#does anyone have a different name for her. what is Her tag. i like her i want more of her

[unlawfulsp00n]

Anything before Batman #401 is pre-crisis. The above panels from op are from Batman #411, 416, 422, 424, and 427 respectively.

I need people to understand that pre-crisis Jason and post-crisis Jason ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON.

This isn’t even like, a characterization opinion. He was literally retconned, rewritten, and completely changed. Intentionally. Not new writers veering off from what was originally done, but intentionally changed to make a new character. Pre-crisis Jason was LITERALLY a Dick Grayson carbon copy. Again, not an opinion, Dick was nightwing and with the NTT, people/writters missed robin, so the solution was to just… remake him….

Post-crisis Jason is the troubled delinquent street kid and WAS violent and angry (Yes, I KNOW NOT CONSTANTLY, but those characteristics WERE written into his character and in Bruce’s commentary on him EARLY ON in establishing him post-crisis)

Batman Vol 1 #428

The sweet kid you’re thinking of is PRE-CRISIS Jason. Yes, I’m aware post-crisis Jason was not constantly angry, but objectively, he was more angry and rough around the edges than pre-crisis. That was an intentional change to distinguish him from the Dick-carbon-copy pre-crisis version.

The “robin gives me magic” line that everyone quotes, but nobody ever cites? That is pre-crisis, Jason!!! And it’s always taken completely without context and wasn't even a sweet moment!!!

(read my tags on the post to see my rant, but it isn’t a whimsical moment proving how much better behaved he was, he is literally bitching about being invincible to justified disobeying Bruce)

Slight tangent about the stupid “happy/angry robin” discourse which, I agree, we SHOULDN’T reduce characters down to one emotion BUT…

The fact that HE IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CHARACTER TO WHAT WE HAVE TODAY ASIDE, using pre-crisis Jason panels to prove he was a sweet kid, often used to compare him to Dick and why Dick was actually the violent one (???), is ridiculous because that sweet kid who is apparently so much better behaved than Dick IS A DICK REPLICA. You cannot use pre-crisis Jason content to prove he was the “happy robin” and Dick was the “angry robin” without proving Dick was also happy because he is literally a remake of Dick….

(again, I agree we shouldn’t reduce them down to one emotion, but 90% of the arguments I see backing up Jason‘s “happy robin” persona is the Dick Grayson copy… so, sorry to say…. but your argument not only proves that Dick was a “happy robin”, it also does nothing for post-crisis Jason)

I’m sorry, but I PERSONALLY IGNORE any comic panel/quote taken from before Batman #401 as evidence that Jason was a sweet kid (if anyone ever actually cites it rather than just randomly quoting it because they heard someone say it) because THAT ISN’T JASON.

at least not the one fandom likes, seeing as no one talks about circus acrobat Jason Todd

Again, not an opinion. The Jason people are staning is 10000% post-crisis Jason, and they are not the same! I’m sorry!

I don’t see anyone pretending Helena Wayne and Helena Bertinelli are the same person when arguably the same thing happened to her.

THAY ARE DIFFERENT PEOPLE

The only difference with Helena is that her name changed and Jason kept a connection to Bruce in a way that Helena didn’t, but the situation is the same. Their entire history/upbringing was completely changed. Believe it or not, changing someone’s upbringing, especially when it went from a happy circus kid to a kid on the streets, IS GOING TO CHANGE THEIR PERSONALITY.

You are welcome to headcanon and write whatever you would like, but please try to acknowledge that it’s a headcanon….. It’s a little frustrating when everyone is convinced an incorrect characterization is canon and then gets mad when other people like/argue for the canon version. Especially when the forced sweet kid Jason demonizes Dick to make Jason look better

Both are valid to like, but the discourse I see is often caused by fanon enjoyers just… not acknowledging that what they like is fanon? Like, IT’S OK if you prefer fanon, but arguing that it is canon and then blaming canon enjoyers for starting discourse is just….. frustrating and hard to ignore??

Put yourself in others shoes. You don’t like your favs being characterized in a way you perceive as wrong, well that’s where canon enjoyers are coming from too.

tl;dr

Pre-crisis Jason and post-crisis Jason are OBJECTIVELY not the same person

90% of evidence I see backing up that Jason was a sweet kid is pre-crisis content

The “robin gives me magic” line is pre-crisis Jason and taken out of context (I never see anyone cite it. Just paraphrase it. I swear none of the people repeating it know the context)

Pre-crisis Jason is a Dick Grayson carbon copy, and any argument that says Jason was a sweet kid using pre-crisis panels/quotes ALSO proves that Dick was a sweet kid

If you for some reason want to make the argument that pre-crisis Jason and post-crisis Jason are the same person, then you might as well be saying Helena Wayne and Helena Bertinelli are the same person, which sounds ridiculous no matter how you try to explain it

At the end of the day, people can like whatever they want! I don’t mean to sounds like I’m trying to dictate that, but understand where canon enjoyers are coming from when criticizing certain Jason characterizations. I personally don’t think the frustration is completely unwarranted….. especially when it starts affecting and butchering other characters’ characterizations around him

I’m not a Jason Todd expert, and I know he had good/sweet moments as robin post-crisis, but that doesn’t change the facts above.

"jason was the sweet robin"

"it was dick who was the murder child"

(it doesnt get better)

(it gets worse)

then he killed a man :)

and then he died

right after disobeying bruce

good news is, surprisingly jason being a diligent student and doing his homework is actually canon, him getting along with nightwing when hes a child is also canon (id provide pics but im tired just trust me bro)

what im trying to say is, canonly, jason is a complicated, angry, messy character, who had sweet moments and terrible moments, specially after his retcon, and i really like him even though his writers didnt

jason before the retcon doesnt really exist in the dc narrative anymore, but he was a sweet child

[buttercup-barf]

Couldn't make a post... Hit another "drawering hard" period. That's okay, though.

Might as well continue with these two, while I relearn. Things. It's not much, but I think at least one doodle once a week might do well for me.

I just think Beppa is neat. I wish there was a reskin mod with her! Her and Peppino are both autistic, but just in different ways. Love that for 'em.

Fun fact, all of these pictures are barely edited, because I took them in-app, and just cropped+greyscaled them. Usually I try to edit stuff in my gallery to up the contrast and whatnot, but this works too, I hope.

[blueish-bird]

sorry if I don’t remember your name or conversations/experiences or basic things about myself, every few weeks my brain gets factory reset and I have to relearn how to be alive

[yamikawaii]

SHUT UPPPPPP SHUT UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHUT THE HELL UP

[legalmente-loca]

An Angel In His Eyes

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Angel!Reader

Summary: Dean sees you as pure and himself as dirty. But you crave him and you must show him that there is nothing wrong with him.

Word Count: 3,115

A/N: This idea came from this image.

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, lost of virginity

You are perfect in his eyes. A real angel who fills his insides with grace. Anyone who saw you would say you were normal, just another girl looking for her way. But he knew the truth. Created centuries ago, your name too strange not to be given nicknames, heavenly gaze…

You were an angel.

A divine angel, a soldier of God, a warrior of heavenly battles.

And you were perfect for him.

You could see it in his eyes. Maybe you are not used to people's feelings, but you know how to read them. They are very easy to read. And Dean longed for you, in a way that made you feel unique. Being an angel of God was already something unique, but somehow, Dean made you feel more special.

But he also saw something in you that he could not shake off. Your innocence. What innocence? You are a warrior, you had blood on your hands, you had seen your brothers die and you had sought revenge for them. You had observed humans, their pleasures, their ailments, their perfections and imperfections. And likewise, Dean was the human who shined out from all the others. A soldier for his own father, like you. But a man nonetheless who longed for forgiveness. There was too much guilt inside him and as you got to know him better, you could see that he was even drowning in it.

And, of course you, as an angel, wanted to save him.

But he didn't want to be saved, he didn't see himself as someone worth saving.

That’s why he ignored you most of the time. Whenever you tried to get close to him, Dean would pull away. He would even start arguments with you just to have an excuse to get out of the room.

You see, Dean was fighting the lust he felt towards you. How could he not feel lust towards a sweet angel like you? After all, you were perfect. People interested you to a point where you wanted to gain knowledge about how they thought just to feel empathy.

He didn’t want to ruin that. To ruin something so perfect with his dirtiness, because he was dirty. He really was compared to you.

That’s why, when you walked into the motel room, he grabbed his jacket and got ready to leave for a bar where he would meet another woman. But you stopped him with your melodious voice.

“Wait. I want to talk to you.”

He turned around to look at you.

“About what?”

“Why do you seem scared of me?” You asked with clear confusion, tilting your head.

He shook his head in amusement and took off his jacket again.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“And why do you run away every time you see me? You don’t even want to talk to me. You know, I was one of the angels who dragged you back from doom.”

“I know, Cas told me.”

“So where does this fear I feel radiating from you come from?” You walked over to him.

He sighed. The war that was in his head downstairs was now in his head upstairs. He wondered if it would be a good idea to tell you how he felt about you. But he also thought that you wouldn’t understand, that he would have to explain it to you. How do you explain something that even you didn’t fully understand?

“Look, sweetheart…” He ran a hand across his forehead. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m hundreds of years old, my knowledge goes beyond that of any human.”

“Not in this field.”

You looked at him curiously. You knew about history, both human and celestial. You knew about plants and the other gods. You had watched how the different creations of humanity were created. What could he be referring to?

He noticed that you wouldn’t give up, so he decided to give in and tell you.

“I feel… Things for you.”

“What kind of things?”

“Well… Things like…” He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “Like lust.”

“Lust…”

You had known Lust, even fought they. You knew who they were and what they did, how they rented people out. Was that the whole big deal?

“That’s all?”

He frowned.

“All? Sweethearth, I just confessed something big to you.”

“Not really.” You shook your head. “You say you feel lust, that’s normal. You’re human, my vessel too. The attraction you feel towards this body is normal.”

“You don’t understand…”

He looked away towards the window. It was starting to rain, a strong wind had been present since the afternoon.

“I feel lust towards you, not just your body.” He returned his gaze to you. “I feel lust when I think about your gaze, not your eyes. When I think about the way you move, not your legs. When I think about the tone you use to speak…” His gaze ran from bottom to top until it reached your eyes. “I feel lust towards you, angel.”

You were speechless. This human didn’t feel things for your vessel, but for you… For you and only you.

You swallowed, the emotions were confusing inside you. And what do you feel for him? You wondered. And you remembered his laugh, his jokes, the way his green eyes looked in the light, and also in his darker form; when he hunted and killed without a second thought, without mercy.

You placed your hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“I have feelings for you too.” You murmured.

Dean gulped, clearly nervous. But no, this wasn’t something he could ruin.

He placed his hand on yours and gently pushed it away.

“I’m not good for you, angel.”

You tilted your head in confusion. A human no good for you? Well, yes, it was against all the rules. The fruit of your union would be cosmic chaos on its own. But you sensed he meant something else.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m a killer. My job is to kill. I’ve seen more blood than I have in my body and you… You’re an angel. I could never corrupt you like that.”

You held his hand. So that was it. Self-hatred.

“I’ve seen wars made up of bloodthirsty men,” You said. “Destruction of all kinds and cruelty throughout the centuries. I’m not afraid of you and your darkness, Dean. Because I know it really isn’t as bad as you think.”

He sighed and brought your hand to his cheek.

“You’re something from another world… You’re an angel.” He whispered.

You took another step forward and your gaze dropped to his lips. You ran your thumb over them before bringing your own lips closer and kissing them softly. But Dean pulled away from the kiss, at least at first. After a few seconds of looking into your eyes, searching for some sign of regret that he couldn’t find, he kissed you again. He moved his hands up your arms, moving up to your cheeks, where he caressed your skin with his thumbs.

It was your first kiss. You had never kissed anyone in any form, so you weren’t quite sure what to do. Dean seemed to notice this, as he guided you with his lips slowly and gently, taking his time to savor the moment and your mouth. You slowly walked back until your legs touched the edge of your bed, causing you to sit up. Dean stared at you, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth and licked his finger without taking your gaze off of him. He groaned and closed his eyes for a few moments, trying to hold back. But you didn’t want him to hold back. You brought your hands to his belt and undid it before unzipping his jeans. But he stopped you, placing his other hand over yours.

“Are you sure?” He asked softly.

And you could only nod. Your angelic voice was lost in your throat. It was enough for him and he let you continue.

Dean let you pull his jeans down and you looked at the bulge between his legs, causing you to clench your legs together. He noticed this movement and smiled.

“You look so cute right now.” He looked down at himself and placed his thumbs inside his boxers, pulling them down until his cock sprang free.

You gave a small gasp at the sight. The red tip, glistening with precum, eager for you.

You reached up and touched him gently, running your slender fingers along his skin. He couldn’t stop the small moan that came from the back of his throat and he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t do that or it will be over sooner than we both want.”

You nodded and moved back on the bed until you were sitting on your knees. You held the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. You looked at him waiting for a reaction, your bra in full view.

“You are beautiful.” He murmured, looking at you in awe.

You smiled and shook your head.

“This is not my real form, Dean.”

“Yes, it is.” He said without hesitation. “Because it’s as beautiful as you.”

You tilted your head, but you didn’t have time to think about it too much as he took off his shirt and climbed onto the bed. He brushed your hair out of your eyes and kissed you softly again. His hands traveled down your body until they reached your bra, which he unclasped.

Your breasts popped free and a shiver ran down your spine. No matter how many moments you had lived, the sensations of now were unique.

Dean pulled away from the kiss and looked at your chest, his lips parted as he whispered something you couldn't quite make out, but you suspected it was almost the same thing he said before.

His hand ran along the edge of one of your breasts and you bit your bottom lip, feeling more moisture between your legs. Dean gently pushed you down to lay down, which you did.

You rested your head on the pillows and looked up at him. The light made him look like a God. Different from the ones you knew, but a God somehow.

He parted your legs and positioned himself between them before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Your body needs to be worshipped.” He murmured as he placed another kiss on your nose. “And that’s just what I’m going to do.”

He trailed his kisses down to your neck, where he licked and nibbled, causing you to let out small gasps from your pretty mouth. He continued down until he reached one of your breasts. He watched you intently as he took your nipple into his mouth and played with it with his tongue. Your breathing changed, your chest rising and falling faster as Dean continued to worship you. He bit down softly and pulled away slightly, tugging at your nipple until he released it from between his teeth until he moved to the other, giving it equal attention until both breasts were wet with his saliva and red from his bites.

He continued his way down your body, scattering kisses across your skin until he reached your waist, where he paused to look at you.

He wanted to know if you were still on the same page as him and you nodded.

“Good girl.” That comment made your legs shake. “Oh, you liked that, huh?” He chuckled softly and pulled your pants down.

Your panties were seen by him and he licked his lips. He could already feel your sting on the tip of his tongue, even before he leaned down and ran his tongue along your core over your panties.

You let out a moan and buried your head into the pillow. Your desire finally being satisfied, even though it was just beginning.

He continued to lick until he noticed your panties getting wetter and wetter, leaving a wet spot. He bit the fabric and pulled it down, patting your hips to signal you to lift them up. He slid your panties down your legs slowly, teasing you, and tossed them to the floor above his jeans.

He didn't beat around the bush and buried his face between your legs, licking and nibbling slowly at first, then faster. He licked like he was thirsty, like your grace was leaking out from between your legs and he wanted to collect it all.

You moaned and held the sheets beneath you firmly as you felt his tongue running over your purest place.

Then he gently inserted a finger, watching your expressions intently. He slowly slid it in and out of you, your walls squeezing him and he couldn't help but imagine his cock instead of his finger. That drew a whimper from him and he rubbed his face against your thigh before giving it a small bite.

He licked your clit as he pushed another finger into you and your eyes rolled back.

“Oh God…”

The name of your creator fell from between your lips as you felt a wave of pleasure rush through you from head to toe, making you shiver and tense your body, closing your thighs around his head as your back arched and your eyes turned blue making you believe that maybe you had teleported to heaven once again.

Dean moaned against your core as he licked up the last of your nectar. He pulled away and licked his lips as he watched your chest rise and fall in gasps with complete lust. He crawled up your body until he was close to your face and kissed you with more fervor than before. You moaned into his mouth, tasting yourself on your tongue.

“You were a very good girl.” He murmured against your lips. “And now you must continue like this, understand?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. He let out a growl.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Dean…” You whispered.

“That’s my girl.” He placed a kiss on your nose.

He moved his body until he was more comfortably positioned between your legs. He held his member in one hand while resting the other on the mattress beside your head.

“Tell me how much you want this.” He rubbed his lips against your cheek while rubbing his cock against your folds. “C’mon, tell me.”

“I want it so bad. Please, Dean, give it to me…”

He placed one last kiss against your lips and slowly pushed the tip of his member into you. You moaned louder, the sensation taking you by surprise. You held onto his arms tightly.

“That’s it…” He murmured, his breath against your face as he went a little deeper. “You’re doing so well.” He scattered kisses all over your face to relax you.

You felt a sting, at first. More of an annoyance than pain, but that faded as he pushed another few inches in. You felt a trail of your grace run through your body.

“Dean…”

“That’s it, baby.” He kissed your lips, to which you responded gladly.

He reached the bottom and you felt him touch your cervix. He stilled, cursing, waiting for you to give him permission to continue. And you did, nodding and holding him tightly, your foreheads together.

He pulled out of you slowly, leaving just the tip inside before he entered again. You moaned and frowned, your breathing quickening as you felt him part your inner walls. He started to have a steady rhythm, your juices staining your thighs and his pelvis. The rain getting stronger outside.

“You feel so good, baby. Like heaven itself.” He rested his elbows on the sides of your head as he kept up his pace.

“Faster.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, please.”

He nodded and placed a kiss on your cheek before going faster. You moaned louder and your eyes rolled back.

“Oh, fuck.” Dean cursed. “You’re so tight I can barely get out. You don’t want to let me go, do you?” He exhaled a laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t move away.”

His movements turned into thrusts, the bed beginning to rock and hit the wall.

You turned your face and noticed the cross that was on a wall beginning to bounce.

“Oh, God, Dean.” You whimpered.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby.”

He took your chin in one hand, guiding your face to his again, kissing you passionately as he continued to pound into you.

You felt that trail run through your entire body again, and your eyes lit up. Dean watched in fascination as your eyes turned blue. That trail surrounded your body, and this time, Dean could admire it.

You arched your back and pressed yourself around him, causing him to moan and swear he saw the shadow of your wings expanding across the bed.

“T-that’s my good girl. C’mon, cum for me.”

You moaned his name, and your angel power exploded, the trail becoming too bright for Dean’s mortal eyes. He had to close them, but his movements didn’t stop, though it’s not like he could move too much since you were practically squeezing him tightly.

Dean came shortly after you did, his cum filling you, staining your walls and spreading out.

He dropped down beside you so he wouldn’t crush you, both of your breaths panting as you tried to get back to normal. He looked you up and down and leaned in close to you.

“You okay?” he murmured, running his hand through your hair.

You looked up at him and smiled tiredly.

“I’m doing great…”

He laughed and pulled your body closer to him, your head on the side of his neck, and you breathed in his scent.

“Was this okay? No regrets?”

You shook your head as you traced lines across his chest.

“None. And you?” You looked up at him.

Dean smirked and wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Nah.”

You laughed and snuggled into his body. Dean grabbed the sheet and covered both of your bodies.

“So… now what?” You asked.

“Now what?”

You shrugged.

“So… How does this go? Did it just happen this time, will it happen again or… Will it turn into something more?”

He looked down at you.

“Oh, this will definitely turn into something more.”

He hugged you tighter and placed a kiss on your hair.

You smiled and closed your eyes. Being an angel might give you a lot of knowledge in many things and innocence in others. Having a relationship with a human would go against the rules of heaven and The other angels would probably talk behind your back. But you didn’t care. You had Dean.

Dean Winchester One Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Masterlist

Join my Tag List

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[deeplyshalllow]

Classic Fiyeraba fic recommendations

So, with the new movie coming out, I've seen a lot of requests here for people to write Fiyeraba particularly happy Shiz era stuff, and like guys, guys, I did not spend my formative teen years in the Wicked fanfiction.net section for people to act like the amazing fics there don't even exist.

So here is my list of the fics and authors so great that I remember it over a decade later

Obviously, given we have never had a situation before where people know act 1 but not act 2, there will be spoilers and act 2 stuff in a bunch of these, but please check them out.

(a few of the authors I know are still around tumblr I've tagged, but feel free to tell me if you want me to take it off).

Authors in no particular order:

Tiggy the Hopeless Romantic - Honestly just read anything this woman wrote, I think if anyone said Fiyeraba fanfic this would be the first name I think of - bonus that a lot of the stuff is easily digestible fluffy oneshots

Merina Thropp @merinathropp on Tumblr - Writes beautifully, I remember getting very excited when she uploaded new fic. I particularly remember her Fiyero's Shiz era twitter fic and her extended As Long As You're Mine fic

HC247 @a-partofthenarrative on Tumblr - Writes such lovely fluff and I think double digits on alaym fics! Particularly remember her Once Upon a Kiss series and Masquerade. She mostly writes POTO stuff now but I see occasionally get an alert in my inbox from her.

alinaandalion - another fantastic Fiyeraba writer (god there are so many) I particularly remember her for her A Drop in the Bucket series, which are a lovely series of Fiyeraba oneshots.

CrazyBeagle - one of the people on the Wicked section who has made the transition to real life friend. But I knew her for her fics before we became friends. To Feel is post musical fic which is a lovely realistic continuation of Fiyeraba's journey. Unlimited is a modern retelling of Wicked which I really enjoy though I have been told multiple times it will never be updated no matter how much I threaten.

Scandalacious Intentions @scandalaciousintentions on Tumblr - Candy is the other Wicked friend who has become an irl friend (and I am most certainly the only person who still calls her Candy). She is much better known for her Tonks/Lupin stuff, but I always loved what she wrote for Wicked. Witchy Woman was her first Wicked fic I still very much enjoy it.

Girlscout4ever wrote ever so beautifully. Cheap Rented Room is such a fantastic expanded ALAYM.

ElphabaROCKS - wrote a lot of very good Fiyeraba fluff

Vinkanwildflowerqueen @vinkunwildflowerqueen on Tumblr - I imagine a lot of you know her already as she is still writing! She writes a lot of very good Fiyeraba au fics

Fermantoso - one of the funniest writers in the section! Chasing Elphie is the one I remember best, au but funny and sweet.

Danderson - slightly more bookverse than a lot of the other writers here but still great fics!

Kaylle - There are Nights, is always the one people (including me) remember as it's one of the most beautiful pieces of fanfiction on the Wicked section, but all of her work is lovely.

Lost Ozian - Well known for her humour, The Fiyero User Manual springs immediately to mind, my favourite is actually her serious au fic Different

Me - debated whether to add this, but I was also part of the section back in the day, and I know people enjoyed my fics too, though God knows I've improve my writing in the last decade and a half - in terms of Fiyeraba my strongest were probably A Moment and Living. Perfect Together is unquestionably the best fic I wrote for Wicked, although it's more Flinda.

Individual Fics:

Like a Swan on a Lake - this fic was actually well after my time but I happened to read it and I love love love it! AU of Fiyero if both girls defied gravity together and it does such a good job of showing his intelligence

Broccoli - I remember this one being very sweet Shiz era Fiyeraba

According to Plan - funny fic, fun twist ending

Sincerely, an annoyed Shiz student - not strickly Fiyeraba but you should read it. It is a very fun parody.

It's a long way to fall - This was actually the fic I created a fanfic account for, because I hadn't realised you could anonymous review! A fun arranged marriage AU

Please, please add to this list if you have other recs, mine are about 10 years out of date. Also apologies if I've missed any out as there's so many good ones and it is 2am.

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | one

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Different II

Katie McCabe x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get your diagnosis

There's a lot of hoops to jump through to finally work out what's wrong with you.

Mam doesn't like you using those words. She doesn't like referring to it as 'what's wrong with you'. She tells you that you're perfect. Nothing is wrong with you. You're perfect the way you are.

There's nothing wrong. You're jumping through these hoops so Katie can finally understand how to help you.

You meet with the paediatrician who makes follow-up appointments for you with a psychologist and an occupational therapist.

The psychologist rules out things like dyscalculia and dyslexia. She says you don't have anxiety and depression either.

You go to the occupational therapist. He runs you through a series of tests. At first, it's big things like jumping or using a skipping rope before he moves onto the smaller things like holding a paintbrush and placing weird pegs things into small holes.

You go back to the paediatrician.

"Dyspraxia," Katie says that evening as you both sit on her bed together," That's what it's called. Dyspraxia."

"I know," You say," I was in the room with you when we got told."

She's holding the pamphlet and folder that the doctor had given you, explaining all the ins and outs of the condition.

It's nothing that you haven't experienced first-hand. You imagine all of these documents were made for parents of little kids who got diagnosed. You imagine it's more for Katie's benefit than your own.

You know what it's like to live with this condition. You know what to expect and how to adapt.

Katie is the one that will be reading those pages front to back, well into the night even though she's got training the next day.

You're off school for the week.

One of the gas taps in the science laps has started leaking so the whole school was shut down as a precaution.

You're more than happy to tag along to training, stealing one of the muffins from the dining hall to eat by yourself out on the pitch.

"So," Kim says as she sits next to you," I heard from Katie that you finally got that diagnosis."

You shrug. "It's nice to have a name for it now. I think Mam's read that folder at least ten times now. I don't know if she even got any sleep last night."

"That sounds like Katie." Kim nudges you with her knee. "How are you feeling about it?"

"It is what it is," You reply, picking at your muffin," Mam said that she's still trying to take it all in. I don't know if that's good or bad."

Katie had been resistant at first. She hadn't wanted you to get tested for anything. You were perfect the way you were and she didn't want anyone to make you think otherwise.

She was all denial.

Deny, deny, deny.

You were brutal acceptance.

There was something that made you different to the other kids. There was something that made you different to most other people you had ever met.

You don't know now what Katie thinks of your diagnosis, this new label to stick on yourself.

You don't know if it'll change how she thinks of you. If she'll think you're less perfect now that you've got something official to say that you aren't.

"Katie loves you," Kim says," That won't ever change. You're her kid."

"I'm not a kid," You grumble and Kim laughs.

"You're her teenager then," She corrects," But she does love you and all she wants is to give you the best possible life."

"Yeah but-"

"It's not going to change anything," Kim insists," Okay? Katie loves you."

You don't doubt that. You've never doubted that.

You just hope Katie doesn't doubt it either.

She paces in front of you that evening and you hold your breath.

"I've talked to your school," She says," They're working on getting you a school-issued laptop but for the time being you're allowed to bring in one of ours from home. You'll get extra time for your exams and the teachers are going to start giving you more handouts rather than making you write everything up."

"Wait...what?"

"What do you mean what?"

You frown. "Mam...I...I don't get it."

"You're getting accommodations," katie says, sitting right next to you," Because you're different to the other kids and need a bit more support. You're a smart kid. You just need to do things a little differently. We're getting you help."

"Mam, I..." You don't quite know what to say. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Katie says," I love you. I'm just making sure you get what you deserve."

[checkeredflagggs]

Aftermath of a Storm

Pairing: oscar piastri x sargeant!Storm chaser!fem!reader

summary: people are shocked to learn about alice and oscar

a/n: tbh i really meant for the first part to have more of the other drivers learning about Barbie and Alice but obviously that didn’t happen 😂

a/n 2: timelines? What timelines? Idk know them

Part 1

Bluesky

Private Messages - Logan, Oscar, Alice

Private Messages - The Grid, Fun

Private Messages - Logan, Oscar, Alice

mclaren

liked by drbarbie, teammate1, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 4,822,445 others

tagged: drbarbie, oscarpiastri

mclaren: Check the weather this weekend! Because there must be a storm moving in —Oscar Piastri is taking Dr. Alice “Barbie” Sargeant, Williams Racing’s Logan Sargeant’s twin sister and notable storm chaser, on a hot lap here in Mexico!

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user1: oh my god this is everything I never knew I needed

user2: oh yeah hey mclaren don’t forget to mention THAT THEY ARE DATING

oscarpiastri: it’s gonna be a good time!

logansargeant: it’s been nice knowing you

oscarpiastri: I’m sure it’ll be fine

logansargeant: you sure about that? you SURE about that?

logansargeant: are we talking about the same girl?

user4: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

user5: LET US IN. LET US IN!! YOURE AMERICAN — SPILL THE TEA

landonorris: Oscar! You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!!!! 😡😡😡

oscarpiastri: I’m sure I mentioned it.

landonorris: I’m sure YOU HAVENT!?!

oscarpiastri: of course I have. are you sure you were listening?

landonorris: of course I was LISTENING! You just haven’t said A WORD!? Since when have you had a girlfriend?

oscarpiastri: we’ve been together for nearly 7 years

landonorris: 7 years?!?

oscarpiastri: yes.

landonorris: WHAT?!??!

user6: WHAT?

user7: uhh raise your hand if you had Oscar Piastri has a secret girlfriend, Logan Sargeant has a twin sister, or the two would be the same person on your bingo card this year

user8: ok but if anyone on the grid had a secret girlfriend of course it’s gonna be Oscar?

user7: you got me there

user9: 7 years?!? How do you hide a girlfriend for 7 years? Especially one as cool as drbarbie?

user10: user9 asking the real questions

user11: right?? How did some guy who drives in silly circles score such a cool badass girlfriend?

drbarbie: I ran over him with my bike one day

user11: WHAT?!?

drbarbie: ummmm what is this??? oscarpiastri WHAT DID YOU DO???

logansargeant: apparently signed you up to tackle a hot lap

drbarbie: NO

drbarbie: ABSOLUTELY NOT

drbabrie: SPEED AND I DO! NOT! MIX!!

drbarbie: oscarpiastri ANSWER YOUR PHONE

drbarbie: nicolepiastri where is your son? I’d like to have some words with him

nicolepiastri: you and me both sweetie

user12: you chase tornadoes but can’t do a hot lap?

drbarbie: THERE IS A MAJOR DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO!

user13: and you prefer the storms?

drbarbie: YES!!

f1gossippage

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, teammate1, and 3,997,455 others

f1gossippage: a hot lap for the records! Oscar Piastri drove girlfriend Barbie Sargeant around the track twice today! Definitely seems like she’s not a fan

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user14: not a fan? I’d say 😂 I didn’t know anyone could scream that high tbh

user15: those were genuinely screams of terror…save my girl 😭

user16: Barbie Sargeant? Nah fam you did not do my girl dirty like that. Put some respect in her damn name. It’s DR. ALICE “BARBIE” SARGEANT

user17: oh thank god someone said it. She did not get 2 phd’s by the time she was 21 to have that be disrespected

user18: no shit really?

user17: yes! She graduated with double phd’s in meteorology and mechanical engineering from Cornell when she was 20!

user18: so fucking cool! And yea! PUT SOME DAMN RESPECT IN HER NAME!

user19: someone with more experience needs to watch this entire clip and then make gif sets of the ENTIRE thing because her face goes on a lot of journeys

user20: most of those journeys end in murder i think

drbarbie: they do. They will

logansargeant: maybe don’t threaten Oscar on a public instagram post?

drbarbie: for once in your life, stay in your lane. Unless you’d like to join him?

logansargeant: …carry on.

user20: logansargeant what was that??

logansargeant: I support women’s Rights and Wrongs

drbarbie: good

oscarpiastri: oh these are good pictures!

drbarbie: you are a dead man walking Piastri

oscarpiastri: would you really hurt me?

drbarbie: yes

oscarpiastri: what about my mother and sisters?

drbarbie: nicolepiastri soooo…you’re gonna be down a son soon. I can offer Logan?

nicolepiastri: oh we’d love to have the two of you visit again soon logansargeant and drbarbie

oscarpiastri: nicolepiastri mum??

user21: not nicolepiastri supporting this 🤣😭

teammate1: 😂😂😂

drbarbie: I sign your checks. Watch yourself

teammate1: girl this is too damn funny

drbarbie: 🙄😑

Private Messages - Oscar, Logan, Alice

drbarbie

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 3,728,388 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

drbarbie: it’s your turn now! 🥰

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user22: the hearts make this a very ominous message

drbarbie: it’s supposed to be!

user22: oh!

oscarpiastri: babe?

oscarpiastri: what do you mean my turn?

drbarbie: I told you! I’d only ever get in your car when you get in mine!

drbarbie: so convenient that you have a break and dolly is back from the mechanics right now! 🧡🩵🧡

oscarpiastri: ummm…🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user23: ok but is she really gonna take him through a tornado???

user24: that does seem like it’s the plan?

user23: I can’t watch this 🙈

user24: she’s a professional?

drbarbie: more confidence in me please

user24: you right you right

user: SHES A PROFESSIONAL

drbarbie: thank you!

logansargeant: good luck! Have fun!

drbarbie: 😊😊😊

logansargeant:…no.

logansargeant: What did I do?

logansargeant: come on I helped you

logansargeant: I’m on your side!!

teammate3: dolly is ready to roll!!

oscarpiastri: that better be a joke

teammate1:…

teammate2:…

teammate3:…

teammate4:…

teammate5:…

Private Messages - The Grid, Serious

drbarbie

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 4,288,373 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, logansargeant

drbarbie: don’t worry guys! They made it through the “storm” a-ok! (Come on guys, have a little faith. I’d never actually take someone unprepared into an actual tornado. Plus prime tornado season is over for the year!)

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user25: oh thank god. I was so very nervous

user26: girl you ain’t the only one. Check the video at 14:25. Oscar’s fingers are fucking white with panic 😂😂

oscarpiastri: thank you love for not subjecting me to a tornado

logansargeant: yes thank you my very favorite sister who is definitely the best and best and most wonderful

oscarpiastri: yes! Most wonderful and loving and beautiful girlfriend ever

drbarbie:…laying it on a little bit thick aren’t you?

logansargeant: quite literally whatever I have to do so I never ever ever ever have to get in that truck again!

drbarbie: don’t you dare disrespect dolly!

logansargeant: never!

oscarpiastri: dolly is a queen! We aren’t worthy.

logansargeant: yes! We definitely shouldn’t be in that truck ever again

drbarbie: babies…fine

user26: wow!!!! 🤩 those photos are stunning!

drbarbie: thank you! When I was planning this I knew the conditions were gonna be good for some nice thunderstorms but even I didn’t expect this level!

user26: so you just…followed them around?

drbarbie: yup! It’s something our parents used to do for me when logie and I were young - the driving being a lot more calm then normal is just about the only difference (my passengers complained the entire time 🙄)

user27: oh that’s so cute! (They seem like the type 😂)

landonorris: stunning

drbarbie: thank you!

oscarpiastri: no

landonorris: I didn’t say anything?

oscarpiastri: and yet the answer is no. Go away

georgerussell63: shut down!

landonorris: why am I catching strays on my comment thread???

charles_leclerc: these are magnificent photos! And it looked like a fun trip to get them

drbarbie: thank you! (Oh my god oscarpiastri I’ve been noticed by your father!)

oscarpiastri: that’s cool babe

charles_leclerc: yes! Welcome to the family. We expect you for dinner soon

drbarbie: score!

alicepublic

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 3,590,455 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

alicepublic: happy anniversary my love. The best 7 years of my life so far — with many more to go 🧡🧡🧡

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oscarpiastri: I can’t believe that it’s only been 7 years, I feel like I’ve known you for a lifetime already — I couldn’t imagine spending it with anyone else.

alicepublic: oh my love…

user28: water is wet. Fork found in the kitchen. I’m sleeping on the highway!

user29: sleepover!!

oscarpiastri: You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me 🩷

mclaren: you won the race last week?

alicepublic: uhhh your point?

oscarpiastri: and? I said what I said!

mclaren: alrighty then! Well said!

charles_leclerc: happy anniversary my son and daughter in law!

alicepublic: not a daughter in law yet but thank you!

oscarpiastri: soon!

alicepublic: WHAT?!? 😳 🫢

logansargeant: 7 years of being a third wheel and they don’t even tag me…EVEN THOUGH I'M VERY BLATANTLY IN THIS PHOTO DUMP

alicepublic: chill out dude

oscarpiastri: thank you for being our favorite third wheel and for taking these wonderful photos

logansargeant: Oscar is my favorite

alicepublic: I’d be mad but same tbh

user30: it’s been years but yay! Dr Barbie’s priv account is finally open

user31: oh my god baby her and baby Oscar are so cute!

user30: I know!! I’ve been getting fomo going through her posts - like what do you mean I haven’t been growing up with them?

user32: yeah alicepublic can we get an explanation for that photo near the beginning of you on a bike and Oscar bleeding?

alicepublic: that was the first day we met! My bike broke (no brakes) and as I was trying to slow down I accidentally ran over Oscar!

oscarpiastri: best accident I’ve ever had!

user32: ok this is the cutest meet-cute! ♥️

landonorris: unfortunately you guys are cute…

alicepublic: what 🥺 🥺 …

oscarpiastri: what do you mean unfortunately?

landonorris: yeah — can’t have anyone cuter than me in the garage so you’re uninvited to mclaren

oscarpiastri: happily you can’t make those decisions (slides $5 to mclaren)

mclaren: don’t worry alicepublic ! Permanent paddock pass for you!

landonorris: WHAT? NO!

landonorris: IM STILL CATCHING STRAYS ON MY COMMENT THREADS

[lunavrse]

WHAT YOU HEARD pt 2

LANDO NORRIS

summary ★ : streets are saying yn finally broke up with her loser boyfriend and guess who couldn't be happier? if you guessed lando, you'd be wrong, it's actually her (but lando's a really close second).

category ★ : smau.

notes ★ : as always times and dates are irrelevant and spelling mistakes are intentional. longer than the last part but worse 🫶. and when i use those harry styles and taylor russell pictures again, mind your business🤫 poll at the end!!!

pt 1

tagged: visavni

Liked by landonorris, monaspencer, zendaya and 1 154 748 others

yn_ln back to your regularly scheduled content of my face 🤗 did a fun little shoot with with a friend

View all 4 755 comments

user ugh face cardddd

user it's giving retro realness

user ur face card rlly is sum serious

visavni this was sm fun!

yn_ln thank u for always delivering

user always something amazing when y'all collab

user 1st slide is giving scream for some reason

user real "please don't kill me Mr Ghostface, I want to be in the sequel" vibes

user serving 70s editorial

user Already added to my Pinterest board 💞

user gagged, died, dead

user And I eat it up everytime.

landonorris real

user ofc instagram user landonorris on a yn_ln post

user not even f1 driver💀

user seeing different concepts from you is my absolute fav thing ngl

landonorris you look leng.

user anyone else side eye at this comment?

user honestly? not really, i'm sure he's said worse things

user legs are legging...

user what does this even mean

user the girls that get it, get it💋

user gah dam why are you legs so long🤤

user she's so overrated

user now why are you manspreading 🤨 do you want people to sit in ur lap???

user me wondering if that seats taken

monaspencer you've done it again! it's giving everything it's supposed to give🔥

yn_ln tysm ml🫶🏾

landonorris so she gets a reply but not me🫤

yn_ln now what was i supposed to say?

landonorris thank you?

yn_ln you're welcome.

landonorris oh that's no- ykw, you're right, i should be grateful

user damn right

user if he's not like this i don't want him

user He really said when a bad bitch tells me to shut up, I do it.

user i just know that ezra is somewhere sick to his stomach

user personally, I'd never recover

zendaya your shoots are always so good

yn_ln tysm queen. means a lot coming from you<3

user girl you do damage to me🥴

user amazing shoot 😍

yourfriend7 slenderman proportions🤩

yn_ln and if i kill myself, what then?

yourfriend7 😘

yn_ln spawning in your room🔜

yourfriend7 not beating the allegations pookie

user 😭😭😭

user love seeing your face pop up when i open insta

user the only reason people care about you is bc of ezra

user you're joking...

user you're delusional just like ur fav

user and yet here you are, on her page

tagged: landonorris, yn_ln

motormouth Lando and Y/n spotted out and about via friends and fans. New wag or just friends hanging out? Let us know what you think!

Liked by user, user, user and others

View all 854 comments

user tagging them is so messy.

user well it is a gossip page

user but still... the audacity

user man like lando norris yeah

user friends can't hang out?

user The way that one picture looks really romantic until you realise Mona's cropped out

user Ezra was right to dump her😒 She never deserved him and she's mid anyway. Never did and never will get the hype.

user stacy why aren't you watching your kids instead of commenting on things that don't concern you? user yeah stacy, why aren't you being a mom to your kids? user stacy is a man who, instead of paying attention to the kids he only gets to see certain times, is out here dick riding someone who doesn't know he exists. user damn, someone named a baby boy stacy? user Well, my mom wanted to be Stacy's Mom but only decided on having one kid, and unluckily for me, I was that kid user born in 2003, named stacy and has kidS (multiple!), yeah, no wonder he's on a gossip page instead of watching those kids.

user he really wasted no time

user i hope he knows he's probably a rebound

user the way y'all purposely hid the fact that mona was also there in the 3rd slide 😐

user this the type of timing i need to be on

user i just know that one twitter user is laughing rn

user she's just using him😕

user he's so weird for this, like she just recently got out of her relationship and now this??

user love the fact that they get to hang out more

user It's still too soon since her last relationship, so I'm thinking they're only friends.

user she probably broke up with ezra just to be with lando 🤢

user did she or Ezra tell you that? no? yeah, shut up

user and who would blame her? NO ONE

user mona erasure, i will not stand for this!

user the way he's looking at her😵

user fellas is it weird to hang out with your friends?

user only if your friends are the opposite sex, it seems

user they're probably laughing at this (if they even see it)

user i just know lando is giggling

user fr, like dating rumours with her?

user mans is kicking his feet

ezragallagher has uploaded to their story.

user: what you over here being messy for ???

user: bro move on!!!

user: i support you, toxic king🙌

user: ezra, baby, you can do better

sashabardot: really ezra? what the actual fuck is wrong with you

user: bros going through it

user: this is kinda pathetic don't you think?

user: someone's paying attention to their ex

user: babes this isn't your cf

user: don't you have work to focus on?

user: the way this would make me get back with you

user: ☕☕☕

user: this feels targeted

user if only i had half the confidence and audacity that you did🙂‍↔️

user: this is an... interesting song choice

user: see, me personally, i would never show my face on the internet but you do you💪

user: better as in you?

user: hope you guys get back together 🤞

user: God, I see how you've given some people the courage of lions😂

user: might as well have tagged her

user: just how i like my men... toxic and pettty 😍 *pretty but petty works just as well

user:

yn_ln has added to their story.

user: uhhhhh

user: is this what i think it is?

user: oh!

user: please tell me this is in response to ezra

user: beabadoobee mention!!!

user: I love this song.

user: the way fucking batman wouldn't be able to get this out of me

user: this is wild

user: stop being so cryptic! is this about ezra or not

monaspencer: messy asf😭

yn_ln: he started it, so idgaf also, it could've been worse

monaspencer: true, you could've posted to still your best

yn_ln: lmaooo, can you imagine💀💀

user: taste>>>

user: have you ever thought that maybe you were doing something wrong if he cheated on you?

user: oh no

yourfriend: do you ever wonder...

yn_ln: YOU'RE FUCKING SICK😭😭😭

user: You know what you're implying w this right?

user: publicizing the fact that you've been cheated on is insane

user: ezra fucking gallagher, count your days.

user: ok i alr know this is about ezra but who is the girl???

user: are you not embarrassed?

user: 🤨

user: ik you guys dated and everything but he wouldn't cheat🙄 you're just making up lies to slander him

tagged: lukacyr, yn_ln, landonorris and 3 others.

Liked by lukacyr, yn_ln, landonorris and others

monaspencer spent some time with some of my favourite people... and lando

View all 1 787 comments

user you and luka are so 🥺

lukacyr that's my baby!!!

monaspencer 🩷🩷🩷

user dare i say... couple's trip???

yn_ln hot girl alert!!!

monaspencer love youuu

user lando catching strays?

lukacyr so gorgeous, im so lucky🩵

monaspencer i love you pretty boy🩷

user wish i was that cat

landonorris and lando? damn i thought we were besties😔

lukacyr we all know she loves you

monaspencer 🤥

landonorris thanks luka, knew i could count on you for the truth❗

user wait, whose cat is that?

user love how they're all just living their best lives.

user oof uno w yn and luka? I just know there was lots of yelling

user them making up their own rules and frustrating those of us who play the game properly 😭

lukacyr sorry you guys are boring 😔

user ughhhh miss spencer you are looking teww damn foineee 🤤

user sprinted to this post when i got the notification

user mona + yn = the prettiest friends. ughhh, love them

user you and Luka make me feel so single and im in a relationship!!!

user that's -

user just smile and wave

user game night is back baby!!!

user adding the song to my playlist immediately

user slayyy

lilymhe can't wait for the next dinner!

monaspencer you and alex are hosting nexts babes

yn_ln i have a meeting that night

landonorris me too

lilymhe alex will be cooking

yn_ln i will be in attendance

lilymhe hey! i'm not that bad

lukacyr sureeee

alex_albon you are not talking, mr i once set fire to water

user how tf

user i love tht Luka buys her flowers whenever he can

user i have so many questions

user do you and Luka want a third?

user 🔥🔥🔥

user your nails in the first slide is everything to me

user not mona and yn having matching rings,,, i love them😭😭

user very on brand for them

user they all look so cool, I wish i was apart of their friend group

user real, they all look like so much fun

user TV girl>>>

user face beat is so FAB imo

user wait what's happening to me... 🧍‍♂️🚶‍♂️🧎‍♂️🐈🐾

user the dress from the last slide is EVERYTHING

Liked by monaspencer, landonorris, lilymhe and others

yn_ln 1st slide is me after thirdwheeling my (girl)friend and her boyfriend 😴 and the last slide is literally them, I'm sick😞

View all 1 853 comments

user girlll

user this said so much and nothing at all

user how can someone be so cute and hot at the same time???

monaspencer ik you're not talking lol

user what does this meannn

lilymhe i would never treat you like that bbg

landonorris don't you have a boyfriend? matter of fact ﹫alex_albon come get your girl

lilymhe snitch😒

alex_albon lily???

maxfewtrell dinner was great, sending mine and p's thanks again

yn_ln tell her she needs to join us for game night next time and you're invited too ig

maxfewtrell im starting to think you like my girlfriend more than me

yn_ln i do!

maxfewtrell fairs, i like her more than you

user last slide unlocked a memory

lukacyr and proud of it

lukacyr you're just mad she likes me more

yn_ln thats so funny considering she's in my bed rn

landonorris should've been me

user I jus know Lando took that 5th photo

user and you know this how...

user idrk but you can always tell when he's the one taking her pictures bc something about it just makes her look.. especially stunning ya know? like you can tell someone who's in love w her took the pic

user you're actually so right

landonorris a whole slide of just me? yeahhh you want me so bad

user i aspire to be this type of delusional

yn_ln oh absolutely

landonorris so glad you're admitting it to the world😌

user i cannae tell if this is sarcasm or not

user it's ok, neither can lando

user in the words of one troye sivan, "face card, no cash, no credit"

user when he sang "look, look at you", he meant her

user and when he sang " baby, I'm first in place" he was singing about Lando

user swear i saw you guys at that restaurant but was too nervous to make sure

user i would have said hello ngl

user i didnt want to disturb and like i said, i was so nervous.

user have i mentioned that i love everything that is happening here, bc i do

user genuinely thought the 2nd slide was y'all eating sushi and was amazed that you got lando to eat it

user same! but i didn't even question it and just scrolled

user would honestly be flattered if i was compared to arnaz and breanna, they were such a cute couple

user true but i still can't get over the fact that her dad was called Flex lmao

user eye cant get over the shows theme song, like i still think it's good

user not to mention Breanna was in her fashion bag, girlie was serving LOOKS.

user Check out my profile for art of your favourite artist's favourite artist!

user omg that's crazy haha, i have 10 lambo's btw, like i am super rich and you'd never be tired around me bc i'd make sure you get 10 hours of sleep (2 extra hours bc you deserve it, must be exhausting being so gorgeous)

landonorris this person literally set fire to my house and is stealing from their job. please report them so i can have some peace of mind🙏🙏

user YOOO, this is NOT TRUE, NOBODY REPORT ME FSTHSNTH

user idk man, why would Lando lie :/

landonorris exactly, for what reason?

user ik this is a lie but imma do it anyway lmao

landonorris why would i lie?

user bffr.

user: i know we're all focused on yn's beauty(and rightfully so) but can we take a moment to appreciate that picture of lando???

user: like hello, he looks so hot

user 💖

user LIVING it up

landonorris: you ever see someone so beautiful you start barking violently? cause thats me rn

landonorris: got me acting unwise❗

yn_ln: please calm down you freak

landonorris: mmm call me a freak again😩

user: what the

user: he's so real for this

user: jesus h christ

user: think i've had enough of instagram today, peace out✌

landonorris has added to their story.

user: mona's miss steal your girl well not really your girl🤣

landonorris: blocked

user: i want someone to look at me like that

user the art in the background is so pretty

user: damn, you're never making it to relationship status

user: she's wearing orange... interesting...

user: art and art/two masterpieces in one photo

user: guess i need to ask Mona and Yn if they want a third instead

user: i'd say deserved 🤷

monaspencer: you're both such liars

user: waitt,, the fits are eatinggg

user: they literally look like they're in love

user: women *sighs dreamily*

yn_ln: damn, i look good wait when did you take this picture

landonorris: yeah you do. orange is really your colour, you should wear it more often

monaspencer has added to their story.

user: not them getting "this you"-d💀

user: they are never beating the dating allegations

user: exposed in a single photo

user: you're an absolute legend for this

user: this just in, yn ln is a LIAR!!

user: i don't know why you're friends with her🙄

yn_ln: you make my ass itch

monaspencer: funny, i was thinking the same thing about you

yn_ln: why do you do this to me?

monaspencer: suffer x

user: my otp!!!

user: ugh, what a eyesore(i'm violently jealous)

user: They look so good together, they should just date already smh.

user: now it definitely seems like y'all went on a couple's trip👀

landonorris: send me this🙏🏻

whatyouhe4rd has posted a new article, based on your likes, this may interest you. check it out?

landonorris has uploaded a story.

user replied to your story: you're jokinggg, this is a joke

user replied to your story: you didn't actually post this, im clearly just seeing things im just gonna pretend that it didn't happen since you deleted it

user replied to your story: When I tell you I burst out laughing seeing this, I'm not lying.

maxfewtrell replied to your Close Friends story : you did not delete the 1st one just to post it on your CF

landonorris: it was an accident?

maxfewtrell: an accident that's going to end up on hundred's of gossip sites

landonorris: rachel is going to kill me, isnt she?

maxfewtrell: seriously surprised she hasn't already

yn_ln replied to your Close Friends story : Rachel is going to kill you

landonorris: i just told max the same thing, we're soul mates fr

yn_ln: i'm being serious

landonorris: so am i but did it make you smile?

yn_ln: yes?

landonorris: then it was worth it and i'll die happy

yn_ln: you're so cheesy🙄

landonorris for you i will be mozzarella, parmesan, chedda, gouda, brie, cottage, feta, swiss, burrata, cream, etc.

user replied to your story: this is iconic, lando norris, my fav malewife

randomfriend replied to your Close Friends story : i think you've been on tiktok too much

charles_leclerc replied to your Close Friends story : your head must be a fascinating place to be in, how do you do it?

landonorris: my brother in christ and racing, you can not be talking

user replied to your story: you're so right and you should say it

user replied to your story: Sometimes we don't have to share what's on our mind with the world

user replied to your story: I'm fucking creasing

⤷ end note ‧ ★ : heyyyy, how y'all doing🧍... sorry for the wait, i really did have most of this done and in my drafts but then writer's block hit and i left it for a while. also, i kinda suck at making articles lmao. thank you to everyone who reads and/or interacts with my smaus, ily<3.

taggingᯓ★ : @firelily-mimi and @appl3-0rchard

[veltana]

Riding into the night - Biker!Bucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader ✦ Word count: ~7,8k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings/tags: AU, kind of soft!dark!Bucky, smut, fluff, past asshole partners mentioned, squirting, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, spanking, spitting, edging, dirty talk, praise, degradation if you squint, breeding kink if you squint, manhandling, vaginal sex, condom, cum shot, pet names (Fairy). ✦ Summary: One of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. ✦ Note: I don't know how to play pool, just go with it! 😂 This is also posted on my AO3

Masterlist | AO3

It was Yelena's bachelorette party and after dinner and clubbing, she insisted you find a less respectable place to round out the night.

That’s how you end up in the sleazy bar at the edge of town that smells of sweat, stale beer, and badly fried food. The drinks are watered down but it doesn't tamper the mood of the party, because they have a few pool tables strewn about, and you never miss an opportunity to crush your friends with a few good games. The only problem is the group of bikers that rolled in fifteen minutes ago, filling up the rather empty bar with their loud voices.

As you're bending over the table to aim you can't shake the feeling of being watched. It throws off your concentration and you don’t hit the ball where you want, making you fail the shot. Righting yourself you sigh with irritation.

"That's not like you," Natasha points out as she gets ready for her turn. With a shrug you say, "Maybe I'd just had too much to drink." Yelena snorts, "I've seen you drunk enough to barely stand and still beat everyone." She waggles her eyebrows, "I think it's a pair of blue eyes that's distracting you."

You give her the finger, but you know exactly what she's talking about. One of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. It felt as if diving into a clear blue lake on a hot summer day with not a problem in the world for you to care about. Then you realized you were staring and quickly looked away, breaking the small hypnosis.

Despite having had the most to drink all night, Yelena's observation skills never evade her. She saw what happened and she'd be damned if she let an opportunity to taunt you go to waste.

Quickly shooting a glance at the table, you find the man with the blue eyes. Unabashedly he's staring at you from where he sits. The others around him are talking, laughing, being rowdy, but not him. He takes a drink from his beer in silence, tattooed fingers holding the bottle, and never once does his gaze waver from you. His dark hair is in a ponytail but small strands have broken free to be tucked behind his ears.

You wouldn't say you have a type, but if you did, it wouldn't be him. You like nice guys. So far not anyone you've dated has had a single tattoo. On the other hand, you don't have to date him to fuck him. And that is something you're in desperate need of.

"And now she doesn't even realize it's her turn!" Carol breaks you from your musings and you look at the pool table. Shaking out your shoulders you try to dispel the feeling of eyes boring into your neck. Surveying what you have in front of you, a plan forms in your mind.

"Oh, I know that look!" Natasha shouts unnecessarily loud. She’s had the second most to drink through the night. You and Carol on the other hand are as close to sober as it gets.

Taking a breath, you get into position. In quick succession, you hit three shots dead on and they go right where they should, but when you move to the fourth, Carol is leaning against the edge. "You're in the way," you tell her. "I know!" she smiles. "Can you move?" "No, unfortunately not."

You try to push her off but she's solid muscles. Natasha and Yelena laugh at your failed attempts. "You know I'm going to win this anyway, right?" "I don't have to make it easy for you," she points out.

There is only one other option if you want to make the shot. So you climb up, sitting down on the edge to lean awkwardly past Carol. Just as you move the cue, she taps the edge, causing it to graze the top of the ball and then slide off. "Hey!" Hopping down, you poke her with the stick. "That's cheating!" "It's not like you to miss, are you feeling okay?" she grins. "You're such a sore loser, you know that?" "I have no idea what you're talking about." "My turn!" Natasha yells and shoves you to the side.

You take a few steps back and walk into something solid. Craning your neck to look up over your shoulder you freeze. It's him. The heat from his chest warms you and you're enveloped in his smell of fuel, beer, and cologne that is in no way unpleasant. "How about I buy you a drink as compensation for losing?” his smooth voice asks. That should make you mad because technically you didn't lose, Carol sabotaged you, but it's hard to conjure those feelings when your insides feel as if they’re liquefying. Instead, you nod dumbly before turning to your friends.

"Hey, is it okay-," you start but Yelena won't let you finish. She just waves her hand in a shooing motion and the others don't acknowledge your supposed question. "I'm just going to put this back," you gesture with your cue, but another, equally tall biker comes up beside the man with the blue eyes.

His hair is shorter and blond, cute, but not as drop-dead gorgeous as the other. "I'll take it, play your last rounds," he smiles and grabs the stick, before making his way to your friends.

With a grin, the man with the blue eyes nods his head towards the bar and you follow the short distance. When both of you have taken your places on the high chairs he asks, "What do you want?" "Just a beer's fine," you shrug. He orders from the bartender and then turns to you. "I'm Bucky," he says. After introducing yourself you ask, "Is that your real name or is it your ‘biker-name’?". He chuckles and puts a strand of long hair behind his ear. "It's actually a nickname I've had since I was a kid. And Steve," he gestures to the big guy who took your pool cue earlier, "Has always called me that. My legal name is James."

"But you prefer Bucky?" He shrugs, "I don't think anyone has called me James in a long time." "It's a pretty name, but Bucky sounds cooler. Way more biker!” you smile. That makes him laugh and you find yourself beaming. There is just something about him. He looks tough on the outside but you have a feeling he's a big teddy bear on the inside, and hearing him laugh makes you giddy.

The beer gets lower in your glass as you talk. He buys you another one but is still sipping on his first. "Not a fan of beer?" you ask. "I want to be able to get home in one piece later, and getting drunk is a recipe for crashing." "Have you ever crashed?" "Multiple times, but never anything severe." "What kind of bike do you have?" "I can show you." There is a glint in his eyes that makes your gut clench most pleasantly. "I would love to!"

When you hop off the stool, you lose your balance for a second. Yelena insisted that you all wear heels but you're not used to it in any way. Luckily, Bucky is quick with his arm, putting it around your waist and pulling you into his side to steady you. "Woah there, lightweight. I didn’t know anyone could get drunk off that beer." "I'm not drunk, it's these damn shoes! lost my balance!" "I better keep my arm around you, just to be safe." His smile is warm and playful and it’s as if his touch is burning your skin through your clothes. Your heart speeds up, fingertips tingle. "Yeah, just to be safe," you answer in a low voice.

His eyelids lower, blue eyes turning stormy. Electricity crackles between you and you wonder what he tastes like. But making out in the middle of a bar feels weird so instead you say, "About the bike?" "Yeah, the bike,” he murmurs and it takes a second or two for him to start moving again.

Before you leave, you stop by the pool table where the majority of the bikers have joined the small party. Someone has taken the tiara Yelena previously wore and put it on Steve's head. Another guy is wearing her sash. She's telling them about her wife-to-be, showing them all the cute pictures she's taken of Kate. As you pass Natasha you tell her, "We're just going to look at his bike." She eyes you up and down. "If that is some biker-slang for sex, just say that instead."

Bucky howls with laughter as you punch her in the arm, telling her to fuck off. She brushes her skin. "I think there are mosquitoes in here."

Before you can give her a piece of your mind Bucky drags you outside. It’s a warm evening and you’re glad because you only have a thin blouse on. "You're not a mosquito,” he comforts. “You’re too pretty for that, more like a fairy covered in all that glitter.” Your tummy loops when he calls you pretty and you look down at yourself. At some point, Carol had produced a can of glitter spray to drench all of you in. "I think there is a joke in there about sucking, but I can't find it right now,” you tell him instead, which makes him chuckle before stopping in front of a huge black bike. It's one of those chopper-esc things, not the sporty kind, and in the light from the streets, it looks menacing. "That's a monster," you point out. "It's not that bad." "It's standing still and I'm scared of it."

Bucky moves you from his side to the front of him, making you take a few steps closer. Then he grabs your wrist and puts your hand on the handlebar. "See, it's not so scary," his voice is low, right by your ear, making you shiver. "Yeah, it is," you mumble. "Promise I won't let anything happen to you if you hop on." You look up at him over your shoulder. "You underestimate how clumsy I am. What if it tips over?" "It won't," "Just, don't kill me when it happens, okay?"

What he says next is so faint you almost don't catch it. "There are other punishments I would rather use." Somehow your brain filters that into the purely sexual category and another shiver runs through you. Yeah, Bucky seems like the person who would administer sexual punishments. That is something you've never explored before but it still sends a tingle of excitement down your stomach.

Ignoring it for the moment you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on the seat. The tank in front of you has a huge red star on it and you trace it with your fingertips. "How does that feel?" he smiles down at you. The shadows make him look as menacing as his bike but he feels a lot less scary.

"Okay, I guess," you shrug and try to reach the handlebars but your arms are too short to properly grip them. "How do you even…?" "Scoot over and I'll show you." He gestures and you slide backward before he gets on like he's never done anything else in his life, gripping the handles without a problem.

"Should I start it up?" he asks over his shoulder. You shake your head vigorously, "Absolutely not!" He gets off the bike, just to straddle it the opposite way so he's turned towards you. First, he grabs your legs and puts them over his thighs, then pulls you closer with his hands on your waist. Your breathing gets shallow being so close to him. "Then how am I supposed to take you home, Fairy?" You grab a hold of his vest to steady yourself. "You wanna take me home?" "It's all I've been thinking about since I walked through the door tonight," he confesses.

"Oh," you just answer. His hands are warm through your blouse, the blue eyes piercing despite the low light. There is no denying you want him, you do, but going off with a stranger makes you weary. "Come on Fairy, tell me you don't feel the same?" "Yeah I do, it's just that I don't know you." You brush your hands inside his vest, letting them travel over the broad expanse of his chest, feeling him through his t-shirt.

For a moment you sit quietly and touch each other. Your brain is going a million miles per hour, weighing pros and cons. Bucky doesn’t seem like a psychopath who will rape and murder you. But on the other hand, he might as well be. "Then how about this," he suggests. "I go back in there and let your friends take a pic of me, leave my address and if you don't check in by midnight they can call the police." Your mouth hangs open. "You want to fuck me that bad?"

"I don't think you understand," he seems a little frustrated and his hands harden at your waist even though his voice stays soft. Leaning down, brushing his nose against yours, he explains, "Not only are you the sexiest thing I've seen in a long while. You're gorgeous. On top of that, I've learned in the last hour, that you’re funny and sweet too. So indulge me, let me take you home and show you just how good I can make you feel."

Your mouth is dry as a desert. No one has ever spoken to you like that before. No one has in such a short time made you feel so desired. Finally, you decide to go with your gut, hoping it’s not going to turn out to be a terrible mistake. "Okay, Bucky," you nod.

With a wicked smile, he gets off the bike and walks back to the bar. You take out your phone and quickly write in the group chat, telling them your location is on and sending them a picture of his bike with the red star showing.

It takes longer for Bucky to come back than you thought it would and when he emerges, you notice his vest is gone. "What happened?" "That red-headed friend of yours gave me a stern talking to, and made me leave the vest." "Why?" "She said it seemed important to me, and you're important to her, and if I do something to hurt you she's going to do unspeakable things to the vest and my reputation."

That makes you laugh. Natasha may antagonize you on a regular basis but she's also fiercely protective.

He snatches a helmet from the bike beside and turns to you. "Ever ridden one of these before?" "Not a motorcycle! I've ridden a regular bike." He huffs at that before listing off some do's and don'ts. "But the most important thing," he finishes. "Is that you hold on to me really tight." He smirks, before putting the helmet on your head, tightening the straps. It's a little big but you don't think it will come off.

Bucky gets on and the bike roars to life. Telling you to hold on to him was unnecessary because the moment the sound and feel of the bike hits you, your arms go around his waist and grab onto his clothes. Your heart is hammering and you feel a nervous sweat run down your neck. He never puts a helmet on and before you know it you're flying down the streets.

You have no idea how much time passes or where you are in the city since you’re devoting all of your concentration to hanging onto him. Finally, he slows down and drives into a parking garage attached to a high-rise building. Cars stand in neat rows and he parks in an unoccupied space before getting off.

With shaky fingers, you try to open the clasp to the helmet but fail three times before he notices and does it for you. "That bad huh?" he asks as he hangs the helmet on the handle. "I don't think I can stand," you confess.

As you get off, Bucky holds you to his chest until the ground stabilizes around you. You take the opportunity to study him. There are crow's feet at the edge of his eyes that tell you he smiles a lot. Above the cleft in his chin is his full lips that you've been eyeing for most of the evening. They look soft and delicious.

Your hands travel up and braid behind his neck. Experimentally you pull, seeing if he'll follow, and he does. "I think a kiss would also help," you hint. "Who am I to say no," he hums in response.

As he bends down, you rise up and your lips meet halfway. At first, it's slow but you're both a bit desperate and it quickly gets heavier. Your finger loosens the hair tie and tangles in his long strands, pulling lightly, drawing a pleased sound from his throat. In response, he cups your ass and lifts you off the ground to pull you closer. A surprised moan leaves you before you wrap your legs around his waist and he starts walking. He breaks away just so he can find the button for the elevator, then he is right back to your lips.

Inside, he presses you up against the wall hard enough to get his hands free. They slide up your sides, in under your blouse, making you sigh into his mouth from contentment, fisting the hair at the nape of his neck harder, pressing him closer. Too quickly, but also not quickly enough the elevator dings with the announcement of its arrival on the floor.

Once again Bucky carries you to the door where he fumbles with the keys before getting it open, never breaking from your mouth.

You don't see much of the inside of his apartment because as soon as the door shuts you start pulling at his clothes, wanting them off, to feel his warm skin. The sheets are blue and the bed soft you notice as he places you down on it. With pants and blouse off, the next thing that goes is your bra and he stops the feverish kissing long enough to take you in.

"Fairy," his voice is grovely. "Fuck!" Is all he says before he gently cups your tits, thumbing your nipples and drawing small pleased sounds from you. The fabric of your panties is soaked and every pass over your sensitive peaks shoots another bolt of desire through you.

"Bucky! Can you… please!" you try. It's hard to form words. In an alarmingly short period, he’s got you unbelievably horny and all you can think about is that you need to be touched, to come!

Still playing with your tits he asks, "What do you need Fairy? Tell me what I can do for you." "Take the rest of your damn clothes off and eat me out, or finger me, or something! I'm dying!" "We don't want that now do we?" he smirks and bends down enough to give each of your nipples a kiss. When the last of his clothes go, you suck in a breath because he looks fucking divine. Just like his arms and fingers, his chest and abdomen are covered in tattoos but it doesn't hide the powerful muscles underneath. “You are… wow…” you tell him and swallow roughly. Before you have time to inspect every swirl of ink, he climbs onto the bed and starts up where he left off. His mouth trailing down from your sternum, over your stomach, dragging his teeth tantalizingly over your hip bones, kissing your mound before carefully ridding you of your underwear.

He spreads you with his thumbs, moaning when he sees how wet you are. "Fairy, I think your cunt likes me," he teases. You're about to grip his head and shove his mouth to where you need it, telling him to shut up and get going, but luckily he doesn’t waste any more time.

The cry of pleasure that leaves your mouth is probably heard by the neighbors. Feeling him work you over sends your head spinning and your body twitching. With his tongue and his lips, he tries different pressures and speeds just to see what makes you moan the loudest. "Fingers, Bucky! I need your fingers!" you tell him and seconds later two thick digits start pumping in and out of you, crooking every now and then to find the right spot.

It builds inside you in no time, the dual sensation making it brilliant. But what you feel as you near the edge makes you put your hands against his forehead, pushing and saying, "Wait! Bucky, stop." Hastily he pulls away, fingers leaving you, eyes wide and confused as he sits up. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"

Panting heavily, trying to get your quivering body under control, you wave your hand. "No, no, it's fine! Don't worry!" Then he dares touch you again. His hands slide up and down your inner thighs in a soothing gesture. "Tell me what's wrong. Do you want to stop?" His voice is as soft as his gaze on you.

"God no, I don't want to stop! It's just, ehm…" you feel the embarrassment in your chest, heating you from the inside in an unpleasant way. "Please tell me, Fairy. We can do whatever you want." You try to explain in as roundabout terms as possible, "Sometimes… when it's really good… I can't control what my body does." If you had been smart you would have had this conversation before getting into bed with him, but you weren’t, so now you have to face the unpleasant consequences. "Fairy, what are you saying?" Burying your face in your hands you continue, "Sometimes it's only a little and sometimes it's a lot, but I don't know beforehand so it's better to stop and let me calm down a bit."

There is a beat of silence before his command cuts through it, "Look at me." Slowly you lower your hands. "Were you about to squirt?" he asks point blank. "I hate that word,” you mutter. "Tell me, Fairy," he commands again. "Yes, I'm sorry. I can't control it, it happens!” You’ve had this conversation before, usually after it was already too late and you know how it goes. Luckily you remembered to stop. You’re not sure you would have been able to live it down if it had happened with Bucky. But he does not look happy at all, his eyes near slits, and you reach out towards him, letting your palms graze along his arms to placate him. “I've calmed down now so we can keep going if you want. It rarely happens when I have sex so we can just do that!"

"No," his cold tone answers and your stomach drops. Before you can crawl off the bed to go home he says, "Turn over, ass up, head down." "Bucky, I can just…" You aim your thumb at the door but he doesn’t acknowledge the gesture, only telling you, "Do it, Fairy."

Confused but also curious you turn over on your stomach and bring your knees in under you, doing as you’re told. His hands start making slow steady circles over your ass, caressing and squeezing. "Have you ever been spanked before?" "What?" "You heard me. Have you?" "No… not really…" "So, because you robbed me of your fountain orgasm I'm going to spank you as a punishment. And then you're going to turn over again and I'm going to make you come until you've ruined the sheets. Are we clear, Fairy?" "But, I just thought-,” you begin but he interrupts you. "Whatever someone has said to you before to make you think that you don't deserve to come as hard as you can, makes me so fucking angry. I want all of your pleasure, Fairy, and you're going to give it to me. Understand?" Once again you’re surprised by his words and you give yourself the benefit of the doubt that he knows what he’s in for. With a soft voice, you tell him, "I understand Bucky," and arch your back, showing him that you're ready. "Fucking beautiful."

The sting to your ass is more pleasure than pain. With every impact from his hand, a jolt goes to your cunt. If you were wet before, you're dripping by the time he declares you're done. Each of your ass cheeks gets a kiss before he pushes at your hip and makes you lay on your back again, the sheets cool against your heated skin. He crawls up over you, giving you a long hard kiss. "How are you feeling?" "Very horny," you confess. "Ready to come for me?" "Absolutely, Bucky!"

In no time, he’s back between your legs and starts as he did before, licking and tasting you until you're begging for his fingers. The combination of your slick and his saliva have wetness running down your ass, making a puddle below you. Since you were already so close before you made him stop, it doesn't take long for the coil to wind tight in your lower belly. It’s the same feeling as earlier and you warn him before it happens. "Bucky, I'm going to come!" For a second he lets up to tell you, "Please do, Fairy, I want every last drop."

Maybe it's because of the unplanned edging together with the spanking or it's because Bucky knows exactly what to do with his hands and mouth, or everything combined, but when you arch off the bed with a mind-boggling orgasm, the sides of your vision go hazy and your legs spasm hard. You think you hear Bucky moan but the blood is rushing in your ears.

Panting worse than before you sink into the bed, body lax with the release and you look down to see the unmistakable sign of your climax. Not only are your thighs wet, but the sheets are a shade or two darker, and Bucky is wiping his smirking face with the edge of the cover.

Biting your lip you try to not feel too much shame, but it's hard after years of being told it's disgusting. Although he said he wanted it, maybe he didn't know what he signed up for. "Sorry," you finally say. "Don't ever say that to me again after coming, Fairy. That was fucking amazing!" "Everything is wet." "Everything can be washed," he reassures you. Then he gets off the bed to rummage through a drawer, pulling out a condom. When he turns to you he says, "Now be a good little Fairy and grab your legs for me so I can fuck that sweet cunt of yours."

You watch with anticipation as he rolls the condom on before you pull your legs up, holding behind your knees. As he gets on the bed again, he takes a second to swipe his cock-head through your slick, lubing himself up, but you're impatient, whining and wiggling to get him inside.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, you'll get my cock," he’s trying to scold you but it gets lost when he can’t take his eyes away from the view of pressing inside you. The sensation being carried from your cunt throughout your body as he steadily fills you more and more makes your breathing labored and your hands clamping down on your legs harder. "God, that's a pretty fucking pussy taking all my cock," his voice is so low it travels through you like a baseline. Slowly he pulls out and presses in again, mesmerized by what he's seeing, but for you, it's just pure torture.

"Bucky, I need more!" you beg. His answer isn't to fuck you harder or faster like you want. Instead, he spits on your exposed cunt, making you gasp before he presses a thumb against your oversensitive clit. A loud moan rips from your throat and your legs shake. “You get so fucking tight when I touch your clit, feels amazing!”

He keeps the thumb still as he fucks you. Slow, deep thrusts that keep you right on the edge of coming. If he just moved his finger and sped up a little you'd be flying again. But he seems determined to drag this out, his groans and moans are telling you that he's enjoying it very much. Bucky's eyes keep shifting from your face to your chest, down to where you're connected, watching his cock spear you.

Suddenly he removes his hand, but before you can sound a word of protest he's leaned forward, using both his hands to grab the back of your neck. He bends your head down and lifts you from the bed a little until there is no mistake what he wants you to see. “Watch your pussy take all of my cock, Fairy. It belongs there. As if it was fucking made for me. Sucking me right back in every time I pull out.”

Briefly, he lets you have what you need, fucking you faster, slamming into you, making you feel him deep as you watch your body take him over and over again. You understand why he can’t stop watching. It’s filthy at the same time it turns you on more. In desperation, you reach down to touch yourself but he lets you go, making you bounce against the bed slightly before batting your hands away. Then he pulls out and you cry in protest. “No! Bucky! I wanna come! Fuck me!”

Sweat is glistening on his naked chest and his cock stands out from his body, the condom shiny with your slick, but he doesn't acknowledge your plea, only tells you. “On your stomach. Grab a pillow and put it under your hips.”

The pulse in your cunt is uncomfortable, almost unbearable, and you glare at him, having half a mind to just finish off yourself and get some god damned relief. Bucky raises an eyebrow in question as to why you're not doing as he says. With an irritated huff, you turn over, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it under your hips, folding your arms and laying your head on them with a pout, clearly showing him that you're not happy.

The swat to your ass makes you yelp since it's much harder than when he spanked you earlier. It earns him a glare over your shoulder. “Don't be bratty, Fairy,” he reprimands you before his knees push your legs wider and he presses into you swiftly again. He pulls your hands out from under your head, lacing your fingers together before laying down on top of you, kissing your shoulder.

“We were having such a good time,” he says as he starts fucking you again. The new angle makes his dick press right against your g-spot, forcing a whine out of you. Even though you don’t want to give him the satisfaction you can’t help to push your ass against him. With all his weight on top of you, it's hard to move, but your body craves him. “But now you're mad at me, Fairy. What can I do to make it better?” Rutting harder he sends white-hot pleasure through you. You've never been able to come from penetration alone, but the way your body feels makes you think that this might do the trick. “I want to come!” you almost sob.

“Yeah, I know Fairy. Don't forget that I can feel every little pulse of your cunt around me.” There is no comfort to be found in his tone. “Why are you being so mean?!” you cry. That makes him laugh into your neck. “Oh little Fairy. This is not me being mean. This is me wanting to give you the pleasure of your life.” He nips at your skin. “We could have been done a long while ago. You feel so good I could come any second. But I don't want that.” His hands squeeze yours. “I want you to always remember this. No matter what happens after, it'll be seared into your memories. Every time you're with someone else you'll wish it was me fucking you.”

The little show of possession makes your heart beat double and you're about to tell him you don't want to be with anyone else ever again, but that's crazy, so instead you respond with what you hope will get you what you need. “Then fuck me like you fucking mean it because right now your performance is mediocre at its best,” trying and failing to sound unaffected. This time his laugh is tinged with something cruel and you have a second to wonder what the hell you've let loose before he raises himself, pressing your joint hands into the bed to keep his weight on, and then starting to fuck you in earnest.

A sharp cry is forced from you by the brutal thrusts. The angle is much better and your body starts burning from the inside. Screams, moans, and pleas all tumble together from your lips.

Every time you think you might be close to coming he slows down, just enough to keep you from reaching any kind of high. That makes you livid and when you curse him out, he releases your hands, instead placing them between your shoulder blades, pressing you down hard into the mattress, before starting up again.

“I wish I had a vibrator to shove between your legs. Put it on the highest setting and force you to come over and over again. You'd be begging me to stop instead, trying to run away, crying. I bet you'd look real pretty sobbing.”

Your cunt clenches hard at the mental image he's presenting. You can't decide if that would be worse than this. Your body feels like a livewire, ready to release all the pent-up pleasure that has accumulated in your body. All it needs is the right touch at the right place.

One moment you’re on your front, and in the next, he’s flipped you over on your back again. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be surprised because he’s instantly inside you, your legs over his shoulders and his hands gripping your head, kissing you fiercely. It’s teeth and tongue and lips in a jumble. With his pelvis pressing against your clit it drives you fast towards the edge. “I need to see your face when you lose it on my cock,” he rests his forehead on yours. Despite his words, he slows down when it starts to climb inside you. You groan, almost in pain, the edging is making you feel crazy. Over and over again he refuses you the release you’re so desperately after.

A little too late you realize that maybe there is something you can do, instead of begging, that will get you what you want. “I wish you could come inside me,” you whisper, looking right into his eyes, clenching around him when you speak. When he groans you know you’ve hit the spot, but you press down the grin. “You want to fill me up with your cum, Bucky?” you ask before you give him a ruthless kiss. “Yeah fuck, Fairy!” He thrusts hard in response. “Better fuck me good then, and maybe I'll come back and let you do it.”

“Oh Fairy,” he growls and moves one hand to the headboard, gripping it, the other grasping the base of your skull. “You’ll come back. I'll have you outside my door, on your knees, begging for my cock.” The pace he sets has the bed creaking disconcertingly. “Maybe I'll even let you in, crawling on all fours.”

As his voice paints the picture of your submission, the climax mounts in you. Bucking up against him, you try to get more when he’s already giving you everything. All thoughts about teasing him are forgotten with the immediate pleasure. “Don't stop-don't stop-don't stop!” You chant. “Never, Fairy. Come on my dick. Let me see you.”

Your vision goes spotty when the orgasm hits, your throat screaming his name, body convulsing in a way you’ve never experienced before. Afterward, your body goes limp, twitching with aftershocks as Bucky seeks his own release. Maybe you can't have him come inside you, but you want something more. “Come on me,” you tell him in a hoarse voice. “Fuck! What?” He’s so beautiful above you with his hair hanging down in his face, sweat making his skin shine, the clear desperation and shock on his face. “Paint me with your cum, please Bucky,” you say once again. “God dammit, Fairy! Fuck!” He sits back and rips the condom off. A few swipes are all it takes and he's shooting ropes up your stomach and chest, blue eyes wide and staring as if he can't believe it, moaning your name loudly in his deep voice. It makes you grin like the Cheshire cat, knowing you can affect him just as much as he does you.

He sags down beside you, panting heavily. You never want to move but as the sweat and cum start to cool, your heart calms down, and you start feeling something else.

“Oh, I think I…” you mumble, looking down between your legs. “When I came I…” “You squirted?” Bucky chuckles at your unwillingness to say the word. “Yeah. That usually doesn't happen with sex.” “It did. You almost pushed my dick out when you came too.” He kisses your shoulder and up your neck. You turn your head to meet him in a soft kiss. “You also called me James,” he smiles against your lips.

You stare at him in horror as your mind catches up with what he’s saying and you realize you did in fact do that. “Oh god,” You wish you could sink through the bed and continue into the earth's core. “I don't know why I did that!” He kisses you again. “Don't worry, I liked it,” he reassures you.

After some more kissing, the various bodily fluids on your skin compel you to get up and head for the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you're done you study yourself for a moment in the mirror, thinking that you’ll see something different after you've just been fucked within an inch of your sanity, but you look just the same.

When you get back to the bedroom, Bucky has stripped the bed and is in the process of putting new sheets on. After you help him, you start looking for your clothes, thinking you'll take a cab home, but Bucky stops you by pulling you into a warm embrace. “You need to text your friends. I prefer my vest and my reputation untarnished.”

With a laugh you move to find your phone and when you do you notice you have a bunch of notifications. It's well past midnight.

It seems as if he doesn't want to be far away from you because as you’re writing a reply, he comes up behind you and hugs you close. Suddenly you have a better idea and stop what you’re doing, instead, you take a picture of the two of you, aiming it to just show your bare upper shoulders and your faces. The flash goes off in the dim room and when you see the picture you giggle. What you couldn't tell in the mirror, the picture clearly shows. Two fucked out people. You send it with just a short line about being alive.

When you're done you turn in Bucky's arms. “Satisfied?” “In more ways than one,” he smiles cheekily before kissing you. After a lazy make-out session standing naked in the middle of the room, you begin to pull away. “I need to-” “Stay,” Bucky finishes for you, tightening his arms. “Stay?” “Yeah, I'll make you breakfast tomorrow and then take you home.” “You don't have to,” you tell him. “Indulge me?” “Fine,” you sigh as if it’s a great burden. “I guess I could stay, but if you don't cuddle me, I'm leaving.” He pinches your ass in reprimand, making you jump. “You have no idea what you've signed up for, Fairy.”

True to his words Bucky hardly lets you out of bed, even in the morning when you need to use the bathroom. When you come back he holds up the cover and pats the mattress. As soon as you're beside him he pulls you in closer, putting his face in the crook of your neck and mouthing at your skin. A pleasurable sigh leaves you as you snuggle in closer to his warm body. Although the both of you were naked together the night before you never had time to explore his body, so now you let your hands roam everywhere they can reach.

Bucky lets his own hands travel over your skin, but those touches don’t stay innocent long and soon his erection is pressed into your stomach. Taking pity on him you spit in your palm and grab him, making him hiss at the contact before you lazily start pumping him. When he tries to reach between your legs you push his hand away. “No, let me take care of you,” you say sternly. “Whatever you say, Fairy,” he groans and thrusts into your palm.

There is no finesse to it all, just a quick morning hand job. He comes between your bodies, dirtying the sheets. When you see his eyelids starting to close again you poke him and they fly open. “You promised me breakfast!” “You just missed it,” he winks. In response, you roll your eyes before getting up. “Men!”

Instead of pulling on your jeans and the blouse drenched in glitter from the night before you snag the t-shirt he was wearing and find your discarded panties. The t-shirt barely covers your ass but at least you're semi-dressed as you go out into the kitchen to find something to eat.

Muttering under his breath about you being a stubborn woman he follows you in sweatpants and a fresh henly. Before you can find the coffee he hauls you up and puts you on the kitchen island, boxing you in with his arms on either side, lowering himself to glare at you. “Instead of opening every cupboard in the whole damn kitchen, tell me what you want and I'll make it.” “Coffee, with milk and sugar.” “And to eat?” “What do you usually make for the women you bring home?” you tease.

That makes him rise to his full height, looking down at you, and crossing his arms. “You think I have a habit of bringing women home and fucking them like I did you last night?” “You didn't get that good by theorizing,” you point out. “There hasn't been anyone, in a long time, Fairy,” his voice is suddenly soft as he cups your cheeks. You have another teasing comment on your lips but think better of it when you see his guarded look.

Instead, you put your arms around his waist and pull him in between your legs, resting your chin against his sternum to look up at him. “Then you make me whatever you want. But I don't like fish.” With a smile, he asks, “How about scones?” “Sounds perfect.”

When you’re done with breakfast he puts you on the table, insisting that he needs dessert and showing a much gentler side than the night before as he strums your body until you tell him you can't come anymore. Then he carries you to the couch and puts on a random channel. Together you watch reruns until you slide down his body to give him some of his own medicine. No matter how much he begs, you take your sweet time tasting him and when he comes it’s with a roar of your name. After some more cuddles and a nap, you convince him that you actually need to go home.

Just as you're about to head out there is a knock on the door and Bucky opens it to find Steve outside, holding his vest. Earlier he explained that Steve lives a few apartments down the hall. “I was told to give this to you.” Bucky takes it and inspects it quickly before hanging it up. To you, it seems untarnished.

“Hope Nat didn't give you too hard a time,” you smile. Assuming they'd stayed late at the bar and when she'd seen your text she'd given it to Steve. His eyes quickly flick away and there is a blush on his cheek. “No, no, it was fine.” You narrow your eyes and study him, noticing a small red bite mark on his neck. “Oh my god!” you exclaim and start laughing. Steve blushes even more. Bucky looks confused between the two of you. “What?” In a very loud whisper, you tell him, “I think Nat is at Steve's place.” Bucky's eyes glimmer with mirth and he looks at him. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Steve waves and heads back down the hall. Just as he pulls the door open you yell. “Tell her I said hi!”

Fortunately, Bucky also has a car, and as he drives you home, he keeps his hand on your thigh the entire time. Outside your apartment, he turns to you. “I want to see you again,” he says. “Okay.” You want that too. So much! “When?” “Tomorrow ideally but if that doesn't work, how about a date on Friday?” You could do tomorrow but you feel yourself already falling for him. Some distance would do you good, so you say, “Friday sounds great! Give me your phone.” You type in your number and save it under the fairy emoji before sending yourself a text. Then you save him under a motorcycle emoji.

Before you can get out he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. “Now go before I kidnap you and keep you warm in my bed all week.” “Don't tempt me with a good time,” you wink and give him one last peck before getting out. In an act of pure self-preservation, you don't look back.

After a long shower, and checking your phone a million times throughout the evening to see if he’s texted, you come to the realization that you will never make it to Friday. You: [If I told you that I’ve changed my mind and want to see you tomorrow, would that make me seem desperate?] The response is quick. Bucky: {No more than I feel right now. I’ll pick you up after work. When do you get off?} Refusing to let an opportunity like that go to waste, you reply. [Preferably quicker than last night. I’m not sure I’m a fan of edging ;)] {Fairy, don’t make me spank you again. Off of work.} [I’ve told you not to tempt me with a good time ;) I get off at four]

[mirrorball-leclerc]

track six - i can still make the whole place shimmer

series masterlist

JAPAN 2023

QATAR 2023

ines_alonso and charles_leclerc posted to close friends

so proud of you oscarpiastri, sucks that i can't be there with you the only way to celebrate a third championship and a maiden sprint win. this can only go wrong from here monopoly has been cancelled after someone nearly broke the table when he got beat

CHARLES' BIRTHDAY

ines_alonso and oscarpiastri posted new stories

he actually liked this cake, don't listen to whatever oscar has to say birthday boy 🥳🩷 an artist at work...i actually don't know what's she's trying to make

oscarpiastri and ines_alonso posted new stories

inés said we were on a time crunch, now i've lost her inside a flower shop and she's not answering her phone. send help. sos. birthday boy seems to have something devious planned second birthday cake was a success!!!

liked by charles_leclerc, isahernaez, pedri and others

ines_alonso feliz cumpleaños amorcito!! here's to spending more by your side (with osc of course) for many more years 🩷🎉

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charles_leclerc oh mon soleil, i might start crying again. please don't do this to me.

oscarpiastri you'll cry regardless charlie charles_leclerc stop being mean to me, it's my birthday oscarpiastri i got you a cake, that's enough user01 their love language is bullying each other

user02 had to sneak oscar in there somehow

user03 inés loves both her boys. i'm convinced she will never shut up about them user02 i fear you may be right bestie

oscarpiastri happy birthday booger 🧡

charles_leclerc thank you stinker ❤️ pedri i will never understand how this dynamic works arthur_leclerc mate it's been years and i still don't understand it. half the time i'm convinced they hate each other. oscarpiastri it's our love language arthur, leave us alone.

isahernaez feliz cumple charlie 🎉

charles_leclerc gracias isa 😊 user04 brother lost even his ex-girlfriend in the divorce to charles user05 not only is he not winning races but he's also not winning life, shit must suck for him. user06 he just became the only non redbull winner of the entire season, put some respect on his name louieee bitch won the race at the sacrifice of his own teammate, we'll put respect on his name when he fucking earns it. user07 besides this post is about charles, not his fucking whiny ass teammate

user08 i want to know what the product of that picture charles was taking in slide 2

user09 he's the embodiment of that proud boyfriend meme user10 he's just a silly little goofy guy

fernandoalo_oficial feliz cumpleaños to that french guy or whatever

charles_leclerc you sent me an entire paragraph telling me happy birthday this morning you're not fooling anyone fernandoalo_oficial that was supposed to be a secret tonto charles_leclerc oops

jensonbutton HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHARLES!! 🎉🎉 YOU'RE SO OLD NOW!!

charles_leclerc THANK YOU OLD MAN!! user11 the difference between fernando and jenson's comments is so fucking funny to me

maxverstappen1 drinks are on the birthday boy this weekend

charles_leclerc you people are animals when you drink. i should be getting free drinks not the other way around alex_albon well for my birthday i was forced to pay, so you should have to pay this weekend charles_leclerc this a hate crime against me

user12 i can't believe charles is 26, it feels like just yesterday he was starting out as a rookie at sauber

user13 STOP! YOU'RE MAKING ME FEEL OLD!! user12 your bio says you're 16? how the fuck does that make you feel old?? user13 IT JUST DOES OKAY?! DON'T QUESTION ME!

patriciooward FELIZ CUMPLE CABRON!!

charles_leclerc GRACIAS PATITO!! user14 i've seen enough scuderriaferrari get this guy into your car as carlos' replacement. he speaks spanish too user15 and charles actually likes this one

ximena.gomez feliz cumpleaños charlie!!

charles_leclerc gracias ximena! inés said to ask you about the thing ximena.gomez the answer is still no charles_leclerc one chance, just one chance that's all she asks

TEXAS 2023

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, francesca.cgomes and others

ines_alonso there's no weekend like austin gp weekend (this message was paid for by daniel ricciardo) (p.s. please wear your fucking boots right. the jeans go on the outside not tucked inside the boots)

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francesca.cgomes you know what they say, save horse ride a cowgirl

ines_alonso yeehaw!! charles_leclerc please stop flirting with her oscarpiastri you're never beating the allegations ines_alonso WHAT ALLEGATIONS?? francesca.cgomes that the boys are a cover up for our super secret romance. ines_alonso oh that, no, that is true pierregasly STOP THIS MADNESS!!

user16 how i love women

charles_leclerc i feel like this is directed towards me...

ines_alonso that outfit is atrocious and i never want to be in your presence when you wear it. justice for andrea. charles_leclerc OSCAR SAID IT LOOKED GOOD! ines_alsonso OSCAR WEARS T-SHIRTS AND SHORTS AND CALLS IT A DAY, NEVER LISTEN TO HIM maxverstappen1 mate, i'm afraid oscar lied to you oscarpiastri i live to see him make an embarrassment of himself in public. charles_leclerc you're sleeping on the couch when we get home alex_albon that's an upgrade from when your drunk ass made him sleep on a piece of turf on your balcony last year landonorris why the fuck am i never invited to anything? first it was the group bowling and now this party? danielricciardo he-who-shall-not-be-named is your friend louieee because you're a snitch bitch that's why asshole logansargeant in their defense the party was before bowling and no one wants to party with peter pettigrew or lord voldemort user17 the harry potter references i'm dying

user18 so are we supposed to act like you didn't embarrass yourself in front of patrick dempsey?

ines_alonso if we could do that, that would be great thanks user18 oh girl, that's going to haunt you for the rest of your life.

danielricciardo thank you inés i'll be venmoing you $150 later today

ines_alonso pleasure doing business with you mr.ricciardo logansargeant he's actually paying you?? he told me i would get a shoutout on his .jpg account ines_alonso i'm his favorite logan, you should know this logansargeant doesn't mean i should like it

jensonbutton i had a blast this weekend, i enjoyed watching you lose your shit on danica patrick this weekend.

ines_alonso you're ass is such a shitstirrer, i'm telling my dad! jensonbutton he sent me an audio of him cackling for a straight 3 minutes. his ass enjoyed that too user18 this is my favorite daughter and step-father duo user19 jenson button is not a step father but the father that stepped UP

lilymhe the cutest cowgirl ever

ines_alonso oh stop it, i'm actually blushing oscarpiastri unfortunately she is actually blushing. charles is glaring at her from across the room lilymhe damn charles_leclerc i took your girl charles_leclerc fight me lily alex_albon come get your girlfriend she's being irrational again alex_albon mate, we are not having this debate ever again. they're in love, let them be. charles_leclerc you're literally no fucking help

user20 love how inés, kika, and lily flirt with each other to piss off the boys

user21 alex is just resigned to the fact that they do this, charles and pierre absolutely lose it every time, meanwhile oscar just lets them have fun to see charles lose it everytime. user22 inés and oscar live for tormenting charles and i love that user20 it's the difference between gen z's born in the 00's to the 90's is so noticeable between the three of them.

MEXICO 2023

BRAZIL 2023

liked by lilymhe, kellypiquet, patriciooward and others

ines_alonso a little photo dump for the girlies as we head into the final race of the triple header

tagged: charles_leclerc, fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, alex_albon, lilymhe

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patriciooward nano and honey make a reappearance!!

louieee she's kept them hidden from us for too long ines_alonoso they're camera shy

alex_albon i've missed my godchild nano!!

maxverstappen1 that's my godchild albon! ines_alonso ladies, please, you're both nano's god father alex_albon um, i'm more qualified to take nano if a 'tragic' accident were to happen to any of you maxverstappen1 i have two cats alex, you have a fucking farm, we are not doing this. ines_alonso i've made a horrible mistake

charles_leclerc where's the picture of my mexico podium??

oscarpiastri maybe win a race then she'll post you charles_leclerc you won a sprint! not an actual race! oscarpiastri I STILL WON!

arthur_leclerc i see there's no mention of me taking that 6th picture?? where is my credit alonso??

ines_alonso we bought you dinner and yet you still found a way to complain about taking one picture arthur_leclerc you try fourth-wheeling you, dumb, and dumber louieee it's dumb, dumber, and dumbest maxverstappen1 wait but who's who? oscarpiastri charles is clearly dumbest charles_leclerc this is why people think you hate me oscarpiastri haven't you heard, we're the second coming of seb and mark. multi-21 2.0 incoming alex_albon it was very clearly multi-21 (lovers edition) oscar user23 mark is probably shitting himself seeing this comment oscarpiastri i can confirm that

user24 just a pretty girl with her pretty boyfriends

user25 how to get inés alonso to blush 101 ines_alonso wrong! it's how to get three idiots to blush

kellypiquet i see the picture of the broken table didn't make it to the photo dump

ines_alonso we're never playing monopoly again maxverstappen1 if someone hadn't cheated the table would've never broke! georgerussell63 I DIDN'T CHEAT, YOU JUST SUCK! alex_albon YEAH, TELL HIM GEORGE! user26 i feel like we're missing some important lore here pierregasly post championship and sprint win monopoly is great, until someone (max) breaks the table patriciooward don't forget to specify that it's drunk monopoly alex_albon i feel like i would remember if you were there? patriciooward oh, i wasn't there in person but i was there via facetime. all of you were so fucked up that you don't even remember it

user27 i don't know what's more surprising max breaking a table, george cheating (allegedly) at monopoly, or all of them ending up so drunk they don't remember anything besides a broken table??

user28 definitely the broken table. user29 yeah, the drunkenness is expected from them so is george facing cheating allegations in monopoly.

fernandoalo_oficial i did not give my consent to having that picture posted

ines_alonso too bad old man. you snooze, you lose. user30 the world may be calm (not really) but you can count on inés and fernando always being their chaotic selves

logansargeant this is logan sargeant erasure

ines_alonso oh sorry, the whole world must know i bought you a single shot after your point in austin logansargeant well now i feel bad because it came at the expense of lewis... charles_leclerc what about me?! i'm the reason you got the point! logansargeant you said you wouldn't watch hamilton with me again... charles_leclerc fine, we can watch hamilton again logansargeant 😄😄 user31 a duo i didn't know i needed

danielricciardo is that the picture max and i took when you fell asleep?

ines_alonso yes, i'm never leaving my phone unattended with you two maxverstappen1 that's a consequence that comes with flying airmax, deal with it baby alonso louieee BABY ALONSO!!! ines_alonso oh no, that's going to stick isn't it?? estebanocon they've been calling you baby alonso behind your back for years. jensonbutton we've been calling you baby alonso since 2015 ines_alonso oh my god

lilymhe thank you for beautifully capturing my relationship with alex

ines_alonso you're welcome my love 🩷 alex_albon i'm right here lilymhe shhh alex, it's okay, you're my one and only (sometimes) alex_albon WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?! ines_alonso it means that whenever you piss her off she runs to me and kika francesca.cgomes it's true, we kick oscar and charles out of the apartment and force them to spend the night with pierre alex_albon STOP MAKING ME SEEM LIKE A BAD BOYFRIEND! ines_alonso you're a good boyfriend alex, we're just teasing. (got to get ahead of the media)

VEGAS 2023

liked by sabrinacarpenter, louieee, alex_albon and others

ines_alonso a week spent in los angeles and las vegas. met some new friends and hung out with some old friends

tagged: charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter, schecoperez, logansargeant, alex_albon, lilymhe, jensonbutton, joris__trouche

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maxverstappen1 where the fuck am i?

ines_alonso bitch, you won every race this season, let other people have a chance maxverstappen1 YOU HAVE CHECO ON HERE!! schecoperez me odias o qué? maxverstappen1 no, do not put words in my mouth checo!

user32 ariana (sabrina) what are you doing here?

user33 talk about an unexpected crossover user34 the most unexpected friendship to come out of the 2023 season

louieee ooh, we look so cute

ines_alonso yeah we do!! louieee 🩷🎀

charles_leclerc i'm still mad at you...

oscarpiastri maybe you shouldn't go around telling us to call you charles leclerc-verstappen maxverstappen1 well now i'm max leclerc-verstappen redbullracing max, we can't do this again, the rumors just stopped oscarpiastri i know where you live scuderiaferrari here we go again (the rumors never stopped) mclaren oscar, please refrain from threatening fellow drivers user35 they're just so tired of having to pr train oscar user36 we're talking about the kid who willingly admitted he pushed inés off the track when they were karting because they had a bet going on and he didn't want to lose

sabrinacarpenter it was a delight to meet you and sharles

ines_alonso enough to get a nonsense outro?? sabrinacarpenter woah, take me out on a date first ines_alonso name a time and place baby 😏 charles_leclerc i can fight... oscarpiastri i can laugh as you take charles down... sabrinacarpenter oscar's my favorite now charles_leclerc of course he is

jensonbutton WHERE DID YOU GET THAT PICTURE??

ines_alonso it's a screenshot from the sky sports broadcast. it's the face i make whenever i'm forced to work with that woman jensonbutton oh my god ines_alonso it's my favorite f1 meme now

charles_leclerc now that i'm no longer upset, you look beautiful ma belle 🩷

ines_alonso thank you bebe ❤️ user37 he's trying to get back in her good graces guys oscarpiastri ass kisser charles_leclerc YOU WON'T LET ME GET A DOG alex_albon jeez oscar, let the guy get a dog oscarpiastri HE'S THE ONE WHO SAID NO MORE PETS AFTER HONEY!

logansargeant LET'S GO!! I'M OUT OF THE TRENCHES!!

patriciooward FROM THE TRENCHES WE RISE!! user38 now this, this is my favorite duo inés alonso has given us

lilymhe i look great and alex is there

francesca.cgomes she's everything and he's just ken ines_alonso the realest comment here sabrinacarpenter girls who are everything and boyfriends who are just ken pierregasly our job is just car

joris__trouche he did not want to let go of mimi

ines_alonso he genuinely cried when we left charles_leclerc STOP EXPOSING ME!! oscarpiastri you called me sobbing because you were leaving mimi behind maxverstappen1 just get him a dog oscar oscarpiastri he dug his own grave max

user39 the random jenson meme is sending me

user40 the fact that both of them have pulled the same face while working with d*nica user41 they're further proving the buttlonso lovechild allegations because i feel like fernando has also pulled the same face. user39 oh my god you're so right

francesca.cgomes just a pretty girl living her best life

ines_alonso i'm blushing oscarpiastri can confirm she is blushing charles_leclerc i'm so done. user42 free my guy user42 not from the relationship but from his partners (inés) flirting with the girls (kika, lily, sabrina) user43 nah, my guy brought this onto himself by flirting with max verstappen at every single fucking opportunity liked by ines_alonso and oscarpiastri

¡taglist!

@minmira95 // @lesliiieeeee // @vroomvroommuppett // @prongsvault // @justtprachisblog // @scuderiadevils // @cataf1 // @chezmardybum // @formulaal // @lilsiz // @norstappenvibes // @ironspdy // @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica // @niniluvsainz // @matchaverse // @fakeikeastore // @theseus-jpg // @six-call // @81folklore // @emppusofi // @luvsforme // @nichmeddar // @loloekie // @luvpedro // @donttouchthegnote // @nothaqks // @inferiusreggie // @mochimommy2002 // @rach3164 // @clove08 // @clove0 // @lillysbigwilly // @jenxjar // @blupblupfish // @thereadinggremlin05 // @meowiarty // @magical-spit // @camdensreg // @laneyspaulding19 // @ocyeanicc // @yelenasloverrrrr // @percervall // @blushmimi // @spilled-coffee-cup // @greantii // @ietss // @yeanoskrrt // @brakingboundaries

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 // @books-thingys-andstuff // @ale-522 // @aandreea_2005 // @Katness1 // @mgmoore // @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir // @xxx-betty // @ririyulife // @landonorizzz // @moldyshorts1997 // @itstimeforutogo // @yar16 // @em-andemm // @killjoycra // @◇Heart- Trees◇ //@michelleyw81

¡leclerc-s speaks!

unfortunately with the current state of the us, this is my only escape. i don't know why it became so unhinged but i remember people joking about max and charles getting married and this is a fanfic so i thought, why the fuck not?? IT'S ALL JOKES PEOPLE!!

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[saytrrose]

A post that Freakshow Au + Sm-Baby Fans NEED TO HEAR. READ IT.

—————

I cannot stand the people on tumblr in Mushys comments accusing her of so many horrible things. People have been stating that Mushy has been drawing “non-con” and supporting “abuse”. I will not go into too much detail on how it is affecting her and why but it is incredibly overwhelming for her, and she is not comfortable posting for the time being- and you people are making it hard for her to enjoy it anymore.

Mushy is portraying the au and characters how they would canonly work and that does not make her a bad person. The large amount of people trying to say that she has been drawing non-con of the late absolutely SICKENS me. You clearly do not have any understanding for that terminology and should not be throwing it around. Maybe if people paid attention to the au, the lore and how they are characterized you would come to the conclusion that NO ONE WANTS TO BE IN THE FREAKSHOW AU.

If you need a reminder of the definition, The TADC Freakshow Au is an Au where a horrible virus infects the Ai and twists their reality into a horror mindscape. THIS IS NOT CAINE OR ABLES FAULT. Caine and Able ARE AI. They are corrupted by the virus unwillingly and what Able puts Pomni through in the Able-Owned Pomni Au is yes, considered psychological abuse. HOWEVER why in gods name would you assume she supports that shit? Do you people just assume whenever someone draws a death scene they support murder?? or when someone depicts a scene of an animal getting hurt in a fanfic or movie that director/writer supports animal abuse?? Does that seriously go through your head?

EVERYONE in the Freakshow au in under some sort of psychological abuse- HELL in the original show they are. Like did you even watch it? And back to Freakshow, it’s a HORROR AU. People are killed left and right and no one seems to have a problem with that hm? THIS IS FICTION. PEOPLE NEED TO LEARN THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FICTION AND REALITY BECAUSE WHEN YOU DO NOT DO SO YOU HURT PEOPLE IN REAL LIFE. Not the people producing fictional content, YOU.

People are quite literally, harassing Mushy right now and it is heartbreaking to see my friend experience this. If you do not like certain content that Mushy creates, BLOCK her or BLOCK her tags. People asking for her to tag her art with “abuse” makes her highly uncomfortable. If you do not like this, simply take responsibility for your own viewing and stop interacting.

People need to stop assuming that Mushy is also not trying to find comfort in drawing certain topics. You people need to stop assuming that Mushy lives some sort of cheery happy go lucky life. She experiences a lot, she is going through A LOT right now and you people dog piling these accusations onto her is not only just disrespectful as a person in general, but as her follower. It is truly just disappointing to see just how rude people can be when they are supposed to be your biggest supporters.

A tag MIGHT be arranged, something as simple as “Able-Owned Au” and if this is done then block it. It is that easy. It is so so easy and simple to take initiative for yourself and what you see and how you feel about it by limiting it on your own end than going out of your way to make someone feel horrible about themselves.

Mushys blog is HER blog. She can draw whatever she would like to and if anyone has an issue with this you can very kindly, FUCK OFF. The block button exists, use it. The block tags method exists, use it.

Stop harassing creators.

[vifilms]

❝ THE NIGHT WE MET ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

it's here! the first installment of a series i've had the pleasure of creating with emi. thank you to my muse, the wonderfully brilliant @abbyscherry. we've put our blood, tears, and all of our queerness into this. happy to post and get this out there. in the future, there will be many parts to follow! enjoy <3

tags. eighteen+, nsfw themes, sexual innudenos, masc!reader.

it’s typical. the basement fills with smoke in the air, nearly anyone is on something. the anxious feeling ties in her stomach, lacing a hint of restlessness in her nerves, making her more sick than she needed to be. too much, too fucking much. a moment needed to find her own heartbeat. she allows the smell of weed to fill her lungs when she steps in. she personally doesn’t really know anyone. 

except you. she’s too nervous to make any type of introduction. you’re not really friends. no. abby just knows of them and she’s almost positive you don’t know of her. these type of parties always occur on friday night in the warmth of spring? never white of her radar. 

but even she has to admit, it seems nice. 

everyone’s smoking, chilling, having a good time and abby comes down there for a hit but everyone is occupying any space to sit. anxiety wraps around her neck, an unsettling feeling, so she decides to head elsewhere until she hears an unfamiliar voice. their voice extends to her like sweet honey she’s dying to taste. “abby, do you wanna hit?” abby nearly starts hyperventilating because you know her name. she nods “i, um, i was just doing to head upstairs. nowhere to sit.” abby shrugs nonchalantly. “if you want to take me up on it, my thighs are available for you, baby.” 

fucking crimson red. abby knows her cheeks resemble the color. she’s done for. one conversation and she’s practically on the floor. you take another hit, the smoke filtering out of your irresistible lips into the foggy air. you slouch further as you open your thighs even more, abby’s gaze flickers to your crotch before meeting your eyes once again. she’s never seen anyone smirk so proudly. you’ve got her right where you want her, hardly having to move an inch to catch anyone’s attention. abby isn’t any different. 

“‘m too big. it’s fine, i’ll just go back up.” you’re frowning. eyebrows raised as if it’s a challenge. 

“well, maybe for some of the other girls who like to hang around with you,” abby’s confused. have you been watching her? oh god. “but certainly not for me. so, why don’t you be a good girl and take a seat.”

with caution, slowly, she’s making her way over to you. each sends a shiver up her spine. what the actual fuck are you doing to her? taking another hit from your blunt as your eyes never leave her. watching as she adorably walks up to you. when she’s close enough, standing right in front of you, you’re whispering softly and only she can hear “sit down on my lap, pretty girl. i got you.” the second she does, it’s heaven on earth. 

“are you sure i’m not too…heavy?” abby questions. she’s always been quite conscious of her size. tall, built, but you don’t seem to mind. “light as a feather, babygirl.” passing for a moment you ask her if she wants a hit. her eyebrows burrow at the small, the rolled blunt in your hands. “just weed baby, but don’t feel pressured.” abby nods in acceptance. you reassure her as you slide one of your huge hands on abby’s thigh, rubbing slowly as the other becomes occupied by holding the blunt up to her lips, and asking every few seconds if she was okay, and if she wants to keep smoking more or stop. 

abby’s hair is down, but it’s in the way of seeing her freckled face so you whisper in abby’s ear “baby, is it okay if i move your hair to the side? wanna see your pretty face when i talk to you.”  abby fumbles over her words like a lovestruck idiot. “yeah, um, you can move it.” she feels their fingertips graze her neck as her blonde locks are pushed to the side. she whines at the loss of your lips pressed against her ear, but oc isn’t going to comment on it. yet. “so much better, baby. now i can appreciate just how beautiful you are.”

abby’s noticing all the glances thrown your way the longer she sits practically on you and gets a sudden confidence boost and leans back into your chest— your hard, defined chest, that she can feel, and her cheeks redden if that’s even possible when you’re arm is tightening around her waist, holding her protectively as your eyes harden, glaring at everyone staring. “want another?” you mumbled, lips grazing the shell of her ear, the hotness of your breath sending shivers down her spine. 

“m’okay for now” she smiled shyly, fingers reaching out to fumble with the ones you had around her, playing with them for a few seconds before looking around, the buzz of smoking going to her head a little. “s’cool”

“hm?” you’re chuckling, moving your head at a better angle to see her. “what’s cool, pretty girl?”

“my head’s fuzzy” abby giggled, eyes fluttering closed as she slumped her head back against your shoulder. “s’good though. feels good. i like it” she smiled.

“yeah?” you chuckled against her ear, hand creeping up her shirt and you rubbed her skin gently. slowly. comfortingly. “s’that good, pretty girl? you want anymore or are you done?”

“don’t think i can handle anymore” she mumbled, tired all of a sudden. 

“s’okay” you smiled, leaning back, her body following and getting more comfortable. her cheeks are flushed again, glad she’s facing away from you so you can’t see how flustered she really is over your touches and words. “want me to get you a drink? beer? water—”

abby lifts her head and her blue eyes sparkle when she’s turning around in your lap to look at you, giving you a good view of her crimson cheeks and you can’t help but smirk down at her. “no, m’comfortable” she pouted.

“s’good, don’t want you to be uncomfortable” you’re talking to her, and abby swears she’s trying to pay attention to what you’re saying, but she’s more focused on your voice itself. At how raspy yet soft it is. how gentle it sounds against her ear. almost whining at the subtle touch of you pushing her hair to the side again, fingertips ghostly brushing against the skin of her neck. sending shivers down her spine. 

she hates the way she can’t control the little sound she let’s out when your nose runs up and down on the side of her neck, smiling smugly against her like you already know what you’re doing to her. “wanna do something?”

her eyebrows furrow, lips forming into a pout as she turns her head to look at you. “do what?”

abby’s cunt clenches around nothing when your face is suddenly so much closer to hers, a smirk forming on your lips at her confusion. “body shots” 

“b-body shots?” she’s stammering, unsure if you’re being serious or not. “with you?”

licking your lips, you finish smoking and chuckle at her, the smoke cloud showing just enough of your face for her to see. “yeah, baby. body shots, with me” 

“now?” 

her face flushes even more red, if that was possible when you chuckled, but nodded nonetheless. “yes now, if you want to, the choice is all yours but i’d like to”

why was she nervous all over again? was it the way you were looking at her? was it the way you were smiling, tucking strands of hair behind her ear? or the way your breath fanned against her lips and it made her want to suddenly to kiss you? it could be any of those reasons, or all.

“um—” she giggled, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, and nodded shyly at you. “yes, please”

with a pat on her side from your hand, abby stumbled off your lap, almost falling over her own feet in the process and couldn’t help but laugh loudly when you’re reaching out, wrapping your arm around her waist that she giggles uncontrollably into your chest. “m’sorry” she manages to get out amongst her small giggle fit.

her giggle had you laughing, holding her tightly in your arms. “are you okay?” you choked out, a few tears ran down your face as you slipped your hand up her shirt, and rubbed her back slowly. helping her calm down in a way you somehow knew would work. “you wanna get some air before?”

“no. i wanna do it with you”

“oh?” you smirked, chuckling under your breath.

“what? no! n-not like that!” abby shook her head with another stammer that made you laugh, lifting her head up, and blinking repeatedly under the lights. “wait that came out mean, i didn’t mean—”

“pretty girl, relax, s’okay”

abby felt her confidence grow as she walked away from the large crowd. your hand resting protectively on her lower back, making sure no one gets too close to her, and your eyes darted around, wanting her to have the best night possible and no get randomly bombarded with other people. 

she chose you to spend her night with. 

you weren’t going to let anyone ruin it. 

interlocking your fingers with hers, you cocked your head to the side, eyeing up the few that were in the kitchen. drinking and giggling away, probably high out their mind and not really sure what was going on anymore. too high to give a shit that you were both standing there, waiting for them to leave. which made a smirk appear on your lips when abby’s giggling again behind you, trying her hardest to stifle the sounds upon your sudden cough, a small hint for them to get out. “thank you” you bowed sarcastically as their quickly rushing out the kitchen, still laughing to themselves. “let’s get this party started, yeah, pretty girl?” you’re grinning, wiggling your eyebrows at her. 

wearing nothing but a white button down, no bra, cleavage on show with the three buttons undone minutes later. laying down on the countertop, abby’s sprinkling salt along their sternum. you smirk at her shaky hand. “you alright babygirl?” your raspy down flooding to her slippery cunt, as if every bone in her body wasn’t already nervous enough. she pauses as she grabs the lime on the countertop, placing it by the shot of tequila. 

mhm….you can’t just let this slide. the pretty girl you met tonight is just so shy, you feel your clit pulsating. the weed from earlier making your head feel lighter at the thought of her tongue licking your body. your tattooed hand with fingers decorated with rings grips her chin forcing abby’s gaze down to you. 

“grab the lime and shove it my mouth. want you to pull it out of mine with yours. how does that sound, babygirl? wanna feel my lips some more?” your drop your hand, letting it drop between her tits, until it reaches the waistband of her jeans. digging your fingers in, letting your skin kiss the skin of the v-line exposed. you pull her towards you even more forcing abby to bend over. her face impossibly close to yours. “be a good girl and stuff my mouth, angel. i’ll return the favor later…if you want.”

pale skin floods with crimson, she bites her lip, unable to say a damn thing. what the fuck is she supposed to say to this? with all her might, she stifles the giggle begging to be released, concentrating on the task at hand. the simple one you’re making incredibly difficult.

“i made it so easy for you. kicked everyone out, jus’ you and me, but you if you don’t want to do this, all you have to do is say the word. i’ll only get my feelings hurt a little bit.” you offer a small smile as abby lets her eyes drift to the salt perfectly laid across your sternum, fuck, you shouldn’t look this good. 

“i do—” abby pauses, collecting her next thoughts together before speaking. “i just, i’ve never done a body shot and you’re um very…” 

“what babygirl? i’m very what?” you’re eating it up now. practically getting off in the way abby fumbles with her words. grasping at straws as you watch her gawk at your toned chest. “stop.” the pretty blonde pouts. 

“you know you’re so—” god, why can’t she just fucking say it? “s’just a lot. you make me nervous. i kept getting looks. especially from the the girl in the white cropped top with your name on it.” 

“if you have something to ask, i’m all ears.” she’s cute, god. not even yours and she’s already jealous. it should turn you off, but it’s the most adorable thing in the world. plus, she’s being so sweet about it too. the itch for a taste if her only increases. “are you single?” you simply nod, letting the words soak in, gauging her reaction. 

“have been for months. just some don’t like getting left behind s’all. everyone with eyes can see i’m taking interest in someone new. i don’t let just anyone sit on me.” your hand grabbing onto her hip, thumb rubbing softly over the bone. “c’mon baby. i know you’re shy but don’t you wanna use me?”

she’s quite for a moment and it’s clear you have to take the lead. as much as the blonde is a bundle of joy, she’s an even brighter ball of shyness. either way, you’re itching to satisfy the craving. 

“do you want me to tell you what to do?” abby perks up at the question, desire pooling in the pit of her stomach. all of this, from the very beginning of her night with you, is completely new. with the roles reversed she feels backed into a corner. for the first time, she knows it can feel good like this. 

abby nods, but it’s not enough. “no babygirl, need to hear you say it. tell me you want to.” even in your haze, you wanted to make sure she was good with everything. abby’s heart doubles over, her heartbeat unable to rest. 

“i do, um, want to.” abby mumbles, scratching the back of her neck, a hint of smile hidden beneath her pink lips, swollen from all the insistent biting. “mhm, alright then. let me talk you through it, yeah?” 

oh. 

“first, you’re gonna lick the salt lined up on my chest. then take the shot like a good girl. and i’m going to put this lime in my mouth and you're going to take it out and get a taste.” you reach for the lime, sinking your teeth into the wedge, giving her a small nod telling her you’re ready. 

now or never, abby supposes. 

for far longer than necessary, she stares at your chest as if she’s inspecting each speckle of salt. the tattoo along your sternum doesn’t really calm any, only heightens them. painfully so, you’re patient. waiting for her to make the first move. 

her grip extended as she bends over, each arm on either side of you. giving her some room operate. the last thing she wants is to be awkward about it even if she feels she already has been. her head leans down, abby’s hair tickling your skin as she looks at you, blue eyes entranced as she flattens her tongue on your skin, licking one bold. 

you’re looking down at her in awe. truly, you half expected her to chicken out but she didn’t. welcoming the salty taste in her mouth, she looks at you with half-lidded eyes, tongue smoothing her lips as if she’s expecting there to be more of you. pushing herself off slightly, she takes the shot of tequila. 

she nearly gags on the burn in invading her throat. not one for drinking typically, and if she does it’s certainly not straight liquor. you find the innocence inviting. abby’s crimson cheeks flaring up in embarrassment, shaking her head violently as she tried to disguise her feelings, making you giggle. 

abby rolls her eyes playfully as she leans over once again, wet lips barely touch your own, before the lime is brought into her mouth, sucking on until the sour acid overflows and drips down her chin and onto your chest. 

but abby doesn’t think about what she will do next. suddenly, it’s a reflex. her tongue is licking up the excess of liquid on your chest, cleaning up the mess she made. a quiet whisper of abs, is let out as you feel her wet tongue. you want to laugh. you almost do, until she’s licking her way up to your neck, kissing your jaw softly before pulling off your body. 

“someone really wants a taste of me.” you tease, watching her blush but the need doesn’t fade. lost in the red of her gaze causing her to nibble on her lips.  you sit up with ease, now eye level with her. “you’re way too high tonight, feel like it’s my fault. i think i’m a bad influence.” you cradle her pretty face in your palm, thumb caressing her soft jaw. 

“was it too much?” abby questions, eyes pleading with acceptance. “no, not at all. if anything, just made me want more.” you talk a beat to look at her. it’s a privilege, getting to witness her up close, wide-eyed as she tries to figure you out. she won’t. not yet at least, not until you let her.  

“next time i can make it too much for you, if that’s what you like.” you tilt your head to the side. “not everyone likes it like that, but some girls do. i’m willing to bet you do.” your fingers reached up to her nose, following down the bridge and the bump in her nose. “you just give me a call and let me know, babygirl. alright?” 

“i don’t—” she paused, suddenly interested in the dribble of lime on your lip, and she can barely stop herself, again, when she’s using the pad of her thumb to wipe it away. the action quickly had you looking at her with wide eyes. not expecting her to do something so bold when the most of the night she’s been too shy to even look at you. but this makes you laugh, and flick your tongue out and catches her thumb. grinning at her abrupt squeak.

“you don’t what, babygirl?”

“have your number” she breathes out, almost breathlessly. her body tingling at the feeling of just your tongue against a part of her body. even if it was just her fucking thumb. it was something. “so i can’t, you know, call you”

nervous and shy abby was one you needed to meet again.

“do you want it?” you’ve got that stupid fucking smirk on your face again. a smirk that abby wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss it off you or smack it off your handsome face. either way, she’s nodding shyly and absentmindedly fumbling with the ring on your thumb. oblivious to your smile at her nervous habit. “words, use them, yeah?”

abby pouts, hating or loving, she hasn’t really decided yet, on how you can make her do things that she wouldn’t normally do. especially shutting her up by using certain words. you cocked your head to the side when she’s nodding again, lips parted before her baby blue eyes connect with yours. “yes” she clears her throat, “i would like your number”

“and i’d like yours so find me a pen, pretty girl” 

moving away from you, abby missed the sudden safeness you gave her. tonight was the only conversation she had with you, but she already felt safe. the comfort of just your hand on her lower back, she missed. “does this house even have a pen? i don’t even see a trash can anywhere” she grumbled, pushing her hair over to her other shoulder. the action not going missed by you.

“pretty girl, are you good?”

“no” she sighed, rummaging around in several of the draws, opening the cabinets, and finding no pen in sight. rolling her eyes dramatically as she slams shut the final draw again. admitting sudden defeat to an inanimate object. really mature abs.

you cleared your throat, eyebrow raising when abby turns around, looking at you like she just got caught stealing something from one of her friends to find you smirking, your right hand in the air, holding a pen. “if you spent less time being bratty, you would be able to find a pen” you chuckled, shaking your head. 

abby makes her way back towards you, slightly more confident once she’s in reach to steal the pen from you before you had chance to do anything, and holds it with a grin. “m’not a brat” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side in thought.

“sure you aren’t. what are you doing?”

“m’trying to think where i wanna put my number”

“on me?”

“on you” she nodded, tutting under her breath and trailing her finger up your chest. giggling when you’re sucking in a deep breath “can i put it here?” she asked softly, those eyes locking with yours again.

“uh huh” you nodded, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “you can put it wherever you want, pretty girl. as long as i walk out of this house with your number, then m’fine with it”

abby didn’t need to be told twice. placing her free hand on your other arm, using the other than was holding the pen to slowly, teasingly you thought, to write her number on your skin. the coldness of the tip of the pen had you sucking in another breath, her fingertips brushing against you had goosebumps rising on your skin afterwards. “there” she smiled, leaning back slightly and passing you the pen. “done”

shakily taking the pen from her, you laughed a little breathlessly and shook your head. “where do you want my number?”

“wherever you want” she’s using your words against you and it makes you laugh once more. 

a shiver runs down abby’s spine when you’re picking up her arm in your hand gently, stroking her skin with your thumb slowly and leaning a little closer, into her space, to press the pen, and ink against her arm. your breath tinkling her as you write each number slower than she wrote hers. teasing her back, aware of how much you’ve already got an affect on her. 

a crimson blush coats her cheeks when you’re pressing your lips right at the end, gasping softly when you bite down on her skin gently. “think that’ll be a good reminder of me until we meet again, sweetheart?” you asked, voice slightly deeper than it has been all night. 

she nodded dumbly with a shy smile. “yes” came her quiet reply. 

her eyes widen when you practically jump off the counter and wrap your arm around her waist, tugging her into your chest. her lips parting when you press yours against the corner of her mouth, and you can’t help but smirk when you’re stepping away from her, no longer in her space, a space she refused to let others into, but loved you being that close and pouted. “i look forward to seeing you again real soon, yeah, pretty girl?”

she’s watching you stumble out the kitchen like a lost puppy. heart thumping in her chest and music ringing through her ears when you turn your head a final time and blow her a fucking kiss. how is she going to go on about her day when you’re already the only thing in her head?

hope all my masc gays feel feed ... hehe <3

[writerunnamed]

note: I am both shocked, and grateful at the response this story has gotten. I didn't tag anyone, and I expected maybe a few people to be into it but you proved me so wrong. So thankful that you all like it, please don't be shy. Slide into the dms, spam me with asks, lets go nuts together. xo (thanks so much for going through and betaing this chapter @frannyzooey xo) Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, shower sex, really inappropriate dirty talk, slight Dom-Joel vibes, daddy kink, heavy guilt) 4k word count masterlist

--

The guilt doesn’t creep in, it consumes like a five alarm fire. It’s weight holding you pressed to your bed as the shadows in your room stretch out with the fading of the golden hour light. The darkness helps, but not nearly enough to make any kind of a difference. 

He’d left after, closing your bedroom door behind him with your slick still smeared all over his dick and the realization of what you’ve done keeps hitting you. It keeps dropping stones in your gut, further weighing you down, naked, in the incriminating wet patch on your sheets. You hear your mother open the front door an indeterminable amount of time after. Your face burns, your heart races, she has to know. Surely she’d felt it, like a phantom limb while she was working, a ghost knife in the shape of her daughter, stabbing her in the back. 

You wait, barely breathing, sheets clutched in the talons of your fingersfor her to storm in, to rip you out of the house by your skin but it doesn’t happen. You hear him laugh, hear them chat as though nothing has happened. Your heart rate steadily lowers, and it becomes apparent that her wrath isn’t pending. 

The ax hanging over your head is being held by you, and no one else.

You stay there, uncomfortable, ashamed, cold, until it’s late enough that the house falls silent. Then, and only then do you get up and change the sheets. You pad out to the bathroom and shower, silently telling yourself that it was a temporary lapse in judgment. It was a psychotic episode. It was a hallucination, there’s no way you’d actually done that. It must have been imagined, but then you clean between your legs and feel the soreness and curse yourself all over again. 

You do your best to wash him off of you, wash the whole encounter, the whole mistake, and vow to yourself to never give it another thought. You console yourself with the thought that he must feel awful too, surely. He was probably lying there next to your mother, terrified with guilt. The devil on your shoulder, that cruel thing inside laughed at your naivety, practically yelling at you to smarten up. He doesn’t feel guilty, he’s probably snoring, his balls empty, his body pleasantly tired without a care in the world. 

Sleep eventually finds you, giving you the blissful respite of the dreamless dark.

—

A week goes by and you can almost convince yourself it had been a dream. Your mother is her normal, distant, distracted self. Joel works and blessedly you have managed to avoid any unsupervised interactions. Your brain however, has splintered and each shard has its role. The first keeps you sane, it does it best to make sure you focus on anything but the event you will not name. Another convinces you that things have almost fixed themselves since… well, that. It fools you into believing that it was somehow a cure. Things feel better in the house. The tension is gone, Joel seems disinterested, your mother is preoccupied. A tentative truce has somehow been enforced. 

There is another shard, an unwelcome and unruly and now untethered part of you that screams for a repeat performance. It begs and pleads for you to corner Joel and take what he gave again and again. The other aspects keep it restrained for most of the day. Work, responsibilities, the general needs and demands of the day take up most of your bandwidth but at night, at night it reigns supreme and without opposition. 

In the comforting dark of your now tainted space, that illicit part of you floods your mind's eye with the vision of Joel there, in your bed. It recalls the feeling of his mouth on your nipples with crystalline clarity, makes you feel the way he molded your body to take him, the way you came around his cock with that word in your mouth.

You were grateful for the toy, but he’d been so frustratingly right about it not doing much. After him, the toy was a tease. It was barely a taste of what he’d been able to do, but it didn’t stop you from using it. It was the safest option, until you could find someone appropriate. 

Or get the fuck out of that house and forget about the whole thing. 

-

More days pass, and that tension filters through your defences, It glides in and fills every angle of the house, every corner with a need borne of your interlude. 

Joel’s eyes linger again, he tracks your movements whether your mother is around or not. He smiles, he tests, pushes your limits with a passing hand on your lower back. His fingers linger when he hands you a plate or a mug, he sits close enough for his thighs to press to yours on the couch, the soft light of the tv and the lamp casting shadows across you both. 

Your mother doesn’t pay attention, or doesn’t see it. You are not a threat to her relationship, why would you be? In any normal, healthy family this would never be something to be worried about, not in a million years. In a proper family, a stepfather would not fuck his stepdaughter. 

A stepdaughter would not fantasize about it either.

The guilt builds the more time passes, but it wars with another, less wholesome feeling. Desire. Unadulterated lust. There is a part of you, a growing, strengthening part that craves him, that bombards you with different ways to have him inside you again, to beg him to fuck you harder, to give it to you longer, to beg for him to come inside you and mark you as his own and this scares you half to death. 

Soon though, it eclipses that guilt and takes you to the breaking point. 

It comes to a head one day, when you come home to both of them smiling and happy. 

“Hey babygirl.” 

He smiles when you set your bag down and you ignore the way your body comes to life with that endearment. 

“Go on up and get dressed, I’m takin’ my girls out for dinner.” 

Your mother beams, sliding her arms around his waist with a dreamy smile. “I got a promotion, Joel is going to treat us.” She’s in a very good mood.

“Oh, I’m alright, bit tired but you two go ahead. Have a drink for me.” You smile your sincerest smile, urging them to leave you alone. The toy floats in your brain, calling to you with the promise of the momentary relief it brings, however paltry compared to him. 

“Nonsense. Go on, we’re all goin’.” He raises an eyebrow, and you sigh, already resigned. “Go on, don’t make me ask you again, we gotta celebrate.” There is a playful, yet iron-strong tone that you know in your heart you cannot disobey. 

“We can go on our own if she wants to stay.” Your mom combs his hair back with her fingers, fixing it and he lets her, smiling down at her as you make your way up the stairs. 

“We’re all goin’-” It’s the last thing you hear him say before you close your door and go about getting dressed. 

-

It’s a pretty fancy steakhouse, a place you’d only ever been to once on a date. He’d put on a nice shirt, and your mom wore one of her nicer dresses. You couldn’t exactly wear leggings, so you’d dug out a dress of your own and trudged along despite your wish to be anywhere but. 

He slid into the booth beside you. You said nothing.

Your mother talks about her job, about how happy she is they’re taking notice of all her hard work and you’re genuinely proud of her. Growing up you don’t remember her holding down a job for more than a few months, Joel had changed that too. He’d pushed her to buckle down and take her employment seriously and it had paid off. It was just another one of those contradictory things about him, something you should have loved him for, a genuine, paternal thing but it didn’t mesh with your new dynamic.

Paternal. What a joke. 

The food is good, and you enjoy it in relative silence while your mother prattles on about her work, her manager, her team while Joel smiles and looks her in the eye. It’s almost pleasant, almost normal, the three of you, mother, father and daughter in a dark little booth celebrating a win. 

It’s almost nice, until you feel his hand on your knee under the table. 

You jump, the shock of it making you drop your fork. 

“You alright babygirl?” He smiles, genuine concern on his face as heat floods your body and you nod, frantically. With a tight smile you go to pick it up but he stops you, and ducks under the table to fish for it. Your mom laughs it off and you smile, blood pounding when you feel his hand again while he’s reaching for the fork. It moves your skirt up, exposing  more of your thigh. 

“I’ll ask the waiter for a new one.” He sits up and winks, adjusting himself so he’s a little closer. His hand lands back on your thigh and his thumb strokes at the skin, little circles that make you lightheaded. 

“I think I need to use the little girls room.” Your mother puts her napkin on the table and for a moment you think this is your chance. If she asks if you need to go, you’ll jump at the chance – but his hand tightens, just enough to let you know to stay put. 

She doesn’t ask, and when she rounds the corner he turns to you, eyes bright with the same lust you’ve been stomping down inside. 

“Happy you’re here babygirl, been missin’ you.” His hand slides up until it’s pressed against your core. Your breath comes in pants, and you’re rendered silent. 

“Been dreamin’ about havin’ you again. Been fightin’ the urge to sneak in and spread you out on that little bed, eat that pretty little cunt til you’re cryin for me to fuck you.” 

He presses close, tilting your face up to press his lips against yours soft enough to tickle. “You been thinkin’ about me?” He presses another little kiss, and you pull away, terrified to see strangers staring at you disgusted. 

No one is looking though, and he knows. 

“Joel, stop, not here.” You’re frantic, heart racing, pussy leaking. 

“Who am I?” he raises his eyebrows, expecting. 

You close your eyes, letting out a sigh. “She’ll be back any minute.” 

“Say it babygirl, say what I know you’re wantin’ to say. Who am I?” His hand lands on your thigh again. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue and you hate that he’s right, you do want to say it. You want to scream it. 

“...Daddy.” It’s barely a whisper, but it feels so good.

“Little louder honey.” He slides up, pressing his fingers against your clit. 

“Daddy, please–” You give in, and it comes out almost a moan. There’s that sense again, of falling into a trap you hadn’t seen him set but it’s secondary to the self-satisfied smile on his face, to the way your body primes itself for whatever he deems fit. Your thighs clamp around his hand, the restaurant falls away and all that matters is his warm breath ghosting across your face, his strength, the press of his fingers.

“That’s better.” He smiles, and moves away and it’s with an unspeakable relief that you see your mother round the corner again, eyes on her feet while you adjust and move further away. The guilt gnaws at you, but the other thing rages, paints her as an interruption for a moment before you reign it in. She smiles when she slides into her side of the booth. 

“How ‘bout we get dessert? I could do with a little somethin’ sweet.” He smiles, and she agrees. 

-

They chat idly on the drive back to the house. She mentions how the excitement has given her a headache, and he urges her to go rest. It’s terrifying, the change in him: his attitude with her, his obvious care and the juxtaposition to his behavior in the restaurant. 

Needing a break from the tension he built inside you earlier, you grab a change of clothes and run for the shower, grateful for the temporary oasis. 

You try to take your time, to focus on anything and everything except the overwhelming need to be fucked into your matress. A few, blissfully steam-filled minutes later you hear the bathroom door open. 

“Mom?” You call out, but after a few silent moments you think you might have imagined it. Until the curtain opens and Joel steps in as naked as the day he was born. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You let out  a terrified whisper and your first instinct is to cover yourself. 

“Calm down, your mama’s sleepin’. She was feelin’ drained' from work and everythin’ so she took an ambien.” He steps towards you, forcing you to take a step back. “This water’s fit to burn my skin off.” He hisses but doesn’t adjust the temperature. 

He steps under the spray while you tuck yourself against the corner, shaking from the chilly tile pressing against your back. Your arm is pressed to your front covering your breasts, and the other is cupping your pussy, hiding your bits from his gaze. In contrast, he’s unbothered by his nakedness. His cock is soft, his arms are strong, his middle a little soft, but his beauty is undeniable. This is a man’s body, and you take it in with increasing want.

Your eyes betray you, your body betrays you, everything inside you seems to scream betrayal when he’s alone with you like this. He tilts his face up into the hot spray. He’s so fucking handsome, so virile, so hung. You kick yourself as you stare at his cock, already knowing that you’re going to give in to him, despite your mother being asleep just down the hall. 

“Come on babygirl, get under the water with me.” He reaches forward, taking your hand and pulling you towards him. You let him, heart fluttering like a bird in a cage at the feel of him pressing you close to him. The water cascades over you both, steam billowing out and his hands travel the expanse of your back. They slide over your shoulders, reaching down to cup your backside. He pulls you closer, pressing his mouth to yours and you can’t help but moan. 

He smiles, moving his kisses to your neck, your shoulders and that thing inside you wins yet again. Your hands press against his chest, they move over the muscles of his arms that you cannot help but stare at, they caress his back and up to curl through the hair at the base of his neck. 

You pull his face to yours for a deeper kiss, the kiss you’ve been craving since he left you wet and trembling in your bed. He groans when your tongue licks into his mouth and then it changes. From an almost sweet exploration, to a desperate need to consume one another. His cock hardens against your belly and your cunt aches at the feel of it. 

“Give it to me, I want it.” Someone who cannot be you begs him, clutching at his hair when he licks at your neck, his hands palming at your breasts as your back hits the tile again.

“What do you want, baby?” He lifts your thigh, wrapping it around his hip as he slots his cock at the seam of your cunt. He doesn’t press, just glides it between your legs, never notching the blunt tip of it at your entrance like you hope he will. The head of it nudges at your clit and he rocks it against you, teasing you into madness. 

You know what he wants, you want it too. As hard as he is, as desperate as you know he is to slip inside, he has all the patience in the world.

He knows this. He also knows that you are much more desperate than him. 

“I want your cock daddy, please, I need it.” You all but moan, some, pathetic, half-human thing burning with a fever, begging to be fucked like a whore. Begging him. The one person you shouldn’t beg this from. 

“Such a good girl, such a quick learner.” He finally grasps himself in hand, making sure you watch him as he angles himself and slides home in one smooth, brutal stroke. The moan you let out is a loud, filthy thing. 

“Shh, can’t have you makin’ all that noise honey,” He slips his forearm under your calf to open  you up wide, his other hand coming up to wrap around your throat. He snaps his hips hard enough to make everything bounce and you cannot imagine ever being this fucking turned on, this hot for another person. 

“Or maybe you do, maybe you want your mama to come in here, see how well her babygirl takes her daddys cock.” 

You close your eyes at that, it’s too filthy, it’s too depraved but your cunt still drools out its passion for him.

“You get so wet when I tell you how well you take it, even here I can feel her soakin’ me.” He stares at the juncture of your thighs- watches himself spearing you with his cock. Your eyes are half-glazed, admiring the way his neck strains, the definition in his arms, the way his mouth hangs open. His skin red from exertion and the heat of the water.

He’s right, something inside feeds off his praise no matter how fucking wrong it is, you need it.

“Yes daddy, I like it.” You confess, already damned anyway. 

“I know baby, I know.” He lets go of your throat and holds onto your ass before sticking his tongue down your throat. You whimper into his mouth, holding onto his neck for dear life while inching closer and closer to the orgasm building in your hips, in the base of your spine.

“Wanna feel her now, come all over me honey-“ he begs in your ear, his hips stuttering slightly and a madness overtakes you as you shove your fingers into his mouth and slip them down over your clit. He moans, pressing his palm into the hinge of your knee, somehow opening you up even more and then it’s there, in your fingers, in your limbs and in your very soul. 

“Yes, that’s it baby, yes-“ he turns his thrusts into a grinding roll, and it’s with a horrified glee that you feel him paint your insides in his come. Your eyes glued to the place you’re joined, a curious thought springs up unbidden: nothing in the world could pull you away from him at that moment, with his cock inside and his hands on your body. That realization should scare you but it doesn’t. Would your mom bursting through the door make you come to your senses? Do you really want to know the answer to that question?

“Daddy… I can feel it really deep.” You say the words in what feels like a drunken stupor and he lets out a punched out groan, pulling out to watch as he drips out of the place you now know he fucking owns.

“That’s where it belongs, honey. Nice and deep.” He lowers your leg, but pulls you close and tucks you under his chin. 

“Daddy loves you, you know that right? I’m so proud of you baby.”

You’re exhausted, but the guilt doesn’t come as quickly as the first time. It’s hard for it to make it through the comfort of the hot water, the cocoon of his arms, the steady reassuring thump of his heart under your cheek. The soft press of his lips to your forehead. 

He stays. He washes your hair, cleans his come from between your legs and the fatherly lines of him blur even more. 

It’s wrong. You know it. It’s obviously so fucking wrong. But it feels so right, it feels good, it feels safe for him to shield your eyes from the suds, for him to massage the knots out of your back, for him to kiss you soft, for his fingers to pluck at your soapy nipples. 

When you’re done and in bed, you fall asleep, and dream of a steamy bathroom and soft, chapped lips at your temple.

–

The next morning finds you well-rested. That might actually bother you more than it should, comparatively speaking. That he would be the person to fuck you well enough to give you a good nights sleep seems like some cosmically cruel joke. Memories of your mother sleeping in on Saturdays after a night out with him make you groan into your pillow. 

Any acceptance, any complicity was far and foreign in the unforgiving light of day. All of the comfort you’d felt in the tail-end of that unholy shower now angered you. It was manipulation, it was coercion, how could you do that? Let him in, in all of the different ways he’d managed to push inside you in the time since you’d been home, past your protective walls and quite literally between your fucking legs. It had to be something he’d done to make you crazy. A temporary insanity, surely, 

You let out a huff, noting but almost unseeing the dust motes dancing in shafts of light coming in through the window. The guilt was heavy and hot in your belly, and not only because of the betrayal but because you knew, deep in your soul, that you would not–could not deny him. That was a fact. 

The pillow at your side found itself pressed to your face to cover the groan of frustration at the cringy realization that you were just another woman with daddy issues.

Hours you laid there, torturing yourself with so many flavors of guilt. 

Guilt at indulging, guilt at craving, guilt at knowing that you’d most likely doing it again, guilt at tentatively imagining other places you wanted him to fuck you. Guilt at the look of devotion on your mother’s face when he smiled at her. Guilt at the dark, cruel little thing that rejoiced at him wanting you so bad. 

They were both sitting at the kitchen table when you finally came downstairs. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him sitting there, in his usual place with the paper in his hands. His face gave nothing away when he looked up at you, a talent he shouldn’t have. 

“Good morning, sleep okay?” Your mom smiled, moving to the sink.

“Yeah, slept great.” You smile back and you almost feel Joel’s chest puff out. You ignore him. 

“That’s good, why don’t you come do groceries with me? I’m going to do a big trip so you guys aren’t starving while I’m gone next week.” 

She misses your frown as she empties the dishwasher. Something big wraps itself around you, something foreboding, something inescapable. His paper flicks almost imperceptibly in the corner of your eye and still, you ignore it. 

“What do you mean?” You question her, but it’s almost prophetic, because you already know.

“I thought I’d told you, I have a work trip. A conference, because of the promotion. I’m leaving on Monday morning, and I’ll be gone until Thursday. I wanted to leave the fridge full so the two of you don’t have to worry. Want to come?” 

She’s still focused on putting away the dishes when you finally meet his eye. Your stomach rolls at the wink he flashes you. You can feel his thoughts like a sunburn, skin tight with the burn of it, at the promise of all of the things you already know he’ll make you do. 

The things you know, deep down, you’ll beg him for. 

Fuck.

[sunnie-angel]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”