#even drives an old but fancy car

[taasgirl]

i like me better - franco colapinto

summary: franco and driver!reader seem to be getting closer, through their shared social media interaction. once y/n gets her first fp1 drive, everything falls into place.

a/n: everything is fictional, and there is no face claim! enjoy :)

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, and 563, 982 others ynusername trading four wheels for two this weekend 😉

mercedesamgf1 Please get off the bike y/n

lilymhe IS THAT A BABY Y/N PIC I SEE

ynusername hehe maybe

landonorris I know toto died seeing you post this liked by ynusername

motogp Fancy a weekend with us?

ynusername OH MY GOD I THOUGH YOU'D NEVER ASK team_toto_wolff No Y/n.

lewishamilton 🩷

ynusername hey dad!

liked by francolapinto, oscarpiastri, and 3, 872, 440 others landonorris Summer break you will be missed

danielricciardo Mate you're so ugly

landonorris Smd old man

mclaren Pls tell us that you didn't actually go dirt biking

landonorris Don't worry I was with y/n mclaren That makes it worse

ynusername I'm on a mission to take the whole grid on a dirt biking adventure, who's next bitchessss

francolapinto Me me me I volunteer landonorris Someone's eager 😏

view ynusername's story...

caption: track limits at turn 7 stewards go get their asses

liked by francolapinto, lewishamilton, and 711, 923 others ynusername excited to take lewis' car out for a spin in fp1 #justiceforreservedrivers

lewishamilton Don't pull a Kimi

kimi.antonelli What the hell Lewis

landonorris awww baby y/n

landonorris Still hasn't achieved her goals of racing in f1 hehe ynusername just for that i'm running u off track tomorrow xx

francolapinto Congratulations Y/N! I'm excited to see you out there

ynusername thanks franco!!

patriciooward I agree #justiceforreservedrivers liked by ynusername

liked by ynusername, lewishamilton, and 5, 720, 816 others mercedesamgf1 Celebratory hugs between Y/N and Lewis following Y/N's superb FP1 drive!

tagged: ynusername & lewishamilton

ynusername Maybe like I can replace the dinosaur or something aha...

francolapinto My favourite driver as a child and my favourite driver as an adult together 🤗

ynusername wow thank you franco! landonorris Boy you are NOT slick

lewishamilton The 🐐

lewishamilton And Y/n.

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, and 142, 674 others ynusername some funny photos from a very fun weekend

francolapinto Come on you post my teammate but not me?

ynusername maybe you should visit me often then 🤷‍♀️

georgerussell63 Is that Toto...

ynusername affirmative

landonorris Trust in y/n to expose the grid hmmm

alex_albon Wow @/georgerussell63 looking sexy

lilymhe Stop hitting on GEORGE

lewishamilton ⭐ liked by ynusername

francolapinto Penalty for eating ice cream during race week

ynusername booooo someone throw tomatoes on him

user53 DOUBLE FRANCO COMMENTS

liked by alex_albon, ynusername, and 1, 448, 925 others francolapinto Good weekend 😁

tagged: williamsracing & alex_albon

alex_albon Mate does not live up to the hype sorry Franco

ynusername what the actual hell are you doing to that car in the second photo

francolapinto I can show you later if you'd like This comment was deleted

ynusername also you expect me to post you but you don't even post me smh

francolapinto You go first then

landonorris holy shit I saw that comment franco

williamsracing We're pretending that we didn't!

view ynusername's story...

caption: fine I'll go first @/francolapinto

view francolapinto's story...

caption: She clearly doesn't like paparazzi

liked by oscarpiastri, paularon, and 2, 630, 727 others francolapinto I might fall off but at least a pretty girl can give me CPR

tagged: ynusername

landonoriss FUCKING FINALY

lewishamilton I'm keeping my eye on you Franco

francolapinto 😅

ynusername awww you think I'm pretty?

francolapinto I'm happy to repeat myself francolapinto You are the prettiest girl I've ever met

williamsracing Please do not fall off

view ynusername's story...

caption: how is he a formula one driver and still so uncoordinated

how did we like this guys? ALSO why the hell are there no new photos of franco on pinterest like damn. Let me know if you like this and as always reqs are open!

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - chapter 1

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3.9k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

The drive down to Miami was idyllic. Windows rolled down, you and Carter sang along to the playlist you’d made for the trip and ate your favorite childhood snacks. Blue skies above you as Carter’s new Jeep flew down the coast, you actually started to feel excited for the week ahead.

Then, you pulled up to the Airbnb, and it all faded.

The second you saw all of Carter’s high school friends in the driveway, unpacking their cars and exchanging hugs, it all came rushing back. The way you felt like you never really fit in, how they’d tease you for being quiet, how the boys’ eyes would skip right over you in search of your sister.

Carter turned down the radio when she noticed the way you were biting your lip with trepidation.

“It’s gonna be fun,” she tried to assure you. “Promise.”

You put on your best fake smile, determined to make this a good week for her. After everything she’s done for you, if all she wanted in return was a fun week at the beach, you’d give her that. You pushed your anxiety down as best as you could and hopped out of the Jeep.

“Oh shit!” Topper called, standing at the open trunk of his Range Rover. “Is that who I think it is?”

He rushed over, sweeping Carter up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Put me down, Top!” She yelped, not entirely convincing that she wanted him to.

He set her down and smiled wide at her, just as smitten as ever. She gave him a playful pat on the head, like a dog, and went to get the bags from her car. Topper’s eyes shifted over to you and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“No way, Little Carter is that you?” He teased, using your least favorite nickname.

“What’s up, Topper?” You tried to sound unannoyed.

Before he could answer, still slightly gawking at you, another voice emerged from the front door of the house.

“Yo who is it, Top?” Kelce yelled down from the top of the front steps.

“Come see for yourself, jackass!” Topper shouted back.

Kelce hopped down from the top step and approached you in the driveway, throwing his arm around Topper’s shoulder.

“No fucking way,” he said, when it finally dawned on him who you were. He looked you up and down and added, “what do they put in the water at that fancy school of yours?”

“Smoothe, man,” Topper smirked at him.

Your cheeks burned, you rolled your eyes at them to try and seem unaffected. They had never talked to you like this before. The majority of your interactions with Topper and Kelce in high school consisted of them teasing you about Rafe and asking where your sister was. They never even came close to flirting with you, and now you couldn’t decide whether you liked it or not.

“Can you two stop drooling over my baby sister and come help me with these fucking bags?” Carter called to them from the back of her Jeep.

“Yes ma’am,” Kelce winked at you before going to help your sister carry in the hundreds of dollars worth of beer she’d made you stop to pick up on the way here.

“You assholes better pay us back,” she told them, passing Topper a couple of 12 packs.

“Okay, give me your sister’s number and I’ll Venmo her right now,” he responded with a smirk.

You actually laughed at that one, which caused his chest to puff out with pride. Boys had always been somewhat of a mystery to you, but these two were painfully easy. Their playfulness helped you relax a little, wondering if this week might not be so bad after all.

Once you were inside, you and Carter each chose your own rooms, all your recently opened trust funds allowing you to rent the biggest house in the neighborhood. After unpacking, you walked down to the beach with Topper, Kelce, a couple of Carter’s girlfriends, and a guy you’d never met.

Topper and Kelce introduced him as their friend from college, a frat brother. His name was Tom, he was on the taller side, brunette, super cute. The way his toned arms flexed in his sleeveless shirt was the first thing you saw, but his bright, dimpled smile is what really caught your attention.

When you told him your name, offering him your hand to shake, he held it for a few seconds longer than any of the other girls and Carter gave you a knowing look. You’d never wished so badly that you knew how to turn off your blush.

Once you got down to the water, you helped Carter set up the umbrella and volleyball net you’d brought. You played intramural volleyball for your college and had actually gotten really good at it, you were excited to play with Carter, who’d always wanted you to get into sports with her.

When everything was set-up, you started to take off the bathing suit cover you had on over your bikini, but quickly realized there was a problem.

“Shit, Car, did we even bring sunscreen?” You asked your sister.

“Fuuuuck,” Carter said with a careless giggle. “Guess we’ll just burn.”

“Um no, I’m not listening to you whine about your sunburn all week,” you scolded her. “Top, did you bring sunscreen?”

“I hate to say no to you, beautiful, but…no,” Topper answered.

“Great, so we have eight hundred Natty Lights but no sunscreen,” you huffed.

“Sounds like a perfect vacation to me,” Kelce joked, already cracking his first beer.

“I brought some sunscreen,” Tom offered helpfully.

“Ah, my hero!” you smiled at him playfully.

You could feel all eyes on you when you said it. None of them had ever seen you flirt so comfortably before, or really even heard you speak. This was the person you were at school, but they had never met her before. You cleared your throat, feeling uncomfortable.

“Could I borrow some?” You asked Tom, who appeared oblivious to the shift in atmosphere.

“Yeah, it’s up at the house, I’ll go grab it!” You watched him run up the beach, his toned back muscles flexing, Carter bumped her hip into yours.

“Five minutes and he’s already whipped for you,” she teased. “Told you this trip was a good idea.”

By the time Rafe finally pulled up to the house in his truck, all the rooms had been claimed except for the shitty basement, with its low ceiling and lone twin sized bed. After dropping his bags, scowling at the mildew smell in the small space, he filled one of the coolers he brought with some imported beers and white claws and headed toward the beach.

“Yo, Top!” He called from the back porch, beckoning Topper up from the beach to help him carry the heavy cooler.

“Jesus, what you got in here?”  Topper grunted, struggling to lift his side of the cooler.

“Nicer shit than anything you brought,” Rafe said. “I’m not drinking cheap gas station beers all week.”

“Fine by me man,” Topper added a second hand to the cooler to help him lift it.

As they carried the cooler down the beach, Rafe mocking Topper for his inability to lift his share of the weight, Rafe scanned the private section of the beach to take a manual headcount of his housemates for the week.

He saw everyone he expected, the same people that would gather at the island club every time there was a break from school, the party always finding its way back to Tannyhill. The same girls that hung around him and his friends in high school, Carter, who he had never gotten along with, Kelce, who he had seen just last week, and…someone he didn’t recognize.

The mystery girl was facing away from him, but he could still tell she was gorgeous. Her bathing suit wrap hugging her body, her shiny, bouncy hair flowing in the ocean breeze. She bent down to set up her beach chair and he nearly dropped the cooler. 

“Woah, man,” Topper laughed. “Now who’s got butterfingers?”

“Who is that?” Rafe asked sternly, ignoring Topper’s harassment. 

“Dude, are you serious?” Topper eyed him.

Before Rafe could ask what Topper meant, you turned around, looking up towards the house in his direction, shielding the sun from your eyes and smiling a big, beautiful smile.

This time, Rafe really did drop the cooler. It was you. He hadn’t seen you in four years, and nobody told him you were coming on this trip. Nobody told him you looked like that now, either.

Everything that happened between you was so long ago, but he assumed you still hated him. But now, you were looking right at him and smiling. His lips started to turn upward for a moment and he almost lifted his hand to wave at you, when someone bumped into his shoulder.

“Shit, my bad man,” Tom said, his eyes not even looking at Rafe, glued to you. He ran off and approached you, and Rafe realized with a punch to his gut, it was this random guy you were smiling at and not him.

Rafe and Topper dragged the cooler a bit farther down the beach, dropping it behind all the umbrellas. Rafe immediately grabbed one of his expensive IPAs and twisted it open, throwing back a sip bitterly as he watched Tom hand you something, you smiled and touched his arm gratefully.

Carter approached the boys and the cooler, following Rafe’s eyes to you. She twisted her lips, trying to hide her smile, everything about this day going exactly as she had planned.

“Hey, Rafe,” She smirked. “You good?”

Rafe looked at her, eyes narrow as he tried to catch her meaning. When he realized she had caught him staring, he cleared his throat and took another sip of his beer, trying to seem nonchalant. 

“Fine,” he mumbled.

Rafe reached in the cooler and grabbed a white claw, offering it to Carter. Things had always been chilly between them, though they’d still been cordial with each other. Aside from that big argument senior year which they never talked about. Now, it hung in the salty air so prevalently, your presence after all this time stirring up old tensions.

Carter accepted the drink with a thank you, cracking it open and looking back to you. Both Carter and Rafe’s eyes went wide when you took off your cover-up, revealing a barely-there bikini and the new body none of your high school friends had seen yet. 

Everyone on the private beach was staring at you, but Rafe was staring at you, his knuckles going white around his beer as he eyed you up and down. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest he was afraid Carter and Topper would be able to hear it. Then, when you handed Tom the sunscreen and asked him to rub it on your back, an unfamiliar feeling bubbled in Rafe’s stomach and crawled up to his chest. He glared at Topper.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” He barked.

Carter and Topper’s heads both snapped towards him, neither surprised to hear the usual edge in his voice, though while Topper looked at Rafe with concern, Carter’s face only portrayed pure amusement.

“Who, Tom?” Topper asked, watching as Rafe’s eyeline returned to you, starting to catch on to the source of Rafe’s irritability. “He’s a brother from Alpha Tau.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a high school reunion trip,” Rafe snapped at him.

“Wow, someone’s pressed,” Carter beamed at him, delighted in his discomfort.

“I’m fine, just didn’t know we could invite people, that’s all,” he insisted.

“Sure, Rafey, that’s all,” she goaded him.

Rafe and Carter gave each other a knowing look, Topper’s eyes flashing between them, utterly out of the loop.

“What did I miss?” He prodded.

“Nothing,” Carter assured him. “Let’s play chicken, you’re on my team, Topper.”

“Oh hell yes,” he dashed after her like an excited puppy.

Rafe ignored the interaction, eyes glued to you in the distance as you settled into your beach chair and pulled out a book, Tom leaving your side and heading toward the water to join the game that had started. Rafe smiled, of course you were reading while everyone else was partying. Maybe you hadn’t changed that much after all. 

The spine of the brand new book cracked as you opened it, you sighed happily, loving the sound. You rarely ever got to read just for fun, always so busy with schoolwork, and you were so excited to dig into the fluffy romance you’d bought off tiktok and turn your brain off.

But then, just as your eyes grazed over the first sentence, you heard a voice from behind you that made your sun-kissed skin go cold.

“Whatcha readin’?” Rafe asked, his tall frame casting a shadow over your sunbathing spot.

You had pretended not to see him when he arrived a few minutes ago, throwing your attention at Tom instead, who took it happily, no idea that he was just a distraction from the flips your stomach was doing at Rafe’s arrival. You actually thought for a minute you might be able to avoid him this whole trip, but of course, he was pouncing as soon as you were alone. He always preferred talking to you when no one was around, sharing hours of meaningful late night conversations together, yet ignoring you at parties and in the halls at school as if you barely knew each other.

You closed the book slowly and placed it in your lap, any clever words you had to say to him flew suddenly from your brain. Regret swept over you, it was foolish to think you could pretend to be unaffected by his presence. He’d said two words to you and you were already nervous, overthinking every movement you made.

When you didn’t answer him, Rafe took it upon himself to plop down in the beach chair next to you, leaning over to read the title of your book.

“Is it any good?” You still didn’t look at him, but you could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“Wouldn’t know,” you looked down at your lap. “Just started it.”

“Well let me know what you think, might need to borrow it,” he kept his eyes on you, running over your body, making his own face go warm.

“Since when do you read?” You finally lifted your eyes to him.

Rafe’s jaw went slightly slack, all the swagger he’d brought on this trip with him suddenly disappearing. You were even prettier up close, your features more defined and striking than he remembered.

“People can change,” he finally mustered up, less bravado in his voice.

You gave yourself exactly three seconds to look at him, eyes sweeping quickly over his nose, lips, chin, anything but his eyes. His eyes were like a prison you’d once been held in, and you swore you’d never go back.

After your three seconds were up, you shifted your gaze to the ocean, hating that you wished you had three more to take him in. He was just as, if not more, gorgeous as you remembered. His features somehow sharp and soft at the same time. His lips pink and soft, skin a golden bronze even though the summer had just started. His hair was a little shorter now, but still long enough to stick up in the back in that messy way you liked.

The familiar red hue crept up your neck slowly, making its way to your cheekbones. You needed him to get up and leave you alone before you broke into an all out blush. You picked up your book and pretended to start reading again.

“You should go play with everyone else, looks like Kelce could use someone on his team,” you threw out, hoping he’d take the hint.

“What if I’d rather stay here and talk to you?” He asked, voice dropping just a hint.

You thought you could handle this, but you couldn’t. Was he seriously flirting with you right now? If you knew Rafe, the second you tried to flirt back, he’d grow uninterested and blow you off. With him, it was always like he convinced you to jump off a cliff with him, but then at the last second, he’d step back, watching apathetically as you fell all alone.

“I need to go unpack,” you said, standing from your chair and grabbing your book and beach bag, knowing full well your stuff was already neatly sorted in your room.

He looked up at you as you collected your stuff, and you hated the way you were sucking in your stomach. You spent four years working hard to love your body the way it was, and now, in front of him, all that self-consciousness came flooding back. 

You hurried away, catching Carter’s eye as you beelined for the house.

“Where are you going?” She said, slightly out of breath by the time she caught up to you.

“I can’t do this,” you explained, still walking fast.

“Wait,” she grabbed your arm, causing you to halt, hot sand burning your feet. “What happened?”

“He’s here,” you didn’t have to explain any further for her to understand.

“I know,” she said sympathetically. “But we knew he would be. We’re gonna ignore him, remember?”

“I don’t think I can, Car,” you sighed. “I think I should just go.” 

“No, please please please don’t go,” she begged. “I need you here. And you were having fun before, right? Tom’s cute! Just hang out with us and tell Rafe to go fuck himself.”

“That sounds more like something you’d say than me,” you smiled at her.

“Okay, fine,” she agreed. “I’ll tell him to fuck himself and to leave you alone.”

“No, don’t, I don’t want to cause any drama,” you requested.

“Well I think storming out twenty minutes after we got here would be pretty dramatic,” she argued.

Your lips in a tight line, you gave her an annoyed look, but she did kind of have a point. Everyone would ask why you left, and how would Carter explain it to them? Plus, you didn’t want to give Rafe the satisfaction of knowing he affected you this much.

“We’re about to play volleyball,” Carter said. “Come show them what a beast you are now! And then after you kick everyone’s ass, if you’re still miserable, you can leave and I’ll tell everyone you got sick.”

You squinted back at the group on the beach, considering her offer. Topper and Kelce were wrestling in the sand, somehow both losing. You smiled affectionately at their antics, you were really enjoying hanging out with them before Rafe got here.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed. “One game.”

It took half of one volley for you to get comfortable, head fully in the game. You were tempted to put your cover-up back on before playing, well aware of Rafe’s eyes on you through the net, but you decided not to, determined to love yourself the same way you had grown to when you thought you’d never see him again.

Tom was on Rafe’s team, also eyeing you through the net, but with a much more innocent, friendly expression.

“You’re pretty good!” He said when you’d spiked a ball into the sand right next to him.

“Thank you,” you smiled sweetly. “I play at school.���

“Hey man, stop flirting with our opponent and focus,” Rafe snapped at him from the serving line.

Tom just raised his eyebrows at you in amusement and mouthed “I’m in trouble.” You giggled and Rafe seethed, slamming the ball so hard on his next serve that his hand was red. 

After a few more volleys, you had rotated until you and Rafe were face to face across the net again. As you waited for one of your sister’s friends, Sabrina, to make her third attempt at serving, Rafe eyed you up and down.

“You look good,” he said quietly, so only you could hear.

It lit a fire in you, but not the one he was hoping for. You locked-in, bent low in a competitive stance, ready for the setter to tee you up. When Sabrina finally made her serve, you went all out, diving in the sand and running all over the court to keep the ball in play. Rafe’s athletic instincts took over, and he met every one of your attempts to score with a firm block. Eventually, your lungs burning with your heavy breathing, Rafe spiked the ball and you slipped in the sand, letting it get past you and land next to your feet with a thud.

You looked up at Rafe, who was high fiving his teammates and looking down at you with a smirk. He ducked under the net and reached out a hand to help you up.

“Sorry, kid,” he grinned as he lifted you to your feet. “I’m just that good.”

Kid. It all came back as you stared at him. The hours spent in your car, waiting for him dutifully. All the late night texts that meant everything to you and nothing to him. The cheek kisses and side hugs that fueled your fantasies. His hands around Cassie’s waist as he kissed her in broad daylight, though he’d only talk to you behind closed doors. 

Your cheeks turned red as they so often did, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment, it was from anger. He wouldn’t make you feel small anymore, you wouldn’t let him.

You turned to your team to fire them up, “let’s go, fucking lock in guys! You got me Top?”

Topper nodded with excitement, loving your new energy, as he got ready for his turn to serve.

“Fuck yeah, I got you, captain,” he saluted you.

Topper served. Rafe tried to dominate again but you were two seconds ahead of him on every play. Now it was you that had him diving around in the sand like an idiot. The smug smile wiped from his face, his jaw now clenched in frustration as he grunted with effort every time he hit the ball.

You were on fire, un-fucking-stoppable. After a few more volleys, your team was winning, one point from game.

You wiped the back of your hand across your forehead and down your neck, flicking off the sweat that had pooled. You felt two sets of eyes on you, Tom’s and Rafe’s, but you didn’t care, laser focused on your next play. When you lifted off the ground, body stretching to reach for the ball, you threw every frustration into the hit, hand colliding with the ball as hard as it could. Rafe dove, but he couldn’t get it, he crashed down hard, sand flying in his face as he whiffed, and you won the game.

Your side of the net broke into cheers, high fiving and whooping obnoxiously. Tom approached the net to offer his sportsmanlike congratulations, but you didn’t notice him, already making your way towards Rafe, who still sat defeated on the ground, eyes burning from the sand.

He smiled as you approached, reaching out his hand, thinking you were gonna help him up. But you just stepped around him, bending down, lowering your voice so only he could hear as you said,

“Sorry, kid, but I’m better.”

You left him sitting there, hand reaching for nobody like an idiot, dumbstruck and down bad as you sauntered up the beach.

(chapter 2)

a/n: I know I literally just posted the prologue but I didn't want to wait to get into the actual story. I'd love to hear what you think and where you want to see the story go! xoxo

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[keehomania]

act a fool — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, fluff, slowburn, swearing, fast & furious elements, reckless driving, drunk driving, enemies to lovers, gun use, crashout!rafe, kook/pogue dynamic, eventual smut, minors dni, drop! 2 fast, drop! 2 furious

there was a world on the island that went beyond the surface-level rivalry between the rich and the poor, one that thrived off something the two tribes both loved, made into a competition. a good alternator, lubrication, a solid engine—things that led to the adrenaline rush they couldn't get from their gas station beer or firing their dad’s gun. it was the wind in their hair and the money they knew they’d get from it if they were good enough.

you had moved to outer banks when you first heard the rumors, striking up your fancy as you pondered finally being able to live up to your father’s name. he had made a name for himself when he was your age, on that very island, and you were determined to honor it as much as you could. he was what the islanders considered a pogue, and so were you. you weren’t ashamed of it—it was just the way things were. and you weren’t ashamed of him either.

“that’s good, guys. right there,” you said, your voice carrying over the low hum of conversation and the clang of tools against metal. workers shuffled around the shop, hoisting equipment into place and unrolling cords across the smooth concrete floor. the building was nothing fancy—cinderblock walls painted a clean white and a pair of garage doors wide enough to fit the biggest cars on the island—but it stood out amidst the weathered, sun-bleached shops and homes that made up the cut. that was the point. it needed to catch their eye, needed to show them that even a pogue could make something worth noticing.

the smell of fresh paint mingled with the faint tang of oil and grease, scents that already felt like home. a sleek hydraulic lift sat in one corner, freshly bolted into place, while a row of shiny toolboxes lined the back wall. you’d spent months saving for those, cutting corners wherever you could, taking extra shifts at the docks, and bartering favors to make it happen. now, they gleamed like trophies.

your gaze drifted to the wall above the toolboxes, where you’d hung a photo in a simple black frame. it was an old shot, the colors slightly faded—a younger version of you standing beside your father, both of you grinning ear to ear with a grease-streaked hood open behind you. he’d always said, “it doesn't matter if it's by an inch, or by a mile—winning is winning,” and you’d carried those words like a mantra, applying them not just to the races but to everything else in life. fixing cars, building this shop—it didn’t matter how long it took or how many setbacks you faced. progress was progress.

you smiled faintly as you brushed a bit of dust off the frame, imagining the way his eyes would light up if he saw what you’d built. he’d be proud, you were sure of it.

“hey, boss, where’d you want this?” one of the workers called out, interrupting your thoughts. he was holding a heavy-duty air compressor, shifting his weight under its bulk.

“over there, by the second bay,” you directed, pointing toward the far end of the shop where a workstation was slowly coming together. a workbench stood half-assembled, and you could already envision it cluttered with tools and parts, the heart of the operation.

as they hauled the compressor into place, you moved to another corner where a small office space had been carved out. the desk was secondhand, its surface worn and scratched, but you’d given it a fresh coat of varnish that brought out the grain of the wood. a laptop and a stack of invoices sat neatly on top, alongside a mug that still smelled faintly of the coffee you’d downed that morning.

outside, the rumble of engines drifted through the open garage doors, reminding you why you were doing this. the underground racing scene was cutthroat, a place where the line between rivalries and respect blurred in the haze of burning rubber and roaring engines. you’d need every edge you could get, and this shop was going to be your base, your sanctuary, and your weapon all at once. satisfied with the progress, you stepped back to take it all in. the shop wasn’t finished yet, but it was getting there.

it was hard to snap you out of your thoughts, but an unfamiliar voice had done its job.

“this your shop?”

you cocked your head to the right, meeting the friendly gaze of a man you didn’t recognize. he looked to be in his early twenties, taller than you, with tan skin, sun-bleached blond hair, and arms that suggested he spent more time surfing than doing anything car-related.

“yeah,” you replied coolly, the edge in your tone natural. “getting there.”

he took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over the shop with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. “no kidding,” he said, grinning wide enough to light up the room. “the cut doesn’t have any good mechanics. shitty parts, shitty people. i was getting my dodge fixed the other day, and the guy was totally drunk…”

he kept talking, his words tumbling out one after another, like he couldn’t stop himself. you guessed it was nerves—the way he kept glancing around, his hands fidgeting in his pockets.

“shit, i’m sorry,” he said abruptly, realization dawning on his face. he stopped in his tracks and ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “i’m jj maybank. sorry for rambling.”

you didn’t know anyone on the island yet, and he seemed harmless enough, with a disarming charm that wasn’t exactly unwelcome. you extended your hand. “nice to meet you, (y/n) (l/n).”

his handshake was firm but friendly, his smile genuine as he asked, “you a racer? mechanic?”

“whatever i wanna be,” you replied with a casual shrug.

jj’s grin widened, impressed by your confidence. “i like your enthusiasm.”

he stepped further into the shop, his curiosity getting the better of him as he started to examine everything. he crouched to inspect the hydraulic lift, nodded in approval at the toolboxes, and paused by the engine stand, where a half-dismantled v8 waited for your attention.

“what’re you doing to this one?” he asked, gesturing toward the engine.

“rebuilding it,” you replied without missing a beat. “block had a crack, so i welded it. now i’m just replacing the camshaft and lifters.”

jj blinked, clearly surprised. “you did the welding yourself?”

“yeah. why?”

he let out a low whistle, his admiration obvious. “most people would’ve scrapped it, don’t you know?”

you smirked but didn’t respond, letting him wander through the shop. he asked more questions as he went, quizzing you about everything from the tuning process to the differences between turbochargers and superchargers. you answered each question easily, and his impressed nods became more frequent. when he reached the back wall, he stopped abruptly, his eyes landing on the photo of your father. he stepped closer, studying it with reverence.

“you’ve met him?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost awed. “dude’s like my hero.”

tension settled in the air as you replied, your voice steady but firm, “well, i’d hope so. dude’s like my dad.”

jj turned to you, his mouth slightly open, his expression stunned. “you’re joking.”

you folded your arms, your gaze steady. “dead serious.”

“bullet?” he asked, his voice rising. “the bullet? your dad?”

you nodded, the weight of the moment pressing down on you thanks to the rather spontaneous topic. but it was gonna come up at some point, you knew that. jj looked back at the photo, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “that’s insane. he was a legend. the races, the cars, everything. i mean, he’s the reason i even started racing in the first place.”

“he’s the reason i came here,” you said quietly, your eyes flicking to the photo. “wanted to honor his name. his legacy. that’s why i started this shop.”

jj was silent for a moment, clearly processing everything. his mind was working—though you could tell it didn’t happen often—until something lit up in his eyes. when jj maybank got a good idea, it wasn’t often, but it was always worth considering.

“what if,” he started, pausing to make sure you were listening. “what if you drove with the pogues?”

you blinked, caught off guard. “drove with you?”

“yeah,” he said eagerly, the excitement building in his voice. “we’re always looking for drivers, and with what you know? you’d be perfect. plus, your dad’s reputation alone would make waves.”

you thought about it, letting the weight of the opportunity settle over you. your father’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you that he’d always been one to take a chance. winning is winning. finally, you nodded. “i’m in.”

jj had spent the next hour perched on the edge of a worn metal table, watching you in silence. his gaze tracked every movement of your hands as you worked on the motorcycle in front of you, the harsh fluorescent lights of the shop casting a sharp glow over the sleek black paint. he was fascinated, though he tried not to make it too obvious.

the motorcycle wasn’t anything special—just a kawasaki with a busted fuel pump you’d been hired to fix. you’d dismantled it with expert precision, the kind that made even jj, someone who lived for speed, pause in appreciation.

“that’s not your ride, is it?” he finally asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

you clicked your tongue in mild irritation at the interruption, but your answer was sharp and clear. “not a fan of anything with two wheels. only use them if i have to.”

“so what is your ride?”

you glanced up at him, smirking. “in the back.”

jj raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “wanna show me?”

you finished tightening the bolts on the fuel pump, wiped your hands on a nearby rag, and straightened up. “sure. why not?”

he hopped off the table, following you eagerly as you wheeled the motorcycle into place and locked up the shop. when you led him to the garage at the back, he couldn’t hide the anticipation bubbling beneath the surface. his mind raced with possibilities. a supra? a skyline? he had already started placing bets with himself. whatever it was, he could already tell it’d be something worth seeing.

the garage door groaned in protest as you unlocked it and slid it open. the smell of oil and gasoline hit him first, but his attention snapped to the vehicle parked in the center of the space.

“no fucking way,” he exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer. his hands hovered over the car, reverent, before finally making contact. “camaro?”

you nodded, leaning casually against the garage wall, watching him with amusement. “z/28,” you clarified.

“but the z/28 isn’t supposed to be out yet,” he said, his voice full of disbelief. “not until next year.”

you shrugged, smirking. “rules don’t apply to everyone, maybank. what’d you think?”

jj turned to you, his eyes wide and pleading, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. he didn’t have to say a word for you to understand what he was asking.

“you wanna take her for a spin, don’t you?” you teased.

he nodded furiously, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you tossed him the keys. “don’t wreck it,” you called after him as you slid into the passenger seat. “you’ll owe me an eight-second car if you do.”

he didn’t need any more encouragement. the engine roared to life as he turned the key, the deep, guttural sound filling the small garage. he gripped the wheel with a wide grin, barely containing his excitement. the camaro tore out of the driveway and onto the street, its tires screeching as he pushed the gas pedal to the floor. the car was smooth, powerful, and perfect—a beast on wheels.

“holy shit,” jj breathed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “this thing is unreal.”

“told you,” you replied, smirking as you leaned back in your seat, your eyes on the road. “handles like a dream, doesn’t it?”

“more than a dream. gotta be in heaven or some shit.”

he shifted gears with practiced ease, the camaro responding to every command as though it was an extension of himself. the wind whipped through the open windows, and the sound of the engine reverberated in your chest. the drive to the pogues’ shop didn’t take long, though jj seemed to savor every second of it. when he pulled up, the building came into view—a far cry from your setup.

the shop was rough around the edges, just like the pogues themselves. the walls were made of weathered wood, the roof patched in places where time and storms had taken their toll. a rusted sign hung crookedly above the door, reading “outer banks auto parts.” the front yard was littered with old car parts and broken tools, a makeshift graveyard for vehicles long since stripped for parts.

jj parked the camaro carefully, as if it was made of glass, before jumping out and grinning at you. “welcome to paradise,” he said with a laugh, gesturing toward the shop. you stepped out, taking in the scene. it was rural, gritty, and undeniably pogue, but there was something charming about it. something real. something your father would have respected.

yoy let your gaze drift over the pogues’ shop, taking in its rough exterior and cluttered front yard. the place had character, you’d give it that—old wooden walls bleached gray by the sun, mismatched patches on the tin roof, and rusted car parts scattered around like they were part of the decor. it was the polar opposite of your shop, but it felt honest in a way that was hard to ignore.

“this is nice,” you said after a moment. “real earthy.”

jj rolled his eyes, smirking. “it’s okay, you can be mean. i can take it.”

you shrugged, letting a sly grin play on your lips. “alright, it’s pretty shitty. but it’s practical.”

“damn straight it is,” he laughed, walking around to your side of the car and gesturing for you to follow him inside.

the moment you stepped into the shop, you felt like you didn’t belong. the interior was as mismatched as the outside—a haphazard mix of tools, parts, and personal touches that somehow worked. it wasn’t the mess that made you feel out of place, though; it was the dynamic. you could tell right away that these people were a family, and you were the outsider walking into their world.

“guys!” jj called, his voice echoing in the small space. “got someone you need to meet!”

the group turned toward you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and friendliness.

“this is john b,” he started, clapping a hand on the shoulder of a tall guy with messy hair and an easy smile. “our fearless leader, or something like that, kind of glazing him.”

the man grinned and offered you his hand, “nice to meet you.”

“and that’s sarah, his girlfriend,” jj continued, gesturing to the blonde girl beside john b. she had a warm, welcoming smile that immediately put you at ease.

“hey,” she said, stepping forward and giving you a quick hug. “it’s great to meet you.”

“over here, we’ve got pope,” jj said, nodding to a guy who was leaning over a disassembled engine, his hands covered in grease. “he’s the brains of the operation. technical genius.”

pope looked up, wiping his hands on a rag and offering you a firm handshake. “nice to meet you. you a racer or a mechanic?”

“both,” you said with a small smile.

pope raised an eyebrow, impressed. “good to know. we could use someone with your skills around here.”

“and this is cleo, pope’s girlfriend,” jj said, pointing to a girl with short, dark hair and a sharp, confident demeanor.

“finally, another girl around here,” cleo said with a grin. “it’s a relief, i tell you. what’s your pick?”

before you could answer, jj jumped in. “that’s the best part. she’s not just a racer or a mechanic. her dad, dude? her dad was bullet.” the room fell silent.

“that’s not funny, j,” john b said after a moment, running a hand through his hair in disbelief.

“it’s true,” you said, your voice steady. “he’s the reason i’m here. wanted to honor his name and his legacy.” the weight of your words settled over the group, their expressions shifting from shock to admiration.

kiara, who had been quiet until now, smiled and crossed her arms. “well, it’s a good thing you’re here, then. our cars are busted to hell, and we don’t have enough hands to fix them.”

pope nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed in thought. “think you’re up for it?”

jj scoffed, rolling his eyes. “what kind of question is that? did you see the babe she rolled up in?”

sarah exchanged a glance with pope before turning back to you, curiosity lighting up her eyes. “okay, i have to ask. what do you ride?”

you pointed to the camaro parked outside, its bright orange paint gleaming in the sunlight.

“no way,” john b said, walking to the door to get a better look.

“bless your heart,” sarah said, pulling you into another hug.

the guys crowded around your camaro like kids at a candy store, their voices blending into an excited buzz. they ran their hands over the sleek orange paint, marveling at the flawless bodywork and muttering about its specs. you let them admire it, knowing the car deserved every ounce of awe it was getting. instead, you leaned back against the shop wall, folding your arms as the girls joined you.

“that’s some ride you got there,” kiara said, her tone more genuine than envious. her sharp features softened slightly as she looked between you and the camaro.

“thanks,” you replied, watching the boys from the corner of your eye. “seems like it’s already making an impression.”

she laughed lightly. “you came at the perfect time. we’ve got a big one coming up tonight.”

her words piqued your interest immediately. “big one?” you echoed, tilting your head.

sarah and cleo exchanged knowing glances before sarah leaned in slightly. “the kooks,” she said with a mix of irritation and anticipation. “we’re supposed to race them again tonight.”

you furrowed your brow, intrigued by her tone. “tonight?”

“yup,” kiara answered, a flicker of disdain crossing her face. “they’ve got their shiny cars and their squeaky-clean reputations, but they’re dirty as hell when it comes to racing.”

“they can race up front,” cleo added, nodding toward the shop’s door, “since they’ve got the cops under their thumb. us?” she gestured around dramatically. “we’ve got to be more lowkey. hence the shop.”

your gaze wandered to the garage’s cluttered interior and then back to them. “what’s the winning streak like?”

the girls shared a look that told you everything you needed to know before sarah even said, “not great.”

“not great?” you pressed, arching a brow.

kiara let out a frustrated sigh. “the kooks have everything. better cars, better drivers, and they don’t play fair. we’re lucky if we finish a race without something going wrong.”

“or someone crashing,” cleo added pointedly.

sarah’s expression darkened slightly. “especially when rafe’s involved.”

“rafe?” you repeated.

“my brother,” she admitted reluctantly, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

“wait, hold on,” you said, straightening up. “your brother races against you?”

she nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “some people call him crash. others go with crashout. he’s—let’s just say he’s a dirty racer with a good car.”

the nickname didn’t ring any bells for you, and you shook your head. “never heard of him.”

sarah looked both relieved and mortified at the same time. “well, consider yourself lucky. he’s dangerous, and not just on the track.”

“not to mention a total asshole,” cleo muttered under her breath, earning a small laugh from kiara.

“where’s this race happening?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, intrigued.

kiara stepped in to explain. “figure eight. there’s a parking lot on prairie avenue between a few streets. that’s where everyone meets up. people bring their cars, check each other out, and if they’re feeling bold, they race.”

“and the problem?” you asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

“our cars are in the worst shape imaginable,” kiara admitted, her voice heavy with frustration.

you couldn’t help but grin. “well, good thing i’m here.”

the three girls looked at you, surprised by the confidence in your tone. “you’re really gonna help us?” sarah asked, her voice tentative but hopeful.

“yeah,” you said with a small nod, letting your eyes drift back to your camaro. “bring your cars to the shop tomorrow, and i’ll see what i can do.” the relief on their faces was evident, but you weren’t done. you hesitated for just a second, then added with a smirk, “but on one condition.”

cleo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “what’s that?”

“we race tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze fixed on your camaro as the sun glinted off its polished surface.

the heat was relentless, even as the sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow over the dusty road. you could feel it seeping into every fiber of your clothing, making the denim of your shorts crease uncomfortably against your skin. the humidity clung to you like a second layer, and you tugged at the flap of your tank top, attempting to let even the smallest breath of air cool you down.

your thighs stuck together with every shift of your legs against the seat, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, hoping the breeze coming through the open window would offer some relief. it didn’t, not really, but you were too focused on the directions pope was giving you to care too much. “left up here, then just keep going straight for a bit,” he said from the backseat, his voice steady and sure.

your hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel as you nodded, your eyes scanning the road ahead. each turn brought you closer to the meeting spot, and the thought of the race waiting for you settled like a heavy weight in your chest. jj sat beside you, his elbow propped against the window as he stared ahead—or at least he was supposed to be staring ahead. instead, his eyes kept darting to you.

he knew he should be focused on what was coming: the race, the cars, the adrenaline of it all. but sitting this close to you, he found himself completely distracted.

the way your tan lines peeked out from under your tank top, hinting at just how much time you’d spent in the sun. the way your shorts seemed to live up to their name, riding up just enough to make his throat dry. and then there was the sheen of sweat on your neck, trickling down to disappear under your shirt, making him lick his lips absentmindedly as he tried to focus on anything but how good you looked. It wasn’t working.

“you sure you’re cool with racing?” sarah’s voice broke through the tension, her words directed at you from the backseat where she leaned comfortably against john b’s chest.

you glanced at her briefly in the rearview mirror before returning your focus to the road. “why wouldn’t i be?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral.

she shrugged, though the concern in her voice remained. “they could put you up against rafe, for all you know. he doesn’t exactly play fair.”

your stomach churned slightly at the thought. you weren’t afraid of racing—not in the slightest. losing didn’t scare you either. but being humiliated by someone like rafe cameron? a dirty racer with too much confidence and too little morality? that was a whole other story. you swallowed the knot forming in your throat and shrugged one shoulder, keeping your gaze firmly ahead as the scenery began to shift. the buildings thinned out, replaced by open stretches of road and the occasional cluster of trees.

“we’ll see,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the unease twisting in your gut. it was all you could manage.

as the city gave way to open roads, you began to notice a shift in the atmosphere. people, crowds. they were scattered along the sides of the road, gathering near the parking lot pope had mentioned. the thrum of engines filled the air, a low hum that vibrated through your chest and sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. there was no turning back now.

the meeting was unlike anything you had imagined. cars were everywhere, of all makes and models, their glossy exteriors illuminated by the flickering streetlights overhead. the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber mixed with the salty tang of the sea breeze, a stark reminder of the island setting. music blasted from several vehicles, creating a chaotic symphony that drowned out the distant crash of waves.

people milled about in groups, leaning against cars or crouching near open hoods, talking shop or simply passing time. they ranged from sun-kissed surfers in board shorts to mechanics with grease-stained hands, and even the occasional tourist drawn in by the allure of rebellion. this wasn’t just a car meet—it was a full-blown spectacle. you had never seen anything like it on such a small island.

guided by pope's directions, you navigated the camaro into an open space, sliding it neatly beside a sleek motorcycle. the rumble of the engine ceased, leaving an almost deafening silence in its absence. you exhaled deeply, your fingers lingering on the steering wheel before glancing over at jj, who was already grinning like he owned the place.

“let’s go, hotshot,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

with a roll of your eyes, you pushed the door open, stepping out into the crisp night air. it was a relief against your overheated skin, instantly making the effort of the journey feel worth it. you stretched your legs, groaning softly as the ache from sitting too long set in. leaning against the hood, you extended one leg at a time, trying to shake the feeling back into them.

“my legs are killing me,” you muttered, leaning back as you let your body relax against the car’s warm surface.

jj chuckled, already fishing something out of his pocket. a small flick of a lighter revealed the joint he’d pulled free, and he tucked it between his lips with practiced ease. he took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl around his lips before catching the look on your face.

“what?” he asked, his grin lazy. “cops won’t be here for a while. might as well relax.”

you narrowed your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. when he passed the joint to you, you didn’t hesitate, taking it between your fingers and mimicking his earlier drag. the burn was sharp, and the faint haze that followed was just enough to steady your nerves. as you passed it back, you began to notice the shift in attention around you. whispers spread through the crowd, heads turning toward the camaro with curious gazes. it wasn’t just because of the car—it was because of you.

the pogues showing up at a meet like this wasn’t exactly uncommon, but showing up in a ride like this? that was unheard of.

one gaze, in particular, lingered longer than the others. it belonged to a tall, lean man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow under the streetlights. his stance was rigid, his jaw clenched, and his expression was a mixture of confusion and unbridled fury. you met his gaze head-on, your lips curling into a subtle smirk as you passed the joint back to jj.

“whose ride is it?” the man’s voice rang out, cutting through the chatter like a knife. conversations died instantly, leaving the air heavy with tension. “whose fucking ride is it?”

john b and jj exchanged a glance, both clearly ready to jump in and defend you, but you weren’t about to let anyone fight this battle for you.

“why?” you called back, your tone laced with casual confidence. “you like her?”

the man’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer as he stepped closer. “enough to know no damn pogue should be driving her,” he spat.

he stopped just a foot away, his presence looming. the girl clinging to his arm tightened her grip, her gaze flickering nervously between the two of you.

“that might be an issue,” you mused, feigning worry as you stepped away from the car. your smirk only deepened. “she’s all mine.”

the murmurs around you grew louder, and the man’s scowl deepened. he scanned the camaro like it was something out of place, something that didn’t belong—much like you.

“never seen you around before,” he said finally, his tone low and clipped. “yet here you are, driving a car that shouldn’t even be out yet. what’s your game?”

his question hung in the air like a challenge, his blue eyes boring into yours with an intensity that demanded submission. for a split second, you wavered, but then your gaze caught sarah’s in the crowd. her wide eyes and subtle shake of the head told you all you needed to know. that was him. that was rafe cameron.

“i’m here to race,” you said, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “what about you?”

gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd, the shock obvious. someone challenging rafe—crash—was a rare sight. doing so with such blatant confidence? absolutely unheard of.

rafe’s smirk returned, cruel and condescending as he turned to glance at his friends. “shit, almost feels mean, y’know?” he drawled. the smirk vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a cold, predatory look. “but i guess you’re asking for it, yeah?”

you shrugged, refusing to let him see even a hint of the unease simmering beneath your calm exterior. pulling your wallet from your back pocket, you thumbed through the bills inside before pulling out a neat stack.

“three grand sound okay?”

jj and john b’s heads whipped toward you, their expressions a mix of disbelief and panic. “dude, you sure she’s not a dealer?” john b muttered under his breath, earning a smirk from jj.

rafe’s eyebrows shot up, surprised but clearly pleased by the amount. he reached out to take the cash, his smirk returning. “just kissing your minimum wage money goodbye,” he taunted.

you held his gaze, unflinching as you replied, “we’ll see.”

the moment the crowd began to gather around your camaro, a sense of tension hung in the air, thick and uneasy. every movement you made felt magnified—your every touch, every glance, being scrutinized by dozens of curious eyes. it was as if the crowd held its breath, watching not just the car but the story unfolding before them. some whispered to each other, eyes flicking between you and rafe, while others simply observed, waiting for something to happen.

kiara, standing off to the side, looked at you with concern etched across her face. her usually cool demeanor was cracked with worry. “you don’t have to do this,” she said softly, stepping closer to you, her voice filled with an unmistakable sense of care.

john b, leaning against the door, chimed in, his tone casual but tinged with unease. “yeah, seriously. this could just be a waste of money, and we don’t even know if it’s gonna be worth it.”

you could feel their eyes on you, the quiet insistence that you step back, that maybe this was too much. the worry in their voices almost made you hesitate, but you brushed it off. this wasn’t about money or the risk—it was about proving something. not to them. not to rafe. but to yourself.

without saying another word, you ignored their concerns, focusing on the task ahead. the crowd had thickened around you now, the murmurs of awe growing louder as the sleek camaro stood at the center of attention. it wasn’t just the car; it was you, the girl who’d shown up on the island with something the pogues rarely ever had—something new, something bold. you popped the hood, and the sound of the latch clicking was a signal to the crowd. you stepped forward, your fingers brushing the cold metal of the engine, making subtle adjustments as you moved with practiced ease.

“she’s really good,” sarah said from behind you, her voice laced with admiration.

rafe, standing with his friends and glaring at the scene before him, overheard the comment. he scoffed, trying to mask the flicker of doubt in his eyes. “good? please,” he muttered under his breath. in his mind, this was just another way to put the pogues in their place. if you could make it to the starting line, he figured, you’d be an easy target.

the kooks watched, standing in a small huddle, exchanging glances. but it wasn’t just the kooks you had to worry about. the crowd itself was becoming more animated, murmuring louder with every adjustment you made under the hood. jj, watching closely, exchanged a look with pope, both of them speechless at first. they couldn’t believe it—not in a million years. they thought they knew you, thought they’d seen every side of you. but this?

“you’re kidding, right?” pope said, eyes wide with disbelief. he took a cautious step forward, clearly in awe.

jj exhaled sharply, his eyes locked on what you were doing, his voice low as he tried to comprehend what was unfolding. “that’s good thinking.”

cleo, standing off to the side, seemed confused. she glanced between the three of them, wondering what they were seeing that she wasn’t. “what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice cutting through the noise.

but it wasn’t until you clicked something into place, securing the small device under the hood, that they all saw it. your hands wiped against your thighs, brushing off the excess grease from the engine.

“nitrous oxide,” jj finally spoke, a slow grin creeping onto his face. the pride in his voice was unmistakable, his confidence swelling as he looked at the sleek system you had just attached with ease.

pope's eyes were wide with shock, the realization dawning on him. “nitrous oxide,” he repeated, his tone almost reverent now. “you’ve got nitrous in there.”

jj chuckled, his grin broadening as he leaned back slightly, watching the reactions around him. “told you she was a pro.”

the camaro’s engine thrummed under your fingertips, the steady hum vibrating through your hands as you gripped the wheel tightly. you kept your eyes darting between your friends, who were standing by, watching the tense scene unfold with a mixture of nerves and excitement. each of them looked different, their faces reflecting their worry and disbelief, but they weren’t going to stop you. not now. the three grand, all of it, was in pope’s hands, and you were past the point of no return. then there was rafe.

he sat in the blue skyline beside you, the car that seemed like it was built for something other than street racing—a car that was sleek, dangerous, and made your skin crawl just by being too close to it. the paint job was dark, almost black in the night, with a glossy sheen that made it look like it was alive. the grill at the front, sharp and angular, gave the car an aggressive stance. the rims gleamed under the streetlights, and the custom body work screamed money and power—a car meant for someone who never had to worry about getting caught.

rafe leaned back in the driver’s seat, his smirk irritatingly smug, his eyes gleaming with the confidence of someone who knew he could win. the kooks, standing on the sidelines, weren’t giving him the same level of attention they’d given you. they didn’t see you as a threat, not yet. rafe was everything they believed in—money, power, status.

he rolled down his window and glanced at you, eyes filled with disdain, the condescension oozing from his every movement. “you can still quit, walk away with some dignity,” he called, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. his smirk only deepened as he waited for your response.

you gripped the wheel harder, ignoring the slight tremor in your hands. “i’d rather walk out with three grand,” you shot back, trying to sound steady, your voice not betraying the nervousness you felt in your gut.

rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment before morphing into something darker, more sinister, like a predator sizing up its prey. he didn’t respond. the air between you thickened, charged with the bitter taste of impending tension. you couldn’t back down now.

the countdown began, and the sound of the crowd intensified, murmurs flowing like a wave through the crowd. you adjusted your grip, eyes locking on the red lights ahead, each second stretching on forever. rafe’s skyline revved beside you, his engine purring in a way that sent chills down your spine, the sound of it cutting through the night like a warning.

three.

two.

one.

the lights flickered green.

without hesitation, you slammed your foot on the pedal, the camaro lurching forward as the engine roared to life. your heart hammered against your chest as the world blurred around you, the rush of adrenaline flooding every inch of your body. you didn’t even think—your focus was singular, your vision narrowed to the street ahead of you.

but rafe wasn’t just racing. no, he had something else in mind. he took the lead, his car shooting ahead with the kind of precision that came from years of practice. you could hear the engine of his skyline growling as he sped ahead, his tires gripping the pavement with ease. his technique was flawless—he was smooth, cutting through the curves with a level of control that made it seem like he had done this a hundred times before. but you weren’t out yet.

with a fierce push, you hit the button for the nitrous, the world around you instantly transforming. the sudden surge of speed jerked your body back into the seat, the force of the gas shooting the camaro forward in an explosive burst. the crowd gasped, eyes widening as the car roared past rafe, cutting through the air like a bullet.

the street blurred past in flashes—streetlights, dark corners, distant buildings, all a streak of color and light as you shot forward. the world felt like it was moving in slow motion while your heartbeat raced to match the speed of the camaro. rafe’s skyline was already fading into the distance, his once confident smirk now replaced by the flash of surprise that barely registered before your car overtook him.

you were ahead. you could feel it, the surge of power under the hood, the tight grip of the steering wheel as you maneuvered through the streets with precision. the sounds of tires screeching, engines roaring, the shouts of the crowd—it all felt distant, like it was happening to someone else. you were in the zone. the finish line was in sight. the end was near. but then you heard it. the sirens.

your heart lurched as you glanced in the rearview mirror, your pulse spiking. flashing lights flickered in the distance—red and blue dancing in the rearview mirror. the cops. you dared a glance to the side, your eyes catching rafe’s face. his smirk was back. of course it was. he knew exactly what was coming. the kooks got away with everything. you knew that. they always did, but you? you were just a pogue. the rules didn’t apply to them.

without thinking, you swerved sharply, the tires screeching as you turned hard onto a side street, your hands working the wheel with a frantic precision. you had to get away. you couldn’t be caught. not now. not when the finish line was so close. you pushed the pedal down harder, your foot practically cemented to the accelerator as you raced down the dark streets. the cops were gaining on you, but you couldn’t afford to let them close.

a sharp turn ahead forced you to slide the car sideways, the tires barely catching the slick pavement as you shot through the intersection, narrowly avoiding a crash. the camaro’s rear end fishtailed, and you gritted your teeth, feeling the car fight against you as you struggled to regain control. but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

you could hear the sirens growing fainter as you swerved back onto a familiar street, the one where the race had begun. your friends were still there, waiting, watching in shock as you came into view, just barely ahead of rafe, whose skyline was left trailing behind you. you pulled up, the camaro skidding slightly as you came to a stop. your heart was still pounding, but the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off. you barely had time to catch your breath before you yanked the door open, your legs unsteady as you practically fell out of the car.

the sound of sirens was growing distant now, the cops lost in the maze of streets behind you. but you were here. you made it. and you’d won.

the cheers from the crowd echoed in your ears, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. you didn’t have time to celebrate, not when the unmistakable wail of sirens grew louder behind you, chasing you down like a relentless predator. the victory you’d earned so hard, the three grand, the rush of taking down rafe—it was all slipping away as quickly as it had come.

“get in!” you shouted, your voice sharp as you cut through the noise of the crowd. you didn’t have to say it twice. kiara was already jumping into the backseat, followed quickly by the others. their faces were a mix of exhilaration and concern, realizing that the win wasn’t enough to guarantee freedom. the sirens were closing in, the lights flashing bright and blinding in your rearview mirror.

the rest of the crowd was scattering now, some of them cheering as they saw the drama unfold, while others realized what was happening and fled in fear of the cops. but you weren’t going to stop. not now. not after everything.

with a quick glance at your friends, you slammed your foot back onto the pedal, the camaro roaring to life as you surged forward, the engine growling under the strain. the car seemed to leap forward, the tires screeching against the pavement as you floored it, the gas pedal an extension of your will.

jj’s voice broke through the hum of the engine, his words barely audible over the chaos. “holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he repeated, his voice cracking with disbelief as he held onto the door, clutching anything he could find to keep steady. you could feel his body jerking with every sharp turn, the force of the acceleration pulling everyone back into their seats.

none of them had ever felt anything like it. the rush was unlike anything they’d experienced, the car’s power and the nitrous giving them a surge of speed that was intoxicating. the scenery blurred into streaks of light and dark, the world outside narrowing into a tunnel as you pushed the camaro to its limits.

“you won,” kiara said, her voice filled with awe, trying to catch her breath from the sheer force of the ride.

you didn’t respond right away. sweat dripped down your temple, stinging your eyes as you focused on the road ahead, trying to block out the flashing red and blue behind you. it didn’t matter that you’d won. not when rafe had pulled every dirty trick in the book to make sure you wouldn’t get away unscathed.

“he rigged it,” you scoffed through gritted teeth, eyes darting to the rearview mirror again. “called the pigs.”

a heavy silence washed over the group. kiara’s breath hitched in the backseat, and pope’s expression hardened, the weight of the truth sinking in. they all knew what it meant.

“he knew he was gonna lose,” sarah spoke up, her voice tinged with disbelief, though she didn’t sound surprised. she knew how rafe operated. “he called them in advance.”

your fist slammed against the steering wheel, the impact reverberating up your arm as frustration bubbled over. you should’ve seen it. you should’ve known. your victory didn’t count when the police were already on your tail, and the realization stung more than the heat of the engine. you forced yourself to focus, to block out the anger and the regret. you had to get away. the sirens were almost unbearable now, but you couldn’t let them catch you. you needed a plan, a way out.

“where to now, pope?” you asked, your voice sharp but steady, trying to keep the panic from creeping into your tone.

he leaned forward from the backseat, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard. “where they won’t expect it,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension. “tannyhill.”

the sound of loud music and laughter echoed throughout the expansive, chaotic mansion, but inside the game room, a tense silence hung heavily in the air. rafe’s anger was palpable, his fists slamming onto the pool table with such force that the glassware and ashtrays scattered in all directions. his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table, his eyes narrowed in pure frustration, as beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

“dude, what the fuck’s your problem?” topper asked, leaning against the doorframe, his brows furrowed in confusion.

rafe wiped his forehead roughly, trying to shake off the burning anger that seemed to radiate from every part of him. “got the cops on her,” kelce reminded him. “she didn't win.” he could see his friend was losing it, and he wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that rafe had been outsmarted by a pogue, or that he was pissed off enough to go on a rampage.

“nah, man,” rafe growled, his fingers trembling as they pressed against the surface of the pool table. “you don’t get it.” his gaze sharpened, cold and menacing as he continued, his voice low and barely contained. “she's a pogue. shouldn't have had to call the cops in the first place.”

topper and kelce exchanged a concerned look, clearly aware that rafe’s pride had taken a hard hit, but unsure how to deal with it. kelce raised an eyebrow, pushing himself off the chair and giving rafe a sideways glance. “what’d you expect, man?” he asked, his voice carrying a touch of disbelief. “you know who her dad is.”

rafe’s attention snapped to his friend, his eyes darkening as he leaned in. “what’d you say?” his voice was a low growl, every syllable dripping with tension.

kelce didn’t flinch. “her dad, y’know? king of the road. bullet. you know, the one who used to run shit back in the day.” his words were casual, but there was a sense of finality to them. “word travels fast, bro. she came back, opened up her own auto shop, all for her pops.”

rafe froze. his fingers, still trembling, gripped the edge of the pool table, but his attention was now fixed on kelce. “bullet,” he muttered, a cold realization creeping into his voice. his mind began to race, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

topper and kelce exchanged another glance, this time more wary than before, as they watched the slow burn of recognition in rafe’s eyes. kelce leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly as he clarified. “that bullet. not a different guy, the one you’re thinking of. the same bullet that faced ward twenty years ago.”

he paused, letting the weight of that sentence sink in, “the one who won.”

rafe’s jaw tightened, his muscles visibly tensing as the name echoed in his mind. bullet. his father’s old rival. the man who had humiliated rafe's father in a way that still stung to this day. now, the realization that your father—bullet—was the one behind you, fueling your ambition, was like a slap to the face.

rafe muttered something under his breath, a guttural sound that barely left his lips. the anger that had been boiling over now shifted into something darker, more dangerous. his eyes narrowed to slits as he dug a small bag of white powder from his pocket, the crinkling of the bag sounding too loud in the tense silence. he flipped open the bag, spilling the powder onto the pool table, his hands shaking as he used his black card to cut thin, meticulous lines.

“fuck,” he whispered under his breath as he stared at the lines. his hand trembled slightly as he rolled up a dollar bill, preparing to snort the powder. as he did, his mind began to focus, the fog of rage lifting ever so slightly, replaced by something more methodical. “i think we should,” rafe trailed off, his voice low and still shaky, the tremors not just from the drug but from something far more sinister.

he paused, his eyes fixed on his friends, who were both watching him closely. “well, rafe?” topper asked. “tell us, what's your great idea?”

“i think we should kill them all.”

the bass of the music hit you before you even stepped through the door, the pounding rhythm vibrating through your chest. it was the kind of house party that could only be thrown by someone who had too much money and too little to lose. the walls seemed to pulse with the sound of voices and laughter, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the tang of spilled drinks. people were scattered around, some lounging in the living room, others crowding the kitchen, while a few shady figures lurked in the corners, eyes darting around like they were waiting for something to go wrong.

pope, walking beside you, couldn’t help but notice the way your hands shook. it was subtle, but enough for him to notice. he glanced at you, concern written across his face. “on second thought,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, “i don’t think this is a good idea,” but you didn’t stop. it was too late now, the moment you’d stepped foot into the lion’s den. rafe was here, and the race might’ve been over, but this was far from finished.

jj trailed behind you, already making his way to the cooler in the corner, grabbing a beer. you noticed the smile on his face, the way his lips curled as if he was already relishing the thought of watching rafe squirm.

“what’re you smiling for?” you snapped, trying to steady yourself against the wave of tension that was crawling up your spine.

he shrugged, cracking open his beer. “not every day you get to see rafe cameron lose,” he said, his words carrying a hint of truth, but you knew it didn’t change the fact that rafe had played dirty. he’d made sure the victory didn’t feel real.

you barely had time to dwell on that before you heard a familiar voice. “hey!” john b called out. you turned to see him and sarah standing at the top of the stairs, grinning like they were in on some private joke. he had his arm wrapped around sarah's waist, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“we’re gonna—well, there’s something i gotta show sarah upstairs,” he said, his voice laced with playful mischief.

jj raised his beer and threw a wink their way. “you crazy kids have fun,” he called out, his voice dripping with enthusiasm.

the two of them disappeared up the stairs, leaving you to continue through the crowd. the house was a mix of people—some familiar, some not. there were a few faces you recognized from the high school halls, kids who never seemed to do much more than party and live off their family’s money. but then there were others, people with sharper eyes, a bit too much grit in their demeanor, lurking in the shadows. you could feel their gaze flicker over you, sizing you up like prey.

but you didn’t stop walking. you pushed forward through the mass of people, not caring if you brushed against anyone. not caring about anything except the feeling of knowing exactly where this was heading. and then you saw him.

he was standing near the back, surrounded by his usual crew—kelce, topper, and a couple of other people you didn’t know. rafe’s eyes met yours the moment you stepped into his line of sight, and for a split second, the room seemed to pause. it was as if everything else faded, and you were the only two people in the house.

you didn’t hesitate. without even a thought, you walked up to him, your steps sure, your anger driving every movement. without warning, you grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward. the world seemed to blur around you as you smacked him across the face, the sharp crack of skin on skin echoing in the room. the crowd around you went silent for a split second, but it didn’t matter.

“you stupid, cheating son of a bitch,” you snarled, voice dripping with rage. “hurt that bad losing to a pogue? you had to cheat?”

rafe didn’t flinch. his expression remained cold, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl. his jaw tightened, his lips curling into something cruel. and then, just like that, his hands shot up and wrapped around your neck.

you gasped, struggling against the sudden pressure as his fingers dug into your skin. “don’t you ever call me that again,” he whispered, his voice cold, deadly. you tried to pry his hands away, your vision starting to swim as you fought for air.

“my old man might’ve lost to your dad,” rafe continued, his grip tightening even more. “but i sure as hell won’t lose to a dirty fuckin’ pogue like you.”

and it hit you. the words, the venom in his tone—it wasn’t just about the race. it was about something much deeper. his father had lost to your dad, bullet—the man who had earned his reputation in a way that rafe’s father could never match. the history between the two didnt run deep, but the animosity was thicker than blood.

you struggled harder, but the more you fought, the tighter his grip became, the pressure on your throat making it harder to breathe. your thoughts began to blur, your fingers clawing at his wrists, desperate for freedom.

but then, out of nowhere, you felt rafe being yanked away. jj, who had appeared from the crowd, threw his weight into the pull, dragging rafe off you with force. he stumbled back, hands still twitching as he tried to regain control, but jj wasn’t letting go.

“just you wait, pogue,” rafe called out, his voice hoarse from the force of his own words. “see what happens when you act a fool.”

jj didn’t respond. he didn’t need to. he shoved rafe back, and you staggered away from the chaos, breathing deeply, trying to recover from the shock of it all. as you made your way out of the fray, you glanced back to see rafe sitting back down at the table, his gaze empty. his body trembled slightly, his fingers still shaking. it wasn’t just about the race. it wasn’t even about you. his father didnt think he was good enough, so he wanted to be better.

the next morning, the smell of oil, metal, and grease filled the air as you worked in your shop. sunlight streamed through the garage’s open doors, illuminating the chaos within. it was shaping up to be a long day. your friends had brought their cars in, and calling them “in bad shape” was an understatement. each vehicle had its own set of unique, stubborn problems, from mechanical issues to cosmetic disasters. and on top of all that, jj’s dirt bike sat propped on its stand in the corner, waiting for a fresh coat of paint and some mechanical tlc.

you were perched over jj’s dirt bike, one leg swung lazily over the seat as you carefully sprayed on a bold blue coat of paint. the color shimmered slightly under the sunlight, and you allowed yourself a small moment of satisfaction. jj had insisted on something flashy, claiming he wanted it to “blind anyone he left in the dust.”

nearby, sarah’s car sat on a lift, its underside exposed. it was a sleek white coupe, but the suspension was shot to hell, the front bumper barely hanging on, and there was a mystery rattle that drove her crazy.

“you could do a lot more with it if you had a v8,” came a voice, smooth and cutting through the sound of your wrench.

your heart jumped. tense, you turned slowly, eyes narrowing as they locked onto rafe cameron standing at the edge of your garage. he was dressed in a crisp button-up, shorts, and boat shoes, a golf club casually slung over his shoulder like it belonged there.

“typical boys,” you quipped, recovering quickly, a smirk forming on your lips as you straightened. “always worried about whose engines bigger.”

rafe’s mouth twitched into a wry smile, though his eyes still held that unnerving sharpness. “what’re you doing here?” you added, your tone turning sharp. “came to trash my stash?”

he scoffed, taking a slow step forward, the metal head of the golf club clicking lightly against the cement floor as he walked. “got a garage more expensive than these rides,” he replied coolly, eyes scanning the cars around you. you rolled your eyes and turned back to sarah’s car, wiping your hands on a rag.

“the rumors are true,” rafe continued, a hint of amusement in his tone. “cut’s got its first shop run by a woman.”

you scoffed, glancing over your shoulder at him. “and if you open one, it’ll get its second.”

his smile faltered for a split second, irritation flashing across his face, but it didn’t stick. instead, he stood there, watching you with an expression that was equal parts frustration and intrigue.

“listen, pogue,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “you can call me out for calling the cops, but i know about your nos tanks. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

you set your wrench down with a loud clang, turning to face him fully. “any real racer knows you can use as many tanks as you want,” you said, stepping closer to him, your tone unwavering. “if you can handle it. can you handle it, rafe?”

for a moment, his annoyance shifted into something else, something almost predatory. his gaze flicked over you, and he tilted his head slightly, as though trying to figure you out. how could a pogue talk to him like this—fearlessly, no less—after what had happened last night?

“i can handle a lot more than you think,” he responded, a sly grin creeping onto his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat stack of bills. “how about you set it up for me? i’ll make it worth your while.” with a sharp motion, you pushed his hand down, forcing him to lower the money.

“bring your ride in and put your money away,” you said, your tone low but steady. “you’ll pay me back with a race. a fair one.”

rafe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his smirk growing wider. “sounds fair to me,” he countered, his voice dripping with challenge. “if you can handle it. can you handle it, (y/n)?”

you tilted your head slightly, mirroring his grin as you leaned closer. “i can handle a lot more than you think.”

the roar of the skyline’s engine filled your shop as rafe pulled back in, the bright blue paint glinting under the fluorescent lights. the car was immaculate, sleek and modern, with a body that screamed speed and power. you couldn’t help but appreciate it. rafe stepped out, leaning casually against the car, his gaze drifting to the corners of your shop.

“nice place you got here,” he said, his tone almost dismissive, but his eyes were scanning every detail.

“nice car,” you shot back, wiping your hands on a rag as you approached. r34, right? not bad, even for you.”

rafe’s smirk deepened, pleased you knew your stuff. “figured i’d bring her to the best,” he said, his voice dripping with irony.

you didn’t rise to the bait, gesturing for him to follow you. you led him to the closeted section of your shop, a hidden alcove where you kept your stash of tanks. the area was organized chaos—rows of shiny tanks stacked neatly, tools hanging on the walls, and a sturdy metal workbench in the center.

“how’s this shit work?” rafe asked, leaning against the table as he watched you pull a tank from the shelf.

you set it on the bench, grabbed a wrench, and began working. “it’s simple, really,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “nitrous oxide gets injected into the engine. gets the oxygen levels up during combustion. more fuel burns, so that means more power. it’s a burst, though—not something you use all the time.”

rafe nodded, his expression unreadable as he watched you work. you moved with precision, attaching the nos lines to the skyline’s engine, ensuring every bolt and connection was secure.

“got a closet full of this shit,” rafe remarked, glancing around.

you shrugged, not looking up from your work. “guess i like it fast.”

he raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “how do i know you’re not screwing me over?”

you straightened, wiping your hands on your shorts with a smirk. “take her for a spin,” you said simply.

he scoffed, crossing his arms as his gaze flicked between you and the car. “yeah, right. and if it blows me up?”

you rolled your eyes, already fed up. without a word, you opened the passenger door and climbed in, settling into the seat next to him. rafe hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were planning something, but eventually slid behind the wheel. you were immediately impressed by the interior—sleek, modern, and meticulously maintained.

he pulled out of the shop and onto the main road, driving casually until you reached a long, empty street.

“how’s it work?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

you pointed at a button near the gearshift. “press it,” you said, your tone almost mocking. “unless you’re scared.”

rafe’s gaze snapped to yours, his jaw tightening at the challenge in your voice. he wasn’t going to back down. slowly, deliberately, he pressed the button.

the effect was immediate. the skyline surged forward with a ferocity that pressed you both back into your seats. the engine roared, the world outside becoming a blur as the car rocketed down the street. rafe’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes flickering between you and the road.

“keep your eyes on the road, playboy,” you said, your voice steady despite the speed.

rafe smirked, his knuckles tightening on the wheel. “why? think we’re gonna crash?”

you didn’t blink, your gaze locked on him. “don’t know,” you said calmly. “haven’t decided yet.”

taking that as a challenge, rafe shifted his focus back to you, his blue eyes burning with determination. he kept the car hurtling forward, the engine screaming, his gaze never leaving yours. the tension in the air was evident, every second stretching into eternity as you stared each other down. the red light came into view, and rafe hit the brakes hard. the car skidded to a stop, tires screeching, the force jolting you both forward slightly. but even then, his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“i could’ve killed you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

you held his gaze, unwavering. “you wouldn’t.”

the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as you parked the last of your friends’ cars at their usual spot. each vehicle gleamed, repaired and polished. you stepped out, expecting gratitude and maybe a few jokes, but instead, you were met with silence. they were all there, standing stiffly in front of their shop, their expressions grim. you could feel the tension radiating off them as you walked closer, the quiet pressing against your chest.

“guys?” you called out, slipping from the driver’s seat and approaching cautiously. “what’s wrong?”

no one answered. the explanation came into view soon enough.

their shop was a disaster. broken glass littered the ground, the walls were defaced with cruel graffiti, and the door hung off its hinges. the words scrawled across the front made your stomach churn: “pogue trash,” “deadbeats,” “just like your daddy.” your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene, each insult like a punch to the gut.

“what the fuck happened?” you asked, your voice tight with anger and disbelief.

jj ripped his cap off and hurled it to the ground, his face flushed with fury. “those fuckin’ kooks, man,” he spat at no one in particular. “those fuckin’ kooks.”

you stepped closer, your boots crunching against the broken glass as you stared at the hateful words. the damage was extensive—tools missing, shelves overturned, and a pile of broken parts in the corner.

“they didn’t even try to hide it,” you muttered, your voice shaking.

pope sighed heavily beside you. “don’t take it personal,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t quite believe his own words. “at least they didn’t touch the cars.”

kie nodded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “yeah, thanks for fixing them for us,” she said softly, though her gratitude was muted by the weight of what had happened.

but their words barely registered as you stepped closer to the shop, your hands curling into fists. “who was it?” you asked, though you feared you already knew the answer.

jj scoffed bitterly. “who do you think?” he shot back, his voice dripping with venom. “rafe and his buddies.”

your stomach sank. you’d gone out of your way to help him, to level the playing field, and this was how he repaid you? it wasn’t even about the shop—it was about principle. he had crossed a line.

without another word, you grabbed a broom and started cleaning. the others joined in silently, the air thick with anger and frustration as you worked together to sweep up the glass, scrub off the graffiti, and salvage what you could. every stroke of the brush, every shove of the mop, only fueled your resolve.

by the time you finished, night had fallen, and exhaustion hung heavy in the air. you handed the broom to jj, your jaw set as you turned and made your way back to your car.

“where’re you going?” sarah called after you, her voice laced with concern.

you didn’t answer, you didn’t need to. the sound of the car door slamming shut was your only response as you started the engine and drove off into the night, your mind racing with one thought: rafe cameron was going to answer for this.

the engine hummed beneath you as you sped toward figure eight, the north side of the island, where the kooks played their games and looked down on people like you. your fingers drummed against the steering wheel, a steady rhythm that betrayed the pounding of your heart. the streets were quiet, eerily so, but you scanned every shadowed alley and empty corner, searching for him. or, more specifically, for his stupid skyline.

your knuckles whitened against the steering wheel, tension coiled in your chest. rafe cameron. of course, it had to be him. the golden boy with a mean streak a mile wide, hiding behind wealth and privilege while wreaking havoc for fun.

as you turned onto another desolate road, your eyes caught the glow of a parking lot up ahead. slowing down, you squinted, scanning the lot as you passed by—and there it was. a skyline, much like his, sat tucked in the farthest corner, its polished body gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

“there you are,” you muttered, a sharp edge in your voice as you pulled into the lot.

you drove straight toward the car, parking directly across from it, headlights glaring like a spotlight. the engine idled as you stepped out, leaving the car on as a statement. across the lot, the driver’s side door of the skyline opened, and out stepped rafe. he didn’t look pleased.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain.

you didn’t answer. Instead, you marched toward him, shoving him hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. “have a busy night, kook?” you spat. “steal some parts? trash some shops?”

rafe scoffed, recovering his footing as he stepped closer. his smirk was infuriating, his air of nonchalance calculated. “you’re out of your mind,” he muttered, but when your hand shot up to slap him, he caught it mid-air, his fingers wrapping around your wrist in a grip that made you wince.

“what’re you gonna do? arrest me?” he taunted, his voice low and biting. his grip tightened, making you clench your teeth. “you said you liked it fast, but you’re still not up to speed—this is the way things are here, pogue.”

he let go of your wrist, and you shoved him again, this time harder. his reaction was swift, his hands grabbing the front of your top and yanking you forward, slamming you against the hood of his car.

“let go of me, you son of a bitch,” you growled, struggling against him. but then your gaze locked onto his, and your tone turned razor-sharp. “what’re you gonna do next, rafe? choke me again? hit me? gonna hit me, rafe?”

his jaw clenched, his expression darkening as he stared down at you. he knew you were provoking him, pushing him toward the edge—but the hit never came.

instead, it came in the form of cold metal pressed against your temple, sleek and unyielding. your breath hitched as you realized what it was. a pistol, pulled from his waistband, now trembling slightly in his hand.

“come on, rafe,” you murmured, your voice soft but deadly. “do it, pull the trigger. let me see you do it.”

his hand shook, his grip faltering as his body trembled with barely-contained rage. the air between you was electric, charged with tension and unspoken words. finally, with a roar that made you flinch, he pulled back, stepping away as he spun around and shouted into the night, his voice raw and guttural.

“don’t push me,” he hissed, turning back toward you, his expression twisted with anger and something else—something almost like regret. “you know i’ll hurt you.”

you stayed frozen, stunned as he climbed back into his car and slammed the door. the tension still buzzed in the air as you staggered back to your own car, fury boiling in your veins. you didn’t look at him as you started your engine, but you knew he was watching.

as you pulled your car into reverse, you didn’t stop. you turned, aiming your headlights straight at him, and accelerated, tires screeching as you sped toward him. rafe’s eyes widened, but only for a second before his expression hardened, glazed with anger. you could see him mutter something to himself, though you couldn’t hear it over the roar of the engines.

“come on,” he whispered, his voice almost a growl. “see if you have the fucking balls.”

neither of you slowed. the distance between you closed rapidly, your gazes locked, unflinching, as your cars raced toward each other like bullets. it was a game of chicken, and you weren’t about to lose.

at the last second, rafe was the one to swerve, tires screeching as his skyline drifted to the side, narrowly avoiding impact. your own car skidded in the opposite direction, drifting towards the opposite sode, and for a moment, the lot was silent again, save for the low rumble of idling engines.

“i told you you wouldn’t,” you whispered under your breath, gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles ached.

the gym was barely lit, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the space as rafe paced like a caged animal. the heavy bag swung idly, a testament to the beating he had given it earlier, but his fists weren’t satisfied. his knuckles were raw, bloodied, and split, but the rage in his chest burned hotter, untamed.

kelce leaned against the wall, trying to appear nonchalant, but the tension in his posture gave him away. topper sat on one of the benches, a water bottle in hand, his expression hovering between amusement and concern.

“she got you good, man,” kelce said, trying to lighten the mood. “never seen a girl get you this mad.”

rafe didn’t respond. his chest heaved as he muttered to himself, words too quiet for anyone else to catch. his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body taut with frustration.

“hard to find a girl who knows how to drive,” topper chimed in, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back. “but a hot one? needle in a haystack.”

it was the wrong thing to say. rafe’s roar echoed through the gym, a guttural sound that tore through his throat, making both kelce and topper jump. before they could react, rafe’s fist slammed into the wall with a sickening crack, leaving a jagged dent in the drywall. his knuckles followed suit, blood smearing across the pale surface as he pulled back.

“dude, you need to calm down,” kelce said, stepping forward cautiously, his hands half-raised in a placating gesture. he exchanged a nervous glance with topper, who was now sitting upright, the humor gone from his expression.

but rafe wasn’t hearing any of it. his breathing was erratic, his gaze wild as he turned away, pacing again. he ran a trembling hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the pain might distract him from whatever was boiling inside. what was it with her? how could someone so infuriating, so goddamn pogue, crawl under his skin like this? she was everything he despised—defiant, reckless, unpredictable—and yet she was all he could think about. the way she stared him down, the way she challenged him, dared him even, as if she knew just how far to push before he broke.

was it the hatred that fueled him? the way she made his blood rush, his heart race? lr was it something else, something he couldn’t put into words but that kept him coming back, like a moth to a flame?

“i hate her,” he finally hissed, his voice low but venomous. his chest rose and fell rapidly as he turned to face his friends, his knuckles still dripping red. “i fuckin’ hate her.”

the bonfire blazed brightly against the inky night sky, crackling and sending sparks into the air as the party raged around it. the salty tang of the ocean mixed with the scent of burning wood and the faint whiff of spilled beer. laughter, shouting, and the deep bass of a playlist made the beach feel alive, every corner buzzing with energy. people crowded around coolers, passing drinks, leaning against cars, or dancing to the music. shadows flitted across the sand as groups clustered closer to the fire, the light flickering across their faces.

you pulled into the makeshift parking area, your headlights briefly illuminating the crowd before you cut the engine. the hum of the party immediately filled the car, but you stayed seated, your hands still on the steering wheel. the adrenaline from earlier hadn’t worn off, but it had simmered into something heavier, something confusing.

how could someone be so insufferable? how could he manage to boil your blood and make your pulse race all at once? you hated his entitlement, his smirk, his stupid blue eyes that always seemed to hold a challenge. he wasn’t worth the energy, and yet here you were, your grip tightening on the steering wheel as if trying to ground yourself.

“you okay?” jj’s voice broke through your thoughts.

you turned your head slightly to look at him, his blue eyes filled with concern. he noticed the slight tremble in your hands but didn’t push.

“yeah,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “yeah, it’s a party. i’m great.”

he didn’t believe you, not entirely, but he nodded anyway. jj knew when to let things go.

stepping out of the car, you were immediately hit with the cacophony of the party. the bonfire cast an orange glow that danced across the sand, illuminating faces both familiar and unfamiliar. the crowd was thick, packed with kooks and pogues alike, though the latter were clearly outnumbered. as you walked toward the fire, someone approached you, his voice loud and filled with enthusiasm.

“camaro!” he shouted, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “too cold for cameron.”

you blinked at him, startled, unsure how to respond. the race had clearly made an impression, and word had spread faster than you could’ve imagined. it was an uncomfortable kind of notoriety, but jj took it in stride.

“the people love you,” he said with a smirk, grabbing two beers from a nearby cooler and handing one to you. “give the people what they want.”

you rolled your eyes, but the truth was clear. everyone was impressed—almost everyone.

rafe was seated by the fire, his legs stretched out lazily, one arm draped over the shoulders of a girl who was chattering away. her friend sat nearby, giggling at whatever she was saying, but rafe didn’t seem to be paying attention. he didn’t even know her name, not that it mattered. just that he was lonely, and she tasted like tequila. his gaze was locked on you. the tension from earlier wasn’t visible in his expression, but there was something in his eyes. his beer bottle hovered near his lips as he stared, his brow furrowing slightly as he took in the sight of you.

you weren’t wearing your usual gear—no grease-stained shorts, no leather boots. Instead, you’d chosen a white dress, short and flowy, paired with white heels. it was simple, but it transformed you, softening your edges in a way rafe hadn’t expected. he should’ve looked away, should’ve focused on the girl clinging to his arm or the drink in his hand. but he couldn’t.

you noticed his stare and felt the weight of it, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. quickly, you lifted the beer jj had given you and took a long swig.

“thirsty, aren’t you?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “sober. way too sober.”

the night dragged on, the bonfire crackling loudly as laughter and chatter mixed with the low thrum of music. jj handed you another beer before motioning toward the campfire. “come on, let’s sit,” he said, his tone light, though his eyes lingered on you, searching for any signs of lingering tension.

you sighed but followed, settling into the sand next to him. the heat from the fire washed over you, much unlike the cool breeze that carried the smell of saltwater. you leaned back slightly, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. every muscle ached, and all you wanted was the sweet escape of sleep. but sleep wasn’t an option, not here, not now.

you sipped your beer slowly, savoring each drop as it slid down your throat. across the flames, rafe sat, his arm lazily draped over the girl he had come with. he wasn’t looking at her, not really, but when she leaned in to kiss him, his lips met hers in a display that felt more performative than passionate. your gaze dropped instantly, your stomach churning. you prayed no one had noticed your reaction, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you.

“camaro,” topper’s voice cut through the din, dragging your attention back to the group.

you turned your head slightly, your body tense as you met his gaze.

“word on the street says you’re racing our man again,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

jj glanced at you, his confusion evident. “again?” he asked, but you only shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you popped the cap off another beer.

“street doesn’t lie,” you said simply, taking a swig.

kelce and topper exchanged impressed looks, nodding as if to say they approved. but kelce’s smirk widened as you continued, “even when its racers are dirty cheats.”

the air shifted. rafe’s head snapped toward you, his eyebrows raised in challenge. the firelight reflected in his narrowed eyes, adding to the intensity of his glare.

“called street smarts for a reason, isn’t it?” he said, his smirk sharp.

you rolled your eyes, leaning back against the driftwood bench. “let’s see how smart you are without the cops,” you said, your voice steady, though your pulse hammered in your chest.

rafe opened his mouth, clearly ready to retort, but something stopped him. he clenched his jaw, leaning back in his seat with a forced calmness. his breath came in shallow, frustrated huffs as the firelight danced across his features. the tension in the group was uncomfortable, but the silence didn’t last long. you drained your beer, allowing the alcohol to dull the edge of your exhaustion and frustration. the conversations around you resumed, and for the first time all night, you felt yourself beginning to relax.

rafe, however, wasn’t relaxing. his eyes flicked to you every chance they got, watching as your posture softened, as your lips curled into a small smile at something jj said. he watched as jj leaned in, whispering something into your ear, his hand brushing your shoulder. whatever he said made you laugh, a soft, genuine sound that tugged at something deep within rafe. you made him angry. everything you did made him angry.

jj tipped his beer bottle toward you. “we staying here tonight?” he asked, his tone casual.

“yeah,” you replied, pushing yourself to your feet. “let’s just hope they won’t trash this, too.”

your words carried a pointed weight, and you capped them off with a glance in rafe’s direction, your gaze cool and challenging. it was subtle, but he caught it. he always caught it. you disappeared into the tent jj had set up, leaving the campfire and its occupants behind. rafe’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his beer. everything about you, everything you did, made him mad. and he still couldn’t look away.

the tent was suffocating. you’d been lying there for hours, trying desperately to sleep, but it was impossible. exhaustion clung to your body like a second skin, but no matter how much you tossed, turned, or closed your eyes, rest wouldn’t come. your mind was a storm, thoughts swirling violently around one person.

you hated him—every inch of him. the way he carried himself with arrogant confidence, the way his words dripped with disdain, the way he always seemed to have the upper hand. conceited, rude, filthy rich, and far too smug about it. but worst of all? his mouth. it wasn’t just the venom he spat or the smirks that played on his lips; it was the fact, when it came down to putting his money where his mouth was, his mouth went everywhere. you hated it, hated him.

you sighed heavily, leaning back against the soft wall of the tent. your head rested against your pillow, eyes staring blankly at the fabric above you. the muted sounds of the bonfire party carried through the night, distant but persistent. you closed your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose, but peace still eluded you.

your body stiffened at the sound, the slow, deliberate movement of the tent’s zipper trailing sending a chill down your spine. the tent flaps parted, and he stepped inside. you didn’t react.

“come to kill me?” you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any interest.

he didn’t answer. instead, he moved toward you, his steps slow, purposeful. there was something unnerving about his silence, and it made your stomach twist. your head snapped toward him, your breath catching in your throat.

“rafe,” you said, panic creeping into your voice as you scrambled to your feet. “what are you doing?”

he didn’t respond. you glanced around the small space, frantically searching for something, anything, to defend yourself with, but there was nothing. he noticed.

“defenseless,” he murmured, his voice low, almost mocking.

your heart raced, pounding so loudly in your ears that you thought he could hear it. he stopped in front of you, his broad frame blocking the exit as he loomed over you.

“what do you think is gonna happen next?” he asked, his tone dark and taunting.

you swallowed hard, your palms clammy. “i know this story,” you said, forcing your voice to remain steady. “this is the part where we hurt each other, right? where we give in and see who’ll really win.”

amusement flickered across his face, but it was fleeting, his expression hardening as his gaze pinned you in place.

“that’s an interesting way to end things,” he murmured. “but i like my ending better.”

before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours. the kiss was searing, all teeth and desperation, a clash of emotions too raw to name. hatred morphed into something else entirely as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. your body reacted on instinct, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back, just as hard, just as rough.

even as your lips moved against his, the fight never stopped. tongues battled for dominance, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t tender—it was a war, and neither of you was willing to surrender, but this time? this time, you would lose.

without breaking the kiss, rafe sank to the ground, pulling you into his lap. his hands roamed, gripping your hips, sliding up your back, under your dress, as though he couldn’t get enough of you. he lay back, bringing you down with him, his body pressing into yours as his lips trailed away from your mouth. his kisses moved to your jaw, then down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

“i hate you,” you whispered, the words escaping through a breathless moan.

he groaned against your neck, his breath hot and ragged, “i hate you, too.”

there was something about playing with fire that everybody loved, ranging from the kids that would play with their mothers’ stoves despite warned not to, and the adults who lit their cigarettes despite knowing that it could kill them. despite being so different, every one of those people had one thing in common—they knew a thing or two about getting burned. the closer he was to you, the more you thought about it—playing with fire. you knew it’d hurt you at some point, but pain was fleeting, temporary. the warmth was what counted.

“show me,” you gasped as your fingernails clawed at the back of his neck. “show me how much you hate me.”

he took it as a challenge, he took everything you said as a challenge. just like that, his lips were on yours, his nose grazing your cheek. he tasted like beer—bitter, with a hint of something that you knew would keep you coming back for more. his lips were chapped from the alcohol, but still found a way to melt against yours. his fingers were long, rough as they crept up the back of your neck, sending goosebumps down your body before tangling themselves into your hair, pulling softly.

“look at me,” he whispered, and you’d never heard him so quiet. he pulled your hair downward, forcing your eyes to meet his.

your eyes were hazy, clouded with the same sensation that coursed through his veins. he couldnt have missed it, and he didn’t, a low hum vibrating through his chest as he took in the way you looked at him, unsure if he’d ever get to see it again. he kissed you again, his hips grinding down against yours, eliciting the softest whimper from you as his hard length pressed into the soft flesh of your thigh, separated by the fabric of his shorts.

“feel that?” he whispered, continuously rolling his hips against your thigh, pressing into you, making sure you could feel it—all of it. “that’s how mad you make me.”

you let out a sound, something between a laugh and a moan, biting your lip at the feeling of him like that—so hard, so deluded with lust. “who knew i had such an effect on you?”

rafe’s eyes darkened at your words, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his grip on your hair tightened slightly, and his nose brushed against yours as his lips hovered just inches away.

“you’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

you bit your lip, your body betraying you as you arched against him. his lips were on yours again, and this time it was hungrier, rougher, filled with all the pent-up frustration and hatred that had festered between you for so long. he kissed you like he was trying to devour you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before his tongue slipped inside, claiming your mouth as his.

his hands roamed your body, one sliding down to grip your waist while the other stayed tangled in your hair. he pulled you impossibly closer, his hips grinding harder against yours. the friction was intoxicating, drawing a soft, breathless moan from your lips that only spurred him on.

“say it again,” he demanded, his lips moving against your neck now, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“say what?” you breathed, your head tilting back as his tongue traced the column of your throat.

“tell me how much you hate me,” he growled, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed his hips firmly against you.

you let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “i hate you,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction, trembling with desire.

he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “liar,” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk before capturing yours again.

you fought for dominance, your nails scraping down his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. he hissed at the sensation, his hips bucking against you in response.

“careful,” he warned, his voice husky as he nipped at your jaw. “you’re playing with fire.”

“maybe i like the burn,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

he chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trailed down your collarbone. “you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his tone both teasing and threatening.

“then show me,” you challenged, your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging it upward.

he pulled it off in one swift motion, tossing it aside before leaning back over you, his bare chest pressing against yours. his hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of your body as his mouth claimed yours once again.

“you make me crazy,” he muttered against your lips, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered need. “i can’t think straight when i’m around you.”

“good,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from his throat. “i don’t want you thinking straight.”

you ran your fingers down his chest, unable to stop yourself from admiring just how strong he was, how broad he was. he was so lean, tan, with broad shoulders and big arms that he kept hidden. you bit your lip, keeping yourself from being too brazen, too nice—saying something you knew youd come to regret when the time came.

his touch was gentle, feather-like as his fingers slid your dress down, his eyes never leaving your frame as he did so. he tugged it down your chest, down your hips, until it was completely off. he groaned at the sight—the sight going straight to his shorts. you were beautiful, though he’d never say it out loud. with your white bra, your white panties—you looked like an angel.

“fuck,” was all that he managed to utter, staring down at you the way a predator would eye its prey.

“yeah,” you murmured, propping yourself against your elbows. he watched the way your plush thighs rubbed against one another, legs shuffling softly as you brought a foot up to his chest, sliding it down his chest until it was right where he wanted it. he took your foot in his hand, pressing it into the center of his clothed cock, making sure you could feel just how bad he had it for you.

his eyes stayed on you as you reached back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. your tits fell out, sliding out of the comfort of their fabric as rafe tensed up. he leaned forward, bringing an arm around your back as his lips wrapped around one of your hardening buds. cradling his head against your tits, you threw your head back and mewled at his ministrations. he lavished equal attention on each breast, his darkening eyes darting up to take in your face every so often.

you bit back a whimper as your hands travelled up his neck, scratching where you could, leaving red lines he knew would be hard to explain later on. his lips and tongue worked together, travelling down your stomach, past your navel, his hot breath littering goosebumps across your flesh. he grunted, he could practically smell your desire, just inches away from him.

his fingers hooked themselves under the sides of your panties as he looked up at you. you had to bite your tongue, because he's never looked better. his eyes were glossy, drool dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at you from between your legs. and then, he pulled. he pulled until your panties were off, discarded somewhere, anywhere.

rafe only took a second to get a look at you, but it felt like eternity. he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as his fingers trailed down your sopping cunt, over the surface, but never where you needed him to. “rafe,” you sighed with an impatient frown.

“i know, baby,” he murmured, “i know.”

you didn’t get the chance to respond as one of his long, slender fingers slithered into you, curling just right where you needed it, pumping in and out at a slow pace. the cool metal of the ring on his finger grazed your clit each time. you gasped, your hand gripping his shoulder, nails pressing crescent moons into his taught skin. he repeated the motion, suppressing a groan before adding a second finger, much to your delight. his knuckles woulded against you as his fingers bottomed out, the digits sliding out completely, before diving all the way in again. his thumb hovered over your clit, but never made the small reach to press it the way you wanted.

you cried softly, hips moving against his fingers in the same up and down motion as earlier, “rafe, come on.”

“not yet,” he whispered, “not until you surrender, until you beg.”

you shook your head no, head tilting back with your eyes closed.

“bet you beg so pretty,” he murmured as his thumb flicked ever so lightly over your clit, “tell me what you want.”

you had to weigh your options carefully, precisely. you could save what little dignity you had left, and keep you mouth shut, even if it meant losing him—losing the nirvana that was waiting for you. it seemed impossible, especially compared to what you could have, what he could give you. he was so good, so good—and he was gonna show you just how good he was.

“please,” you barely managed to utter. “please, rafe, need you to fuck me.”

it was all he wanted to hear. “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he murmured, a condescending edge to his tone as he pulled his fingers, coated in your juices, out completely. “take ’em off for me, baby, come on.”

you nodded as you allowed your fingers to slip below the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down as anticipation coursed through your body. his cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. he was so much bigger than you could’ve guessed, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his length, his girth. you wrapped a curious, hesitant hand around his dick, before pumping as best as you could. rafe groaned, head tilted back as he bucked up into your hand. he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you, small and defenseless, with a hand around his dick, tracing his pulsing veins with your fingers.

“gonna let me ruin you?” he whispered, his cock aching against your soft fingers. “if you can handle it. can you handle it, baby?”

you nodded, hating how powerless you had really become, as if he had you under some sort of spell. you let go of his cock before lying back down. you watched the way rafe grabbed a hold of his cock, spreading your thighs as he positioned himself with a grunt. you could feel the head of his cock sliding between your folds, lightly teasing against your clit as a moan passed your lips.

“let me hear it again,” he murmured, eliciting another moan from you as his cock brushed against your clit a second time.

“please,” you needed to give in—just this once, “please, fuck me, rafe.”

with that, rafe thrusts his cock forward, and a victorious smile warping his features as he pushed past your wet folds. your walls stretched to their limit, unable to stop the grimace of pain the more of him you took in. you let out a moan as your eyes rolled back, your tight cunt adjusting to his sheer size.

“that’s it, baby. takin’ it so good,” rafe praised through a groan, holding onto your hips and pushing until your clit clashed with base of his cock.

you felt so filled, so dominated, so alive. your nails dug into the sheets, your body writhing beneath him as he began to pump in and out of you. each stroke was brutal, his length stretching your weeping pussy and claiming you in a way that no one else had ever done. your eyes remained closed, focusing on the pleasure-pain as your body fought against the intrusion before succumbing to the delicious feeling of his rhythmic pounding.

the tent grew hazy with the scent of sex and sweat, your breaths coming out in pants and whimpers as he picked up speed. his teeth grazed the side of your neck, making you shiver with every thrust. his tongue flicked against the sensitive skin, tasting your sweetness as he claimed you, making you his. you couldn't help but arch your back, pushing your breasts up, begging for his mouth.

he took the hint, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you gasp. he sucked, hard, leaving a bruise that would surely be visible in the morning. his hand moved to play with your clit, the pad of his thumb pressing down and swirling around in a way that made your toes curl and your back arch even more.

the pleasure was building, a wave threatening to crash over you at any time. rafe’s eyes were on yours, watching your pupils dilate and your mouth form silent pleas for more. he smirked, his teeth still digging into your neck, feeling your pulse throb under his teeth. he knew you were close, knew he had you right where he wanted you.

with one final, powerful thrust, he swiped his thumb over your clit one more time, and you shattered around him. your orgasm washed over you in waves, making your body spasm and your legs tighten around his waist. you moaned his name, your nails digging into his back as your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head, his own release barreling towards him like a freight train. he pulled his mouth away from your neck with a wet pop, his teeth marks clear on your skin. “gonna cum, baby,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort.

you nodded, your own orgasm still coursing through you as he drove into you one last time, burying his cock to the hilt. he groaned as he came, filling you up with hot, thick ropes of cum, from the inside to your clit.

when it was over, he collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as you both panted for air. his cock still twitched inside you, releasing the last of his load, making you feel so completely owned. it was a feeling you never knew existed, but one you were now craving with every fiber of your being. he kissed you then, hard and possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his cock had claimed your cunt. you could taste the saltiness of your sweat on his lips, feel the stickiness between your legs. it was raw, it was carnal

the first thing you noticed was the warmth. it enveloped you like a heavy blanket, your body pressed against something solid and unyielding. your eyes fluttered open, the dim light of dawn filtering through the thin fabric of the tent, and your heart stopped. rafe was sprawled on top of you, his arm draped possessively around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

the events of the night before came rushing back in flashes: the kisses, the heated whispers, the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he made you forget every ounce of hatred you harbored for him, if only for a moment.

you felt the cool morning air against your bare skin, the absence of fabric a cruel reminder of just how far things had gone. panic set in as you slowly, carefully shifted beneath him, trying not to disturb his steady breathing. you reached for your dress, crumpled on the floor of the tent, and slipped it on as quietly as you could manage. your hands trembled, the fabric catching on your damp skin as you smoothed it over your body.

you paused, your eyes flickering back to him. rafe was still fast asleep, his features softened in a way you’d never seen before. he looked peaceful, almost innocent, but it only made the bile rise in your throat. what the hell had you done?

your thoughts spiraled as you crept out of the tent, each step feeling like a betrayal of yourself. what would your dad say? the man who taught you to stand your ground, to never let anyone—especially someone like rafe—get the better of you? and your friends? jj? god, jj.

you barely made it a few steps before jj’s voice startled you. “what happened?”

he was standing near the campfire, his hair disheveled, a beer bottle still clutched in his hand. his blue eyes bore into you, concern etched across his face.

“nothing,” you muttered, your voice hollow as you brushed past him.

“don’t give me that,” he said, following you as you made a beeline for your car. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

you ignored him, fumbling with your keys as you slid into the driver’s seat. he climbed into the passenger side, his confusion mounting as you started the engine.

“you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he pressed, his tone sharper now.

you gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you navigated the dirt road away from the campsite. the weight of what you’d done settled heavily on your chest, making it hard to breathe. then it hit you. you were racing rafe tonight.

your stomach dropped as the realization clawed its way through you. he’d done this on purpose. seduced you, distracted you, gotten into your head—all to throw you off your game. the anger came next, hot and unrelenting, burning away the shame and replacing it with a seething fury. how could you have been so stupid? so careless? you’d let him win, not just last night, but the entire war you’d been waging against him.

“jesus christ,” you whispered under your breath, your grip on the wheel tightening as jj looked at you, more confused than ever.

“what?” he asked, leaning forward to study your face. “what’s going on?”

you didn’t answer, your thoughts a chaotic mess as you sped down the road. tonight wasn’t just about the race anymore. it was about getting your revenge.

the rest of the day felt like a blur of heavy, suffocating silence. you spent most of it sitting in your car, parked in an isolated corner of nowhere, just staring into oblivion. the world outside seemed distant, a place that didn’t matter, didn’t exist for you. thoughts swirled in your mind like a storm you couldn’t escape, each one more troubling than the last. what had you done? what was going to happen now?

you couldn’t bring yourself to cry. not yet. not until you could at least get through tonight, at least finish what you had started. you still had a fighting chance against rafe, didn’t you? the race was everything now. it was the one thing left that you could control, the one thing that would keep him from completely getting under your skin.

jj had asked you what was wrong earlier when you barely spoke to anyone. sarah had asked him too, her voice laced with concern, but he didn’t have any answers. nobody did. you barely had any answers yourself.

the hours passed in a haze, and before you knew it, it was time for the race. the drive to the meeting was dreadfully silent. the engine roared beneath you, but it did nothing to drown out the buzzing in your head. every thought was a needle, and each one pricked at you until you were wound too tight to even think straight. every so often, you'd mutter to yourself, trying to reassure yourself that you were still in control, that you could still handle this. but it wasn’t working. frustration built in you like a pressure cooker, and every so often, your fist collided with the steering wheel in sharp bursts of anger.

jj, who had been quiet the entire drive, kept stealing glances at you, but he didn’t ask any questions. he didn’t need to. you didn’t know how to answer him anyway.

the race was worse. even though the cheers of the crowd should’ve fueled you, you felt nothing but dread, a deep, gnawing sickness in your stomach. you could hear your name being shouted, the excitement of the crowd, but it all felt so distant. when you saw rafe’s face in the crowd, that sickening feeling only intensified. he was there, watching you, his eyes locked onto yours with something that twisted your insides.

and then there was her. the girl rafe had been with the night before. you hadn’t missed her, standing there in the crowd, glaring at you with an expression that made your blood boil. her eyes were cold, calculating, and when she met your gaze, she didn’t flinch.

“take it easy on him tonight,” she said, her voice sweet but laced with venom.

the words crawled under your skin. it was too much. you were already so close to the edge, and that was the final push you needed. before you knew what you were doing, your fist was swinging through the air and colliding with the underside of her jaw. she gasped as she stumbled backward, the crowd around you gasping as well.

for a moment, everything was silent, and you took a step forward, ready to finish what you’d started. but before you could, jj was there, his strong arms pulling you back with surprising force. he didn’t even give you the chance to go for her again.

“easy, easy,” he said, his voice low and urgent as he kept his grip on you. you could feel the heat of his hands on your arms, his breath against the back of your neck. he was trying to calm you down, trying to get you to focus, but it wasn’t working. the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of rafe’s eyes on you, watching everything unfold with a look you hadn’t seen before. sympathy? pity? it almost made you want to puke. you quickly looked away, not wanting to let him have the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

“look,” jj said, his voice softening, his tone more serious now. “i don’t know what’s going on with you, but whatever it is, you need to pull it together, okay? we’ve got five grand riding on this. you need to calm down.”

his words hit harder than you expected. five grand. that was all that mattered now, wasn’t it? you couldn’t let everything else get in the way. you nodded, your throat tight. you could feel your eyes threatening to well up, but you forced them to stay dry. you couldn’t break now. not yet. not with everything on the line.

the roar of the crowd still lingered in the air as you took your place at the starting line. your hands gripped the steering wheel, the leather cold beneath your fingers, but the heat from the race, from the tension building in your chest, quickly overpowered everything else. you kept your eyes forward, staring at the road, refusing to let your mind wander to anything else. not to the pit in your stomach, not to the fact that rafe’s car was right next to yours, not to the way you could feel his presence from the corner of your eye.

out of the corner of your vision, you caught him tapping on the window, the sound almost too soft against the chaos of the crowd. his eyes were no longer dark, no longer intense with that gleam of challenge. they were something else, something softer, but you refused to look at him. you wouldn’t. you kept your gaze on the road, your pulse racing, the air thick with the impending start of the race.

the countdown began, and with it, your heartbeat seemed to match the ticking clock until they went off. when they did, they came to life, and the world around you exploded into sound and movement. tires screeched as cars shot forward, speeding down the street, their engines roaring like wild beasts. the world blurred into a haze of color and sound, the air whipping past you, the car humming beneath you, and the rubber of the tires grinding into the asphalt as you pushed forward, faster, faster.

every turn, every maneuver felt like a calculated risk, your body swerving with the weight of the car, the grip of the tires, the thrill of the chase. the engine purred beneath you, urging you to push harder, to find the edge that would leave everyone else behind.

but your mind couldn’t help but flicker to rafe, his car beside yours, his presence there like a shadow, reminding you that something was there. you could feel him pushing, feel his need to win, just as much as you needed it. the sounds of the race around you—the screeching of tires, the hum of engines, the roars of the crowd—faded into the background. all that mattered was the road ahead.

but then, something happened. the way rafe’s car surged forward, the way his engine roared louder, faster, harder—it didn’t feel right. the energy shifted. You saw him from the corner of your eye, pushing his car up a steeper incline, his hands tightening around the wheel, his expression hidden behind the visor. it was the moment when you knew he was going too fast, too reckless. and then, you saw it—the press of the button, the one that activated the tank. the flash of light as it ignited.

you knew exactly what he was doing, and the thought hit you like a freight train. he was pushing it too far.

time seemed to stretch as the car lurched forward, the impact of the tank too much for his control. his car surged into the incline, the tires screeching, the engine roaring in a desperate cry. it was too much. the back end of his car fishtailed, and then, with a terrifying screech of metal against pavement, it veered off course.

your heart skipped a beat as you watched, the crash happening in slow motion. his car slammed into the barrier, the impact deafening as it crumpled like paper, and for a split second, all you could hear was the grinding of metal and the screeching of tires. the crowd’s roar became a distant hum, and your world narrowed down to the wreckage of rafe’s car.

your foot slammed on the brake, and the car skidded to a halt, the tires screaming in protest. you sat there, frozen, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. you could keep going. you could race to the finish line, claim the victory. you’d already beaten him in every other way. but your stomach twisted at the thought. you couldn’t leave him like this.

you were out of the car before you even realized it, your legs moving without thought, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. you ran toward the wreckage, ignoring the shouts of the crowd, the chaos around you. when you reached his car, your heart dropped into your stomach. the car was mangled, unrecognizable, the front crumpled and twisted. smoke poured from the hood, and you could barely see anything through the shattered glass.

he was unconscious, his head lolling to the side. his breathing was shallow, labored, but there. it was enough to make you breathe, though the sight of him—bloody, broken—sent a wave of nausea through your chest. you knelt by his side, your hands trembling as you reached for him, your heart hammering in your chest. the familiar coldness of his hand in yours sent a shock through you. his fingers were stiff, and you could feel the weight of his body, his pulse weak beneath your touch.

“rafe,” you whispered, panic creeping into your voice as you shook his shoulder. no response. “rafe, stay with me.”

you didn’t know what to do, how to fix this. you wanted to scream, to curse, to shake him awake, but all you could do was hold his hand and wait.

“help!” you screamed, your voice breaking through the chaos as you turned toward the crowd, looking for anyone who could help. “get the paramedics! now!”

every second felt like an eternity. time seemed to stand still as you knelt there, your fingers clutching his hand tightly, waiting for someone to come. his breathing was still shallow, but he was alive, and that was the only thing you could hold onto. you could barely think through the panic, through the raw, ugly emotion that twisted in your chest. you hadn’t meant for this to happen. you hadn’t meant for it to go this far. but now, all you could do was wait. wait for the paramedics. wait for the help that you knew was coming, but it felt so far away.

the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, a reminder of the countless times you’d been in a hospital, yet never this way. the last time you had been here, you’d watched your father slip away, his final breath taken in the cold, quiet halls of this place. it felt almost uncanny now, sitting next to rafe, your heart hammering in your chest, as you waited for something—anything—that told you he was going to be okay. the memories of your father’s final days pressed heavily against you, making the sterile whiteness of the room feel suffocating.

you sat in the chair next to his bed, gripping your hands tightly in your lap, your fingers aching from the tension. the beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, a rhythmic pulse that felt too fragile, too tenuous. you kept your eyes trained on the floor, refusing to meet his face. the fear of seeing him in that state—broken, vulnerable—was too much. your mind raced, torn between the reality of the situation and the weight of everything you had just witnessed. and yet, despite all that, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to do something. anything.

then, something shifted. at first, it was so subtle you thought you imagined it. a slight twitch of his hand, the soft rise and fall of his chest. your heart skipped a beat. you leaned forward, unsure if you were imagining the movement, until you saw it again. a small, faint movement.

“what happened?” his words were slurred, barely more than a breath, but they were enough to make your heart tighten.

“you crashed,” you said, my throat thick with emotion. “you pushed too hard. you used the tank too early, rafe. you lost control of the car.”

“you came back for me?” his voice was small, vulnerable, almost childlike in its simplicity.

you nodded, your hand instinctively reaching for his, fingers shaking as you gripped his palm. “someone had to,” you whispered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of the situation bearing down on you like a heavy storm cloud. his eyes shifted away from yours, gazing out the window, but there was something in his expression that you couldn’t ignore. the emptiness in the room, the absence of anyone else who cared enough to be there, was impossible to miss. no one had come for him, not even his family. it was just you. just you, sitting there, holding his hand, praying for him to wake up.

“you’re not the villain they think you are, rafe,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “you’re just hurt. you wanted to make your dad proud, didn’t you? you wanted to win for him because you think no one else could be proud of you. but you’re wrong. you act out because you’re scared, rafe. you won’t open up, because you’re scared.”

he turned his head slowly, meeting your gaze again. for the first time since you’d met him, you saw something in his eyes that wasn’t anger or arrogance. it was vulnerability. it was fear. and something else. something softer.

“you win, rafe,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you choked on the words. “if it means anything to you, you win.”

a tear, just one, slid down his cheek. he never cried. not in front of anyone, not in all the time you’d known him. but there it was, a single tear that betrayed everything he had tried so hard to keep hidden.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the weight of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

his hand was shaky as he placed it over yours, his fingers brushing against your skin with an almost desperate tenderness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “for everything. i can’t deal with any of this. i’m not strong enough to deal with anything, no matter how awful i act.”

you shook your head, your chest tightening at his words. “don’t act,” you whispered, squeezing his fingers. “you could’ve lost your life tonight, rafe. and then what?”

his eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, there was a small, hesitant smile on his lips. “you could never lose me,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “you know how i know?”

you shook your head, not understanding, but you didn’t press him. you simply waited, your heart heavy in your chest, as he gave my hand another squeeze.

“because you never lose.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: ok guys be skibidi plz bc i had to shorten the ending thanks to tumblrs limit that i didnt even know existed

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Nobody Important

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say. 

Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.

When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you. 

Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them. 

Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”

Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was. 

“Who are you?”

“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”

“That depends. Who are you?”

“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”

Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for. 

However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”

You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”

“Okay, fine. What are you?”

You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Alright, listen bub-”

“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”

Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”

Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up. 

“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”

After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with; 

“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”

He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway. 

Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that. 

But he still had questions. 

Unanswered questions. 

Like who the hell were you? 

A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again. 

In the kitchens. 

The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad. 

Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies. 

And somehow

It was relaxing to him. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you. 

“Err, no. I was just-”

“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”

“I don’t really drink..tea.” 

Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers. 

You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove. 

“Here, try this.”

“Oh, I, uh-”

“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink. 

And he did. 

“Is this where you work?”

You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out. 

“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”

You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”

Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”

You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”

Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea. 

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”

Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy. 

“Hey, what did you put in this?”

Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish. 

Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear. 

Then he jerked up. 

With a grunt, he looked around him. 

He was in his room. 

The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen. 

Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination. 

The Professor’s office. 

Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm. 

“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“What the hell happened?” 

“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”

Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office. 

“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”

Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him. 

“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”

Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”

Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”

“Are you always this blunt?”

You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”

“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”

“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”

Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”

“She started it!”

You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”

With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door. 

“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”

“Have to admit, though. I did help.”

Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had. 

Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you. 

Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with. 

But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you. 

Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things. 

It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.

Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears. 

“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence. 

“Are you going to drug me again?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”

“Really, like what?”

Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”

“They actually sell this stuff?”

You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”

Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it. 

Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”

Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness. 

“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”

“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”

You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”

“Will you?”

“Will I do what?”

“Go to bed, too?”

You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”

“What are you even doing?”

“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”

Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again. 

“Okay, fine.”

And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep. 

The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it. 

Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt. 

You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did. 

He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn’t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you. 

More so, when he saw your shoulder. 

From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up. 

Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night. 

“New recipe?”

You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”

“Better luck next time.”

And then you both just…talked. 

You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”

You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked. 

“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”

It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”

Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it. 

Until the day he found you napping on the sofa. 

Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas. 

The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed. 

And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor. 

“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”

Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you. 

Fast asleep. 

He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you. 

Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point. 

Hell, even he needed sleep. 

But you were just constantly forever going. 

Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second. 

You were fast asleep. 

Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while. 

Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision. 

You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up. 

Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again. 

He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for. 

A heavy blanket. 

He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace. 

Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered. 

He turned around but you were still. 

Then you whimpered again. 

“No,” you whispered. 

Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again. 

He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away. 

Except you reached out for his hand. 

Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep. 

But it didn’t look like it was a good dream. 

You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out. 

Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room. 

A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor. 

Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him. 

“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly. 

“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”

Your head shifted. You were searching. 

“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”

“L…Logan?” 

The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.

He was shocked. Maybe…

“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”

The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened. 

And glowed. 

They were still your eyes just…brighter. 

“Logan?!”

He had stopped speaking. You were panicking. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”

The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again. 

Then everything stopped. 

Everything went silent. 

Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved. 

Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,” 

You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare. 

“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”

He took you by your shoulders then your face. 

“It’s Logan.”

You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him. 

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“Yeah…”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling. 

“What happened?”

“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”

You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest. 

Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand. 

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Nothing-”

“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”

You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged. 

Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed. 

“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”

“So what happened?”

“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”

“And that’s what the nightmares…”

You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”

You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever. 

Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget. 

“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”

Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going. 

“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”

“Was he the one that-”

You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”

“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”

You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”

The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed. 

“I just can’t.”

Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”

“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”

You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile. 

“Don’t let them win.”

You nodded, your head still in his hands. 

“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”

It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him. 

“You don’t-”

“I can stay.”

You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile. 

Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him. 

“Thank you for staying.”

It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea. 

Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”

You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist. 

As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing. 

The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep. 

Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months. 

From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room. 

And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed. 

Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him. 

Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time. 

And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter. 

Because Logan already knew. 

And so did you. 

And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him. 

[lenaellsi]

One thing that really gets me about the opening with angel Crowley is that he's not just excited by how beautiful his stars are, or how fun the process of creation is, or how impressed he's made Aziraphale. He’s not in it for the glory or the aesthetics. He’s actually horrified by the idea that the universe will just be "fancy wallpaper" in the future, even though Aziraphale assures him that humans will "marvel" at his creations.

What Crowley loves about his stars is their potential. He is building, essentially, a nursery. Most of the universe's stars, he explains to Aziraphale, will come pre-aged--but his are just starting out! After they're given time to grow, who knows what could happen! Good or bad, black holes or new constellations—there are so many possible futures ahead of them, and Crowley can’t wait to see what happens.

And then Aziraphale tells him that he knows what will happen: those stars will never grow up. They will never shine or burn out or implode or become anything new. They’ll be destroyed before they get the chance.

"You can't kill kids."

“Whose side are you on?” “God’s, of course!” “Same God that wants me to whack the kids?”

"People die." "They do, don't they?"

“Great pustulant mangled bollocks to the Great blasted Plan!”

"Don't test them to destruction."

"It's always too late."

"Nothing lasts forever." "No, I don't suppose it does."

This fear has been chasing Crowley since before the beginning. It’s what caused his first doubts, put the first traces of gray in his wings. He’s been raging at the futility of watching beautiful, complex things be damned or destroyed for his entire existence, and that’s why he seems to the audience and to Aziraphale to be a mess of contradictions.

He loves to follow the trends of the times, but he clings to his classic car in an era of planned obsolescence for vehicles. He lives in an ultra-modern flat, but finds his greatest comfort in the unchanging security of aziraphale’s old shop. He hates the idea of killing children, but is willing to see a child die if it preserves the rest of the universe and foils the Great Plan. He “goes too fast,” but his most unique and notable power is that he’s learned to stop time.

Crowley hates predestination. He hates divine intervention and the removal of agency. Crowley, the architect of free will, is constantly torn between his love of change and choice and potential and his terror that everything will be destroyed by an unstoppable, incomprehensible higher power. That’s his driving conflict in the way that Aziraphale’s is learning to find his own path without following Heaven’s rules, and I am fascinated to see how it resolves.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Idk if this has been done before but Bimbo!Reader X Mafia!Konig

You're a perfect gangster gal. That type of girl that would cling to a drug dealer because of the aesthetics - because you wanted money and a cool boyfriend who would drive you in his fancy car and kill any dude who touched you...you like listening to Lana Del Rey and imagine all of those fancy things - you don't like to work, but you do like listen to others working. You met your current boyfriend because he filled your empty, pretty head with how much he gets being a drug dealer and "working for no one" and how cool he is. He isn't as good, it turned out. Konig is way cooler. Konig is his boss - to your surprise. He is old, yes, maybe in his late thirties but, oh god, is he hot. Huge, wide, bulky muscles under that tight dark shirt that can't even hide how giant he is. Your eyes flick to his bulge, and - yeah, his pants are giving up too. You don't even care that this mafia guy is flickering with the gun pressed against your boyfriend's head, you want some of this. As soon as possible. Konig adores you, actually. You don't ask him about what he is doing for a living because you kinda already know that he is not a regular businessman and because you don't care. You press your sweet glossy lips to the tip of his cock and he is ready to give you that shiny pink car you've been gushing about. You ask if he would give you a ring, and he is already choosing the biggest diamond he can get. You're pretty and dumb, but not in arrogant way - you don't think you're better than he is, you don't consider yourself cool or dangerous. You're not like regular criminal girls; you don't even want to take part in his job - and Konig is more than happy to keep you in his mansion, sitting here like a pretty doll. You tell him about your day like an innocent pet you are. You had a manicure, you did your hair, you slept until 12 and then went for a quick swim because water yoga is it right now. Konig killed three people by 9 AM, but he still kisses your forehead and asks if you want to shove some of your moves in that tiny bikini he bought for you since the last island trip. Konig is a dangerous man with a dangerous job, but he is surprisingly loyal and romantic. He wants someone like you - pretty, dumb, obedient, he needs someone with whom he can relax and not think about the job for once. And your bimbo self is just perfect for this.

[lucysarah-c]

"Those are my fries, and those are yours,"

"Come on! Does it really make a difference if I take just one?" You retorted.

"Settled accounts keep old friends," he mumbled, mouth half full of food.

You giggled as he took off the top bun from his burger, piled on a bunch of fries, and took a huge bite. The scene was downright chaotic, and you burst out laughing. Levi, who normally cared about appearances, was wolfing down the McDonald's meal with an intensity that didn’t quite match the polished image he’d shown earlier, even though that suit probably cost a fortune.

Ketchup stuck to the corner of his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, silently questioning what was so funny. Once he'd swallowed, he muttered, "Eat before the fries get cold. They taste horrible like that."

You couldn't help but reflect on how the night had gone. The House of CB dress you'd bought and saved for a special occasion, the hair you had done at the salon, the makeup you practiced to mimic the subtle but lovely glam of the latest Bridgerton season—none of that had been planned for you to end up in your boyfriend's car, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of fast food from a drive-thru at 11 p.m.

The empty parking lot outside, with snow accumulating, could have been eerie if you weren’t sitting next to Levi. Fries slathered in extra cheddar sauce were scattered everywhere, and Levi shoveled them into his mouth without a care. No lights, no music, but it didn't matter—you felt safe with him, though neither of you was keen on tempting fate by keeping the car lights on in the middle of nowhere.

Taking a bite of your own burger, you chuckled again. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hungry."

Levi paused mid-chew to take a swig of his Coke. "Tch, those posh assholes. They dragged me around for hours—hours! Examples of this, representation of that, and handshakes with whoever. From 3 p.m.! They didn’t even let me grab a sandwich at the reception. Finally, they serve dinner at 10—TEN!" he grumbled, the delay clearly having been the final straw. "And what did they serve? One shrimp, a tiny cube of cheese, and some grass they picked from outside and called a gourmet dinner."

"Rich people don’t eat much; that’s why," you teased. "It’s fancy to have tiny portions on huge plates."

"That’s because they’re all on Ozempic, buying up medicine that people actually need. Fuck them," he muttered.

On any other occasion, Levi would’ve cursed you for eating in his car, but tonight he made an exception. "How are my ice creams?"

Levi glanced outside where the ice creams were stored in the cold air to keep from melting. Processing your words, he turned back to you. "My ice creams? You mean ours."

"Oh, Levi, aren’t you going to gift me one? What kind of gentleman are you?" you teased.

"Right now, I’d bite your arm off if it weren’t for the fact that McDonald’s is still open," he replied with a smirk.

You laughed again. It had been the government holiday party, and you’d been so excited to attend, ready to rub elbows with high society. One of the older women had even told you, "You should've asked for a brand to sponsor your dress, coming as Levi’s plus-one!" Erwin had insisted that Levi attend as a representative of the Ackerman family, much to your boyfriend's dismay. Uri had agreed, probably because any option was better than Kenny for a formal event.

"Erwin will kill you when he finds out," you said, remembering how Levi had messaged you to sneak out. You’d never imagined he’d drag you through a bathroom window, across the estate grounds, and into his car for a McDonald’s run. "What about Uri? I ran into him during dinner. He was so nice!"

Levi hummed in approval, acknowledging that the old man had always been a saint in his eyes. The only one capable of dealing with Kenny for so many years.

Suddenly, Levi's phone lit up, its ringtone breaking the quiet. "Fuck!" you panicked.

"Don’t answer. If we do, they’ll know I’m reachable," Levi said, ignoring the calls.

Message after message flooded his phone—texts from Uri, Traute, and Erwin: Where are you? Levi, answer the phone ASAP. Come back here this instant.

The calls came in one after another.

"They won’t stop," you muttered. "Maybe we should just tell them—"

"No. They’d send the national guard to drag me back to that snob-filled hell," Levi spat. Despite not picking up, both of you whispered as if the unanswered calls could somehow hear.

At some point, the whole situation became hilarious. You found yourself resting your head on his shoulder, chuckling as the phone buzzed incessantly. Levi kept refusing to answer, and in the midst of it all, you shared sloppy kisses in the darkened car.

"I’ve got an idea…" you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. Levi looked at you, confused, the noise from the phone distracting from the moment you were building.

Casually, you swiped up on the screen and answered. "Levi? Where are—"

With a fake gasp and an exaggerated tone, you moaned, "Ah, Lev—Yes!"

Levi had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he realized what you were doing. "Play along," you whispered. And before you knew it, he began thumping the side door, mimicking the sound of… well, thrusts.

"Harder!" you managed between giggles before the call abruptly ended, leaving both of you in hysterics.

"Well, they’re definitely not calling anymore," Levi shook his head, still grinning, knowing full well this prank wouldn’t go unpunished.

"You can always say we were busy working on the Ackerman heir they keep asking for," you teased.

Levi grimaced, entertained by the thought. "I mean…" His hand slid up your thigh, the mood shifting as his touch grew more insistent. "We could actually be doing that."

Your hips began to move slightly over his lap. A quick glance at the clock—the only light inside the car—showed 12:05 a.m. Finally past midnight. "Whatever the birthday boy wants," you purred.

—

"He picked up? What did he say, sir?" Traute asked irritably in the event staff area, where they were waiting to bring out the enormous, decorated cake for the final part of the evening.

Uri chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I think he’s already celebrating. Let’s just carry on."

(No idea what this is, the idea just pop up in my mind)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Late Jason birthday fic!!!!

MDNI

warnings: jason devouring reader's poosay

You and Jason have been dating just under a year. And today was the first time celebrating with him the day he dreaded the most. His birthday.

If he HAD to celebrate it with his family, he'd want a small get-together, sharing his special day with Alfred.

NOT this damn gala that Bruce organised, seemingly just to spite him. Bruce excused that it was mainly for Alfred, but since they shared the special day, Jason had to be there, too. Now Jason feared the most; being surrounded by rich assholes, half-heartedly wishing him a happy birthday.

But you seemed excited to finally celebrate his birthday with him, and seeing you so eager made Jason's heart swell. He's just gonna have to suck it up and put on his big boy pants and go.

"You ready, baby?" Jason asked, coming into your room. The second he sees you in that damn black dress, complimented with red, he thinks he's lost it. He couldn't even take his eyes off the long slit of the dress that revealed a glimpse of your thigh. If you didn't answer him, he'd think he'd forget how to breathe because, oh, how you were breathtaking.

"Mhm, let me just put my shoes on." You say, taking his arm and leading him to the front door where your black heels with red outsoles laid.

"Is you being all dolled up my birthday present, sweetness?" Jason asked, a sly smirk on his face as he holds onto your waist, helping you balance as you put your heels on.

You chuckled. "It can be if you want it to be. But my actual present for you will be given later." You said, kissing his cheek. "C'mon, let's go."

Jason leads you to his car, and on the drive to the manor, it takes all his willpower not to let his hand that laid on your thigh sneak under the slit and inch up higher.

You held onto Jason arm as he led you into the manor. You expected big, but god, everything and everyone looked so extravagant.

You caught a glimpse of Alfred standing near Bruce and your eyes light up.

"C'mon, Jay!" You said excitedly, tugging him towards where the two men were standing. Jason groans, knowing he'd have to talk to Bruce, but on the other hand, he does want to wish his grandfather a hapoy birthday.

"Happy birthday, Alfie!" You exclaimed, giving the old man a hug before giving him a little bag that contained your gift for him.

He thanks you, telling you that you didn't have ti, but highly appreciates the sentiment. Jason offers a small smile and a quiet, happy birthday before giving him a hug.

"Glad you can come, Jason." Bruce said with a satisfied smile.

"I didn't come here because you told me to or because I felt like it." Jason huffs, looking away.

"Many people have been expecting you." Alfred said.

"And they have gifts." Bruce added. "I expect you to behave. But I don't doubt that she will keep you in check." He said, nodding towards you. You snickered in response while Jason just rolled his eyes, taking your hand, pulling you away from them.

You stayed beside Jason, watching as he uncomfortably mingled with the party guests, giving him his birthday presents.

It started fine. Totally fine. It was nice seeing Jason receiving such nice gifts.

But the more you witnessed him opening the presents, the more self-conscious you got about the gift you have yet to give him.

His given presents consisted of gold cufflinks, finest champagne, designer clothing, luxury cologne, fancy watches, and so much more. You couldn't even think about how much these things could've cost.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Jason murmurs, whispering in your ear as he tilts your chin up to look at him. You were so lost in thought, you didn't even realise Jason was complaining to you how much he wanted to go home.

You nodded with a small smile. "Mhm. Little overwhelmed, I guess." You said, clinging onto his arm.

"Maybe another hour, ma. Then we can go home." He assured you, kissing your forhead.

And it does assure you. He loves you. And he'd love the gift you have in store for him. But still. You're unable to scratch the utch in your head from all the expensive gifts he's receiving.

You sighed, kicking your shoes off, flopping back onto the bed once the two of you returned home. Following Jason around and watching him open gifts can be exhausting.

Jason shrugs his jacket off, throwing it somewhere on the floor, lying beside you. "So. You gonna give me a gift now or continue to keep me on my toes?" He asked with a grin.

You fidget with your hands, picking at your cuticles. "Mm.. can you wait til tomorrow?" You said sheepishly. Maybe you can wake up before him and rush out to the nearest jewellers and get him a nice watch or something.

His brows pinch together with concern, watching the dejected look on your face. He props himself up on one of his elbows, his fave looming over yours.

"What's with the sour look, sour puss?" He teases, poking your nose. "What's wrong?"

You sighed, looking at him. "Nothing. Just tired." You muttered.

"Bullshit.." He murmured, lowering himself down to nuzzle his nose against your jaw, his lips just barely grazing your skin.

You lightly groan. "You got really nice gifts." You said with embarrassment.

He pulls away, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Wanna elaborate, sweet thing?"

You whined with frustration, rubbing your hands over your face. "All your gifts were just so... lavish. Just wait til tomorrow, I can get a better gift."

"Baby." Jason said firmly. "Let me see your gift."

You frowned, knowing he'd pry and pry until he saw your gift. You grumbled, getting uo to reach underneath your bed, pulling out a small decorative paper bag, handing it to him.

Jason carefully took it, like he was scared that his big, rough hands would break the delicate material. He opened the bag, digging through the red shredded tissue paper.

His eyes slightly widened as he pulled out a bookmark. It had a thin gold frame, the bookmark itself having a coloured silhouette of what looked like you and Jason, and in intricate writing, the quote "you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you," written above the silhouettes.

"Holy shit..." Jason whispered as his fingers traced the fragile details of the gold frame.

You grumbled, not even wanting to think what he thought of it. "Jay, I promise I'll get you a better gif—"

"No!" He suddenly said, bringing the bookmark close to his chest. "I love this..." He whispered, staring at you with a wide grin.

"What? Really? It was only like 30 bucks.." You muttered, looking down at your lap.

He scoffed. "So? Who cares?"

"What!? But.. all your other presents—"

"Were shallow and thoughtless and were from snobby assholes who don't even know my name." He interrupted, carefully placing his bookmark on the nightstand before gently cupping your cheek. "But this gift, the one you're so worked up about..." He carefully pulls you on his lap. "Is the best I've received tonight." He kissed your forhead. "My favourite gift." He kissed your nose. "From my favourite girl." He kissed your lips.

You frowned. "But still!" You whined. But he shuts you up with another kiss.

"Not still.." He muttered against your lips. You hated the effect he had on you. You couldn't even argue as you melted against him, your hands lacing together behind his neck.

One of his hands gripped your hip as the other slid up your thigh, through the slit of your dress, just like he wanted to do all night.

Before going further, he laid you on the bed, his hands at either side of your face as he hovered over you.

He leaned down, lips attached to yours once more. This time, it was more sloppy and desperate, your hands pawing at his chest, fiddling with his buttons.

He helped you take his shirt off, throwing it over where his jacket laid as he travelled from your lips down to your jaw, immediately sucking on your sweet spot. You reach up to his hair, tugging it slightly as he groaned, his hips rolling down against yours.

"Fuck.." He muttered, his hands scrunching up the fabric of your dress in his fists. Being the feral man he is, he ripped your dress, the cool breeze nippng your skin making you gasp.

"Jay!" You squealed.

"Shh, I'll buy you another one.." He discarded the ripped dress with the other clothing on the floor.

"Up." He said, hands slithering under your back. You leaned up, letting him unclasp your bra. He cursed, his lips already around your nipple as you moaned, feeling his tongue swirl around it as his other hand was busy massaging your other breast.

"Fuck, sweetheart.." He groaned, his hands continuing to squeeze your chest as he trailed furthed down your body.

He stopped at your clothed core, your panties already soaked. He stretched the lace, letting go, making the elastic snap against your skin. You flinched at the feeling, your face heating up.

Jason gave the damp spot a soft kiss before ripping your underwear off, throwing it behind him. "I like this birthday present too..." He muttered, kissing your inner thigh.

"Jay, please.." You whimpered, bucking your hips up.

"Shh.. patience. Let me enjoy my birthday meal, hm?" He said, lips inching closer to your aching cunt.

"Jay.. Jay, I— Ah!" With no warning, his mouth dived inti your pussy, licking up the dripping precum like a man starved.

"Fuck, ma.." He grunted. You whimpered, your legs shaking, feeling his tongue lap over your folds and his stubble scratching your skin. "Tastes so good..."

You pull his hair, mixed sounds of your whines and squeals together with his tongue buried in your wet cunt filling the room.

You felt your core burning up, and your stomach twisting in knots while your legs shook. You chanted his name like a mantra, your head thrown back into they pillow, back arched, and your hips lifted uo further in his face as you came. Your eyes were shut tight, and you swore you saw stars.

You panted as Jason licked you clean, and when your eyes opened, there were black dots everywhere. Even looking down, seeing Jason's face stuffed between your legs made you feel like cumming again.

Jason hummed, crawling back up, kissing your lips as you tasted yourself.

"Now.." He flipped you two over, so you were straddling his lap. "I know you have another gift for me.." He said as whined, feeling his hard buldge beneath his pants.

okay. lowkey not satisfied with the way i write this but ermmmm... hope yous like it!!!

[i-like-writing-stuff]

grateful [ five hargreeves x reader ]

“Fancy seeing you here,” You crossed your arms, trying to act natural as the boy before you eyes you curiously.

“In front of the CIA headquarters?” Five mimicked your posture, “Jee, Y/N, fork spotted in the kitchen. What are you doing at my work place?”

You sighed, trying to fight back the urge of rolling your eyes. You were lying to yourself if you wanted to say that Five’s sarcasm actually annoyed you. After all, it was one of the traits you loved about him- surprisingly. You hated to admit it, even to yourself, but even if you were actually waiting for him to talk business, you never once missed an opportunity to meet him.

Especially if you weren’t surrounded by your noisy family. The Hargreeves siblings became your family by choice, and as much as you loved each and every single one of them, you couldn’t help but appreciate deeply the one on one time you got to spend with Five.

“I just got off the phone with Luther,” You said, putting your hands in your pockets, “Viktor got kidnapped, Five.”

As soon as those words eat your lips, you saw Five’s expression go from cocky to shocked, to worried and then to shocked once again. You hated you had to be the one to break these news to him, after six years of peace where all of you managed to live normal lives. You hated that you had to see him worried again for his family’s safety, but you had no other choice.

You all had to reunite to save your loved one.

“I’ll drive,” Five nodded, already realizing that the gang would have to get back together.

You and Five met during the JFK mission in 1963, when both of you were working for the Commission. You only heard of him around the work place, but never actually worked together. The Handler assigned you both for the first time to get the assassination done, but one thing led to another and you accidentally woke up in 2019, in your teen body, alongside him.

The rest is history.

As you got into his car, you watched him as he started the engine in silence. He was deep into thought, obviously worried half to death about his brother. You were as well, since Viktor was his first sibling you warmed up to, and honestly it felt surreal that he was in danger again, after six years.

Six years where nothing, and quite literally nothing out of the ordinary happened. After your third attempt at stopping the apocalypse and the Hargreeves losing their powers, you all moved on with your lives, keeping in touch now and then. All nine of you went separate ways, rebuilding your lives. Allison was back to acting, Klaus was finally sober, Diego and Lila were a family with kids, Viktor was running a bar and Luther was working somewhat as an astronaut. Key word, somewhat.

Five became a CIA agent and you were running a marketing agency, so you really only saw the family on holidays or random gatherings. You and him kept in touch the most. You were happy to say that he was your best friend, but sad that nothing more went on. If you were supposed to be together, you would have been by now.

After all, there was this drunken kiss you shared on the night of Luther’s wedding.

“Shut the fuck up, Hargreeves!” You giggled, pointing a finger m at him, “I respect Delores, I swear I do, but I do not understand why in the world she would put up with your ding dong face, honestly.”

“Oh, spare me the reverse psychology in which your jealousy lays, Y/N,” Five smirked, softly waving away your finger in his face.

You were the only ones left on the dance floor, intoxicated over the safe limit. After the whole family went to sleep, the two of you were still left quite energized. You didn’t know if it was because you were sixty year olds back in your teen bodies, or simply too drunk to realize how hyperactive you were, but you were not about to end the night any time soon.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment you fell in love with Five, but he definitely could write an entire book of how he grew feelings for you. It all happened at such a slow pace, how could he not? When he first met you in 1963 at the Dealey Plaza, he was immediately taken aback by your quick wit and intellect. He also didn’t think someone who looked so sweet and elegant, like the grandma who would take her grandchildren all the time to fancy restaurants and then bake fresh cookies for them at home, could also be a trained assassin, ready to fight off three people at once wearing dresses and heels.

It was love at first sight for him.

Then, when you kept Delores safe from Hazel and Cha Cha, he realized just how big your heart was. He was completely blown away by the way you held onto the mannequin with one arm, while dodging attacks incoming from both of them.

There was also this moment in 1963 when you held him in your arms after he went on a spree, taking out the entire board of the Commission.

He was so infatuated with every single action of yours, so deeply and intensely in love it was actually pathetic to him, to some degree. Now, as his hands were firmly gripping your waist, swaying your hips in sync to the melody on the speakers, all he wanted to do was feel your lips on his, for a first and last time.

“What’s on your mind?” You asked, as your arms were wrapped around his neck. You didn’t know when you got so close to one another, it was all just so natural.

“Ironically enough, you,” He scoffed, making you roll your eyes;

“Only you could make such a romantic comment and at the same time make me want to stomp on your face, Five,” You said amused, shaking your head in disbelief.

Five laughed, looking into your eyes. In his drunken state, he was not thinking rationally as he usually did anymore. He didn’t know for certain if he’d make it out of the apocalypse this time, and after the two attempts at saving the world, the regret of not tasting you was finally getting to him.

He moved his hands up your sides, resting them on your cheeks at last. Rubbing your face gently, Five leaned in to capture your lips, tasting the alcohol you shared all night. You were relieved to finally feel his touch you so deeply craved over the months spent together, pulling him even closer, as if that was possible.

That led to nowhere, unfortunately, as neither of you ever mentioned it again. Like little stupid kids, all these years you both assumed that the other didn’t remember that part, since no one ever brought it up ever again.

“Viktor will be fine, Five,” You broke the silence, watching as his knuckles turned white while gripping the steering wheel, waiting for the green light.

“I just forgot how fucking stressful all this shit was,” Five sighed, letting go, but not looking at you yet, “So stupid.”

“Hey,” You placed a hand on top of his, “We will rescue him and go back to our lives before, okay? Who knows, maybe it’s not even that serious- maybe it’s just some misunderstanding or a real easy mission. We stopped the apocalypse three times, I think some amateur kidnapping will be a walk in the park, okay? Besides, maybe by the time we get there, Viktor will have already handed their asses to each other.”

Five scoffed amused. You did always manage to be the voice of reason in his life whenever the over-thinking got the best of him.

You didn’t have any idea just how grateful he was for you.

[misctf]

Hunting for City Boys

“Ah reckon they went this way!”

Scott could hear the heavy footsteps and thick southern drawl of his pursuers. His back was pressed against a tree and he did his best to control his breathing. How the fuck did it get this out of hand? It started with the damn car. Of all the places for their car to break down, it had to be in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere. No internet signal, no GPS, nothing. Prior to leaving, Scott asked Will to make sure the car was ready to go. And Will reassured him that his father’s fancy BMW was more than ready to handle the drive across the state. Of course, Will insisted they take a shortcut to make better time.  And for what? To get to the cabin before the rest of their frat bros? In hindsight, it wasn’t worth it.

“Oh, Ah see ’im! There he is!”

Scott felt his heart sink. Did they really see him? No... not him. Will. Scott heard Will cry out in pain, followed by a thud.

“Nice shot, Clay. Y’all wanna keep lookin’ fer the other fella?”

“Ah reckon we ought to git this one back to the house. The other fella won’t git too far.” Clay said, “Besides, we don’t want ’im wakin’ up before we get home.”

Scott could hear the engines of their four-wheelers rev up. And soon enough, they peeled away through the thick forest and back to wherever they came from. When Scott peered around the tree, he realized he was alone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Scott cursed, “This can’t be happening.”

He checked his phone again. No signal. He ran a hand through his matted light brown hair. The chase had left him worse for wear. His jeans were torn from running through the forest, while dirt and small cuts covered his hands. Even his white sweater was stained with mud. He quickly removed it, revealing a tight-fitting t-shirt that hugged his lean body nicely. He sighed. It would only be a matter of time before they started searching for him again. Those two fuckers. They came out of nowhere, driving on their stupid four wheeler. At first, Scott thought they were going to help them. It would’ve been clear to anyone that the two privileged, preppy frat guys had no idea what they were doing with the car. And despite Will being a straight As engineering major, his knowledge on car maintenance was lacking. As was Scott’s. Wasn’t like they ever really needed to learn anyway. But it was too late to worry about that now. Scott needed to figure how to get out of this mess.

“If they have a house,” Scott thought, “They might have a phone, or a car, or some way to get out of here.” He took a deep breath. He could follow the tracks of the four-wheeler back. But what happened if he got there and there were more of them? He sighed. He’d take the risk.

_______

Scott wasn’t sure how long he walked until he arrived at his destination. He spent some time hiding behind trees and bushes as his pursuers resumed their search for him. But somehow, he made it to the house undetected. Unlike the mansion his family occupied, this house (if Scott could even call it that) wasn’t much to look at. The home sits on a gravel path that winds through overgrown weeds and brambles, leading to a weathered structure that looks like it's been standing for decades. Its wooden siding is chipped and peeling, with patches of faded paint barely clinging to the surface. Scattered furniture and empty beer bottles littered the overgrown grass of the front yard.

“In and out. Find Will, find a phone, and bounce.” Scott whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. To the best of his knowledge, those fuckers were still patrolling the forest.

With a rush of adrenaline, Scott stealthily approached the front door. When he got inside, he gagged. The living room is a cluttered space with a mix of mismatched, well-worn furniture. An old plaid sofa, sagging in the middle, sits opposite a heavy wooden coffee table covered in a layer of grime and strewn with empty beer cans and fast-food wrappers. The walls are adorned with faded hunting trophies and old, family photos, framed in crooked, mismatched frames. A faint, smoky odor permeates the air, hinting at years of cigarettes smoked indoors, mingling with the pervasive smell of old wood and dust.

“Fucking pig sty.” Scott mumbled, maneuvering through the old home, “Come on, there has to be a phone or something.” But his search wasn’t all too successful, “Y’all can’t be serious, what kinda folks don’t got a phone?” Scott froze at the sound of the drawl leaving his lips “What the fuck?” He whispered, his voice returning to normal, “Shit, I’m losing it. Focus Scott.”

But there was no phone. Or car keys. Or even a radio. He took a deep breath, gagging more as the stale air filled his lungs.

“Alright, so I ain’t gonna be able to reach nobody. But where on Earth is Will?” This time, Scott barely registered the southern drawl that infected his words. Instead, he found himself focused on the basement stairwell. He gulped, “Maybe Will’s down there.” He whispered.

Scott started down the stairs. The smell that permeated his nose was more intense than the one upstairs. It caused the young man’s eyes to water and he felt like he needed to turn around to get fresh air. But Scott knew he needed to be quick. Find Will, get out of there. Head back the way they came until the got cell service. But his train of thought was shattered when he made it to the bottom of the stairwell.

“Will?” Scott asked, gazing at the figure restrained to the chair, “Oh god, Will?”

“Scott, that you?” The man said in a thick country accent, “Scott, come on now, you really gotta help me out here. Please, I’m beggin’ ya!”  

The man in the chair had very few similarities to Will. Or at least to the Will that Scott knew. Where Will’s toned abdominals once were, a small beer belly was jutting out. His stubble had darkened, while his dark locks had been shaved away and covered with a ball cap. His body hair was more obvious now, leaving him lightly dusted from head to toe.

“Will, good Lord, what in the world did they do to ya?” Scott’s mind raced when he realized he was once again speaking in a southern accent, “I cain't, for the life of me, stop talkin' like this! What in tarnation’s goin' on?” Scott’s hand shot to cover his mouth, but when he made contact with his newly grown stubble, he jumped.

“It’s happenin’ to you too, ain’t it? I reckon it is.” Will mused, “It’s the smell, I tell ya. Gets in your head and messes with ya a bit.”

Scott’s eyes widened in terror. And for the first time, he started to really understand his situation. As he looked down at his own body, he could see his stomach starting to push out into a small gut. Simultaneously, small hairs started to poke out from under his collar.

“No, that just ain’t possible.” Scott whispered in disbelief, “Will, we gotta get outta here, and right quick.” He ran over to his friend and began undoing the binds around his hands. All the while, Scott tried to ignore the itchiness of his new beard.

“I tried to put up a fight too, Scott. I reckon I did. But after spendin’ some time down here, I just went on and accepted it.” Will continued. Scott watched as his friend’s eyes dulled, “Ain’t no need for fancy degrees or gettin’ all dressed up. Just a good ol' nice, simple life."

“Will, listen here, you need to focus now.” Scott said, undoing the final bind, “There’s gotta be a way to fix this.” But Will shook his head and without a second thought, tackled Scott to the ground. Scott looked up at his friend in terror, trying to wriggle out from beneath his firm grasp, “Will! Lemme go, gosh darnit!”

“Well what do we have here?” Scott’s heart sank as he heard the voice of their pursuers flood the room, “Billy! What’re you doin’ strattlin’... Scott?” Clay shook his head, “Naw Scott ain’t a good name for a good ol’ southern boy, ain’t it?” He grinned, “We’ll think of somethin’ but go on now and finish the job, Billy!”

Scott’s eyes widened in terror as Billy nodded. And before Scott could stop it, he found his face in Billy’s rank armpit. The bush of moist pit hair tickled Scott’s nose, and the intensity of Billy’s country B.O. filled his nostrils. He wanted to yell out and beg them to stop, but when he opened his mouth, he only breathed in more of Billy’s stench. For poor Scott, it soon became unbearable. And as the laughter of his captors filled the air, Scott’s world went black.

_________

“We ain’t got all day, Billy!” Scott shouted from the driver’s side, “Git in the darn truck already.”

“Aww Cletus, I’m sure sorry. I went back for the gin.” Billy said, jumping into the passenger seat, “We got a long ride ahead of us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott- now Cletus groaned, “Just don’t be tellin’ me about no new shortcuts. I ain’t too keen on goin’ through anything like this again.” He looked over at Billy, who was chugging the bottle of gin. He sighed, “I can’t stay mad at you though.” Sure, his upper class life was gone. And he could barely string together an intelligent sentence. His vocabulary was oversimplified and any education past the eighth grade was absent from his mind. Certainly, folks from his prior social circles wouldn’t tolerate his cigarette smoking, beer chugging, and crude jokes. Cletus sighed. His life as Scott was over, “Well, Billy, you ready?” His hand slowly wrapped around Billy’s cock and he gave it a few tugs. Billy moaned and bucked his hips, only for Cletus to stop, “I knew that’d get your attention. Besides, you got plenty more of that comin’, y’know. Especially if we go along with what Clay’s sayin’.”

Billy nodded, lifting his arm and taking a deep whiff, “Y’all think they’ll recognize us?” Cletus shook his head. There was no way their former frat bros would recognize them.

“Soon enough, they won’t even recognize their ownselves.” Cletus replied, taking a whiff of his own pits, “Now c’mon. We got a long drive ahead of us.”

[lexirosewrites]

Steve ends up boding with Nancy that first night they sleep together and Barb disappears. He's so in love with her and they're having sex for the first time and he's never slept with someone he loved before and he ends up sinking his teeth into her mating glad without even realizing it.

Nancy is not happy about it. She likes Steve a lot but she promised herself that she would never be someone who mates before they graduate high school and become just like her parents. She wants to chase her dreams and make it as a female Alpha in journalism, but she also feels honor bound to Steve. She ends up biting him back to spare him the hurt of an unfulfilled bond.

Her parents are a little concerned they're both so young but they ultimately approve and Steve's parents are just happy to know he won't continue to be a burden after he turns 18 and graduates and it will legally be his Alpha's job to take care of him. With no access to one of the fancy bond removal specialists in New York or Chicago, Nancy resigns herself to the bond and taking Steve with her into her future.

Steve, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He loves his Alpha and can't wait for them to move out and start a family of their own. Nancy makes sure to treat him gently, even if sometimes it feels like she sees him as a stereotypical airheaded Omega. Even when he can feel the little pull of tension in their bond.

He's happy right up until it becomes clear that Nancy would rather be with Beta Johnathan Byers than him. He can feel it, see it, but refuses to accept it. When she comes to him after their first encounter with the Demagorgan and asks if he would be open to adding a beta to their bond, he's so relieved that she isn't just leaving him to say anything but yes, even if it's not really what he wants.

Again, they are both very sweet to him but it feels more like he's their pet than their partner. They hold him and cuddle him but they don't talk to him about anything of substance or make him feel important. He feels like a third wheel in his own relationship. But he has no one else to turn to with his old friends and parents out of the picture.

By the time the events of season two start to play out everyone in school has noticed that Nancy spends more time with Johnathan in the dark room than with Steve. Rumors start flying around about Nancy and Johnathan trying to push him out of the bond and Steve's social position falls even further. He's trying to be a good Omega, but it feels like every time he reaches out he's turned away.

That night at Tina's party Nancy and Steve fight. They were all three supposed to come together but Johnathan ended up going with Will instead. Nancy tried to insist that none of them go, but Steve insisted that they could have fun together and meet up with Johnathan afterward.

Nancy ends up drinking way too much and lays into Steve when he tries to help her. She goes on about them killing Barb and pretending nothing happened as well as how she never wanted to bond with Steve in the first place. Goes on about how he's ruining her life.

Steve goes near catatonic after that, rejection sickness setting in quickly. He gets in his car and drives, finds himself parked outside the Wheeler house where he spends most of his nights. He can't go back to his parents' house, doesn't have anywhere else to go, so he just curls up in the back seat of his car and passes out.

That's how Dustin finds him the next day. Nancy clearly didn't look for him, which hurts, but the smell of puppy distress coming off of Dustin is enough to pull him out of his distress long enough to help. His Alpha may not love him, but Steve loves kids and won't let anything happen to one under his watch.

After El closes the gate, it's like the three of them (John, Nancy, and Steve) all agree to pretend none of it happened. Nancy doesn't apologize, John doesn't explain, and Steve doesn't ask, but he also doesn't forget. His new pack bond with the kids is enough to keep him stable, but he knows now that his Alpha doesn't want him and spends almost every moment with them disassociating. They must feel it through their links (Steve to Nancy, Nancy to John) but they chose not to acknowledge it. They let Steve float because it's easier for them to pretend this thing between them isn't broken.

When summer hits Steve starts applying for jobs just to get out of the house. The three of them moved into a small apartment, a gift from Ted Wheeler, during Spring Break and Steve needs an excuse to get out of there. He hasn't even bothered to make a nest in their new bed. He doesn't think Nancy has even noticed, but John gives him pitying looks that he blatantly ignores.

With Scoops comes Robin. Steve instantly likes her, even if she bullies him relentlessly. At least she sees him. At least she can look him in the eye and tell him she thinks Nikes are lame and commiserate about the terrible sailor music on blast 24/7.

When they get sucked into Russian plots and drugged within an inch of their lives, they spill their guts both figuratively and literally. She tells him about being an Alpha who only likes other female Alphas and Betas and he tells her all about his failed bond. Tells her how trapped he feels.

When all is said and done, Ronin refuses to let him go back to Nancy and Johnathan. She bundles him up in one of those dumb tinfoil blankets the paramedics give them and bares her teeth at anyone who comes too close. She takes him home with her and when Nancy comes asking questions like she actually cares what happens to Steve she tells her to fuck off, and when that doesn't work she grabs her dad to force her off the property.

Once Steve recovers physically from the torture, Robin tells her she knows someone who might be able to help. Someone who could break the bond.

It's illegal in the state of Indiana to break a bond, but Eddie Munson isn't exactly a God-fearing, law-abiding Alpha.

------

Aaaaaaand that's where I'll leave it. Ran out of steam a little but rest assured that Steve and Eddie will fall deeply in love almost immediately and have a million babies after Eddie helps Steve get rid of his bond.

Sorry this is so Nancy negative. I love her so much but with Omegaverse dynamics she always turns so evil. To be fair, she is very young and was trying to do the right thing, at first. I could never hate you Nancy Wheeler!

i will give you one million dollars for a full fic of this😵‍💫

[tortillamastersblog]

First Date | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: foul language, a shit ton of fluff, and smut (if you squint)

Summary: After recovering and moving to New York to start your new life, you finally take Sam on a first date. . .

Masterlist

_______________________________________________

"How do I look?" | ask, fixing my collar nervously in front of the mirror.

"For the hundredth time, you look great!" Liam exclaims, and I glance at my phone to see him nodding encouragingly on my screen.

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair once again before dropping my arms and turning away from the mirror.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," | admit, picking up my phone while Liam laughs.

"You're ridiculous. You're not going to throw up. Why are you so nervous anyway? You've been living with Sam for almost three months now."

I shrug on my jacket and crouch down to slip on my shoes. "I don't know! It's just... this is our first real date and I want to impress her." I look at my phone to see Liam's face softening.

"I get that," he says gently, "but there really is no need to be nervous. This is Sam we're talking about.

She loves you so much, she'll be impressed no matter what you do, or where you take her."

"I guess you're right." | take a deep breath and grab my keys.

Sam and I moved in together after I got out of the hospital. At first, I went to live with her and Tara in their old apartment, but since then I got a new job at Liam's company and the apartment that comes with it. 

Tara moved into an apartment of her own with Anika and Mindy.

They live close to campus, while Sam and I live on the upper west side. It's the same building Liam lives in, but he's currently on a business trip in Dallas, hence why he's on the phone with me for moral support rather than being here in person.

Sam is at Tara's, getting ready for our date since Tara, Mindy, and Anika insisted it would be cute if I didn't see Sam all dressed up until I went over to theirs to pick her up.

"Of course I'm right," Liam teased lightheartedly.

"Now go and have fun! I'll talk to you tomorrow." I snort, but smile. "Yeah, yeah. Talk to you tomorrow.

“Bye!"

"Bye!"

I hang up and I take another look at myself in the mirror before squaring my shoulders and leaving the apartment.

I lock the door behind me and take the elevator at the end of the hallway down to the parking garage. It's just as fancy as the rest of the building and it spares me the trouble of finding a parking spot out on the street which is always a nightmare.

The bouquet of red roses I got earlier sits on the passenger seat of the car when I get in and I make sure it’s secure before starting the car and making my way across the city.

It's a surprisingly short drive because for some reason there is barely any traffic. There's also a parking spot right in front of Tara's apartment building which makes my heart skip a beat because I thought l'd have more time to prepare myself for seeing Sam.

I have no idea what she's going to wear, but Tara texted me a couple of minutes ago, telling me I'm going to faint when I see her.

I grab the flowers and hop out of the car, tapping my foot nervously on the elevator ride up to the apartment. I love Sam, and I know she loves me, but after all is said and done, this is still our first date and I want it to go well. 

“Oh hey! You’re right on time!” Anika greets me at the door and even goes so far as to pull me in for a hug. We aren’t exactly close, but ever since I saved her life she’s been extra nice to me. 

“Hey, Anika.” I smile and shift on my feet nervously.

“Babe? Is that Y/N?” Mindy calls out from somewhere in the apartment and Anika shouts back a yes, which makes Mindy appear a moment later with a smirk on her face.

“Hi, Y/N.” She pulls me into a careful hug, making sure not to ruin the flowers. “You look dashing.”

I feel myself blush and avert my eyes momentarily, clearing my throat. “Uh– Thanks, Mindy.”

When I look back up, Mindy’s smirk has turned into a soft smile and she and Anika share a knowing look before ushering me into the apartment and closing the door behind me. 

“Tara and Sam will be right out,” Anika explains, and not even a second later, Tara comes bouncing around the corner.  

“Y/N!” she exclaims happily, however unlike Mindy and Anika she doesn’t close the distance between us to hug me. She simply stops by the corner and smiles brightly, her eyes darting between me and the hallway to her left, which is shielded from my view. 

And then I hear it. The telltale sound of high heels on the hardwood floor.

Sam.

I hold my breath and wait patiently for her to appear,and when she does, I really do feel like fainting. In a regular shirt, she’s already stunning, but right now she’s simply breathtaking. She’s wearing a simple black, one shoulder dress that has a slit running up the length of her thigh and a pair of matching black ankle strap heels. The front of her hair has been tied back, so it’s out of her face while the rest of it flows down her back in soft waves. To tie back the entire look, she’s applied some makeup to highlight her dark eyes, her lipstick a soft red so as to not distract from her eyes.

“Hey,” she says softly with a shy smile on her face.

“H-Hi,” I stutter, unable to take my eyes off her. We’ve not even left the apartment yet and she’s already got me swooning over her. 

Tara, Mindy, and Anika watch us staring at each other, amusement on all of their faces before Mindy clears her throat, prompting me to finally move.

I step further into the apartment and hold out my hand, my knees almost buckling when Sam takes it with a dimpled smile. I notice her nails are painted the same shade of red as her lipstick, and it makes me marvel at just how much thought and effort she’s put into her appearance tonight.

“You look–” Good? Great? Beautiful? No. None of those words describe the way she looks right now. I bite the inside of my cheek, and squeeze her hand before finally settling on, “-- absolutely breathtaking.”

“Thank you.” Sam looks away shyly before meeting my eyes again, this time with a faint blush on her cheeks. “You look amazing, too.”

I snort because I wouldn’t even dare to compare our looks tonight, but I don’t disagree with her. Instead, I bring the bouquet of roses between us and say, “These are for you.”

Her eyes light up and she glances at the roses before looking back at me. “For me?” she asks quietly which makes me chuckle softly and nod. “Thank you.”

She takes them, her cheeks now redder than before and intertwines our fingers. 

“You’re welcome.” I want to kiss her, but I don’t want to smudge her lipstick, so I opt for giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Ready to go?”

Damn. She even smells great. Is that sandalwood? 

Sam nods and I squeeze her hand before turning back around to find Tara, Mindy, and Anika still watching us.

Tara and Anika both look like they’re going to melt, and despite Mindy trying to play it cool, I can also see affection dancing in her eyes. 

“You two are so cute, I love it.”  Anika sighs and takes Mindy’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Aren’t they cute?” she asks and Mindy just shrugs.

“I guess,” she admits when Anika shoots her a disapproving look which makes all of us chuckle.

“They’re cute and hot,” Tara teases with a smirk. “I mean, honestly guys, you’re like the power couple of all power couples!” 

Sam laughs bashfully and tightens her hold on my hand while I groan. “Sproouuut!”

“What?! It’s true,” Tara insists before her smirk turns into a genuine smile. “I’m so happy for you guys. You deserve this. Enjoy your night.”

My cheeks are still warm, but I smile gratefully and dip my chin in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

Mindy and Anika wish us a great night too and then we’re off. 

It’s a little cold outside since it’s the beginning of March, so before we exit the building, I stop and take off my jacket, draping it around Sam’s shoulders before leading her the rest of the way to the car.

I make sure to open the door for her, which earns me another shy smile. It makes me feel accomplished and I quickly get into the driver’s seat to start our drive to the restaurant.

So far, so good, I think. 

“Where are you taking me?” Sam asks after some time when I come to a stop at a red light. 

I glance at her before looking back at the road and shrug casually. “It’s a surprise.”

“What? Still?” she whines playfully and out of the corner of my eye I can see her pout. 

I chuckle softly and reach over to squeeze her thigh quickly.  “Mhmm.”

The light turns green and I’m quick to take my hand back to put it back on the gear stick.

Sam huffs, but doesn’t push it. She places her hand on my thigh instead, and takes my phone with her other hand to change the music . 

Her warm touch makes my stomach do flips and for the rest of the drive I rest my hand on top of hers every chance I get.

“Alright, this is it,” I say when I finally pull up next to the high rise the restaurant is in. 

Sam’s jaw drops and she takes in the glass facade of the building with wide eyes. “Are you serious?” she asks and I just smile, getting out of the car and handing my keys to the approaching valet who’s dressed in a sleek black tux.

Then, I round the front of the car and open Sam’s door, offering her a hand when she gets out, which she gratefully accepts. 

“Y/N… What is this? What are we doing here? Is this a joke?” she asks, which makes me laugh softly. She goes to take the roses with her, but I stop her with a tug on her hand. They’d just get in the way in the restaurant, and it’s not like they’re going to wilt if they’re without water for another two hours or so.

“It’s not a joke, Sammy. We’re having dinner here. Well, not here, but in the restaurant on the sixty-eight floor,” I explain, watching her take in the building one more time before her eyes land back on me.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

I pulled a couple of strings to get a reservation tonight, but for her, I’d do anything. Yes, the food will probably be overpriced, and the other customers will probably be snobby and stuck up, but it will all be worth it for the view and the experience. 

“T-this is too much.” She hesitates when I go to lead her into the building, so I turn back around with an encouraging smile, letting go of her hand to wrap my arms around her waist.

She steps closer and I place a kiss on her forehead, making her close her eyes momentarily. “It’s not too much, Sam. I love you, and you deserve the world, so please let me treat you tonight.”

Sam looks at me with uncertainty shining in her eyes, so I place another kiss on her forehead, this time between her eyebrows. 

“Please?” I whisper and after another moment's consideration she nods. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” she says, cupping my cheeks. She leans up to kiss me, still having to do so despite her heels, but I pull back which makes her frown.

“Your lipstick,” I try to explain, but she rolls her eyes and kisses me softly. 

After more than four months of being together, kissing her still sends shockwaves through my body. My cheeks feel like they're on fire where her hands are touching them and my lips tingle when she pulls back, mumbling, “I don’t care,” before pecking my lips once more and pulling away completely.

I stare at her like a love sick fool and smile sheepishly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replies easily and after making sure her lipstick isn’t all too smudged, we finally make our way into the building and up to the restaurant.

I keep catching Sam glancing at me over her menu, so after the fifth or so time I put mine down and smile at her quizzically. “What?”

She looks around the dimly lit restaurant as if she’s afraid of someone overhearing her before leaning forward in her seat and saying, “This is weird, isn’t it? Why am I so nervous? We live together for God’s sake, and we’ve had dinner before. Not like this, obviously, but still. I mean, how come there are no prices on the menu? Is that normal? Is that how fancy restaurants like this trick you into ordering something super expensive or–?”

I laugh softly and place my hand over hers on the table, effectively cutting her off. “It is a little weird because we’ve never done this before and I’m nervous, too, but let’s not let the fact that we’re on our first official date be the reason why we have a bad time.” I smile  and bring her hand up to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Also, no, the restaurant isn’t trying to trick you into getting something super expensive. You just don’t have the prices on your menu because the waiter gave you what they call a ladies menu.” I grab my own menu and turn it around to show her that I have one with all the prices on it. “It’s weird, I know, and it’s a pretty outdated concept, but it is what it is and I want you to get whatever you want without feeling guilty about the cost, so maybe it’s a good thing.”

Sam presses her lips into a thin line because she still feels bad that I’m willing to spoil her all the time, so I send her a reassuring smile and wiggle my eyebrows suggestively. 

“Come on, live a little, Sammy. What else am I supposed to spend all my inheritance on except you and Tara?”

That makes her crack a smile and after a while we’re ready to order.

While Sam gets the Coq au vin, I order the mushroom risotto, and when the server asks us if we want wine with our food, I decline politely.

A glass of white wine would pair great with my risotto, but Sam can’t drink because of her meds, so I’m not drinking either.

“So,” I say as soon as the server is gone again. “How was your day?”

Sam turns her attention from the brightly lit city outside to me and raises an eyebrow as if asking if I really want to hear about her day when there’s so much more we could be talking about.

I nod encouragingly and take a sip of my water, my entire attention fixed on her despite the stunning view of the city around us.

This is a first date, yes, and people normally don’t talk about their day on a first date, but we’ve known each other forever and I’m simply here to enjoy her company and spoil her.

“Well. . .” Sam goes on to tell me about her relatively stress-free morning at the cafe she works at as a barista before diving into the photography lecture she had this afternoon.

Ever since I got my new job and we moved in together, I’ve managed to convince her not to work full time any more and find something she actually enjoys doing. At first, it took a while for her to figure out what she liked after being in survival mode for so long, but then she discovered her love for photography which is how she ended up enrolling in a couple of community college classes. 

She tells me about a couple of lighting techniques I’ve never heard of and goes on to explain the differences between digital and film cameras.

It’s fascinating, really, how much there is to know about photography, and I keep asking follow up questions which makes Sam’s eyes light up. 

I love listening to her talk, especially about things she’s excited about, but after twenty minutes of non-stop rambling, she asks me to tell her about my day.

“Well,” I start the same way she did while she takes a sip of water, “I went to work until four and then I went to the gym before heading home and getting ready.”

I add some details about a particularly interesting meeting I had before telling her about  a guy who tripped over some dumbbells in the gym, which makes her laugh.

Conversation flows easily after that until we finally get our food which, as expected, tastes absolutely amazing despite its insane price. We share some bites here and there, letting the other try each dish before our table gets cleared and our server hands us some dessert menus.

We’re both more than full, but after some back and forth we decide to order some chocolate souffle to share because neither of us can resist its calling.

In the end, it tastes even better than expected and I tell the server to give our compliments to the chef when he comes back to pick up the empty plate. 

After that, Sam excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and I’m quick to pay the check before she gets back.

“Ready to go?” I ask when she returns to the table which makes her smile and nod.

“Yes, let’s go home.”

I grab my jacket off the back of her chair and help her put it on again before grabbing her hand and leading her out of the restaurant.

Back on the street, the valet has already pulled my car around, so I tip him generously and help Sam into the car before getting in myself and driving off.

“Thank you for tonight,” Sam says after a moment of silence. “I had a lot of fun, and the food was terrific.”

I can’t look at her because I have to focus on the road, but I do smile and dip my chin to acknowledge that I heard her, adding, “You’re very welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

Letting out a sigh of contentment, Sam places a hand on my thigh and lets silence wash over us while I continue driving us home.

It’s peaceful, and I feel all warm inside, knowing that she enjoyed the night as much as I have, but then her hand on my thigh starts moving upwards which makes my heart skip a beat. 

For a moment I think it might have been unintentional, but then she moves it even higher, and when I risk a glance at her I find her already looking at me with dark eyes.

“Sam. . .” I swallow thickly and shift in my seat, almost letting out a gasp when she starts tracing circles on the inside of my thigh with her thumb.

“Yes?” she asks, feigning innocence.

“D–Don’t do that,” I stutter. “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she says calmly and I grit my teeth when her hand moves up even further.

Since getting together we’ve had our fair share of kisses and make out sessions, but we never went further than that. In the beginning it was because of my back and then because we never really had any time for it with me figuring out my new job and Sam readjusting to her new life and finally doing something she likes. Tara being over constantly doesn’t help either, but tonight nothing is holding us back and Sam seems to know that.

I pull into the underground parking garage of our building in record time a couple of minutes later before turning off the car and leaning over the center console to capture Sam’s lips in a searing kiss.

She immediately reciprocates it and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss.

She tastes like the souffle we shared and I can’t help but shiver at the sound of a soft moan slipping past her lips when I trap her lower lip between my teeth.

The position we’re in isn’t comfortable by any means, but we don’t pull apart until we’re both panting, desperate for air.

“Shit,” Sam curses under her breath and when she looks at me I see nothing but desire in her half-lidded eyes.

“Should we take this upstairs?” I ask which makes Sam nod adamantly.

I jump out of the car and hurry to the other side of it to open Sam’s door and help her out.

“Thank you,” she says, still breathless, and before I know it her lips are on mine again as we stumble toward the elevator.

It’s hot and messy, but I can’t get enough of her and when we finally make it to our apartment we waste no time kicking off our shoes and making our way to the bedroom. 

As soon as the door slams shut behind us, Sam pushes me against it, her hands in my hair at the back of my neck to pull me infinitely closer.

My hands are around her waist, grasping at the fabric of her dress while our lips move against each other in a passionate kiss.

Sooner rather than later, much to my dismay, we’re both forced to break apart once again to catch our breath. 

Sam doesn’t seem bothered by it though because her lips find their way to my neck while her hands move down my body until they settle on my hips where her fingers play with the buckle of my belt.

It’s clear what she wants, but I don’t want to go on until she actually says it, so, reluctantly, I pull back so she’s forced to look up at me.

“Wha– Are you okay?” she pants, her lust filled eyes momentarily clouded with concern.

I chuckle breathlessly and tighten my grip around her waist to prevent her from stepping out of our embrace.

“I’m fine,” I assure her, pecking her lips. “But I need to know you’re okay with where this is heading.”

“I’m okay, I want this,” she whispers. She tugs on my belt and stands on her tiptoes to whisper the next part into my ear. “So would you please take my dress off and fuck me already?”

A strangled sound slips past my lips and I pull my head back so fast, I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash because of it. “You– You want me to. . . What?”

Sam smiles mischievously and bites her lower lip, looking up at me through her lashes. “You heard me,” she mumbles, “Fuck me.”

Goddamn.

I swallow harshly, hearing my heart pounding in my ears, but within the next second it’s as if a switch has been flipped in me.

I bend down and lift her up by the back of her legs, making her squeal in surprise before my lips are back on hers.

The position we’re in makes her dress ride up, but she doesn’t seem to care as she wraps her arms around my neck and starts grinding against my stomach.

“Fuck,’” I gasp when she bites my bottom lip and carry her to bed, making her laugh briefly when I unceremoniously dump her onto it so I can get to work on taking off my clothes while she watches.  

Once I’ve discarded all of them, I join her on the bed, making quick work of her dress while she runs her hands over my shoulders and nibbles on my earlobe. 

“I love you,” I whisper a couple of minutes later when she arches her back and moans against my lips.

“I. . . love you, too,” she sobs, her eyes screwed shut while her nails dig into my back and I’m quick to kiss her again to swallow her next moans and whimpers.

The next morning I wake up without Sam by my side, but when I sit up I smile at the smell of pancakes wafting into the bedroom. 

_______________________________________________

And they lived happily ever after!

Hi, everyone! I'm not back for good yet, but I just had to write this because it's been stuck in my head ever since finishing Back To You.

Also, a huge thank you to everyone who was part of creating the Back To You Playlist ❤️ I love you all and words cannot describe how honored I feel.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

* not proofread yet ‘cause I’m lazyyyyy

[ak-vintage]

I'll Pick You Up

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: On your first Valentine’s Day together, Javier shows you how much you mean to him.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Post-canon Laredo Javi, established relationship, Valentine’s Day on the Peña ranch, romantic gestures, all the fluff and sweetness, a little “M-rated” smut (references to other sexual encounters, oral sex (f receiving), P in V sex, creampie).

Word Count: 1.2K

Written as a Valentine’s Day gift for my dear friend Kat @sunshinehaze1! Credit to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Read on AO3 | Main Masterlist

Javier Peña has never been the type of man to express his love through grand gestures of romance. Instead, he attends to the everyday.

His hand against the small of your back, ushering you gently, protectively in and out of shops and restaurants and bars. Gas in your car every time he spots it running low. A doorstep delivery of pozole and decongestant when you’re sick. Your favorite brand of body wash in his shower. French vanilla coffee creamer in his fridge, even though you know neither he nor Chucho would ever dream of drinking their coffee any way other than black.

He takes care of you, in his own steady, thoughtful way. But when the subject of Valentine’s Day comes up – the first you’ve ever spent together – you have no expectation that he will have some grand plan to sweep you off your feet. You assume you’ll go out for dinner, maybe some place a little nicer than your usual haunts. A possible bouquet of flowers, a very probable night of spine-melting sex. Nothing fancy. That’s not who Javi is.

But he surprises you. When you broach the topic, he tells you, “I’ve got some ideas. Actually, I think I’d like to surprise you.”

You agree with a puzzled smile, your only request that he at least tell you the time and what you should plan to wear.

On the morning of February 14, you find a note taped to your coffee pot as you’re getting ready to leave for work.

Tonight – 5 PM I’ll pick you up. Dress comfortable. Happy Valentine’s Day, cariño!

He’s in your driveway at 5:00 on the dot, his broad shoulders testing the stitching of a long-sleeved flannel shirt he’s tucked into his signature blue jeans, and you doubt that he has ever looked more handsome. He opens the door to his old pickup for you, offers you a hand to help you up onto the bench like you haven’t ridden in it a thousand times by now. The gesture has heat blooming in your cheeks regardless.

Something by the Eagles hums low on the radio in the background as he drives, knees spread wide, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on your thigh. It’s so comfortable and pleasant, just to sit in the silence with him, that it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize he is heading in the opposite direction of town.

He’s taking you back to the Peña ranch.

When you ask him why he’s just taking you back to his house, he simply replies, “I’m not taking you to the house, baby.”

You end up turning off the main road at some point, taking a dirt and gravel path deeper into his family’s land, far out of line of sight of the old farmhouse. Eventually, even the path disappears, and you’re left bumping through an open field until he finally comes to a stop in the shade of an old tree, standing lonely sentinel in the middle of the rolling acres.

Beneath the tree, a large blanket covers the scrubby grass, and you spot a basket and a bottle of wine (your favorite kind) resting against its roots.

Javi isn’t much of a cook, but as you unpack the basket and spread out your bounty, you discover that that hasn’t stopped him from going all out. Huge, fresh-looking sandwiches wrapped in butcher paper, a selection of prepared fruits and vegetables, and more single-serve bags of chips than you could ever eat make up the bulk of the spread, though there is a wide, shallow container at the bottom of the basket that he tells you is a surprise for dessert.

When he pops the cork on the bottle of wine, he proposes a toast – “To our first Valentine’s Day. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, cariño, but I promise to keep doing it.”

You hush his smiling self-deprecation with a swift kiss and assure him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

When you’ve had your fill of dinner, and perhaps one too many glasses of wine, he finally allows you to open the dessert container. Inside are a half dozen oversized strawberries, gleaming bright red and boasting fluffy green stems. All of them have been dunked rather haphazardly in dark chocolate, a few sporting wide, smudgy thumbprints in the matte brown surface, and you can tell immediately that he made these himself.

“Chocolate-covered strawberries? So fancy!” you cry, delighted, eyeing Javier with a playful grin. “Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk, his dark eyes crinkling as he sweeps his gaze from your face to the swell of your breasts to the curve of your hips and back again.

“Just thought you might like a little something sweet,” he purrs, his tongue darting out to wet his plush lower lip. And there he is – that’s the Javier Peña you know and love.

He gathers you into his lap, slots your knees on either side of his narrow hips and plants you firmly on his denim-covered thighs. He feeds you the strawberries from his fingers, chases them with kisses. When the chocolate melts and smears across your face, he licks it away slowly, teasingly. When you slip your tongue past his lips, his mouth tastes like wine and sweet fruit.

Eventually the picnic is forgotten. Javier lays you back onto the blanket, spreads you out like his own personal feast, and takes you apart as the sun begins to sink lower in the February sky.

“Mírame, nena,” he growls from between your thighs, dress hitched up around your waist, panties yanked to the side as he buries his face in your wetness. “Look at me while you come.”

You demand the same of him when you have him on his back, his jeans hanging open and pulled down just far enough for you to sink down onto his cock. You can feel his belt buckle and the teeth of his zipper biting into the flesh of your inner thigh as you ride him, but you pay it no mind. In fact, you relish the sting. Beneath you, Javier’s deep brown eyes struggle to remain locked on yours, the muscles in his sharp jaw fluttering as he clenches down and groans into the rapidly-cooling air. Half an instant before you find your own pleasure, you feel the warmth of his release deep inside you, and you follow him over the edge with his name on your lips.

It is well and truly dark by the time you’ve gathered up the picnic supplies, tossed them into the bed of his truck, and made your way to the Peña farmhouse. Javier offers to drop you back off at yours, but these days you spend more nights curled up in his bed than you do your own, so you decline.

You run into Chucho in the living room just as he is heading to bed, the older man a rancher to his core and never awake past 8:30. You chat for a brief moment, and both you and Javier wish him goodnight, but not before he pauses in the doorway, looks you both over from head to toe, and with a knowing smirk, informs his son that he has grass in hair. Javi’s ears burn a vivid crimson as he swipes at the back of his head, and his father’s low, warm laughter follows the both of you up the stairs as your boyfriend quickly pulls you to the privacy of his second-floor bedroom.

Unable to help yourselves, the two of you come together once more under the light of his old bedside lamp, the door firmly locked, bedframe pulled away from the wall, and Javi’s hand over your mouth to stifle your moans. Chucho sleeps like the dead, thank god, but even one comment implying his full awareness of your sex life with his son is enough for you for one day. You can’t be too cautious.

After, Javier is his steady, thoughtful self. A glass of water on the nightstand, a warm, wet washcloth for the mess between your thighs, an extra blanket for the bed because he knows how chilly you get in the night. When he slips under the covers with you, you settle into his arms like that little hollow between his chest and collar bone was made for you. You tuck your head there, threading your arm around his waist, and drop a kiss to his soft, bed-warm skin.

“Hell of a first Valentine’s Day, Javier,” you whisper, face half-buried in him, sleepy smile pressed into his chest. “Don’t know how you’re gonna top it.”

Beneath you, his shoulders shift slightly in what you interpret as a shrug, and his arms tighten their grip around your body. “Me, neither. But I’ve got a lifetime to try.”

[writemekpop]

Cuffed | Mark Lee

Summary: Mark is the dumbest police detective you've ever worked with. What's worse, he's cold and awkward around you. One steamy night, you find out his true feelings.

Genre: Suggestive, Fluff, Police detective AU

Word count: >1k

You dangled the keys in front of Mark, who stared at them, his black eyes puppy-wide.

Ugh, you thought. Not this idiot again.

You made a driving motion with your hands. “Toot toot. You drive car.”

“Ah. Right,” Mark said, letting the keys fall into his palm rather than touch you.

You hated Mark.

You got promoted to police detective through bloody hard work. He got promoted because he was a man - and, you had to admit, his classical good looks and weekly blueberry muffins made him a favourite in the office.

“Let's just do this stakeout, alright?” you said, as Mark drove to the alley where you would be parked for the night.

As the hours passed, you started to get angry.

Mark would barely make eye contact with you, he shuddered when your hand brushed his on the camera… he was stiff with distaste.

“Look,” you said. “Let's have it out, yeah? What is your problem with me?”

Mark's eyes shot open, then he looked down. “Problem?”

“Yep,” you said, lifting his chin with one hand to force him to look at you. “You obviously hate me. So why?”

“I don't… I mean… ” Mark stuttered.

“Tongue-tied? Hmm?” you said, bitterly, pinching Mark's cheek. He stiffened, and a spark jumped inside you, so you didn't move your hand.

Instead, you cupped his cheek, then let your thumb graze over the shell of his ear. He was shuddering. You liked how nervous he was.

A light flashed in the corner of your eye. A car was approaching.

“Damn it,” you hissed. “Get down.”

You grabbed Mark's collar, and pulled him down, pressing your back to the seat so you wouldn't be seen. His face hovered inches from yours, his black eyes almost crossing.

Without meaning to, you noticed the feeling of his body against yours - light but full of energy, like a wire stretched to breaking point.

For a moment, there was no sound, and you thought you'd got away with it.

Then, you heard footsteps coming up to the car.

You cursed furiously. Suddenly, Mark stared straight into your eyes, his dark brows furrowed.

“I have an idea, okay?” he said.

You nodded.

And he pulled your face to his and kissed you.

Not a bad idea, you thought. A couple getting down to it in a dingy car park - it's believable.

Then all of a sudden, Mark was pulling you closer to him, his mouth meeting yours again and again, and you weren't thinking anymore. Mark gave everything to you in that kiss, sucking your top lip raw, like he wanted to erase the space between you. The stiffness in his body was gone, as he melted into action.

You were a little ashamed to hear a moan sound in your throat.

God, why should you feel guilty for this? You could never really get a twenty-something like Mark, even a stupid one, and you hadn't been touched in so long.

It was a very long time before you pulled back, and an even longer time before you realised what this meant.

Mark fancied you! It was so obvious now. You were way too old for him, but that still felt nice.

Mark leaned back, gulping as he patted down his chaotic black hair. Splotches of light caught the ripple of his Adam’s apple, and turned his skin a deep gold. His ridiculous blue suit was crumpled, and a hint of chest hair peeked out from his shirt.

You rapped the steering wheel. “Right. Um. They left a long…long time ago, right?”

Mark nodded.

“Okay. I'm going to… walk back to the station. Clear my head,” you said, and left the car, ignoring whatever Mark was about to say.

As you trudged back, you lit a cigarette with unsteady hands.

That kiss was just a blip. You and Mark? No bloody way. He had too much…. hope. He probably believed in world peace - and Santa.

You knew what would happen. Mark would meet some starry eyed girl with no violent ex husband or borderline drinking problem. They would have idiotically gorgeous children together, and you would hate-like their pictures on Instagram at 3AM.

That was what was right. That was the way things were meant to be.

Acid surged in your stomach.

Damn what was right. You wanted Mark - maybe you had for too long - and you were having him.

You strode into the near-deserted station, and saw Mark leaning in the corridor, sipping from a paper cup.

You walked towards him. “Why did you treat me like that?”

He gulped. “Huh?”

“If you - fancied me - why didnt I get any of your happy-dappy bullshit? Why weren't you nice to me?”

Mark smiled at his shoes. “You said niceness is for air hostesses and rent boys.”

“And I stand by that,” you said softly. “You're certainly not an air hostess.”

Mark whole face darkened in a blush. “I just… like you so much. I didn't want you to hate me.”

You brushed off his shoulders. “Yeah, well…maybe I like your nice side. Maybe I want the princess treatment too.”

Mark's grin took up his whole face. “You really mean it? Because I baked a batch of lemon bars I think you'll love. Ooh, and I know a great matcha place for our first date-”

“Dear lord,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist as you left the station together. You squeezed his butt, making him jump. “At least you've got one hell of an arse.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[briefalpacashark]

~The Rally Driver~

Warnings: A bit of swearing. Death. Guns.

Synopsis: You and the 141 get in a car chase. You're the driver.

Perfect song to listen to while reading.

================================================

You rarely had a mission in the heart of a city. But there you were, in the heart of London hauling ass down a street, the boys hot on your heels. You all tuckered yourself around an alleyway hiding from the array of bullets. 

“This is a shit show,” Price grunted as he checked the nick on his arm. 

“Yeah no shit,” you chuckled nervously, going to reload only to find you were out of ammo. 

“I'm out,” As you chucked the empty magazine to the side, your head snapped up at the sound it made. Your eyes took in what you assumed was a car under a fancy-looking tarp. 

“Hold on, I've got an idea,” you announced. The boys barely spared you a glance as you walked up to the car, yanking the cover off. A low, impressed whistle left your lips as you took it in. A 1969 Dodge Charger painted in a sexy navy black sat in front of you. You almost cried as you slammed your elbow into the window, smashing it. Slipping in, you worked a little magic. (Stabbing a small knife into the ignition and turning it). The engin roared to life, gathering the boy's attention.

“Get in bitches!” You called excitedly. Quickly, they piled into the car. Simon in the passenger seat, Price, Gaz and Jonny in the back, left to right in the respective order.

"Seatbelts on," you called.

"Nows not really the time to be worrin about taht love," Jonny chuckled.

"Seat belts save lives. Put them on or I'm turning this car around," you threatened.

"Were not even moving," Jonny grumbled but they all obeyed. As soon as you heard all four clicks you took off. You slammed the gear stick forward and put the pedal to the metal. You gave all the boys whiplash as you tore out of the alleyway. 

“She's got a bit more of kick then I though,” you chuckled excitedly, ignoring the boy's desperate need to get there seat belts on. Guessing your position in the car the enemies got off a few shots, the glass from the rear window shattering and running down upon you all. You shoot through the gears, zooming down the street. Gaz let out a strangled scream as his body was pushed into the back of the seat. Now the streets of London weren't necessarily long, they were a maze of old and new architecture. Which meant there were a lot of sharp turns. With expertise you skidded, turned and slipped around every corner with ease, rarely losing the speed you were building up. 

“You're crazy!” Jonny yelled.

“Don't worry, crazy people can still drive,” you shoot back. As the group held on for their life, you couldn't help but smile at the thrill driving gave you. 

“PEOPLE! PEOPLE! PEOPLE!” Price yelled, pointing to the group of drunken club goers crossing the street.

“Dont fucken back seat drive. I can see them” you yelled, swinging the car to the side, missing the group, and using the sidewalk as your new road. You took a sharp intake of breath when you saw the restaurant that had seating set up on said sidewalk. The road next to you was filled with cars so you couldn't move. You slammed your hand down on the horn, the few occupants quick to scramble out of the way as they saw the car barreling maliciously towards them. The car plowed through the seat tables and food. Simon stared at you as you casually flicked the wipers on, cleaning the window from the wine and food.

“Oh that smells lovely. We should get dinner there next time,” you suggested casually as you returned the car to the actual road. 

“TRUCK!” Simon yelled as he spotted a truck pulling out of an alleyway. Jerking your hand break up, you turned quickly, slowing just enough for the corner of the truck to scrape along the driver's side of the car. The screeching sound of metal on metal filled your ears as the side mirror disappeared in the near miss. 

“That didn't sound good,” you  mumbled, hanging half out of the window to look at the damage.

“GET INSIDE THE FUCKEN CAR!” Gaz yelled.

“Alright, I think everyone just needs to calm down,” you said gently, turning around to face the panicked passengers. As you did so she caught the look of a certain pissed of enemies pursuing you in another car. 

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!” Simon yelled. He looked hilarious, propping his large body the best he could in the corner of the seat. “Hey don't tell me how to drive. Why don't you be useful and use your little toy on our little friends” you asked slowly turning back to the front to return to driving. The boys turned round, spotting your pursuers. Simon threw half his body out the window as he started to fire, and they fired right back. The rest of the boys quickly joined Simon's efforts. 

“Does anyone have a map?” you asked casually through the gun fire. Simon cursed as his gun ran out of bullets. 

“No, we don't have a fucken map,” Ghost growled as he slipped back into his seat, throwing the gun down. Coming to a roundabout you smoothly drifted the car round Gaz struggling to understand the physics of a car driving sideways.

“Should you even be driving?” Gaz yelled. He had given up returning fire and handed his gun to Jonny. He was much more focused on the danger in the car. 

“I don't think so. You know I think there should be a law that if you fail your driving test ten times, then you shouldn't ever get one,” you chuckled, half jokingly.

“YOU FAILED YOUR DRIVING TEST TEN TIMES!?” Gaz screamed just about to pass out from the fear. “Of course not,” you reached back, patting his knee comfortingly.

“It was more like eighteen,” you stated. 

“Oh lord help me,” he whispered. The boys grinned at the interaction.

“I'm out,” Price announced. Jonny got off a few more shots before repeating his words. The poor night  inhabitants of the town were plunged into confusion at the cars that drove through there streets like rally drivers. A rally driver would be the only way the boys could describe your driving. It scared them shitless. But they had to admit, you were good, really good. You were quickly forming distance with the other car. Ghost reached across you where you usually held your gun.

“Lieutenant, so forward?” you chuckled. 

“Gun,” the simple word was meant to explain what he was doing. 

“Safe word?” you asked teasingly, making him look up at you with a small glare. A glare that momentarily faltered due to your close proximity. He hated to admit it, but his body flushed in attraction. You pose having one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear stick and the annoying smirk sent his heart racing. You chuckled at what you assumed was an are you serious look. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your lower back, sliding it down to meet the gun you had tucked into the back of your pants. Clearing his throat, he pulled the gun free, returning to the window, firing another shoot. 

“Drive straight!” he yelled struggling to keep his balance.

“You shoot straight,” you shoot back but tried your best to steady the car. Steady enough for him to land a hit dead center in the driver's head. To your shock, the passenger kicked the man's body out the door and continued driving.

“Shit,” he hissed, firing off more shots failing to see the fast approaching wall. You did, however. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the first thing your hand landed on. Which just so happened to be his belt buckle. Yanking him back into the car, he narrowly missed decapitation. His eyes snapped down to the grip you had on his belt, your hand pulling the material taunt.

“Close one, lieutenant,” you spared a grin at him, releasing his belt buckle. Simon was surprised, yet not entirely against it. Dare he say, even slightly aroused? 

“This place is like a maze,” you mentioned, taking her time to look at the signs.

“You are way too calm for this,” Simon huffed, going to fire again only to find that he was out of bullets. “Shit,” he whispered. Luckily, after another quick turn it seemed like you had lost them.

“Well, there's no point in panicking. Sure he's firing at us but there a terrible shot. Ain't that right boss?’ you asked, glancing back at Price that for a man with great composure looked like he was about to lose his shit. 

“Please focus on the road!” Price begged.

“Alright well.I feel like I'm taking a tour through this town. Where am i doing?” you asked.

“Head west,” he ordered. “Alright cool,” you nodded, pausing for a few moments. “Which way is west?” you asked.

“Left!” he snapped. Jokingly, you held up your hands. Holding your thumb and index finger into L shapes.

“SARGENT!” Price snapped.

“Ok ok, sorry!” you whispered back, making a quick left turn, a quick left turn that had them headed in the west direction, a direction that put them directly in line with an all too familiar car. The enemy. They had cut you off.

“Shit,” you whispered. Slamming into the break. The car came to a screeching stop. Almost sent Ghost through the windscreen. The driver in the opposite car gave you a shit-eating grin as his allies poked themselves out of the windows.

“Get down!” You yelled. Everyone did so, including you as you slammed the car into reverse, taking off just as fast as you had before. Gritting your teeth, you prayed for luck as they opened fire. Snapping up, you placed your hand on the back of Simon's head rest and not to toot your own horn, but drove like a boss ass bitch. Backwards. At full speed, weaving and jerking side to side doing your best to dodge the bullets. The chase was back on, with you doing your best to drive backwards. Waving and dodging cars as perfectly as you had done before. There just wasn't any room to turn the car around. And your near miss count was going up with every passing second. 

“Oh my god we're gonna die,” Gaz stated simply as he watched you. 

“Not today, bud,” you stated. You saw it, you slammed the hand brake up, throwing the car around barely losing any speed as you returned to forward face driving. Your eyes searched for your exit, anything. Then you saw it, A Little bridge in the distance.

“How long can you guys hold your breath?” you asked.

“What?” Jonny asked.

“Answer the fucking question!” You snapped.

“A long fucking time!” Ghost yelled.

“Alright, everyone, windows down seat belts off,” you ordered.

“Um fuck no,” Gaz stated, simply holding tighter onto his life line.

“Do it now!” You snapped. 

“Wanna fill us in on your plan?” Price asked.

“We're going for a swim. Everyone brace yourself,” you ordered, cutting the lights off. You took a sharp turn at the building, cutting off the view of the car behind. And in one quick jerk, you threw the car off the side of the walkway. You cut the engine just as the car hit the water under the bridge. The car was quickly submerged as you all clambered out. Well, almost all. You grunted as something caught on your ankle. You assumed it was the seat belt. Your hand reached for your knife as it pulled you deeper and deeper into the depths. Only your knife wasn't there. It was in the car's ignition. You reached for it, trying desperately to rip it out to no avail. Shit. You were running out of air as you struggled to untangle your foot. Only you had no light, and you couldn't figure out how it had snagged itself on you. You felt your body getting tired, panic started to set in. Your limited vision started to fade and your lungs burnt for air. Shit, you thought. As you started to acknowledge your possible death, your body went limp as you fought for the last remained of your consciousness. You didn't want to die. There was still so much you wanted to do. God and the boys would never let you down if this was how you would die. They would tease you shitless in the afterlife. You were about to let it go when a set of hands grabbed your shoulders. They gave you a yank, quickly discovering you were caught on something. Their hands patted you down till they found the culprit slicing the seat belt. They swam you back to the surface, you gasping like a fish out of water at the much needed oxygen. Sighs of relief sounded as you briefly caught a glimpse of the skull mask on the face eof the man who kept you afloat resting your upper back on his shoulder.

Ghost had saved you.

“Fucken hell,” Ghost whispered. You couldn't really tell due to the lack of oxygen but you could have sworn you felt him pull you closer to him, his chin pressing against your head in an awkward hug. Price swam over to you, taking your face into his hand.

“You alright, Sargent?” he asked. After a few more gasps of air, you nodded, pulling a thumbs up. 

With deep breaths you all waded in the water waiting as you heard the other car approach. As it drove over the bridge and off into the distance. You had lost them.

“Well, personally, I think that went well,” you said with a cheerful grin. The boys all chuckled as they somewhat relaxed. 

“Do you even have a license?” Gaz asked.

“An Australian one, yes,” you nodded.

“But then again, the police officer doing my test was drunk when I drove him home,” You shrugged casually, earning another set of chuckles. Reaching up you hugged Simon arm tightly. “Thank for saving my ass big guy,” you whispered.

“Don't scare me like that again, you hear me?" he grumbled holding you impossibly closer.

"No promises," you stated.

"Hey what was that bout seat belts saving lives again?" he asked as he sawm you to shore. You simply chuckled shaking your head.

================================================

--COD Master List here--

================================================

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Unsurvivable ride - Fernando Alonso x reader

Summary: Old man loves his car, and you, once again, written on a train, author loves old men and old men know

Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of person who loved to boast. Sure, when he was young, he was cocky. Impressing female reporters with his card tricks or the fact that he could crack a walnut with his neck. A line that didn't make it to air was him saying, "So you don't need to worry about sitting on my face, I'm strong, I can take it, see?" right after. And even with "Fernando is faster than you," even with the "villain" comments in drive to survive, he wasn't prideful. He was just honest. You wouldn't see him flaunting his wealth or doing noveau rich stuff. Yacht aside, luxury cars aside. Yes, he had those things but didn't ever mention them or use them as props, the way some of the other drivers did. Fernando Alonso was the king of quiet luxury, old money. But, with every job came its little quirks. And in Nando's was the new car. 

Don't get him wrong he loved the Valkyrie. It was truly a beautiful car. Fast, too. Perfect for him. But having to prep your shared Monaco living room for it was not fun. Fernando loved having pictures of you two around, the framed memories were a must-have. Whether it was in the tax paradise where most F1 drivers lived, in Spain, to even his garage. Everyone was seeing that Fernando was with you. It was almost funny to see new people guess the nature of your relationship. With you being closer in age to your 20s than your thirties, people assumed you were his relative, a cousin, or perhaps a sister. Some even thought you were his daughter. Then he pulled out the vacation pictures of himself, taking down your swimsuit with his teeth. That cleared up the fact that you were his girlfriend. All the pictures were gone for the day. Any magazines or books that didn't seem like they fit him. Your clothes that hung on the hooks, everything. Truth be told, now the living room looked white and sterile and, thus, perfect for a video. Fernando had to film, and it was fun. Driving around the streets of Monaco in this custom beast didn't suit him still. But he had to do it again and again. That was in his contract. 

Despite him having to take it around all the time, you didn't get a chance to ride in it for a long time. Truth is, you avoided it. The two seater was way too fancy for your taste. You couldn't shake the sinking feeling that you'd scratch it just by opening the door or something. So you didn't even come near it. Took public transport or walked. Used the excuse of "I know it's Monaco, and people don't film you as much, but in this, they definitely will.". And that was literally the point. The Aston Martin marketing person called it a mere exposure theory. Show something to people enough, and they will remember it. Then something about the car creating organic word of mouth and this driving sales. Nando thought it was a little ridiculous that all he drove week in and week out was an Aston Martin. Especially after Brazil. 

But duty called. And the word of Lawrence Stroll and co was law. So Nando took the Valkyrie out, again and again. Finally, he managed to get you in it. Seeing you in the Valkyrie did something to him. Maybe it was the triple header. Maybe it was you in a mini dress pressed up against him. With the seat belt between your perfect tits, he was a goner. Lord knows how he made it to the restaurant without slipping his fingers inside of you while driving with his left hand. It was a miracle. The fancy restaurant he had picked out had no vallet. Only an exclusive underground parking. Fernando got out of the car with a plan in mind. By the end of the night, your first ride in the Valkyrie was going to be a memorable one. 

Everything went smoothly. Then it was time to go. Fernando put on an Oscar worthy performance of looking for his car keys. A pat down of his jeans, a scrunched up face, a low swear in Spanish. All the while, they sat snugley in his jacket pocket. 

"I must have left them on the dash. The car, it has this app that lets you do certain functions remotely. Can you look after I've rolled down the window, doll." He asks. Sometimes, he loves how serviceable you are. Others would call you ditzy, but he knew that all you ever wanted was to be a good girl for him. So you didn't question why the Valkyrie's windows could be opened remotely. You assumed it had something to do with its confusing butterfly doors. Fernando rolls it down, and you twist your body inside. At his plea to "really look, make sure the keys aren't somewhere on the floor," your entire upper body is pretzled in. Leaving your ass to stick out. And that's when Nando strikes like a viper. The window moves up. Not enough to hurt you, but it is definitely enough to make you stuck. He unlocks and locks the car again to taunt you, to show you that he wants you there. 

"Can I touch you, pretty girl?" He asks, but you can already feel his fingers near your bare legs. He's flipped up your skirt, completely exposing your underwear. As soon as you say yes, he traces the seams of it, enjoying how you get excited over that. 

"Look at you, already getting wet for me. We'll have to be quick here, princess. Is that okay with you?" He asks, and he's happy when you practically beg for that. Truth is, he can't stand to tease you right now. He needs you like a fish needs water. Fernando wasted no time in taking off your panties and putting two fingers inside of you. He curls them and tries to get them to hit that spot inside of you. When he uses his other hand to rub your clit, you're a goner, clenching against him. But he doesn't stop.

"You got yours, doll. It's time for me to get mine." He says. Fernando's belt clangs on the concrete, his pants pooled against his ankles. He takes his fingers out of you, and you can hear a loud suck as you guess he puts them in his mouth. The same fingers wrap around his shaft as he guides himself inside of you. The position is driving you both crazy. You can feel his deeper than usual, and you can't squirm away from him. You're at his mercy, and he has none. He thrusts inside of you, almost bottoming out and then slides almost all the way out. He squeezes your ass and hips. Watches himself wreck your pretty weeping pussy with his cock. Feels you get tighter against him. Sees you cum and then clench against nothing as he pulls out. Wonders whether his cum might somehow damage the paint as he watches it on your thighs. 

"There goes one incentive to keep driving this thing. Now I'll think of this every time I get in it." Fernando says, to see you squirm and tell him to shut up. Yep, he was gonna make you warm up to the Valkyrie, one way or another.