.” to show him the wound on her leg. thank god he had that jar of iodine with him. “and how will that be your fault? don’t blame yourself for things that happened because other people put you in a certain position. what were you supposed to do? grab a brush on your way out? you had more important matters to worry about. it’s really not your fault, lucy gray. it’s not like you’re a slob by nature and let this happen out of laziness. you’ve been through a lot. it’s only natural,” he softly corrects, reaching around her petite frame and handing her the soapy washcloth so that she can scrub her legs and torso. calloused fingertips sinking beneath the surface, getting wet before gathering her long hair with nothing but affection. “we won’t be cuttin’ it to your ears. if we can’t get all the tangles out, we’ll braid it and… well, maybe my mother,” the one who’s most likely sick with worry back in thirteen, “will find a way to help us.” but right now, he’ll focus on combing through these pretty locks with his fingers, careful not to pull too hard.

“i think they can definitely tell, who’s a good person and who’s tryin’ to bring harm. animal’s are intuitive like that.” lucy gray reassures, smiling softly as her arm stays around her bent knees, her free arm tracing circles in the water. “oh…yeah?” brow lifting, looking over her shoulder at him before eyes glance back towards the water. shying up momentarily again. “of course not.” leave him as a single parent. a twitch of amusement pulling at her lips before softening at the thought, thinking how she can’t run. but even it she could, would she? not… exactly. not when she doesn’t have a gnawing fear in her chest yet towards him. just like the animals they speak of… if she doesn’t have a reason or sense a reason, she won’t leave. just like deer and birds, she too has those same instincts. “sort of. i mean, i can choose a favorite dessert. i can choose a favorite month. but i can’t choose a favorite color, animal or flower. all flowers, colors and animals make me happy. hard to choose just one.” a soft laugh emits, gently shrugging her thin shoulders. “what’s your favorite animal?” questioning before hearing the awful story of the man he knew and before too long her face is contorting into disgust and stomach churning, vomit reflexes on the rise when he starts saying thing about smells. “lord, then, i sure am lucky you found me in time. i might’ve suffered the same thing. that’s sickenin’, bless his poor soul havin’ to suffer all through that.” feeling sympathy and disgust, quickly trying to think of something else. she definitely doesn’t want to suffer like that and scared up to keep watching her wounds. “i hope not, i really like my hair. but then again… that’ll be my fault, maybe i’ll learn.” scolding herself— to at least brush her fingers through it and keep it from getting so matted. “it’d be devastatin’ cutting it off to my ears.” that gives her the notion to quickly start trying with her fingers to start pulling some knots out, feeling a little panicky on needing the answer if she’ll get to spare it or not. the rubs on her back feel so pleasant, too. the most soothing feeling she’s felt in awhile but she can’t exactly relax with her hair on the line.

[revelboo]

Do you ever plan to write for EarthSpark Starscream? There's a strange lack of him. No pressure to, of course haha just thought I'd ask.

I like how he was portrayed in the first season before they nuked his character 😭 (and how you write the bots from ES ❤️)

Yeah, I was so hopeful with the first season that we were going to get some character development and growth and then… yeah. Nope.

I just updated the Masterlist and just realized I’m up to 94 links there and I’m only allowed 100, so you may see me making sub-masterlists for each continuity. This one makes 95 🥲

Disaster Hearts

Earthspark Starscream x Reader

• Venting softly, his face tips up toward the night sky outside the cave he’s been using as shelter to avoid tipping off Ghost. Unable to recharge for the nightmares. In his dreams, no matter how fast or how high he flies, that massive hand reaches after him. Those brutal servos always snaring him. And what was it all for? Everything he’s suffered only for Megatron to swap sides and betray them all. To be accepted by the Autobots with open arms even though Cybertron is a burned out husk because of Megatron’s actions. The future he’d believed in, had been promised just thrown away. Where is he now, he wonders? Playing house with those human pets of his?

• Can’t stay here as his anxiety begins to crank and his wings flare slightly before he throws himself off the cliff. Thrusters igniting as he launches himself skyward. He’d convinced his other Seekers to help in his vendetta against Megatron, but then it hadn’t taken much to gain their cooperation. They’d lost as much as he had. Betrayed just like he was. Rolling lazily in the air, he thinks of that human of Megatron’s. The soldier he’d thrown them all away for. That human too closely guarded by the Autobots to get at. And he can’t understand choosing a human over his own. Hates that soldier, because really, this is her fault isn’t it? They’re all much the same, though. Little insects waiting to be crushed under his ped.

• Exhausted, your fingers flex against the steering wheel. Telling yourself that it’s only for a bit longer. Only need to work two jobs for another year or so. That’s not so long. A bit longer to squirrel away enough to escape. Get as far as possible. Maybe try for the East Coast. You’re day dreaming about that as you drive. How the salty breeze off the ocean would taste. Would the sea spray be warm or cold? Salt drying on your skin and your hair and not caring. Finally free.

• Drifting through the cloudy night sky, he spots the headlights below on the empty road. And he normally ignores the humans. They’re beneath him, but right now? Angry and unsettled? Unable to take his frustration out on Megatron or his pet, he wants to lash out at someone. Punish someone for everything that’s been done to him. It’s what makes him drop from the sky and land in front of the little car. Hears the tires scream as the car brakes sharply and he lifts a ped and slams it down on the hood before the human can hit reverse. Watches the back of the car go airborne before slamming back down. Optics narrowing when the door is thrown open and a human throws themself out, running away.

• Decepticon. Heart racing, you run for the trees hoping the massive alien can’t follow you there. Screaming as the trees just explode, shards of wood and branches raining down on you as you fall on your hip. All the fight draining out of you to leave fear. Your head turns as you struggle to breathe, feeling those heavy peds hitting the road as he approaches you. And all you can think is it’s not fair. You’ve worked so hard to escape and it’s not even your tormentor that’s going to be the death of you, but one of the alien monsters.

• Baring his denta, he looms over the small form. One human is as good as another, aren’t they? He can’t get to Megatron’s human, but if he loves them so much, sacrificed his own kind for them, throwing another one’s broken body at his peds should be just as satisfying. Servos flexing, he bends to grab you and you don’t try to run again. Don’t scream or cry. Just stare at him, eyes closing as he curls his servos around you, unresisting. Just giving up as he frowns at your almost nonexistent weight in his palm. Why aren’t you begging for your life? “Just get it over with,” you whisper so softly he almost misses it.

• And the silence stretches out, takes on a weight. Flinching when a servo nudges your head his way. You open your eyes and stare up at that frowning, serious face. Those pretty, blue optics. “It’s not that I care at all,” he says, voice little more than a growl. “But do you want to talk about it?” What? Eyes drifting to that Decepticon badging on his wings, to his too human face, and you can’t even begin to respond.

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Stars in Her Eyes, Part 2

Part 1 here

*reads old decrepit spell book* “if you write the trauma in the fic, maybe it will fix it in post” hmm yes of course of course.

More of whatever the hell this is turning out to be. I looooove Price and I waaaaaannnttt him to fix me and you and all of us together. The worms in my brain won’t leave until it happens!

—

“Well, you’re cleared for field duty.”

“Hooray.” A listless response.

A huff from the nurse. As she cleaned up, she paused. “I know I’m generally pissing in the wind when I say this, but maybe a woman will believe me this time. Take care of… whatever’s on your mind. The head trauma, the noise, the explosions, it wears you down. You don’t need old demons eating away at what’s left.”

As you got up from the chair you paused. “What do you mean? I’m fine, I’m clear, right?”

“The, wait, shit hold on maybe I’m wrong. You’re the one with the concussion, reports of hallucinations in the field.” She said, flipping through your chart. “Yeah, reported by your captain. May want to ask him about it before you—“ A click of the door closing. “—go back out there. I don’t know why I thought this would go any different.” She muttered to herself, getting ready for the next patient.

—

You thought that was a dream. You were SURE that was a dream. Shit shit shit. No fucking wonder they came to see you so often. Gaz brought flowers from all of them. Soap brought cookies and his loud mouth. Ghost brought complaints from the nurses, saying he “lingered too much” and “wanted reports that didn’t belong to him”. Price however brought nothing. Radio silence there.

You made it back to barracks a little before dinner. A shower and refresh from everything. Sneaking into the shared break room, angling to see if anyone was mad, worried, feeling… wrong about you. You’ll fix it. The last thing you wanted was them thinking you weren’t anything less than capable. Surely you weren’t perfect after this. But capable. That was achievable.

“Oi, look who’s back amongst the livin’!” Soap jumped up first and came to check you out. As rough and tumble as he was, he put the breaks on, opting for grabbing you by the shoulders instead of picking you up. “Thought we scrambled you somethin’ fierce this time.” He said, grabbing your chin and giving you a once over.

Huffing, you slapped arms away and composed yourself. You did offer a smile as you smoothed out your shirt. “Morphine cures all wounds, cognitive and otherwise.”

“So I heard.” Gaz’s voice behind you, alongside Ghost as they entered. His smile could stop traffic you thought to yourself. “Thanks for the flowers.” You said quietly. “Anytime.” He replied, gently rubbing a thumb across your knuckles.

Ghost took a big, typical stoic stance against the counter, arms crossed. Eyes big and soft for you. Oh. He’s worried? That never happens, you thought, a needle of panic through your chest. A big, warm hand on your shoulder. “Price wants you in his office when you can. Glad you’re back.” The tail end was more of a rumble than words.

The panic bloomed as three sets of eyes stayed on you. Too much, you thought. Too much care, too much consideration. You were the one who was supposed to worry, not them. You fussed with your nails, looking down. “Thanks for the help, guys. I’m, I’m sorry.”

“We’re a team, it’s what we do. Now go, he’s waiting.” Ghost demanded.

—

You shook your ankle absentmindedly. Sitting on the couch in his office. The same sick feeling in your throat and nerves as the principals office. He waved you in, cigar in hand, on a phone call with papers and documents strewn around. Life didn’t stop for him, you thought. You took to staring at the back of a framed photo, disassociating about who could be on the other side, listening to the drone of his voice. A loved one? A sibling? No, he never talked about brothers or sisters. It’s warm in here. Smells like him. Maybe you would too when you left. Maybe he—

“Sergeant.”

A gasp left your chest as your eyes refocused. Just silence, now. A cigar now crushed in the ashtray, the last hurrah of smoke and scent and spice wafted in the air. Relatable, you thought.

You cleared your throat. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

His eyes roamed over you. Again. And again. Like he was lost in his own thoughts. “You back with us?” He finally grunted.

“More or less.”

He stood up, a little too quickly. Made your heart beat a little too loudly in your ears. Made you feel like you were in the dark room again. The fear and the unknown smothering everything. “I’m sorry about the mission, it was my fault, I wasn’t there, I wasn’t—“

A raised hand. The rambling died in your throat as he made his way over to you. Two bourbons poured, one placed in your hands. A seat taken next to you. The crystal tumbler cool in your hand. A gift for his 10th year in the SAS. Back to the silence.

You two had always navigated the silence together. Normally it was more comforting than this. A quiet nod of understanding in a debrief. A roll of the eyes in a meeting. Notifying that there were enemies in the area on missions. He always knew you better than you knew yourself it seemed. That’s why he was the captain. He did this for everyone. Didn’t he?

The hassle of talking about it, this, whatever this was, never reared its head. Rules, optics, whatever the excuse was. But he knew. What you were. What he was. A lit candle in your dark room. One you held with both hands when the dark was too much. Whispering and praying it would stay this time. A prayer to a deaf god, you thought.

Maybe not so deaf after all. He swirled his glass in his hands, staring straight ahead. “I didn’t throw you away. I need you to know that. More were coming, I needed you elsewhere.”

A grip in your chest. A swallow of your drink. “I know. I was distracted on the mission, I know that, but I had it handled, I should have been there to have your back.” You rushed out.

You feel a hand in your hairline, and for a moment, you’re back in that room. Half a room. Humming, praying to your deaf God. “I’m sorry about your head.” He rumbled out. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not as much as you leaving.”

A broken sound comes from him as you close your eyes and finish your drink.

A flurry of motion. Your glass taken from your hand, his arms bringing you in, fighting, grunting, till stillness as he pins you on your back, holding your cheek in his palm. It’s been too long since he’s seen your stars.

“Tell me about the song.”

“No.”

“It can be an order if you want.”

“No.”

“… please.” His resolve breaks and you see desperation in his face. “Jesus, let me fucking take care of you like you deserve, tell me about the bloody song.”

“It was someone else’s mom.” You say, returning his gaze, tears flowing freely now. “You read my fucking report. Home was shit. So were the parents. It was another girl, she, she hurt herself playing. Her mom came over and sang the song to her. If, if I hurt myself, I just got another be—“ a hiccup shakes your chest. “I sing it to myself since… no one did it for me.”

Price expected something like this, but his heartbreak took him by surprise. The tear that rolled off of his nose onto your face broke the spell, his hands now wiping away the tears and the pain. And for the first time, you let him. You let him see it all. His candle now a fire in your dark room. With any luck he’ll burn it all fucking down, you hope.

[etherealrin]

PLEASE more rin x reader with the friends to lovers trope

₊˚⊹♡ 0x1=lovesong?!

the three times itoshi rin realizes that he loves you + the one time he says it

warnings: none // wc: 3.8k

note: hai i hope this delivers what you wanted! fic + title loosely inspired by txt's 0x1=lovesong. female reader, kinda messy writing & ik that sae returns to japan when its winter but i make the rules here so it's actually summer. badly proofread!

one.

the first time itoshi rin met you was when he was a toddler, on a sunny, cloudless day at the park.

rin stared dejectedly at the bright green, now malformed, chunk of plastic he held in his tiny hands. it had previously been a dinosaur figure, possibly his favorite one so far too.

of course he had to break it and ruin the fun for himself.

rin's head whipped around, left, right, left, right—he was looking for comfort, in the form of his older brother sae—who was nowhere to be found. it dawned on him that even then, in a bustling playground full of lively kindergarteners, itoshi rin found himself alone. a zero in a world of ones.

as he sat there on the sidewalk, mourning his latest tragedy, the last thing he expected was for a little girl to approach him.

"hi," you said shyly. rin tore his gaze away from the broken pieces of his toy and looked up at you, curiousity in his eyes. you were pretty, he thought immediately. although you were both barely four, there was a simple elegance in the way you held yourself, and an obvious kindness in your delicate features. he wondered why you had chosen to approach him when so few of his peers ever did.

"hi," rin repeated back at you, exhaling sharply.

"um, do you want to play family with us?" you stuttered a little as you asked, motioning to three other children behind you. even at the age of four, rin's teal eyed gaze was still piercing. "we need someone to be the dad."

you wanted him to be the dad? rin rarely recieved invitations to play with other children, let alone was he well-versed in this game called family. but for some strange reason, he really wanted to try it. maybe it was because of you. you who had noticed his despair and tried to save him, in your own way.

"okay," he said decidedly, looking at you and your group of friends with wide eyes.

"yay! we can play for real now!" you squealed to the kids behind you. "my name is l/n y/n," you stated, staring at him expectantly. oh. you wanted to know what his name was.

"itoshi. itoshi rin."

"okay itoshi-chan, let's go!" and then you were dragging him off to the playstructure and under the slides, where your "house" was.

"just rin is okay," rin blurted out. "i have a brother so itoshi is confusing anyway."

"okay, rin-chan it is then! let's be friends!" your joyful grin made rin's tiny heart twist with a feeling he didn't understand. why did it make him so happy to be wanted by you? why did you even want to be his friend in the first place?

"alright!" he replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

rin doesn't remember much else from that day, but he knows that it was one of the better memories he holds from his childhood.

two.

a lot had transpired since that fateful day at the park, and the two of you were attending the same junior high as first-years. somehow, you had wound up in a majority of the same elementary school classes as well, thus you and rin formed a tight-knit friendship. twelve year old rin was going through somewhat of an edgy phase (that he never really grew out of.) hence, he was also going through a period where he was even more tight-lipped in class, despite his growing popularity. recruited by his older brother sae, rin had fallen into the clutches of soccer since first grade, and he had something that could only be described as a genius talent for the ball game. he was the only first-year who had made the soccer team, and rumors were that he was likely next in line for the position of captain, which was usually exclusively given to third years. he had soccer practice almost daily now, and you had art club after school, meaning your schedules aligned. as soccer practice often ran late, you developed a habit of making your way over to the fields after art club was finished to wait for rin. then the two of you would walk home together. rin never put too much thought into the simple act of you waiting for him, until one afternoon, you weren't there.

huh? he had thought. maybe you were running late or something? rin had just finished the last of his laps around the grassy field, and he surveyed his suroundings with slight dissapontment. you really weren't there?

"itoshi-kun, what's up?" a second year asked him, noticing his odd demeanor.

"nothing," rin quickly answered. but a slight frown stuck to his face, though the older decided not to push it. rin found himself yearning to see your face, missing the back and forth banter that was so ingrained into his day.

"right well, happy birthday! get home soon," his teammate wished him, walking away. birthday? with a jolt, rin realized that the boy was right, it was, in fact, september ninth. he had never really enjoyed his birthday that much, given it was too close to the beginning of the new school year and just reminded him of how much longer he would have to suffer before summer break. rin started for the cool metal benches where his soccer bag was, beginning to pack up his things and change out of his cleats.

"hey, underlashes!" a voice suddenly cut through his thoughts. so you were here after all? rin dropped his shoes.

"y/n, i really don't appreciate the brother reference," he complained. secretly, he was relieved to hear your teasing. he'd never admit that he didn't mind the nickname that you had given him after you proclaimed that the itoshi brothers had under eyelashes longer than should be humanly possible. something about it was rather endearing.

"oh, cheer up," you began. "you'll be thanking me after this one." rin took a proper look at you and bit back a laugh. you looked like you had just run a marathon given how your red your face was, paired with the small beads of sweat trickling past your forehead. yet somehow, each lock of your hair still fell perfectly to frame your face. you smirked and shoved a small white box into his hands. "i had to run to get here in time, ya know?"

rin looked at the box quizically, recognizing the logo of his favorite bakery in an instant. he untied the pale blue ribbon holding it together and inhaled deeply, content.

happy birthday rin! was written on the small matcha cheesecake that you had gifted him. the small motion makes his heart swell.

"i thought you might like matcha since you like ochazuke so much," you explained.

"i do like it," rin's voice comes out softer than he meant it to. the same old odd feeling was back in his chest. he still couldn't quite place it. it made him naseous and somewhat giddy, like a kid high on cotton candy. he didn't know if he hated it or loved it.

"happy thirteenth, rin!" he felt the familiar, inviting warmth of your smile, and suddenly all was right in the world. as you sang happy birthday to him and slapped a party hat atop his messy dark hair, rin felt like you were the only two people on earth. he felt like he was home, more so than he ever did in his own room. you had a way of bringing that sensation to him, through the nine years he had known you.

after you had finished belting out the last notes of the melody, rin said with a slight grimace, "thirteen is an unlucky number."

"you're not superstitious, so shut it! don't jinx yourself!" you reprimanded him. "oh, but speaking of, i got you that new horror game that you wanted. it hasn't come yet though, it's still being shipped."

"really?" oh how rin's eyes and facade lit up at the mention of the video game.

"yeah, you can go curse yourself all you want once it's here."

"...thanks." itoshi rin was often described as a cold boy. and you were just about the only person he could open up to. rin questioned for a second if it was normal for him to feel that ecstatic over a mere video game.

"hey, look! the sun's setting!" you exclaimed, poking his shoulder lightly. rin's train of thought stalled, instead choosing to direct his attention towards the patch of sky which you were pointing at. streaks of yellow, orange, and red danced across his vision as the sun became slowly swallowed by the earth. "it's beautiful, isn't it?" you asked him.

rin turned to meet your gaze and almost passed out. he swore you looked like an angel sent from heaven itself in the glowing warmth of the sunset, you beamed at him. had you always looked like this? your eyes shone like a million stars, and he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his own mouth. if you had asked him if he was blushing, he'd say no way in hell, but truthfully his face was a little red and it definitely wasn't from his previous workout. rin was suddenly reminded of how he felt when he met you.

"yeah," he breathed. "it's nice." what he really wanted to say was that you were nice, not the sunset. the sunset, for all its glory, was barely lukewarm compared to you. no, that wasn't it. you were radiant, and rin had known that from the very moment he saw you, so many years ago. but for now, he'd have to settle for just this, whatever your friendship was, he was much too scared to lose it.

three.

a little over two years had gone by since that evening when you had celebrated his birthday with him, and the end of rin's third, final year in junior high was approaching. sae had left for spain, scouted by the top soccer club there, and rin wanted more than anything to follow in his footsteps, to be the second best striker in the world after his brother itoshi sae. though sae's leaving had left him a bit lonelier, your friendship was still as easy-going as ever, and rin prayed that it would never change, as sappy as it sounded. he also tried (and failed) to ignore the increased stares between you two, that seemed to take place everywhere. sometimes, he thought that there was some sort of romantic tension between you two, and there had definitely been no shortage of mixed signals. maybe there was a hint of yearning in both your expressions? that year, the only class you shared with him was advanced mathematics, and he loathed the subject immensely. he likely would have cut class entirely if it weren't the only time of day he saw you that wasn't during lunch.

and it's during lunch one day in the month of february that you asked rin something, almost causing him to choke on his noodles.

"she what?" rin askwed between strangled coughs.

"yumi-chan wants to know if you're thinking of giving anyone chocolates for valentine's day," you repeated to him. was rin dense or something? either he was just that, extremely dense, or he chose to ignore his ever-growing fanclub. girls had begun to gush over him after he had been picked for the soccer team's captain last year, and it was also that previous valentine's that rin had recieved about a hundred confessions, ranging from girls in your grade to underclassmen, to even your seniors. you tried to pretend like the fact didn’t bug you, but it nagged you in all the wrong ways. your only saving grace is your recollection of how last year, rin had just stood there awkwardly, accepting gifts yet not seeming satisfied with any of them. he looked as if he were waiting for someone's confession, one that never came.

you never asked him about it though, not wanting to dance between the border of normal questioning from a friend and being plain nosy. however, you did mull over it from time to time. was it possible that rin really had been waiting for someone? or had he just been pissed off?

"you can tell yumi that i don't plan on giving anyone anything, especially her," rin spat with distaste, bringing you back to the present.

"the poor girl has done nothing wrong to you," you tried to defend her.

"doesn't mean i have to like her," rin retorted.

"i'll tell her, in gentler wording that is. you know this won't stop anyone from giving you chocolates next week anyway, right?" you wondered if he heard the slight grimace in your voice.

"on feburary fourteenth i will have suddenly been in a very tragic car crash and unable to attend school," rin declared. you could tell from the conviction in his voice that he might actually be plotting a way to skip that day.

"righttt, whatever you say."

unfortunately for rin, he suffered no such vehicular accident and was, rather angrily, perfectly healthy and in attendance at school that valentine's day. it was time for math class, again, and rin had already recieved eighty two chocolates. he thought he might break his own record that year given the school day had barely begun. what he was not prepared for was the sight of you, standing in front of your desk as a boy, whom rin could not remember the name of (he's sure it was some npc anyway) thrusted a pink heart shaped box towards your body. no, there could be no mistaking it, that boy had just confessed to you.

something akin to envy took over rin's body and before he was even aware of it himself, he was standing next to you, glowering at the boy. rin had been mad plenty of times, but he was practically ready to spit fire right then.

the boy hurriedly scurried away, like a mouse, and rin stared daggers at his back.

"hey rin!" you greeted him, as if nothing was wrong.

"who. was. that." not a question but a demand came from the boy with the blunt bangs in front of you.

"rin, it's fine. that's just tokimitsu, and i swear he's harmless," you answered quickly, doing a poor job of concealing the excitement bubbling up inside of you that rin cared. “he was probably just being nice anyway."

"sure didn't look like it, he was blushing like he walked into a makeup store and fell in that damn pink powder," rin griped.

"why's that bothering you anyhow?"

"i- uh," rin didn't know how to answer that. he didn't even know that he could get jealous over you until then. and how would he tell his best friend that? after all, friends weren't supposed to feel that way for each other. it was wrong for him to be this possessive over you. rin assumed that it was just because he had known you for so long, and that he didn't trust this half-baked tokimitsu guy. he's lying to himself.

"he just pisses me off, i guess," was the answer that rin gave you.

"so what'cha got there?" you motioned at his bag, obviously stuffed full of confessions and candy. "sharing is caring..." rin wondered if you were frowning as he unzipped the backpack and told you to take anything you wanted, hiding under an excuse that the chocolate would ruin his diet as an athelte.

when the final bell tolled for the end of school, rin was waiting outside your class.

"rin? don't you have practice?" you were surprised at his sudden appearance.

"nope, cancelled." rin lied through his teeth. he then dragged you away, setting a brisk walking pace that was opposite from the direction of his and your houses. you shrugged and followed. you didn't have anything planned so you assumed it would be fine.

you were about a block away when you realized where rin was headed towards: your favorite cafe. oddly, he didn't even enjoy their pastries, he had told you they were too sweet for his liking multiple times.

rin led you past the door, weaving through a small crowd of poeple, and stopped abruptly at a table for two. he nodded at the light pink menu that sat atop the marbled top.

"you order," he announced. rin still couldn't take his mind off that infuriating moment in math, and had he been compelled, almost possesed, by a strong urge to take you to the cafe you frequented on that valentine's day. i'll one up you tokimitsu, he thought.

you were still scanning the menu when the waitress approached you, notepad in hand.

"if you're having trouble deciding, we're doing a special promotion for couples today on the strawberry snow parfait for two!" she suggested, looking at you both.

couple? you guessed that you could see where she was coming from. you and rin might have looked like a couple, but before you could clear up the misunderstanding, rin interjected. he knew that strawberries were your favorite fruit, given how often you brought them to school.

"sounds perfect, thanks," he said, and the waiter was off with a nod of her head, scribbling something down. hold on a minute. rin had agreed that you two were a couple to her? you wondered if he was that desperate to get the promotion.

"rin," you hissed. "we're not technically a coup-"

"shhhh!" he shushed you. and as if compelled by an yet anotherb mysterious force, rin took your hands in his. "they don't know that, and you like strawberries, right?" he finished with a wink.

maybe you had died and been brought back to life by that wink, because with the way your heart threatened to explode back then, you definitely shouldn't have lived through it. knowing that he remembered your love of strawberries made you somewhat giddy.

you didn't trust yourself to say anything back yet, only nodding in silent agreement. it was also that day when you realized that you might really, really have feelings for the boy sitting across from you with the compelling cerulean eyes.

plus one more.

you since graduated junior high and somehow beat the paper thin odds, winding up in the same high school as itoshi rin. and you never stopped thinking back to that february fourteenth, even after months had past and it was now novemember of your first year as a high schooler. rin only became better and better at soccer, so naturally you, his best friend, were present at every home game he had. but rin had changed that summer before the start of first year, on an oddly cold night where sae had returned to japan earlier than expected. rin refused to mention much about it to you, but you knew. it had scarred and changed him, his attitude was at its worst and he played with a newfound rage, something that demanded people to notice him. really look at who was going to surpass itoshi sae, his tepid excuse for a big brother.

it was only a few short months after the start of high school and rin's debut as the star striker of the soccer team. rin had been seen and scouted by countless numbers of japanese clubs at this point, just like he'd hoped, and you had encouraged him to go wherever he thought would be best. even if it meant going far from home, and far from you. but for rin, no offer was good enough to surpass sae's yet. so he stayed in place, until he had called you abruptly today at seven in the night. the call had been brief and rin failed to mention anything of importance except telling you to meet him at the park immediately.

he never specified which park, but you knew for him that there could only be one.

when you arrive at the now faded playstructure that you first met itoshi rin at, you're hit by a wave of nostalgia. the sky is exactly as cloudless as it was in your memories, and the crescent moon smiles down at you. were you two really sixteen already? had it been twelve years since you befriended the slightly teary eyed boy with the broken dinosaur figurine?

"hey, y/n." rin's voice is oddly lower, and his tone is serious.

"rin," you smile at him. "did something happen? why'd you wanna meet here all of a sudden?"

"this is it," he whispered, showing you an enveloped containing a letter that read with "the JFU invites you to an elite training camp for the national team…" in glittering gold letters. "my chance to become the world's number one striker, to finally being recognized by sae again..." he trails off, the hurt in his voice all too obvious and too painful for you to hear. "it'll be far, and i probably won't be able to come to school for a while. won't be able to see you for a while."

"rin, you have to go," you steal glance at the boy who had been by your side for all of these years. you wish you could tell him that you'd be okay without him, but there was no point in lying. that's why he had called you all the way over here.

"just- just promise me one thing y/n," rin says, practically commanding you to look at him again. you're enthralled by the deep blues of his irises, and you think that you might never be able to look away.

rin doesn't ever want to look away either. he's at a crossroads right now, he's more aware of that than ever. rin doesn't think he can go down the right path in peace unless he tells you this one thing, what he's been wanting to say from the very instant you made his life worth living.

"please, don't leave me behind," he begs, his voice hushed but urgent. "i can't lose someone else i care about." shit, he has to tell you the truth now. "the boy you met at the park that day, the one that you wanted to play with, he's been in love with you ever since." its a quiet admission of what was so obvious to everyone else, but so incomprehensible to you two.

rin thinks that he’s ruined it all, this was the end of the line for you and he’d just have to live with that rejection.

on the other hand. you're stunned into silence, entranced by the boy who had drawn your attention since you were four, and you know that your words will fail you again. in the pale moonlight, he looks perfect, sculpted by michelangelo himself. so, you do the only thing that you know can express what you feel for rin. you screw your eyes shut and press your lips onto his, gripping the edge of his soft gray hoodie.

a gush of relief floods rin and reacts a second later. you swear you see fireworks erupting. the kiss nothing less than movie worthy, he's the male lead, you're the main love interest, and the world fades to nothing around you two as you're consumed by rin's love.

when you suddenly realize you're not breathing and neither is he, you push away in a rush. rin's cheeks are hopelessly red, and you assume your own aren't much better off.

"wait, let's do that again, please," rin gasps, breathing heavily while tugging you towards his chest. his black bangs cover his eyes just a bit, and you reach to swipe them out of his face.

rin thinks that he is going to melt, more helpless than a popsicle left out in the sweltering suimmer sunlight. he cradles your face gently, kissing you once again.

the two of you stay like that for a while, and you're not sure how late it is when he pulls away for the final time, but all the stars are out in the sky now, glinting and sparkling.

you hope that there were no children left playing around at this hour.

"so, you'll send me off tomorrow morning?" rin asks. it's unfathomable to him how you can make him feel so complete, so full. you're definitely the one for him.

"that's a promise."

"and you love me?" he asks again.

"even after the end of the world, i will," you assure rin, tracing the grooves on the palm of his hand.

zero multiplied by one should always equal zero. at least, that's what the fundamentals of mathematics declare. but with you as the one, rin thinks that zero times one might equal something else: love.

a/n: if u made it here MWAHH big kiss. probably the longest thing i've written in a while and not planned out at ALL, sorry for the crappy world building and stuff, i tried... also tried to keep it more in line with canon. i’ve never written with japanese honorifics hopefully i didn’t mess up too badly 🙁 side note i think rin would actually enjoy 0x1=lovesong vibes

[ev3alyx]

𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨

This course may include readings, media, and discussion around topics such as knife play, gore, violence, gun use/play, choking, masochism/sadism, mention of death and suicide, usage of drugs, rape, cnc, murder.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

4:30 a.m.

It was early, super early, in fact. You could feel your eyes wanting to stay closed each time you blinked. You were also starving, to the point that your stomach was in pure pain. Trying to find something to eat, you wandered throughout Gyeongju-si, searching the trash bins behind every restaurant. Usually, it was filled with leftover food that you couldn't comprehend why it was thrown away.

After 8 restaurants and 24 trash bins, all that was found is some bread and bones. You put it in your bag and headed to the subway to sit in some warmth. Even if it wasn't what's enough for your body, your body didn't complain and ate it anyway.

Suddenly, you heard a thud. It was loud, super loud, probably since it was 6 a.m., and the subway was almost empty in your city. Sitting on the bench, you leaned to the left to see what the sound was. That's when you saw a man in a suit playing Ddakji with a stranger. Each time the stranger lost, the man would slap him. You hissed through your teeth in agony. "Geez.. getting slapped this early?" You thought to yourself. Observing from afar, you see the stranger win. It was a young woman with long brown hair tied up in a ponytail along with two little braids that faded to light purpleish colour. She jumped in happiness as she reached her hand out to slap the man. When her hand was few centimetres away from his face, he grabbed it and shoved money along with a little card into her hand. She seemed confused at first but didn't ask the second money was put in her palm. The man then left.

Before watching the young woman leave, you ran after her, "Miss! Miss!". She waited, and once you arrived, panting you stood in front of her bent slightly over and supporting yourself with your hands on your knees. You gasped for air and stood up properly, "Oh, sorry... my name is Y/N. " You smile and bend over politely, her returning the bow. "I was wondering..what was the card that man gave you?" you said, pointing to the direction the man left. The woman chuckled, handing you the card. "Apparently, we can win ₩45.6 billion here. We just need to meet some guys at this address in two days." she smiles but then gasps. "Oh, I'm sorry, i didn't introduce myself." she bows as an apology and reaches out her hand. You shake it as she says,"My name is Hye-Won. Nice to meet you!"

Smiling, you accept her apology and ask, "Can i perhaps take a picture of the card?" while holding your phone out with the camera open. She nods, and you take a picture, the flash lighting the card up properly. It was a small rectangular and brown card with a symbol of an "o" rectangle and a triangle. Just by looking at it, it's felt weird, dark even. You thank her and leave, wandering off staring at your phone. No matter how good ₩45.6 billion sounded, it felt off. You shrug it off as you get ready in your apartment but fall asleep shortly.

2 days later ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Putting on your clean and freshly washed clothes, you make your way to the given address on the card Hye-Won gave you. Standing there anxiously, you pick your skin on your nails, checking the time every 30 seconds. It was cold, really cold. You weren't able to tell if it was from the fear and uneasiness or if it was actually cold. You were interrupted from your thoughts and worry by a car stopping in front of you. A man in a pink jumpsuit with a mask gets out and approaches you. He has a triangle symbol on the black mask, fully covering his face. Tilting your head in confusion, he places his hand on your back, walking you into the car. You felt very bad now. It felt like you were being kidnapped, but you tried to stay calm even though you felt like you were going to have a panic attack at any second now. You entered the car anyway. It was luxurious inside it made you feel like a famous person, the seats were leather black and red. There was a gold piggy bank placed in front of you with holes that speakers have. A man in a deep voice started talking, telling you the instructions "Welcome Y/N..." as ominous smoke started filling the car you could feel yourself passing out more and more each second. "do you agree to these terms and wish to join the game?" he says, as you were seconds away from falling asleep. "Yeah...." you mutter as you drift to sleep.

You woke up in a dark room, surrounded by tons of people. Streching you notice you're in different clothes. You look and see you're in a green jumpsuit with white stripes. Looking around, you see everyone has a number. Yours was 111, your favourite angel number. "Ew green." The room had given you bad vibes already. You thought to yourself. As you look around and see numerous bunkbeds, you spot to your right Hye-Won.

"Hye-Won!" You yell in excitement, walking towards her and sitting on the edge of her bed. "Oh hi, Y/N! You came!" she smiles as she welcomes you with a warm hug. On her left chest, you could see the number "196". You start a short conversation with her only to be interrupted by the big door sliding open, multiple guards walking in with MP5A3 sub-machine guns in their arms, strapped to their back. You stand up, causios and observing them closely from Hye-Wons high bunkbed. The door closes as now everyone is standing in a circle, curious. Everyone keeps quiet as the guard in front with a square mask starts talking, "We all welcome you warmly to the Squid Games and are grateful you've joined. Let me go over the rules." he moves his head to crack his neck quietly. "We will be going to play a single game every day. Fail, or break the rules, and you will be eliminated. For every eliminated person, we'll add ₩10 million to the piggy bank. The final price, as said, is ₩45.6 billion. The first game will begin shortly. Once again, we warmly welcome you."

You notice a timer for 20 minutes going off while everyone seems to be amused by the amount of money. They're looking around. Some are talking in big groups and some in small groups. You turn back to Hye-Won and give her a smile. "Well, good luck to you, Hye-Won," you say, warmly patting her shoulder.

20 minutes later

As the timer went off, guards came in once again to take everyone somewhere else. You follow everyone, Hye-Won, walking behind you. Looking around the stairs to different rooms seems like a maze. You couldn't figure out how the guards remember where to go. Eventually, you arrive in a big room, the walls imidiating the outside world with a blue sky. Some grass, along with some trees, drew on it. The ceiling was open. You could see the actual sky, and it made you feel a bit better to feel the fresh air. There was a big doll at the end of the room with two guards guarding it standing next to it with guns strapped to their back, two lines on the floor marking the start and the end. "Why do they allways carry guns?" You wondered out loud as a man appeared behind you. He had purple hair with a black dyed undercut. "Señorita i think they're trying to kill us." he says, seeming proud of himself. You knew him, you saw his face a few times on the internet. "Wow, Thanos? What are you doing here, hm?" You smile, tilting your head. He chuckles as he shakes his head. "That doesn't matter now, does it?" he leans over, placing his hand on your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear a loud buzzing sound from the speakers as a woman starts talking. "Welcome to Red light, Green light. The rules are simply to move towards the finish line in time when the light is green and stay still when the light is red. Whoever moves or doesn't make it to the finish line in time will be eliminated. Good luck, players.

Before the game begins, a man with the number 456 stands in front of everyone,

"Stop and listen to me! These games are no joke! If you lose, they will kill you!" he yells at the top of his lungs. Everyone is looking around, confused. The question is, "How do you know?"Are you high?" Fill the room as he tries to grab the Players attention again. This goes on for some solid minutes before the doll begins talking. "Green light!" it says loudly as everyone moves forward fast. The second the doll says, "Red light!" 456 yells, facing backwards."Freeze!" He was so loud, most of the players got scared. You could see a man that seemed related to him, whispering anxiously. "Cover your mouth or it will see you!" he yells. As the green light goes back on, everyone runs with 456 yelling "freeze" again, each time. You stood behind Hye-Won, Thanos slightly in front of you. "Hey..what is that?" Hye-Won says anxiously as a bee is sitting on her neck. Thanos chuckles, "It knows you're a flower. There's a bee on you." he smirks. "Ah a bee?!" Hye-Won yells as she jumps and moves around before looking at you. "Shit, i just moved, didn't i?" she says as she gets shot straight in the head and the speaker announcements,"Player 196 eliminated.". Your body stands still as her blood splatters all over yours and Thanos's face. You start shaking, trying to hold back all the screaming and crying you want to do. A few seconds later, people look at you slowly, immidently screaming and panicking, trying to run away but only end up getting shot as well. 456 covers his mouth and takes a deep breath before yelling, "Stop! Please don't move they will shoot you! Stay still and don't panic!." The amount of adrenaline rushing through your body was insane it made you feel so dizzy. As the green light comes on, you see Thanos opening his cross necklace and taking out a pill. You couldn't help but ask for one politely. Without hesitation, Thanos chuckles and uses his hand to open your mouth and place one on the top of your tongue. You blush slightly and swallow the pill, seconds in feeling much better. The rest of the game feels blurry as all it was for you was fun and a mess. Your brain starts remembering what you're currently doing around the time you're back where your beds are, everyone scared and immidently hiding themselves in corners as you sit on Hye-Won's bed. As the drugs wear off, you start feeling sad, your eyes tearing up and falling off your face as they mix with all the blood that was sprayed onto your face and body. Everyone smelled like blood, and it made you feel a little sicker each second as you tried not to cry on Hye-Won's bed.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

As you sat on Hye-Won's bed, you hear footsteps in your direction, getting louder and lift your head up to see Thanos leaning on the edge of the bedframe, looking at you. "Ugh, this is cringe, but.. are you okay?" he says worringly, cringing at himself being so caring towards you. You wipe your tears and smile at him "Yeah just a little shocked... She was such a nice girl and didn't deserve to die.". Thanos nods. "You're right." You then suddenly remember something. "Yeah, you're right. it's your fault!" You stand up quickly enough to make your head spin. You push him slightly against his chest. "If you would've just been quiet, she could've made it, you asshole! And here you thought you could be a good person asking me if i'm okay!" You yell loudly as people start to catch attention to you, turning around and staring. "God flower, calm down. You're causing a scene!" He says as he steps backwards, towering over you he looks down "Just...quiet down all right? Good grief..." he sighs, crossing his arms. You could almost explode from all the anger in your veins, rushing through your body all the way up to your heart, beating fast enough for you to get a heart attack. "Quiet down?" You scoff, moving towards him."You want me to quiet down?!" You yell, centimetres away from Thanos. You grab him by his shirt to pull him closer to you "Listen here you little shit i will make you fucking pay for what you've done even if it's the last thing i do in this asylum." Seeing Thanos smirk, it made you even angrier before he grabbed both of your arms and held them above you strongly. "Oh do you know who the fuck you're even talking to?" he chuckles in an angry way, it made you almost shit your pants seeing how he probably could break your wrists at any second but it also slightly turned you on and that's what he didn't know about. "What, are you going to hurt me now too hm? Is that what you're into?" you say smirking, leaning near him with your face. He returns the smirk, moving his face towards yours, your lips centimetres away from each other. "And what if i do, huh?" saying he holds your wrists together even harder. You smirk, trying to hald back your laugh. "Oh, you're a kinky one, aren't you?" You kick him away, turning around and sitting back in Hye-Won's bed. Thanos scoffs playfully as Nam-gyu (player 124) tried to go after you but was stopped by Thanos's hand. He pats his shoulder and says, "Leave it, she's a hard one to get, but I'll get her eventually. "

⊹ ࣪ ˖ -evealyx on wattpad (UNFINISHED!)

[hansmic]

“don’t talk to me, people might think we are friends”

lee know x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: very slight cursing

I wake up to the smell of fresh air as the wind blows through my windows slightly pushing my hair to the side. The silence of my house way too loud to be normal. It was my first full morning in Korea.

I just transferred here from japan since my dad have a job offering he had to tend too here. I pretty nonchalant about it though. i didnt have any friends or people who talked to me at my old college in Tokyo. I was at the top of my classes which made people envy. But, my dad always says “new school new beginnings.” I guess i can look forward for my studies now in Korea.

“Y/N! You’re gonna be late for school. Get your ass up!” You hear your dad call out. You groan as you push yourself to get out of bed. You drag your body to the bathroom to wash up for the new day. After, you went to your closet seeing the uniform the school has given to you. It was pretty ordinary. It had a navy blue cardigan with a gold school logo sewed onto the front. A red tie with black stripes above the white shirt under it. As well as a gray pleated skirt. You left your hair out and grabbed your phone and the school bag you had.

You rush out your room say goodbye to your dad and walk out house as your eyes wince from the bright sun hitting your face. Luckily the school was walking distance from your place. You walked up to the enormous gates in front of you. Wow the school was enormous.

You roam the hallways for a couple minutes and get interrupted by boy slamming their head into you. The both of you plummet on the ground.

“What the Hell!” He shouts at you while he dusts off his clothes.

“I- im sorry.. i didnt see yo-“ you get cut off

“Save it.. watch where you’re going next time.” He rolls his eyes and walks past you.

Your face turns red of embarrassment. But why did he have to be such a jerk about it.

A boy comes up to you from behind and gives out a hand for you to grab.

“Hey.. are you ok?” You look up at him he had long black hair that went to his shoulders, glasses that were clearly too big for his face and a slight blush on his cheeks.

You nod “yes. yes im fine thank you.” You smile slightly.

He looks at you curiously “are you new here? I havent seen you here before.”

“Yes im new im from japan.”

His eyes light up “oh im from japan as well.” He says looking to start a conversation with you.

“That’s wonderful.. i would love to talk but i have to go to class see you around.” You wave.

He smiles and waves back as you past by him.

You walk into your classroom seeing there was only one seat left and it was next to that jerk who bumped into you. You rolled your eyes as you plopped yourself on that seat. He had dark brown doe eyes, dark hair that fell in front of his face, his lips slightly plump. You caught yourself staring and immediately snapped out it and paid attention on the paper that was placed in front of you.

The teacher spoke up from behind his desk. “We are gonna be doing a partner assignment i will be picking your partners.” The whole class whined and you were sure one of them because you ended up getting partnered with the guy sitting next to you. He comes up to your desk and slams his hand on it

“Guess we’re partners” he sighs. “What’s your name newbie?”

You stare into his eyes lost in your thoughts “hm? What?”

He chuckles, “is it cause I’m too handsome for you to handle.”

You scoff “what! No? I was just thinking about something.”

“Right… so… what’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

He nods slightly “Y/N….” ‘Mines better.”

You roll your eyes. “I bet it something basic.”

He scoffs and fake laughs. “You wish, it’s Minho.”

You shrug “ i guess it’s alright.”

he takes a chair and places it in front of you desk.

“So where are y-“

You cut him off “about the project..” you explain some stuff about the project for the next 20 minutes while he barely listens and just fiddles with his pencil.

“Are you even listening!” You raise your voice.

Flinches at your sudden raise of voice. “No i really dont care what you’re saying…”

“What do you mean you dont care! This is a grade!”

He shrugs “i have better stuff to be worried about”.

“Ugh you’re so conceited”.

“And you’re so nerdy.” He mocks you.

“You’re a jerk.” You get up and push past him.

He sighs “wait y/n i was joking-“he gets up to run after you but you slam the door on his face.

He immediately felt bad after. “Gosh this is what happens when i try to be funny…”

*TIME SKIP*

You guys ended up finishing the project with a good enough grade. As much as you tried to ignore Minho, he didn’t give up in trying to talk to you.

He grabbed your wrist in pulled you into an empty classroom. Your face turned bright red at the situation you were in.

“Y/N… im sorry… i didnt mean to be a jerk.”

“Yeah.. whatever.”

“Look at me! I’m serious.”

You look in his eyes, he looks sincere and his eyes have some sort of bright feeling in them. “I guess it’s fine.”

He smiles “Wanna hang out after school? I wanna get to know you more.”

You nod “sure.” This was your first time someone ever offered this or even talked to you in a new school. This was all so new. A good new.

You guys went to a nearby cafe and sat down and talked about your past and your life, and more. It was really nice talking to him.. he was a really nice person.

“So are you single..?” You were caught off guard by the question, almost choking of your water you were drinking. “What? No.”

“Yeah same never had a girl i liked at this school before.”

You nod not knowing what to say since the topic was pretty awkward. But he immediately changed the topic seeing you were uncomfortable. You guys continued. The lighthearted conversation until eventually he had to go home. You waved goodbye and walked home.

You guys grew closer as the year went on, talking to each other every day, hanging out after school. You grew a feeling for him and you thought he did too.

You were about to ask him if he wanted to hangout but he was with his friends.. you didn’t want to interrupt but you softly tapped his shoulder.

“Hey Minho want to hangout at the-“ But as soon as you were about to finish your sentences his friends started laughing. “Who does this girl think she is talking to us..” Minho looked a bit shy but suddenly he changed and said something i would’ve never expected. “Dont talk to me, people might think we’re friends.” He scoffed and laughed and joined with his friend.

You felt like you were just stabbed in the chest. As much as you guys hung out and shared your feelings and problems to each other he hits you with this.

You hold in your tears. “R-right.. i forgot. Sorry Minho.” He looked like it hurt him too but you left too fast to see his face.

2 days later he came up to you and grabbed your hand

“Hey Y/N”

You yanked your arm back. “What are you doing…?”

“Listen im sorry-“

You cut him off. “No we’re not friends remember? Dont talk to me.”

“Y/N.. look-“

“I dont want to hear it Minho!” You avoided him and walked the other direction.

It hasn’t been weeks since you talked to him it was killing you. He was the guy you always talked to for everything and he listened. You wanted to text him but you decided not to run for him.

Late at night someone knocked on my door but you were half awake since i was sleeping and you didnt really think of who could come this last at night. You opened the door to see Minho with a tear-stained face, he was crying. “Minho.. what are you doing here this late?”

“Y/N can we just talk.. I’ve missed you”

“I dont-“

“Just hear me out ok?”

You sigh and nod and let him in and you guys sit on the couch.

He grabs your hand “Y/N im sorry im so so sorry… i truly didnt mean what i said.. i- i was trying to be cool and fit it.. but i ended up hurting you.. and that was truly not my intention.”

“Why did you have to lie about me to them?”

He shakes his head “i dont know I wasn’t thinking straight i promise i will never do that again.”

“I-“

“I love you y/n! I love you…”

She freezes and looks into his eyes filled with sparkle. “You what?”

He grabs both of your hands and holds it in his. “I’ve had feelings for you all this time. The way you talk and care for me i just so amazing.. and you’re amazing.. and if you Dont like me-“

Before he could say anything else you pressed your lips on his. Passionately kissing him searching your mouth with his tounge.

You pull back “ did that answer your question”

He smiles and laughs “I love you

I love you too.

hope you guys liked this story feel free to request more :)

[ninadove]

La Sombra del Viento fandom (aka @theuselesshistoryweeb and myself), come get your traumatised character foils! 📚🔥

I’M ACTUALLY REALLY PROUD OF THIS LITTLE THING. I first drafted it in English, then realised 80% of the way through that something wasn’t working out and decided to slap some Spanish in there. Baby’s first poem in her third language… Woah…

A huge thank you to @lesbitorte for kindly checking the grammar and spelling! ❤️

Alt text and translation below:

🇪🇸 ESPAÑOL 🇪🇸

JULIÁN:

Eres

parte de mí,

un sueño imprudente

qué creía quemado.

Mirándote,

lo que podría haber sido

se dispara como agujas

sobre nuestras cabezas

Y grito:

¡Se parece a mí,

el mar y el fuego,

el Edén y los desagües

tallados en sus huesos!

La quiero como

quieres.

DANIEL:

Lo que buscaba,

lo descubrí en

un velo de páginas

como un sudario.

Me atormenta

un nombre vacío;

una ala azul pálido

cae como neblina

sobre su cara.

¿Me parezco a ella?

Esta ciudad que alberga

el amor y el odio,

el peso de la guerra,

me interroga:

¿Debería

regresar

a sus entrañas?

JUNTOS:

Eres // lo que buscaba,

parte de mí. // Lo descubrí en

un sueño imprudente, // un velo de páginas

que creía quemado // como un sudario.

Mirándote, // me atormenta

lo que podría haber sido // un nombre vacío;

una ala azul pálido

se dispara como agujas, // cae como neblina

sobre nuestras cabezas — // sobre su cara.

Y grito: // ¿Me parezco a ella?

¡Se parece a mí, // esta ciudad que alberga

el mar y el fuego, // el amor y el odio,

el Edén y los desagües — // el peso de la guerra

tallado en sus huesos! // Me interroga:

¿La quiero como // debería?

¿Quieres // regresar

a sus entrañas?

🇬🇧 ENGLISH 🇬🇧

JULIÁN:

You are

a part of me,

a careless dream

I thought I’d burnt.

Looking at you,

what could have been

rises like spires

over our heads

And I scream:

“She looks like me!”

Ocean and fire,

Eden and sewer filth

carved in her bones —

I love her

like you love.

DANIEL:

What I’ve been looking for,

I discovered in

a veil of pages

like a shroud

I am haunted by

an empty name;

a pale blue wing

falls like fog

over her face.

Do I look like her?

This city that shelters

love and hatred,

the weight of war —

it makes me wonder:

Should I

return

to her womb?

BOTH:

You are // what I’ve been looking for,

a part of me. // I learnt so in

a careless dream, // a veil of pages

I thought had burnt // like a shroud.

Looking at you, // I am haunted by

what could have been // an empty name;

a pale blue wing

rises like spires, // falls like fog

over our heads — // over her face.

And I scream: // “Do I look like her?

She looks like me, // this city that shelters

ocean and fire, // love and hatred,

Eden and sewer filth // — the weight of war

carved in her bones!” // It demands to know:

Do I love her // like I should?

Do you want // to return

To her entrails?

BONUS COMMENTARY

If you’ve made it this far, you’ve probably noticed that there are little nuances in the Spanish version that called for vocabulary variations in the translation! For instance, in Daniel’s part, “entrañas” refers to his mother’s womb; but in the overarching poem, I used “entrails” because I was talking about Barcelona itself and wanted to highlight the ambiguity of its entrails’ nature — a womb that gives birth, or a stomach that devours and vomits?

Speaking of Barcelona — the original English draft didn’t make it clear enough that the city itself was the topic of the overarching poem, rather than a hypothetical female character/weird mix of Penélope and Daniel’s mum (possibly even Bea…?). Spanish’s gendered pronouns came in really handy here!

If you haven’t already, go read La Sombra del Viento (The Shadow of the Wind) by Carlos Ruiz Zafón — it’s great! 📚🔥

[the-way-astray]

hello everybody . . . have a fintante oneshot thing i wrote. it’s poorly named because i don’t have magical fic naming powers. dedicated to @crescentpaws for his birthday . . . happy birthday and also i borrowed your brainworms for this one . . . you can have them back next week. anyway. apparently you’re supposed to write descriptions for fics and stuff but honestly nothing much happens here except fintan tries to piss bronte off and then gets thrown out of his castle. loser. also you’re supposed to say how many words? idk man it isn’t long. should take about five minutes to read. without further ado, enjoy it or don’t

If I Could Touch the Sun

Fintan wasn’t much in the habit of keeping up with the news. 

He blamed his Ancient state whenever someone was annoying enough to needle him about it or try to regale him with (boring) tales of Emissary escapades or whatever the Council’s latest fuck-up was.

But there was one exception to his self-made no-news rule: the Talentless. 

How far he’d fallen. 

At one point, he’d never have stooped so low as to care about whatever was going on with those who had no abilities, and, therefore, nothing to contribute. At one point, he’d been soaring, reaching for heights most people could’ve never even dreamed of.

But now. Well. If only it was possible to touch the sun without getting burned. 

His eyes flicked over the line of castles lining the path in front of him now. He didn’t strictly have to get his news straight from the top; a walk through Mysterium would likely confirm his suspicions. But he never passed up an opportunity to irritate Bronte.

He strode up to one of the castles nestled toward the side in the line. After rapping on the door far louder than was really necessary, he sat down on a nearby rock to wait. Bronte would no doubt take his time answering, knowing it was just Fintan. 

No less than five entire minutes later, the door creaked open and Bronte poked his head out. He scowled. 

Wonderful. 

Fintan stood up and strode into the castle, shoving Bronte aside on the way. Bronte closed the door behind him with no comment, likely realizing it would only provide Fintan with ample verbal ammunition. 

Bronte’s sitting room: what the average sane person might call the epitome of nihility. It was as bare (or “clean”, as Bronte might call it) as possible, with just a single, pathetic table accompanied by a single, pathetic chair. Fintan immediately claimed it before Bronte could. 

“Why have you come this time?” Bronte sighed, raking his fingers through his dark, thick curls, something that made Fintan notice that his Councillor’s circlet was missing. Strange. But, really, he didn’t care anyway.

“Same reason as always,” Fintan said to the grains in Bronte’s table. “To find that item I left here when I was Councillor. I’m sure I’ll find it one of these days.” This he accompanied with a quick eyelash flutter to just his right eye and a slight twinge to the left corner of his lips. Most importantly: a head tilt, so Bronte could catch a proper glimpse. He wondered if Bronte would interpret it as a smirk or a sneer. 

It was an old taunt. Bronte had moved into the very same castle that Fintan had occupied when he was Councillor, and Fintan was pretty sure he’d managed to convince Bronte that he had actually left or hidden something important in his castle when he’d first brought the item up. Of course, there was nothing, nothing but Fintan’s amusement when he realized Bronte had actually upturned the castle in the fruitless search that had followed.

Not much amused him these days.

“I assume you’ll be wanting those rumors of a new Talentless child confirmed, then?” Bronte twitched his right eyebrow while tilting the left side of his mouth up just a hair. The result made his face look lopsided. Lopsided, because the alternative was to think the expression made his face look handsome yet smug, which, needless to say, was not what Fintan thought. At all.

“You do know me so well.”

“Why should I confirm or deny anything for you?”

“For the same reason you told me about that girl from a few years ago, and that boy from a decade ago, and every single other Talentless child you’ve told me about over the centuries.”

“And that reason would be?”

“How should I know? I don’t know anything about you.” Fintan grinned then—a true grin. Ironic, but true. Bronte’s gaze darkened at the sight.

Bronte sighed, seeming to consider. He always did, always pretended he wouldn’t, but then he always caved. Always. Sometimes it took minutes, hours, days. But he always caved.

Bronte scanned Fintan’s face once. Naturally, Fintan took the opportunity to do the same. Bronte had probably combed out his curls into his favored style—thick, tidy layers piled on his head—just before Fintan had arrived, but his dragging his hand through them had ruined their careful pattern. Dark brown eyes: they were so dark Fintan couldn’t tell where the iris ended and the pupil started. Flat, unforgiving eyes: someone else might have been worried about that expression, but Fintan knew it was just a look. His former lopsided quirks were now wiped from his face entirely; he held his face almost unnaturally still and smooth.

What a drama king. Fintan rolled his eyes, internally first, then externally when Bronte turned on his heel and marched back toward the door. Fintan heard the bolts slide open and briefly wondered if Bronte would leave him here. If he’d somehow managed to annoy him that much. But then he reappeared in the sitting room, stomped over to Fintan’s chair, grabbed him just above the elbow, and yanked him out of the chair. Fintan yelped, but by the time he’d gotten his bearings, Bronte had already dragged him to the door.

“Yes, there is a new Talentless child. All but confirmed, unless he suddenly manifests at sixteen. But he’s none of your business. None of them are.” Bronte spoke the words slowly, bitingly, but they still felt too quick for Fintan’s current state of shock. He wondered what expression was currently on his face. He knew it wasn’t good, if the glee that danced in Bronte’s eyes meant anything.

Bronte spared him one last glance before flicking his wrist. Unfortunately for Fintan, that wrist happened to be connected to the hand that was clenched around his arm. He stumbled over the threshold, catching one last look at Bronte’s lopsided face and hearing the door slam before he fell particularly hard on the very same rock he’d been lounging on not even ten minutes ago.

But he barely registered the sharp spike of pain in his shoulder. Another Talentless child. He had to find out who this boy was. Immediately.

[hazbinned]

Angel Dust's accusatory words cut through Vox's train of thought like a paring knife. He snapped his head around to glare at him, but the look on his touch-screen face was not sufficiently laced with poison. What it lacked in animosity, it made up for in discomfiture; red eyes flicked to and fro across the battered visage of Angel's person, cyan teeth gritting together as if to stop Vox from saying something callous.

Then it clicked. Angel thought Vox knew.

The television Overlord veered back, humiliation seeping in.

"What?! You- You seriously think I was watching that?" he gawked. "I have a life outside of you. I do!"

He hastily reached for the rag and doused it in a fair amount of rubbing alcohol, clambering around (and halfway onto) the sink so he could dab at the worst of the arachnid's incisions.

"I'm... and I don't... I didn't see it. I was tuned into a different station."

Vox was telling the truth— but as he sat there, straining to mend the cuts in Angel's back, he wondered if the spider would believe him.

"I could go play it back," the media mogul continued, "But I haven't. While I was getting ready for Val to come home, I was on the phone with Velvette. Doing..." He reached for the tweezers, pulled the fur aside and pried the first sliver of glass out of the porn star's body. "Hands-on, real-world things. I was hoping for a date night with Val."

Hence the food. And the greeting. And his huff-and-puff tantrum.

Vox plunked the shard into the trash bin near their feet.

"I'm hard-pressed to find anything to celebrate," he admitted.

He repeated the extraction process a few more times, until most of the glass was out and white fluff was scrubbed of red.

Angel did not have to believe him. Angel didn't owe him anything. Vox had, one too many times, reveled in the spider's distress. He'd delighted in watching the poor arachnid be 'put in his place' by Val— the pleading, the punishments, even the intimacy. It had felt like revenge, somehow. Revenge for stealing the moth away from him. It had been enticing. Rewarding.

Addicting.

Vox was an addict, and Angel Dust was his favorite drug.

He didn't understand why he was feeling as sickened by it all as he was, but it felt to him now that the very thing that had brought him ecstasy for so many years had suddenly turned sour and curdled.

Age-old milk upon his tongue.

He was offended that the spider had even accused him. But why?

Did he care about Angel all of a sudden? Was that moment in the hallway some kind of turning point for the two of them?

Vox had apologized to Angel then, but it was going to take more than a 'sorry' to fix his gory trail of misdeeds.

Flicking the last few glass-fragments into the garbage, the sinner shifted a little bit on his knees and then pressed the cloth harder against the wounds to soak up any residual bleeding.

"... You don't have to tell me," he conceded after a while. Quieter than before. "I'll delete it."

Vox pulled the rag away and ran it under the sink.

"You can watch."

Then, he turned to him.

"Where else does it hurt?"

Aside from the obvious, he thought as he blinked at him, the 'obvious' here being Angel Dust's hands. Hypnosis might have undone the emotional scarring left by the shattered cup, but it certainly hadn't left any effect on the physical.

Were there any remnants stuck in Angel's chest? Legs? Lower back? He knew he had to get to the ones in the exposed flesh near his collarbone, but he figured he'd get the rough of it out of the way first.

"I mean, you'll have to pull the top part of the dress off if you want me to bandage it," Vox added. "But that... is... uh, your call."

Vox's efforts to coax Angel from his frantic frenzy went entirely unnoticed, a pinprick amid the punctures as the glass slashed his hands. He could fix this. Shards shredded the stained carpet and sliced the spider's flesh as he gathered the splattered fragments, a harsh and impossible jigsaw puzzle that resisted it's own solving. He could fix this. He could put it back together. He-

The glass spilt from Angel's hands as he was abruptly guided into facing his unlikely saviour, the task forgotten even before the next crucial step to his taming was initiated. The spider's eyes thinned to screwed-up slits as a sea of blue light flooded his vision, blotting out everything that wasn't its source as a sharp fingertip drew him closer. Even if Angel hadn't been disoriented from the alcohol-enhanced dissociation, the split second of realisation before the wave of hypnosis washed over him was nowhere near long enough to put up a fight.

Red light bled into blue as the television's all-seeing eye expanded, rings swimming and swirling within them like ripples in slow-moving water. Angel slumped to his knees, his face tilted further upward by the Overlord's metallic claw as the rest of his body fell like dead weight. Had he been in a fitter state of mind, the actor might have tried fruitlessly to fight the loss of control he was experiencing, screeching and flailing within the padded cell of his own mind until he inevitably succumbed to it's influence.

But, for the first time this awful night, Angel felt relaxed. This was what he had been looking for at the bottom of the bottle, in his agreement to let Val drug him. Loosened and numb, the pain and torment had been dulled to a barely-perceptible tingling from somewhere so far away that it could no longer be reached, somewhere no longer real. All that existed was that tranquil blue light with its scarlet centre, drawing Angel in, in, in...

Angel didn't break the glass. Vox did.

That must have been what happened. That's what it felt like as Angel's limbs softened like rubber, all but melting into the carpet.

I broke it, Angel. You saw it happen.

Yes, he did. He saw Vox break the glass. He saw it happen.

You don't want to clean up my mess...

It didn't even hurt, the glass splinters now embedded in his hands as well as his back. He might as well have been holding cotton wool. Val might as well have thrown him into a soft, comfortable bed of plush pillows and blankets.

...So stop touching it.

By the time the trance had started to wear off, Angel was being escorted away from the scene of the crime, leaning against the other as he stumbled alongside him. He must have zoned out, he realised, wobbling slightly as he was released onto the stool. Blinking blearily under the synthetic light, he watched dumbly as Vox rummaged through the bathroom cabinet. What was he doing? Before the arachnid had the chance to question him, the Media Overlord met Angel with a question of his own.

Did the dress show everything? Well, no, was Angel's initial thought: he had to leave something to the imagination, or else-

Oh. He meant the glass.

A shrug of one shoulder was all the spider gave in response. How should he know? Val had given him a strict time limit to get ready - all he cared about was squeezing into something tight-fitting and provocative. He wasn't accounting for exactly how many of his newly acquired wounds were on show. He didn't want to think about it.

Why did Vox even care?

The answer to this was hinted at as a damp wash cloth was pressed to Angel's forehead, the television demon posturing him like a doll so that one of his many hands was holding the cloth in place. Was this... Was Vox taking care of him?

In all the times that Val had taken Angel back to the Penthouse in a similar sorry state, Vox had never so much as batted an eye. In fact, other than the poorly concealed jealousy, the Overlord's reaction was most often a sick, smug gloating that oozed from that slimy grin of his when he realised that Angel was hurt. That Valentino had hurt him. That even if Val took Angel to bed that night, he wasn't going to enjoy it.

Snapped back into reality by Vox's piercing whistle, Angel looked up wearily. The collection of supplies that Vox had gathered looked medical - was he about to play nurse for him? Pick the glass shards from his flesh that he had presumably watched his partner crush him into with rapturous glee?

Was this what it had come to?

A swift moment's judgement told Angel that dragging the stool across the room would be a poor decision in his compromised state, so he opted for the sink. Pushing himself up onto the porcelain stung his hands - he must have cut them on the glass that Val shoved him into.

"What, it ain't enough ta watch it on the cameras? Ya need the commentary, too?" Angel replied scornfully. Vox just couldn't resist, could he? "Look, can I at least save the play by play account a' bein choked an' slammed inta broken glass 'til I'm less, ya know. Full a' glass?"

What the hell was this? Some roundabout way for Vox to get his kicks? Or was this him trying to actually help him, unable to restrain himself from prodding at the wound before stitching it up?

"Why're ya helpin' me?" Angel sighed, slurred from the combination of booze and exhaustion. "Ain't punchin' the air in celebration more yer style?"

[daily-terus]