#i couldn’t decide helmet on or off so both it is

[zyhkoo]

🦢 daddy issues

hurt/comfort, gn!reader, father issues

( jason wanted to protect you from your father. )

Jason was not good at comfort, it’s not something he’s used to doing. What else can he say? He can’t reassure the person it’d be just fine, he can’t fix the problem, he doesn’t know if what he's saying was right so what was he supposed to do? The best he’d do is to try and humor the situation a bit, or just educate the person he’s trying to comfort.

But there was one person he’d tolerate comforting, it was you.

You had issues with your father, he used to have some with his too, maybe a little bit now. He could empathize with your pain a bit, knowing that he experienced the same thing. It was another night, and another end of a patrol. Jason was hopping through rooftops till he saw your figure in a random fire escape. Jason raised a brow under his helmet, didn’t your patrol ended an hour ago?

You sat silently, staring into the night below you, a sigh escaping from your lips. A quiet and somber look on your face. You seemed to be lost in thought, not even realizing that Jason was there. He could tell something was wrong, he debated if he should call out your name to get your attention, or just keep quiet and stand on silent lookout.

“Hey,” he called out, his deep voice cutting through the silence of the night. "Shouldn't you be home by now," he asked, tilting his head at you. You looked behind you as you only tiredly smiled, “Well, yeah.” you confirmed as you looked back in the horizon. “I just don’t feel like going home right now.” you tell him.

Jason studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask. “You don’t wanna go home?” Jason repeated, a hint of skepticism in his tone, “Why, did somethin’ happen?“

He leaned against the railing next to you, looking at you with concern. You looked down at your hands as you fiddled with them, “I forgot that there was a family gathering earlier, dad couldn’t find me in my room cause I was well.. patrolling so he said I can’t come home tonight.” you explained to him.

You sighed as you rubbed your face, “I can’t just tell him I’m a masked vigilante. I can’t just ignore my duty either.” Jason could see the exhaustion on your face, you looked tired, both physically and mentally. .

He shook his head slightly as he looked off into the distance. “This is the life you chose,” he reminded you, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “You can’t expect to have both. You either dedicate yourself to this, or you stick with your family.”

He paused for a moment, then spoke again, his tone a little gentler, “You gotta decide what’s more important.”

“You shouldn’t stay out here all night,” Jason stated gruffly, “You’ll freeze to death. You shook your head, “No, no, it’s okay I’ll just go to the manor.” you protested.

Jason let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Stop being stubborn and just come with me,” he said, his tone gruff. He grabbed your arm and started to drag you down the stairs, “Wayne Manor is too far. You’re coming with me tonight, no complaints.”

Jason led you in another apartment, he cracked open the window and gestured for you to come in first. You sighed in resignation and climbed through the window. Jason followed you, hopping through the window almost effortlessly.

You found yourself standing in what appeared to be a small, modest apartment. There was a small living area with a couch and TV, a little kitchen, and a small hallway that led to a bedroom and a bathroom. It was sparsely furnished, looking like it only had the essentials for someone to survive.

You gazed over to the display case. You couldn't help but stare at the assortment of weapons, knives, and guns that were displayed behind glass. They were all in perfect condition, each one looked like it had been cared for, like a collection of works of art.

"Impressive, right?" Jason remarked, leaning against the wall as he followed your gaze, “They are.” you answered him.

“Right, you want a drink? Let me get you juice or somethin’ while you remove your armor.” Jason gestured to the couch before making his way to the kitchen. He looked into the refrigerator, trying to find something he thought you'd like. He found a bottle of strawberry milk juice, grabbed two glasses before pouring some for you and himself. He returned to the living room, handing you a glass.

You chuckled to yourself, “You drink this?” Jason looked at you, a slight scowl on his face. "Shut up," he grumbled, taking a sip of his juice. "Steph left it.”

"Can’t let it go to waste though," he grumbled, "Besides, I needed something sweet tonight." He watched your figure as you drank your drink. Your feet were curled up on the couch and your armor was placed on his table. He could tell by your eyes that your mind was clouding from thoughts. “You still thinkin’ about your dad?” he asked, breaking the silence in the room.

Your thoughts snapped as you looked at him, “A bit.”Jason leaned back against the couch, studying you for a moment before speaking up again. "Don't let it get to you," he said, "Family problems… they're a pain in the ass to deal with." You buried your head in your knees, “I just feel like I’m never good enough for my dad. He’s always dissatisfied with me.”

He knew that feeling all too well.

"I can tell you from experience, you’ll never be good enough for some people, no matter how much you try." he said, his voice low and gruff, "And for some, nothing is gonna change their mind." He reached out and gently placed a hand on your back, rubbing it comfortingly. "But you know what? You shouldn't let that get to you," he continued, his grip tight on your shoulder, "You're your own person; you don't gotta prove anything to anyone.”

“Why?” you murmured. "I don’t know, ‘cause life’s short," he said, removing his hand from your back and running his fingers through his hair. "You don’t want to spend it trying to be someone else instead of being yourself."

You sighed, “I can’t just.. deny something my father wants me to do the most.” you said “He gave me a roof, food, things— why would I repay him back by disappointing him?”

"You don't owe him anything," he responded, his voice firm, "Just because he gave those things to you doesn't mean you owe him everything in return. He's your father; he's *supposed* to take care of you." Your eyes darted to his, “Isn’t that what children are supposed to do? Repay their parent’s sacrifices?”

Jason scoffed at your question, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No," he said firmly, "Parents are supposed to sacrifice for their kids. It’s their job. Children aren't obligated to return the favors their parents did for them. Parents don't sacrifice so their children will be indebted to them forever.” You lifted your head up at him, processing what he said. Jason looked at you and caught your gaze.

He studied your face, seeing the pain and confusion etched into your features. He knew the feeling, he knew the guilt and the burden that came with trying to live up to someone else’s expectations and sacrifices. You looked away, “Sorry, it was just a mindset I had for a long time.” you said. He reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice low and steady. "I get it. I’ve been there before, and I know how it feels." He felt a strange, unfamiliar instinct to protect you, to comfort you… to make sure you were alright. It was a feeling he had never experienced before. He took your half empty drink and placed in on the table. He set the empty glass aside and turned his attention back to you.

Jason could see the exhaustion in your eyes and the subtle slump in your shoulders. He knew you were tired, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. You tiredly smiled, “Is it obvious? He nodded and let out a little chuckle, "Yeah, it’s pretty obvious," he said, "You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Jason stands up, “Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I got a spare shirt you can wear.” he said as he walked ahead.

Your eyes widen at his offer, you never thought he was the type to be that considerate.

"Are you sure?" you asked, following him as he led you towards the bedroom. He nodded in response, opening the door to his bedroom. The room was relatively clean, with a large bed in the center. He walked to the closet and started to search through it. After a moment, he found what he was looking for and pulled out a clean shirt. He handed it to you.

"You can change in the bathroom if you want," he said, gesturing to the small bathroom attached to his bedroom. You took the shirt from him and headed to the bathroom, changing out of your spandex. When you emerged, you found Jason sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you.

He looked up as you came out, his gaze sweeping over your figure in his shirt. It hung loose on you, the fabric soft and comfortable against your skin. He gestured for you to come closer. "Come here," he said, patting the space on the bed next to him. Jason reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"Don’t let your dad’s bullshit get to you, alright?" he said, his voice soft and low. You sighed, leaning on his shoulder “Thanks Jay.” Jason could feel the exhaustion seeping out of you as you leaned into him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. The feeling of protectiveness that he had felt earlier returned, stronger this time.

"Don’t mention it," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just get some rest, you’ll feel better in the morning." You lay down on the bed, the fabric of the sheets feeling cool and comforting against your exhausted body. Jason moved to pull the covers over you, making sure you were tucked in comfortably. He took a moment to study your face, seeing how weary and tired you looked.

Without thinking, Jason leaned in and pressed a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

As he pulled back, he cleared his throat and looked away. He hoped you didn’t notice the blush rising to his cheeks. He quickly stood up, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "You should get some rest," he mumbled, looking at you with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You frowned, “Not gonna stay?” He was taken aback by your question, he wasn’t expecting you to ask him to stay. He was hoping you would’ve just fallen asleep. He scratched the back of his neck, looking away from your gaze.

"I don’t know... do you want me to stay?" he asked, his voice gruff. You softly huffed with a smile, “You already gave me a goodnight kiss. Why not?” He looked at you, meeting your gaze for a moment before answering. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled as he removed his jacket, revealing the skin tight black shirt underneath.

He slid into bed, lying down next to you. He kept his distance at first, but as you shifted closer to him, he instinctively wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side. He felt your warm body pressed against his, your head resting on his chest, your breathing steady and slow.

He couldn’t deny that this felt...good. Comforting, in a way he wasn’t used to. But as he lay there, holding you, his thoughts wandered to the implications of this situation. He knew you were friends, but there was something more to this, something he couldn’t ignore.

He cared for you, more than just a friend. And as he lay there in the darkness, with you in his arms, he couldn’t deny that he wanted more. Still, he knew better than to say anything. You were in a vulnerable state; he didn’t want to take advantage of that. He watched your face for a moment, the steady rise and fall of your breath indicating that you finally fell asleep.

The faint moonlight filtering through the window cast a soft glow over your face, illuminating your features in an ethereal way. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. He gently squeezed your body against his, holding you closer. The feeling of protecting you, of having you in his arms...

He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

🐇 hello everyone! i made a discord server! please make sure to reblog, let me know if you guys are interested in a part two.

[ahhrenata]

meditating (or trying to)

[hon3y-y]

Roomie!sukuna doesn't even get horny for anyone other than you anymore. You have the wettest, nastiest pussy he's ever seen- and he deserves the best so nobody but you will do. You're fucking so many other fine men now that you dont even give him a second glance when he walks out the shower in just a towel to tease you. And oh, his temper when one of your hookups pick you up and you don't come home for the weekend. Or even worse, they stay for the weekend. Sukuna has never let a girl sleep over at the apartment but now there are two colognes in the bathroom, two pairs or men's shoes at the door, and he can almost never see you in the living room without some other man hanging off your side

read the other parts here! : part 1 part 2 part 4

he’s literally so embarrassingggg it’s not even funny. he’ll walk around and flex his muscles, smirk on his puffy lips as the water drips down his ripped torso. he stands outside your open door, you’re looking down at your phone deciding on whether to spend the night at choso’s or nanami’s (pick choso, nanami gets up at like 5 am 🙄), “showers empty..” sukuna basically purr’s, resting his arm on the doorway.

and you literally could not give less of a fuck💀

you just nod, mumbling a ‘thanks’ as you focus on putting both their names in a generator and letting that choose your fate for the night. let’s just say sukuna was extremely angry when a motorcycle pulls up and you just giggle and hop onto it, kissing the stupid leather clad boy while throwing on the custom bikers helmet choso had made for you. and to top it off, sukuna had to physically restrain himself from blowing up your phone on where the fuck you are??

messages;

ryo<3: didn’t see you this morning

you: i’m staying with choso for the weekend! sorry, should’ve told you last night:/

you: i also won’t be home after wednesday satoru is taking me to this festival! i’ll send pics😋

ryo<3: have fun 👍

omfg he’s losing it. he literally will spend the whole time in the gym, refusing to be in the empty apartment for longer than eight hours for sleep. he feels like there’s a cement brick in his chest when you’re whisked away by these men. but nothing is worse than when he stays over.

he being satoru.

it was becoming a huge issue. his longest “sleepover” was a week. a week where you weren’t even home for half of it. but sukuna was. he was there for all of it.

there was now a third toothbrush taking up countertop space in the bathroom, he would find satoru’s clothes in the wash (which would always somehow be in there whenever ryo specifically had to use it??), and gojo absolutely loved to make out with you everywhere but inside of your room and sukuna started to hated it. publicly claiming you in front of the guy who literally made it possible🙄 unbelievable.

let’s just say you take a break from bringing satoru over, doing your best to settle the tension at home. but sukuna couldn’t let it go, not when he stares at the stupid fucking blue electric toothbrush and knows that it’s only temporary.

at this point he didn’t even give a fuck about the other guys, you can keep them as long as he’s added onto your roster.

it’s been a while since the two of you had a movie night. something that used to, at the very least, happen once a month has been delayed due to your extra activities. the two of you relaxed into the couch, the movie was a random one you found choosing whatever looked the best by cover and for the first time in a while, sukuna felt like he had you.

“did you buy the candy?”

“shit, yeah. i think i left it in my room?”

“go get it while i make the popcorn!” you smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling excitedly. you looked so cute and soft, and ryo got a glimpse of your cute pink panties when you bent over to grab something so he was feeling just as good. he could already picture the little damp spot he’d create after teasing you and then force you to beg and make it up to him.

he thought about it the whole walk to his room, picking up the bag and then back to the living room, fantasizing about what he plans to do. and just as he’s about to turn the corner, a head of white fluffy hair is laying on your lap, legs spread to take up the full length of the couch. and the only seat available? the one farthest from you.

“i hope you don’t mind, satoru said he missed us!”

us… sukuna looked down at gojo, looking at the content quirk in his lip while he snuggled into you more, moving one of your hands into his hair to play with it. ryo’s eye twitched before he put the bag down and went back into his room, the door slamming behind him. the noise makes you force satoru up, a pit forming in your stomach. you didn’t want sukuna to feel uncomfortable in his own house—

“damn, what’s he so mad abo- he got macha kitkats!? mmm~”

*bonus*

sukuna is literally in his room about to dry heave because??? what alternative version of himself gave him such bad karma?!? in his room like this;

but quietly, because he DEFINITELY doesn’t want you to see him like this. such a fein🤦‍♀️

a/n: i didn’t put smut because i didn’t want to get repetitive BUT should we finally let sukuna get a taste?? part 4 where he finally gets her?? lmk🫶

*not edited*

[lukesaprince]

Ruin Me H.S

Summary: When the good girl / bad boy trope is just as hypnotic and addictive as everyone says it is OR y/n decides to get Harry's handwriting tattooed on her thigh (badboy/gang LHH trope?)

Warnings:  SMUT!! oral (f receiving), edging, spanking (with hand and belt), hair pulling, squirting, masochism, dom!harry, mocking/degradation, dacryphilia, bondage (with a belt), Injuries (black eye, split lip, gunshot wound & wound cleanup)... I think that's it 😅

Word count: 13.7k+

Author's note: This is loosely and I mean SO loosely inspired by Guilty As Sin by Taylor Swift and yeah I know what that song is about but this is based off literally one line in it... I definitely got carried away with the story hehe

- Find my General Masterlist here -

You never liked the bad boy, good girl narrative. The power imbalance and toxicity that came with someone so ruined and so problematic trying to heal his soul in someone that deserved better. She would always think she could change him, that he was just misunderstood and needed someone to love him. That his soul could be healed.

It was bullshit. Until you found yourself in that exact situation, believing just that. That he was misunderstood and so kind underneath his rough exterior. You even found yourself loving the hidden hookups and midnight cleanups. A knock on your door at all hours in the night to be let in for some charged, desperate fuck or to be fixed up because he got in a fight. 

You didn’t even know how it started, really. Harry was an enigma. A shadow in the wind that appeared one moment and disappeared the next on a dark bike just as mysterious as he was. That was how you met him, in a fleeting moment which at the time meant nothing. Until it meant everything. 

He drove by the cafe you worked at. You were closing up for the night and locking the door when the loud purr of his bike filled the entire street. You were already on edge being by yourself after the girl closing with you had to leave sick so your head whipped around to follow the loud noise. 

That’s when you saw him for the first time. He drove through the quiet street with a girl on the back of his bike that you had never seen before, both dressed head to toe in dark clothing and leather. They each had a black helmet covering their heads and yet you still knew that they were both looking at you.

It was unnerving and an interaction that had you walking a lot faster to your car in case they circled back and decided to give you trouble. Your town was used to damaged, dangerous shadows. People like Harry who came in for a night or a weekend for something illicit, only to never return. 

You weren’t sure why your small town attracted people like that, but only being a 45-minute drive from the closest big city made it the go-to place for affairs, romantic getaways, illegal meetings and everything in between.

Harry was meant to be like that too. Someone who just passed through. Until he met you.

The very next day he found himself visiting the cafe in hopes you were there. Harry wasn’t sure why he felt the need to go there since he was meant to be driving back to the city the morning after his rendezvous, but there was something about your eyes that he couldn’t get out of his head.

He didn’t even know if you’d be there and yet by some chance or fate, you were. Your back was towards him, busy on barista duty making coffees for the many customers waiting for their orders. He recognised your hair first; pulled back in two long braids down your back. You wore the cafe logo on your t-shirt and this pair of jeans that made your ass look incredible. 

You had no idea what the mystery man from last night looked like but you spent the night filling in the blanks of what was hidden beneath his helmet. Your brain seemed to be fixated on the stranger with some magical pull like you knew him already. Your body definitely seemed to like him already, that’s for sure.

“Harry? Americano two sugars.” You called out, sliding the takeaway cup to the edge of the counter before moving on to the next coffee. When the figure approached the counter, you went into your automatic greeting, “have a nice da-”, but the words got caught in your throat when you looked up and locked eyes with the same stranger last night. 

You knew it was him instantly. There was no rhyme or reason to explain it, but you knew and he was even more good-looking than you ever could’ve imagined. With piercing green eyes and a strong jaw, plump pink lips and tattoos running up both arms that had your core clenching. The most unexpected feature of all though, was his long luscious curls pulled back from his face and running just past his shoulders. 

Harry smirked, visibly seeing the wide-eyed, freeze response your body had just at the sight of him. It was a reaction he got often. He was tall and handsome and the dark clothing he wore made him appear far more intimidating than the usual curly-haired white boy. 

“Thank you, love.” He smirked, grabbing the takeaway cup before casually slipping a $100 bill into the tip jar. He was walking out of the cafe without another word, looking at you over his shoulder before he was walking down the street and out of your view.

That night it wasn’t just his face you were dreaming about. 

You never expected to see the handsome stranger, who you now knew as Harry, again but as the weeks went by he came to visit the cafe time and time again. It was always the same order and the same ‘thank you, love’ that had your head spinning and then he was gone with no idea of when he’d return again.

Then one day he took things a step further and asked you when your break was. It was the longest you heard him speak and the more words that came out, the more you found yourself hypnotised by the way his mouth wrapped around the syllables. Your coworkers warned you that men like him were dangerous and not worth the excitement and pleasure they always offered.

Time and time again you had helped your friends through some shitty breakup or worse with one of the travellers that rolled through town and you always promised yourself you wouldn’t put yourself in a situation like that. It was clear from the very first night that he was trouble but as much as you wanted to keep your distance, you just couldn’t. 

You had never felt so mesmerised by another person before. That initial burning attraction hot enough to take your breath away. In only one sit down with him, you were ready to risk it all. He was so gorgeous and charming and sweet. The epitome of that misunderstood bad boy.

Just like his frequent cafe visits, your lunch breaks soon became his. You two would sit and he’d always ask you about yourself. You did most of the talking and he did most of the listening, never giving much away of himself. He’d show up with bloody knuckles or a bruised eye but would mask the pain and simply shrug when you asked him if he was okay.

It was starting to feel like he knew everything about you and you knew nothing in return. You wanted to know everything about him. After weeks of these little interactions, he never tried to fuck you or pursue things with you or make you feel like you owed him for all the $100 tips he left. All he wanted to do was talk and if anything, that made you want him more.

Then one night… everything changed.

You were woken in the middle of the night by a crash in your living room. That would be scary for anyone, but it was even scarier when you were on the top floor and the only access points to your apartment were the front door and the fire escape out the window. 

You went into immediate panic mode, snatching the steak knife you had tucked under your pillows between your top sheet and your fitted sheet in case this very thing happened. Living alone had its challenges and one of them was the intense fear someone would break in in the middle of the night. By now you could recognise the sounds of your apartment and building so not every little creak freaked you out, but anyone could recognise the sound of broken glass and your pot plant being knocked over. 

Sticking the knife out in front of you, you tip-toed out of your bedroom and down the hallway to your living room where the noise came from. Your phone was clutched against your chest, the three-digit emergency number ready to be called in case it wasn’t your cat, Mouse, knocking things over. Mouse was a fragile little thing and sometimes got scared by the smallest things. Even setting a mug down on the bench too hard could have her jumping out of her skin. 

You prayed it was only her being skittish. 

When you made it to the end of your hallway, you pressed yourself against the wall and tipped your head out ever so slightly to look into your living room. A whole wave of emotions rushed over you at once at the sight. It wasn’t your cat, but rather a tall dark figure holding your purring pet. 

It was a figure you recognised immediately, even with his strong back facing towards you.

“Harry? What the fuck?” You hissed, turning your phone off while turning the lights on at the same time. 

“Hey, bunny.” Harry flashed a sly smile, turning to look at you. You noticed the dried blood on his lip and eyebrow instantly and the swollen ball forming on his cheek. Fucking hell. 

That smile instantly dropped when his eyes ran over you, taking in the ratty loose t-shirt and tiny underwear you were wearing. The t-shirt had a worn-out collar making it slide down to expose your collarbone and one shoulder. Your nipples were pressing through the thin material, all pebbled and hard from the cold air now blowing in from the window Harry accidentally broke on his way in. 

Getting dressed was the last thing on your mind before venturing out here and you suddenly regretted not putting pants on at least. To be fucking fair though, you never would’ve guessed Harry would break in through your window when A. you had a very suitable front door, B. he didn’t even have your number and C. you never told him where you lived. 

“What the… how do you know where I live?” You asked a little shakily, crossing your arms to cover your chest while still keeping the knife on guard in front of you.

Harry set down Mouse and she immediately ran over to you, purring while sliding her body against your calf. He walked over to you slowly and the closer he got, the worse his injuries appeared. A split lip and split eyebrow and a deep purple hue starting to form around his socket. He looked awful. 

“Are you going to stab me, bunny?” He drawled, almost mockingly. You stood your ground, trying not to show your shaking as your hand tightened around the handle of the knife. His eyes were dark and he allowed himself a final drag over your body, stepping so close to you that the tip of the knife pressed into his stomach while he towered over you. “Gonna cut me open? Give me another scar to add to my collection?”

Even though you knew you should be scared, you weren’t. He found your address and broke into your house and yet physically, you weren’t the slightest bit worried that he’d hurt you. You knew nothing about him, didn’t even know what illegal venture he did for work and yet you trusted him.

Because you trusted him, your shaking was for a very different reason. Having him in your apartment all bloody and bruised and still as handsome as ever had you completely worked up. The thought of… of doing just what he teased, of giving him a scar that reminded him of you forever… god, it was so fucked up how horny that made you.

You were obsessed over a man who hadn’t even kissed you, yet knew every single thing about you. It was ridiculous. That felt even more ridiculous than playing off this entire interaction as a somewhat normal experience. 

“I’ve got a perfectly fine front door, y’know.” You whispered, looking over to the broken window. You kept your knife against his stomach, even testing the waters by pressing it harder ever so gently into the toned muscles beneath his shirt. “And you’re paying for that to be fixed, by the way.” 

Harry laughed, wincing ever so slightly at the tinge of pain in his face. But still, he laughed. And it was golden. “I’ll pay for whatever you want,” He murmured, smirking while looking down at the knife. “I’m sure you’re very skilled with a blade, bunny, but will you put it aside for now and clean me up instead? Need a pretty girl to make me feel better.”

You looked between your knife and his eyes, reluctantly dropping your hand beside your hip. “Come on.”

Saying nothing else, you spun around and walked into your bathroom. Harry followed closely behind, looking around your apartment with curiosity before his eyes fell on you. You pulled your t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still rode up as you walked and he found himself unable to look anywhere else.

“Sit.” You pointed to the closed toilet and set your knife down on the bench, crouching down to get the first aid kit from the cabinet below the sink.

Harry did as told and shrugged his leather jacket off, setting it down on the bench before sitting on the closed toilet lid. He watched you intently, saying nothing as you set up your tools to sanitise and clean his wounds. 

After grabbing some gauze and betadine to clean the open wounds, you soaked the material and started to clean the small gash on his eyebrow. Harry kept completely still, barely feeling the pinch. Your touch was so soft, so gentle. He found it more relaxing than anything else. Once that wound was clean, you moved onto his mouth which Harry found a lot more sensitive. 

“So how did this happen?” you asked softly, dabbing his lip with the small cloth. His eyes closed as he tensed, hands fisting on his knees to stop himself from getting too worked up. Pain didn’t affect Harry, at least not in a normal way. Every sting and bite at your hand was turning him on in an inappropriate way. You were his bunny, his girl. He couldn’t get hard around you when all you were trying to do was help him. 

“Oh, y’know...” He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you but not giving anything away.

“I don’t, actually.” You responded. 

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, just that I’ve got a pretty girl fixing me up.” He attempted to smooth it over with a soft smile and a loving tap on your chin. It was the most he ever touched you, a little tap on your chin or a graze of his fingers on your cheek. He never touched your knee or your hand or anywhere else. It was infuriating. 

“It does! You show up here in the middle of the night and break in. I don’t even know how you found my address but I’m cleaning your cuts and you won’t even tell me how you got them. How is that fair!? I know nothing about you Harry.” Your voice bordered on a sigh and a yell, exhausted with him showing up out of nowhere and charming you before disappearing again. You weren’t sure what to make of it and he wasn’t giving you any ideas on what he actually wanted from you.

“It’s better that way, y/n.” He looked away from you, leaning back so your fingers weren’t holding his chin anymore to keep him in position. “You don’t want to get involved with me.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. You show up constantly and-and what? Have lunch with me? Get to know me? You can’t do that and not expect me to want to know something back.” You expressed frustratingly, shoving the first aid items into the small bin beside your cabinet. 

“I want to keep you safe, y/n.” He stood from the toilet, sighing when you refused to look at him. “The less you know about me, the safer you’ll be.”

“So why do you even keep coming back if you don’t want me involved with you? It’s killing me!” You snapped, looking up at him accusatorily. 

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” He whispered, sliding his hand over the side of your neck. Your breath hitched at the touch, your body automatically leaning into it as he rubbed his thumb over your jaw and towards your mouth. Oh. “I’m so fucking obsessed with you it’s unhealthy. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time, y/n.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “you’re so confusing Harry because you look at me like that and say things but you don’t even touch me. You haven’t kissed me or-or anything. Just tell me what you want from me so I know where to set my expectations.”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” He cocked his head, turning your bodies so your back was to the basin. His hand looped to the front of your neck and it was like every cell in your body suddenly put their focus onto him. You couldn’t breathe or think or move or anything. Not when his large ringed fingers were wrapped around your neck like he was carrying a trophy. A prize to claim. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”

Harry pressed his hips into you, eliciting a gasp when you felt his long, hard cock pressed against you. He used his hips to nudge you against the cabinet, pinning you there so you couldn’t go anywhere. “All I think about is kissing you. Kissing your lips and your neck and… everywhere. The things I want to do to you y/n are so unsavoury your pretty little head would explode.”

He always thought you were this pure… innocent angel. One of the rare people in the world with no ill intentions. You were polite and sweet, even after Harry significantly brought you out of your shell since he met you. You were studying to be a nurse for Christ’s sake, some of the purest of the pure.

He wanted to ruin you. He wanted to take that innocence away more than anything on this planet. It was his built-in fucked up default program. To want what he couldn’t have. To want to destroy everything around him. 

But he couldn’t do that to you. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, even if it hurt him in the process. Harry had no light in his life, no hope until he met you and he knew that the moment this became real he would destroy you. His life would destroy you or Harry would do something to fuck it all up and he’d hurt you.

He’d break your heart. 

“It won’t.” You rushed out, “It won’t explode. I… I want it.” You could barely articulate yourself. Not when his whole body was pressed to yours. All you had been thinking of for months was having him completely dominate your body. Just to touch you and please you. Even if it was only one time before he disappeared from your life forever.

You needed it.

“I’ll ruin you.” He promised, leaning in closer so his nose bumped against yours. He breathed out a ragged breath, feeling so close to completely giving in to his desires. All of them. “I’ll destroy every good thing about you, y/n. You don’t want that.”

The scariest part of all… was that you did want it. You were becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. A good girl sacrificing herself to save the soul of someone who might never be saved. But you believed Harry would be saved. You could fix him. Help him to get away from whatever life he lived that made him hurt so badly inside. 

You wanted to save him. 

“I do. I do want it.” You nodded desperately, grabbing his other hand to guide it towards your clothed mound. You pressed your hand over his, using your own fingers to press his against the silky wet patch on the crotch of your underwear. He swore under his breath, taking the initiative to stroke his fingers along the wet material. “Ruin me. Please.”

So he did.

He ruined you over and over again that night and for many nights after. It completely changed everything for you two. Like it was the last barrier stopping you two from being completely open with each other. You had always told him the things you told everyone else. Your likes and dislikes, the show you were watching, your workplace drama.

But your desires… your needs and wants. They were reserved for no one but yourself. Until he came along. 

Harry told you he’d ruin you and he stuck to his word. The things you did together were dirty and depraved and left you with such a feral need for the man, you would’ve let him do quite literally anything to you. As would he, you. And you practically had. Every desire or curiosity was sated and he was willing to do anything to satisfy you. 

Harry became as violently obsessed with you as you did him and even though it was a hell of a trip to see you, he did so as often as possible. He couldn’t help himself. Not when he had such a pretty girl waiting to please him and take care of his heart, body and soul. You filled the hole in his life in all aspects, which is what he feared would happen when he saw you that very first night. 

Someone so magnetic would ruin him and he was enjoying every moment of it. 

You had no idea he traveled from the main city just to see you until you two started sleeping together. He continued stopping by for a coffee or to disturb your lunch break but very quickly, your time spent together turned into an after hours activity. He’d come to get fixed up and then he’d ruin you. Or… his sole intention was to ruin you all along. 

There were many sleepless nights because of him. Not that you minded. He opened up to you more and told you more about himself and what he did. When you started to learn small things, you realised that he was probably right in you being better off left in the dark. It was a lot more elaborate than you could’ve imagined and it made sense why he did so much to keep you protected. 

Running an elaborate drug smuggling operation wasn’t exactly the safest job out there, nor did it give you much opportunity to switch careers. Somehow, though, you weren’t deterred by it. Maybe it was because you were already in love with him the second he ruined you for the first time. 

His high job security didn’t stop you from fantasising about a different life with him. Harry leaving that life for you. The only part of the job Harry liked was the financial stability and the power. The control he had. But you felt like Harry was destined for so much more, that he could live a much happier, safer life. With you. 

“Have you ever thought about running away?” You asked, playing with his long hair. It was unruly and sweaty and you were threading your fingers through the knots formed from the midnight hookup. You were still hot and sweaty too, but Harry quite liked the sticky feeling of your skin and the lingering scent of sex in the air. 

“Running away? I couldn’t.” Harry breathed through a laugh like it was unfathomable. “You couldn’t either.” He looked up from his work, reaching for your hand to bring it to your mouth to kiss your knuckles. “You’ll be a nurse soon and you’ve always had your heart set on Mercy. You’ll get a job there and it’ll be everything you want.” He smiled softly, guiding your hand back to his hair so you’d play for it while he finished the artwork on your upper thigh. 

The thin marker was steady in his hand and he only had one letter left before the piece was complete, not that four letters took a particularly long time to write. But he wanted it to be perfect, for the permanent marker to last as long as possible on your pretty skin. You’d never do it permanently, after all you were still his good girl and no good girl would be as rogue as to get her lover's handwriting tattooed on her thigh after only a few months. Or ever. Permanent marker and baby powder always did the trick to make a design last a while, though, and Harry hoped it would still be there the next time he snuck through your window. 

“I want you, Harry.” You whispered, finding his concentration both adorable and so damn sexy you were getting all worked up again. If he looked a little to the left to where your bare cunt was so so close to his fingers, he’d probably be able to tell too. “And the good thing about being a nurse is I can do it anywhere. I can…” you swallowed your nerves, unsure what his reaction would be to your suggestion. “I can work anywhere and-”

“It wouldn’t work, y/n.” He interrupted curtly, leaning back to observe his work while putting the cap back onto his pen. Harry rarely used your name, he was too fond of his pet name for you. “You will always be mine. Always. But I think we both know that what we have is temporary.” Your heart broke at his words and you felt the pain fizzle through your body like a burning liquid. He looked up at you as he blew on the temporary tattoo. “When I inevitably break your heart, bunny, you’ll move on and find someone who can love you the way you deserve. I’ll never move on from you, but you will and you’ll be happier for it.”

“That’s not true.” You all but whimpered. Harry ignored your plea, tapping against your skin to test whether the marker was dry. “You always say that you’ll break my heart, Harry but that’s not true.” He looked up at you for a moment, trying to hide the heartbreak he felt at seeing how sad you were. Grabbing the little bottle of baby powder, he sprinkled it over the little word, massaging the surrounding area of your leg. “I… I love you and I know you love me. If you loved me you wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“Bunny, I love you more than anything else on this planet.” He assured, shifting up onto his knees in all his naked glory. He spread his hands over your belly, rubbing his thumbs a little harder into your skin. “I would never do anything to hurt you but this life… it follows me wherever I go. There’ll be a time where I need to sacrifice my love and happiness to protect you. But you’ll always be mine. Until the day I die.” He smiled softly, looking back down to the pile of powder on your upper thigh. He ran his thumb over it, rubbing away from the white substance and leaving the matte four-letter word. 

Mine. 

“See?” He smirked, looking down at the ‘tattoo’, “I can’t promise you forever, bunny. But I can promise you that I’ll be yours at least until this fades. Who knows what could happen by then.”

You sat up, pressing your hands behind you on the bed for balance as you looked at his artwork. There was something so sexy about being branded like that, even if it was temporary. Your otherwise empty skin now looked complete with his mark there. In his handwriting. 

What other sign could be more clear that you belonged to him than his handwriting on your thigh stating just that? 

“I love it.” You whispered, tracing over the cursive letters. “Will you be back?” You settled on asking, pausing for a moment, “before the tattoo fades?” 

That was one thing that troubled you about your relationship with Harry. The fact that you never knew when you’d see him again. You both openly professed your love and obsession for each other and yet you didn’t go on dates or text or call. Harry just showed up. 

He told you it was to keep you safe. It was the very same reason he snuck through your window instead of knocking on your front door. There was less chance of anyone finding out about you. Whoever ‘anyone’ was. 

Harry nodded. “I should be. I’ve got a job this weekend though so it might not be for a little longer than usual.” He plastered a soft smile on his face to calm you and reached out to cup your face. “Better make sure it’s still here when I get back. Okay, bunny? Unless you want me to mark it on your skin another way.” That smile tilted to a smirk, promising you foreplay that both of you knew would have you begging him for release. 

This time you nodded, “I’ll be good f’you.” 

Shit. 

“Good girl, Princess.” Harry cooed, looking down briefly at his own cock, already hardening even after filling your mouth and pussy with his cum. He couldn’t help it really. Not when your naked body was so gorgeous and now marked with his handwriting. “now c’mere.” 

You smiled, shifting up on your knees to join him halfway in a searing kiss. It was nearly 2 am already but you knew that you wouldn’t get any sleep at all. 

The days that followed were restless. You kept looking at those four letters on your thigh and thinking of all the things you had and hadn’t done together. The many trysts you shared with hushed conversations and messy top lip kisses. How his hands felt on your body and his lips on your skin. 

You had no idea how long it would be before he came to the cafe or broke into your apartment again. There was no word from him or rumour that he was passing through town. The shadows that liked to drift in and out became known the moment they visited more than once and Harry… well he had become a regular now. 

The next time Harry snuck into your apartment, bordering on an entire week after he wrote ‘mine’ on your upper thigh, you were ready. You weren’t sure why you knew because sometimes you had no idea until you felt his presence in your bed. Mouse didn’t even meow or run in fear when he entered through the window anymore, making his entrance sometimes as silent as wind whistling through an empty street. 

But tonight… you knew. 

There was a shift in the room temperature and a lingering scent of tobacco in the air that had your core clenching just at the thought of him visiting you. Of him seeing the surprise you had for him. It was all in your head of course, a delusion brought on by obsession. Still… you knew. 

And just like clockwork, you heard the sound of your window sliding upwards just past midnight. He thankfully hadn’t broken the glass since the first night, but for him to just slink in you had to keep the window unlocked. Before meeting him you obsessively checked every lock on every window and your front door every night, fearing that one of the shadows coming through town would try and hurt you.

You’d think that getting involved with someone like Harry would make that fear worse and yet… it didn’t. Somehow you felt safer. Harry once made a passing comment about keeping an eye on you, that he always knew if you were alright. He didn’t have to elaborate for you know that meant he had hacked into security cameras or had someone he trusted watching your apartment at all times. 

6-months-ago-you would’ve been creeped the fuck out. Scared for your life that you’d allow one of the shadows to get you so hooked on him, you’d let him have a security guard of sorts around you 24/7, or even just the fact you let him so casually break into your apartment. It made total sense to you somehow because with all the theatrics and abnormal parts of your relationship came the love and happiness you got when you saw him.

Even though it was most likely your lover opening your window, you still fished for the knife under your pillow, now replaced with something pink and shiny and far more deadly. Harry decided that if you were going to protect yourself, you needed something more dangerous than a serrated kitchen knife. You treasured that pocket knife and you and Harry have had a lot of fun playing with it. 

“Harry?” You whispered, creeping down your hallway. 

“It’s just me, bunny.” His voice echoed, low and husky. 

You smiled, rushing out to find him pushing your window back down and locking the latch. His hair was pulled back into a bun, sitting messily at the back of his head and he was wearing his classic leather jacket and dark jeans. God, you had missed him. 

“You really need to start locking your window, y/n.” Harry drawled, turning around to face you. “A madman might try to break in and hurt you.” 

You giggled, throwing your pocket knife on your rug carelessly to pounce on him. Literally. He smiled and caught you easily, letting you wrap your legs around his hips while your arms wrapped around his neck. 

Your mouths joined almost instantly, lips brushing against lips in a heated exchange. You threaded your fingers in his hair and tugged until his bun came loose and his hair fell to his shoulders. He groaned at the feeling and ran his tongue against the seam of your lips, nibbling down on your bottom lip. 

“I missed you, madman.” You whispered once your lips broke, shifting in his arms. His hands supported your bum, squeezing while he devoured your mouth once more. His body was sore from his weekend job, but he’d never let that get in the way of having his girl in his arms. 

“I missed you too, bunny. So much… I couldn’t breathe without you.” He murmured, setting you down with a little wince. You noticed it immediately and ran your hands over his face, angling his head around to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bruised on his face for once, but you knew he was hurting somewhere. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?” The questions came out spitfire, making Harry smile down at you and set his hands on your hips. Your eyes found a dried substance at his collar and you recognised what it was immediately. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine.” He assured, “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.” 

You ignored his assurance and started running your hands over his chest, looking for any sign of pain or visible jerk out of tenderness. When your fingers grazed his lower abdomen, he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw. You glared up at him, pressing harder against the spot so he’d feel a little payback for lying to you. 

Harry groaned and dug his fingers into your hips, ensuring it was hard and painful enough to leave a bruise. You didn’t mind though, in fact, you quite liked it. 

“Jesus Harry, you got shot!?” Your eyes widened when you tugged up his t-shirt to find a bloody gauze. You knew what it was immediately. You had seen your fair share of bullet wounds in your work placements at the hospital as well as the dodgy ways they tried to mend them themselves. “When did this happen?” You decided to peel off the gauze to see the wound for yourself, not trusting the temporary mend he had done. The wound had been stitched up quite well actually, but it was inflamed and a few stitches had broken. It needed to be mended.

“Did it go all the way through? Is the bullet still in here? Why didn’t you tell m-”

Harry interrupted your second spitfire of the evening by pressing his lips to yours. It was quick to shut you up, especially when he slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth and dominated his way in. His tongue slid against yours, tobacco and whiskey heavy in the kiss. 

You whimpered against his mouth, almost forgetting about the bullet wound until you felt its blood soak your fingertips. Pulling back, Harry tried to chase your mouth, needing you violently. Insatiably. He had missed your soft skin and your delicious mouth and especially missed your sweet sweet pussy. One he had a severe craving for. He could almost taste it on his tongue. 

“Bathroom. Now. Your stitches are busted.” You pushed your finger to his chest and he easily backed away. He was completely whipped by you, willing to do anything you told him. 

“Alright, bunny. You’re the boss.” He murmured, shrugging his jacket off to dump it on the couch before following you to the bathroom. You both followed the same routine as always. He sat on the closed toilet seat and you readied your supplies to treat his wounds. 

“Top off.” You instructed, using a lighter to sanitise the end of the needle you threaded already. 

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled softly, stifling a groan as he grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off his head. “You’re feisty when you’re mad.” 

“You shouldn’t have lied to me.” You shot back, sanitising the scissors next with your betadine. 

“It’s just a bullet wound, bunny.” He tried to soothe, watching you approach him and rub the wound with betadine in preparation to cut his original stitches and do new ones. “Didn’t even go straight through me.”

“So the bullet’s still in there? Jesus, Harry. Why didn’t you go to the hospital? I’m not equipped to remove a fucking bullet in my bathroom.” You snapped. 

“It’s not in there, y/n. One of my boys removed it, okay?” He chuckled softly, both loving and hating how worried you were. He reached up to cup your face, “I’m fine. The only thing wrong with me is a busted stitch.” 

You ignored him, keeping your glare strong on your face. His hands dropped to his knees and he remained completely still while you worked on the wound. He hated that permanent crease on your brow and all he wanted to do was make it go away. 

“What’s wrong?” He nudged, poking at your leg when you stayed completely silent. You were in your usual oversized t-shirt, underwear combination, but this particular t-shirt was long enough to cover your bum and the tops of your thighs. “C’mon bunny, talk to me.” 

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re ignoring me. I don’t like when you’re cross with me.”

“Well I don’t like being left in the dark for an entire week and when you show up you’ve been shot.” You snapped, pulling the needle tighter than you’d usually do to make a knot, just so it hurt a little more. He clenched his jaw, but he was more concerned about you than the temporary pain of his stitches. “What if you died Harry? Then what? I would’ve…” you looked away to grab the scissors, trying to blink away the tears. When you returned, his gaze was soft. “I would’ve never known. You would’ve left me and I… I’d never know.”

You couldn’t even focus on his wound with how hard your hands were shaking. You managed to cut the excess thread, but the moment it was done Harry pulled the scissors and needle out of your hand and brought your shaking ones to his. 

“Y/n, I’d never do that to you. Never.” Harry scanned your face, reaching up to cup you to get you to look at him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, bunny.” He wrapped his hand around the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down to rest your forehead against his. “I should’ve told you.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You agreed, unable to stop a few tears streaming down your cheeks. “You’re an asshole.”

“I am.” He nodded, trying to kiss you until you turned your head away from him. “I fucked up. I’ll never, ever do that again. Never.” He promised, tipping his forehead to your cheek while threading your fingers to press your hand against his racing heart. “My heart belongs to you forever.”

“I’m yours, Harry.” You promised, pulling back to wipe your tears away and get the bandage to cover his wound. He sighed and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you closer between his legs so you wouldn’t go too far. “But I need… I need something. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up with nothing in between. I can barely sleep when you’re not here.”

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll get a burner. Untraceable. Just for you and me.” He suggested, “You’ll never go a day without hearing from me again.” It was a promise. An oath. He never wanted to be the cause of your tears again, even if he knew he would be. It was why he didn’t want to keep your hopes up about a future, even if he wanted it more than anything in the entire world. 

“You promise?” You asked, running hands over the placed bandage to seal it in place. He nodded, looking up at you with a soft smile. You hated how easy it was to forgive him. But you loved when he looked at you like that. Like you were his entire world. 

“I promise. Cross my heart.” He murmured, running his hands over your waist and hips, “now will you stop being mad at me and give me a kiss?” 

Harry stood up, overpowering you with his height. Using one hand on your waist, he nudged you against the basin and used the other hand to cup the side of your neck. His gaze was dark, eyes blazing with a need to please and be pleased. He was hungry for you, just like he was since the moment he got on his bike to drive down to see you. 

“Please, bunny. Let me make it up to you.” 

All you could do was nod. 

Harry was easy to succumb to your influence, easy to follow instructions and do whatever you wanted. But he was just as easy to overpower you, to dominate you. To get you reduced to nothing but a whimper and a nod of your head. 

He was quick to duck in and clasp your lips together. It started slow and steady, a languid dance of your mouths that turned into something far more passionate. It always did. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair to move your face in the direction he wanted while he nibbled on your bottom lip and slid his tongue against the seam of your mouth. 

You let him in easily, loving the slow, deliberate slide of his tongue against yours. That familiar tobacco mint flavour was heavy in the kiss, a mix of the cigarette he no doubt had before climbing up the fire escape and the mint gum he liked to chew on to try and curb the habit. It never did work, but you liked the taste of him trying to stop the nasty addiction.

You pulled him closer by his hips, digging your fingers into the slight pudge just above his belt. It was one of your favourite parts of him to kiss, to bite. You had dug your teeth in it so many times Harry was tempted to get a tattoo of your bite so he could remember the feeling of your teeth sinking into him forever. 

“Wanna taste you, bunny.” Harry groaned, tucking his hand under your shirt to fiddle with the band of your lace underwear. Your hips bucked up to meet the touch, desperate to get him doing more than just play with your underwear. “Missed the sweet taste of you on my tongue.” He kissed you softly, dragging your bottom lip back between his teeth until he released it with a pop. “Always dream of it when I’m away.”

“I guess what’s one way to apologise.” You breathed, sighing when he pinched your thigh. He tucked his hands under your ass, hoisting you up so you’d wrap your legs around his hips. 

“Mhmm. I’d happily die apologising to you. Over and over.” He had this smirk playing on his lips, but you didn’t particularly find it funny. 

“Don’t talk about dying.” You reprimanded softly, playing with his hair while he carried you to your bedroom. 

“Not even if it’s death by your sweet pussy?” He grinned, lowering you onto the bed. You shuffled upwards, rolling your eyes as he knelt on the bed to hover over you. 

“For someone who gets shot for a living, you have the humour of a 13-year-old boy.” 

“And you don’t like that?” Harry raised his brow, grinning while leaning in to kiss you. You hummed into the kiss, tugging on his hair until his groan rumbled into your mouth. He pressed his weight against you, ensuring you felt every inch of his arousal for you.

He could feel yours right back. How wet you were, how warm your pussy was pressed right against his jeans. You had properly soaked through your lacy underwear and Harry could feel his jeans slowly dampen from the way he was grinding his hips against you. It was heaven. He could hardly wait to get his mouth on your sweet little cunt, especially when you were already so worked up for him. 

“Your humour is only funny…” you paused to gasp, head tilting back so Harry could nip down along your neck. “…sometimes.”

“And you’re sexy all the time.” He murmured, simultaneously pushing your oversized t-shirt up while kissing downwards. He ran his hands over every inch of exposed skin, pushing the shirt above your breasts so he could clasp his lips around one of your nipples. 

You took the shirt off immediately, whimpering and bucking your hips to meet his while you scratched at his back. He scraped his teeth against your sensitive bud, tugging and sucking hard enough to make your head spin. While he assaulted your nipples, his hands ran over your belly and hips down to your thighs spread wide underneath him. It was only when his fingers crawled to your very inner thigh ready to tease you through your underwear that he felt the thin film of plastic.

“What’s this?” His movements stopped immediately as he felt over the thin plastic film. You whimpered at the sensitivity, feeling particularly sore after your adventure yesterday. 

“I did something and you can’t be mad…” You breathed, watching him sit back on his haunches. 

His eyes widened when he got a better look, resting his hand on your thigh while he ran his thumb over the four little letters now permanently marked on your skin. Harry was no stranger to tattoos, he was practically covered in them. But the last thing he ever expected was for you to make your temporary tattoo last longer by making it permanent.

His handwriting. His claim. Harry permanently etched on your body forever. 

“Bunny…” Harry murmured, looking between you and the tattoo. “What did you do?”

“You said you couldn’t promise me forever but you could give me until the tattoo fades…” His eyes focused on you and you felt yourself already becoming pliant just with the dark look on his face. “...now it’ll never fade.”

He said nothing for a moment and just stayed staring at your tattoo. His eyes drifted upwards ever so slightly to where your pretty lace underwear was pressed snugly to your pussy. Then he looked further upwards to your soft belly and your perky tits and finally… to your face. Your pretty eyes and your lips, the lips he loved to kiss more than anything. 

Harry was back over you in an instant, cupping your jaw while kissing you like he was ravenous for it. You whimpered into it, tugging on his hair until your lips parted in a gasp. 

“Can’t believe you did that, bunny. Got a fucking tattoo so I’d be stuck to you forever.” He murmured, smushing his mouth to yours again. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Force my hand so I’d be yours forever.” He started to kiss back down your body again, making sure his tongue pressed against your skin with every touch. 

“I love you. I want… I want to be yours forever.” You whimpered, watching him settle between your spread legs with an evil smirk on his face. 

“And you thought a tattoo was the right choice? Hm? You thought letting some other man permanently alter your body was the way to go?” He dipped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, tearing the lacy material in two. He was completely rough with it, making sure it ached as he pulled torn pieces off your body. 

“It wasn’t a man. She… shit.” You couldn’t even find the words, not when he spread you wide and stared at you like you were some fine dessert. 

“You think that makes it better, bunny? You think who did the tattoo makes a difference?” He raised his brow, running both his thumbs up your outer labia to tease you. 

“I told you not to be mad.” You whined, pressing your hands to your face. 

“I’m not mad. I think this is quite possibly the hottest… most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.” You peeked through your parted fingers, looking down at where he was looking up at you, spreading his hands to kiss at the thin layer of plastic. “So fucking sexy.” Harry murmured, looking down at it in awe. 

“So why do you sound mad?” You whispered, looking down at him.

“I’m not mad you got a tattoo, I’m mad I wasn’t there. Didn’t I always say I wanted to be there for your first one?”

“Well yes but-“

“And didn’t you promise me that I would be?”

“Yes…” you swallowed thickly. He was speaking at you in such a condescending way. Like you were a child being taught a basic lesson for the first time. It was belittling. 

It turned you on in such a feral way. He could even mansplain anything and you’d be happy to play into it. As long as he sounded like that and wound up between your thighs afterwards he could speak to you however he liked. 

“So you went against your word, hm?” He smirked as your thighs trembled on either side of his shoulders, your body growing more and more sensitive and needy as he started tracing over your pussy. 

“I guess so.”

“Do I go against my word? Have I ever broken a promise before?” 

“Yes.” You tried to defend, knowing very well he always stuck to his word. Harry had never broken a promise to you. Not when he told you he’d be back in three days or when he didn’t know but promised he’d return to you safely. He always kept his word. 

To be fair though, it was hard to stay clear-minded when he was caressing your pussy like it was something cute to pet. It wasn’t. And with every stroke of his fingers, every slide through your crease to spread your arousal up to your clit before coming straight back down like he didn’t even know what a clit was, your mind was spiralling. He was killing you. 

“Oh really?” He nudged a finger to your entrance, pressing just hard enough to slip the very top inside of you. You always were the most sensitive at your g-spot then right here, at the very beginning where all your nerves were alive and your pussy was clenching around nothing because you needed something inside. Specifically Harry’s cock. “Tell me. When?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit and finally slid his finger inside of you, eliciting the prettiest whine. 

“Um… Uhh…” You couldn’t speak or think with his tongue slowly sliding over your clit now. He traced languid circles and waves, taking complete control and doing it all at his own pace. Harry was tasting you for his own pleasure more than he was yours, even if he did love the way you came for him. 

“Exactly.” He smirked, “So let me take my time with you. I’m owed that, aren’t I?” 

“I thought you were meant to be apologising to me? This feels like an unfair system. A bullet wound is more serious than a tattoo.” You complained, sliding your hands into his hair to try and drag him closer to you. 

After being away from him for so long, one of the longest times apart since you started dating-or whatever you two were, all you wanted was to feel him. You wanted his pleasure and the weight of his body on top of you. Teasing wasn’t fun when you were apart more than you were together.

You prayed that would change after the gesture you made. The permanent commitment to him. 

“Which one is permanent?” He grinned lazily up at you.

“You could’ve died.” You argued.

“But I didn’t. Now will you stop complaining otherwise I’m more than happy to stop. It’s been a big day I could easily go to sl-”

“No!” You jumped a little too quickly, making him laugh and press spongey kisses against your inner thighs. “No… no, please. I’ll take whatever you want. I’ll be good.” 

“Yeah?” He smirked, pressing his fingers into your fresh tattoo. You gasped, clutching his hair tighter in your hands. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty girl. Besides, I think letting me take my sweet time tasting you is the best punishment out there. Don’t you think?” 

Harry pressed a few chaste kisses along your thighs, feeling just how tense you were. You were clenching around his finger and holding onto his hair tight so he wouldn’t move away. But he couldn’t have you so tense… he needed you to relax.

“Calling it a punishment scares me…” you whimpered, feeling his tongue slide over your clit in a sloppy figure-eight pattern. 

“mh… just relax, bunny. Stop thinking and let me take care of you… you’re my girl, aren’t you? My sweet, delicious girl. My girl?” He ran his thumb over your tattoo, speaking right against your clit like he was talking to your pussy instead of you. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Then relax… you deserve to be spoiled after all you do for me…” Harry looked up at you, smiling as you forced your body to melt into the bed. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back when his mouth returned to your clit. He gently added another finger inside of you, curling them both into your g-spot in a steady stroke. They felt so deep inside of you, nowhere near as full of his cock but still so so good. 

The combination of his tongue and his fingers were driving you crazy, but he did them in such a relaxed, languid way that you knew it would take you ages to cum, if he even let you. 

“See? ‘S nice isn’t it?… you always take care of me, bunny. Always clean my wounds and take good care of m’cock… m’heart too…. Always make me feel so happy.”

“You make me happy too… scare me a lot too…” You sighed, fisting his hair as he grazed his teeth over your clit.

“I don’t mean to,” Harry murmured against you, kissing against your clit in an infuriatingly light touch. “Only want to make you feel good… feel safe…”

“You do… you do… just-fuck, please… More… Harder.”

He smirked at your begging, the whiny tone in your voice going straight to his cock. Barely a couple minutes into it and you were already getting desperate. Already tugging at his hair and starting to wiggle. 

He loved you like this because he had the ultimate control over whether or not he gave you what you wanted. At this point, it could go either way. 

“Not yet sweetheart, ‘m having too much fun just like this…”

Your back arched when he pressed his fingertips into your tattoo, purposefully digging into the soft skin. It was a small tattoo, tiny in comparison to half of Harry’s work but you had a relatively low pain tolerance and your very inner thigh was quite sensitive. It was torturous paired with the way his tongue softly stroked against your clit. 

“Please, Harry…” You begged once more, using your hands in his hair to try and drag him closer to you. You were writhing beneath him, desperate for something more than just light teasing shapes. You could barely handle it anymore. 

“Ah.” Harry tutted, slipping from your clit with a little pop of his lips. He grinned up at you, mouth and chin all soaked and dripping before pulling your hands from his hair to push them down on the bed beside you. It was possibly one of the most erotic things you had ever seen. “Y’know I like my hair pulled, bunny but if you keep pushing it, I’ll make sure you don’t cum at all. Let me enjoy you.”

“Okay…” You nodded quickly, hoping he wouldn’t stop altogether. “m’sorry. I’ll be good.” 

“Good.” 

Harry released your hands before grabbing a hair tie from his wrist and putting his hair up in a bun. God when he did that… it did unspeakable things to you. You watched him obsessively, frothing over the way his arms and chest stretched and flexed with every small movement. Up behind his head then back down to the bed when he settled between your thighs while staring at you with this triumphant fuckboy smile. 

“You’re so pretty, y’know that. So so pretty and all mine.” He murmured, tracing his finger through your crease while looking straight at your pussy with complete awe. Harry was fucking obsessed with you.

“Harry…”

“I know,” he sympathised, voice almost mocking at your flushed cheeks. He loved when you got nervous. “You’re so pretty when you blush, y/n.” He blew gently over your clit, sliding his two fingers back into you. 

Closing his mouth around your clit, he started pleasuring you again. He moved his tongue against you harder and curled his fingers into you with far more purpose than before. And finally, finally you were starting to feel that relief. It was exactly what you needed to start to feel that twist in your stomach and shake in your thighs… the rush before that euphoric release. Your toes were starting to curl and your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging so hard he had to dig his fingertips into your tattoo to ground himself from how desperate he was getting from his hair being played with.

“Oh god… I’m… ‘mgonna…”

And then the rush stopped, that spiraling wave freezing right before it tumbled over the cliff. Harry removed his mouth and halted his fingers, kissing over your thighs instead with an evil grin you could feel against your skin. 

“Harry” you protested, gasping while looking down at him. Your legs attempted to clam around his head and you tried to tug his mouth back to you but he easily overpowered you and used his arms to pin your thighs wide against the bed. 

“You’re cute when you’re desperate. Might be my second favourite look on you.” He bit down on your thigh, chuckling against your skin. 

“What’s the… what’s your favourite?” Your breathing felt laboured, skin already feeling a little sticky from being teased for so long.  

“When you orgasm… sometimes it’s when I’ve got you so far gone you’re fucking sobbing for me. Only like your tears when they’re because of m’cock.”

He was evil. 

Was it fucked up that knowing he liked to make you cry turned you on? 

“You’re so mean… you know I-oh” your words got caught in his throat, eyes fluttering closed again when he started tracing his tongue over your clit again. 

Harry started to tease you again, going back to that languid, gentle touching. He was enjoying every second of it too, moaning into you, using his spare hand to grab on your belly and your breasts. He pinched at your nipples before pressing against your tattoo, all to rile you up and build your orgasm again so damn slowly. 

Harry was nearly about to burst. You were so wet and so fucking sweet and though he loved having his face between your thighs for hours on end, it turned him on beyond anything else on the fucking planet. He had to keep focusing his mind elsewhere, on anything but the way your cream was coating his fingers and dripping down his palm, or how you were so fucking wet just one slide of his tongue through your crease echoed around the entire room. 

But then you got a little too sensitive, a little too desperate and tugged his hair so hard it slipped from the bun he did earlier. He was just as happy to punish you than he was to rest his face between your thighs. 

The pleasure stopped once more and you were flipped so fast onto your belly, you didn’t have an opportunity to try and wiggle away. He gathered your hands quickly in one of his so you couldn’t move and ignored your whine of his name. 

“I warned you once, y/n, and you didn’t want to listen…”

“Harry ‘m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise.” You protested, at Harry’s complete mercy. He pinned you to the bed with one hand, keeping your hands pressed to your lower back while he pulled his belt out of his belt loops. You wiggled beneath him, trying to get out of his tight grip only to be suddenly swatted with his belt over your ass.

You gasped at the sting, feeling the spot on your skin grow a heartbeat of its own. It was a warm spiced feeling, oozing down to your aching clit that Harry had teased all night. 

“You did this to yourself, bunny. I wanted to be nice and I wanted to enjoy your sweet little pussy but you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Could you?” Harry looped the belt around your hands then tightened it with the buckle so it was snug around your wrists. He tugged at it just to be sure you couldn’t slip out before hovering over you to kiss you gently on your shoulder. 

“Okay?” He asked, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

“Colour?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.” He whispered the praise against your shoulder, kissing the middle of your back on his way back to kneel behind you. 

Harry was quick to pull your ass up off the bed until your face was pressed to the duvet, giving him the perfect access to all your pretty holes. You were practically dripping. Already edged once with no relief and now he could just taste you and bury his face without having your hands in the way. His perfect girl.

“See…” He murmured, tracing his hands over your ass. “Isn’t this better? Now I can enjoy you in peace.”

You responded with a noise of indignation, squeezing your fists when he chuckled and spanked your ass in that same spot he whacked his belt. Your skin was pulled taught with the way your chest was pressed to the bed, making the sting heavier than usual. 

Even though you whimpered and your whole body jerked at the feeling of his palm on your ass, Harry knew you enjoyed it. Just like you enjoyed being tied up.

The only reason you protested having his belt around your hands was because you hated it like this. Behind your back or pinned to your sides or thighs. You didn’t like not being able to feel him, especially when you couldn’t see him either. With Harry always gone you just wanted to touch him as much as humanly possible when he was around him.

You always had a hand on him. In his hair or scratching his back or in his pocket or intertwined with his fingers. You just needed that touch. Craved it. And now it had been taken away.

“God, you taste so fucking good, bunny.” Harry groaned, spanking your ass roughly. He spread your cheeks wide, pulling back to spit right on your tight rim of muscles before he was sucking over your clit again. “Like a fucking dream.”

He groaned against you, nuzzling his nose right against your entrance to press just hard enough to dip into you. The way he used his entire face to pleasure you was completely feral. He’d be able to smell you for days and taste your sweet sweet arousal for hours to come. That’s exactly how he liked it. 

He was completely wrapped around your clit, sucking in that perfect rhythmic pressure he knew you liked. The same pressure that had you tumbling towards an orgasm within two minutes flat. Now he seemed to be doing the opposite of his torturous teasing. He was trying to make you cum and he was doing it in the messiest, most feral way possible. 

That was somehow more evil because you had nowhere to go. You couldn’t move your hands or grab his hair, not even hold his hand until he reached for you. With the tight grip on your hips, you were pinned in his grip. You didn’t mind though, because he was finally… finally giving you that delicious pleasure. 

You were hopeful, your entire body tense and trembling. Your mouth was gaped against the bedding, soft moans muffled into the material. Until your entire world crashed and burned when it all stopped. Again. 

“No. Harry...”

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny.” Harry pressed his mouth over your ass, sliding his fingers out of you to run through your crease to your clit. “Still green?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Then let’s keep going, shall we?”

You lost count at how many times he edged you. After five it all turned into a blur; a teary, stinging blurr where your mind was completely in the clouds and your body felt like it was melting into a puddle. You were completely heavy in the bed, legs sore and trembling and your arms aching after being behind your back for so long. 

Every touch was torture, every flick of his tongue or suck over your clit sent your mind into orbit. You needed to come so fucking badly but there was nothing you could do to get him to let you finish. He was happy to just taste you and lick you until you were reduced to a pile of tears and sore muscles on the bed.

“Please Harry… please I need it so bad… need y’cock so so badly…” 

It wasn’t the first time you begged for it, but it was certainly the first time you cried for it. You were crying softly against the bedding, wiggling and clenching around his fingers. Your nails were digging into your palms, trying to counteract the pressure your entire lower body was facing. 

“Yeah? Wanna give it to you, bunny. So fucking bad…” Harry’s cock had been painfully sore since your fourth edge, so fucking hard he got rid of all his clothes just for some relief. His jeans were pressing so tight against his cock, he could barely handle it. 

Harry was a sadistic fuck, though and he liked the pain. He liked being sore and he liked to edge himself so when he finally got inside you and got that ultimate pleasure, the entire experience was better. He liked it when he made you come multiple times, but there was something romantic about edging you until you cried then letting you finally come when he was deep inside you and about to orgasm himself. 

Simultaneous orgasms were a rarity, but Harry liked the challenge. Often it was him timing his with yours anyway. You were terrible at holding your orgasm, practically incapable of it. That’s why edging you was so fun… Harry had complete control over it. He knew the signs of your body reaching that point without you even verbalising it and knew the exact moment to pull away before you tipped over the edge. 

And even when you cried and it was sore, your colour remained green the entire time. 

“Got me so hard f’you… just need to make sure you really want it, huh?” Harry bared his teeth against your ass cheek, biting down on one of the spots his various spontaneous spanks had made their mark. Your ass was beat red at this point, covered in teeth marks and hand prints from Harry getting too damn excited. He knew it would be sore for a couple of days, but that’s what he wanted.

He wanted his memory on your skin… and now after your tattoo, it would be. Forever. 

The thought of that was exhilarating and one of the most terrifying things in Harry’s world.

“I do… I need it so bad, Harry. Feel so empty without you… so sore…” Your words all joined together, a slur of neediness and sniffled tears. 

“Oh, I bet, bunny…” He cooed, sliding his fingers out of you before sucking them clean. He then moved up on his knees behind you to gently undo the belt from your wrists. “Bet you’re so sensitive n’sore, aren’t you?” He threw the belt to the side, massaging your wrists in his hand to soothe the reddened skin.

You just nodded against the bedding, curling your fingers back to hold his hands. He sighed at the sight, leaning down to quickly kiss your fingers before rolling you on your back. 

“Aw, baby. Look at you all teary-eyed…” Harry cupped your cheek, letting your legs fall wide on the bed as he wiped the tears from under your eye. With his other hand, he grabbed his cock and guided it to your pussy, sliding the head through your folds. His teeth gritted at the sensitivity on his desperate cock and he was trying so hard to not lose all strength in his body just at that one little touch. He was the one desperate now.

“Y’look so pretty like this… fucking gorgeous you are…”

“Harry…” You sighed, holding onto his wrist with one hand while grabbing his hip with the other. Just the feeling of his cock through your folds was heavenly, a sign that you’d finally get to come. 

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl. Like a fucking angel… shit”

His hand slid down your face to your neck, looping around it in a loose hold while he pressed his tip to your entrance and slowly eased his way in. Your pussy was so sensitive from all his teasing and he could tell too. Your cry was loud and your nails dug deep into his hip. He was addicted to the feeling. 

“Shit… oh god…” You whined out, head thrown back against the bedding. Your mouth was wide in a pant, chest heaving just at the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you. His cock was always an adjustment… thick and long and fuck, every time you thought of it your mind went a little dizzy.

It ached to have him inside you without being edged so much and now it was like a hot fire in your womb. Your clit was aching, your belly was aching, and everything was so tightly strung all you wanted was just to be fucked. Even if you were more sensitive than ever, you just needed to be fucked hard into the bed. 

No teasing. Nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you until you came undone around him. 

“Fuck me… please, Harry just fuck me…” your words came in a rushed, desperate plea; your hips jutting to try and get him to move.

“Fuck, bunny. Got a filthy fucking mouth, don’t you…” Harry cursed, tightening his grip around your neck. “I’ll fuck you, alright. I’ll give you exactly what you want…”

He started rocking his hips against you, wasting no time to get to a steady, bruising pace. It was hips snapping against hips, your thighs wide on the bed while he used his hand around your neck for balance. His balls slapped against your ass and his noises of pleasure were so goddamn erotic you knew you’d never forget the sound of them.

It was euphoric. 

“God baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me. And you’re all mine, aren’t you? All fucking mine…” Harry grunted, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from finishing too fast. He was practically going to burst the moment his cock slid inside you. “And this…” He pressed his palm to your thigh, heavily running his thumb over your tattoo… “is so sexy… so fucking sexy…”

Neither of you seemed to care about the fact he had fresh stitches and a fresh bullet wound because the way he was fucking you was too good to care about something that could be so easily fixed. That pain in his abdomen did very little to stop him from giving you the fucking you deserved, even if that meant he’d have to sit through another angry stitching done by you.

Hopefully, this time you weren’t as angry or as rough with him… though he wouldn’t have minded if it meant he’d have you again like this.

You couldn’t even respond to him because it felt like your mouth had disconnected from your brain. Your body was so overstimulated that your mind could barely function. But you could drag him down with two hands on his jaw and kiss him. It was messy and uncoordinated but that didn’t even matter. All that mattered was that his body was on yours and you felt the closeness you had craved since the moment he tied your wrists behind your back.

“I love you… I love you so much…” You murmured, already feeling your orgasm approach again. It hardly took any time, not when he was fucking you so good and so hard. He felt deeper than ever before, so deep you could feel that deep pit in your stomach start to churn. It was a feeling that didn’t happen very often, but one both you and Harry reaped the benefits of. 

“I love you so much, angel. My love forever and always.” Harry groaned into your mouth, gathering your hands in his and intertwining your fingers together. He pushed on either side of your head, pressing them into the bedding as he started to kiss along your jaw and neck to get a bit of air. 

The dirty talk kept spilling out of his mouth, some coherent and others just desperate strung together sentences that made your head spiral and your pussy clench around his cock. He had a way with words, both in and out of the bedroom and it never failed to knock you to the fucking floor.

That deep churning in your pit only grew and started to press right against your clit. You could feel the pressure building and building until it felt like you were going to burst. Your clit was aching; a pinching white-hot pleasure beating from it like it had its own heartbeat.

“Oh… shit… shit. Harry… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna squirt” The words barely got out, all thrown together in a loud cry right in his ear before you felt the damn burst from inside of you. 

It rolled over you in a crash. An initial euphoric crash of pleasure hitting your body from all angles. Waves and waves of pure ecstasy made your thighs tremble and your toes curl. Your whole body shook as the first spray of your arousal hit Harry’s lower belly and with every squirt after, another jolt of electricity.

“Shit baby. Good fucking girl. Fucking hell…” Harry cursed, grinding his hips against you to try and draw as much of your orgasm through. He felt it coat his cock and the hairs at his base, dripping down to his balls until it started to dampen the bedding beneath you. “Jesus, bunny. ‘M gonna cum… Can I?...”

“Want it… want it inside, please…” you whimpered, squeezing his hands tight as the pleasure started to die down to a low beat in your clit.

Harry’s mouth smushed against yours as he fucked himself once more inside of you, groaning against you as his body trembled above you. You could feel the hot bliss of his come filling you to the brim and the sudden weight of him on top of you when he let himself relax against your body.

“Shit, bunny…” He sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck. 

You were both exhausted. Your skin was damp and sticky and the bed below you felt exactly the same. It was a mess. You were a mess and yet you were the happiest you could’ve been. Sore muscles and a fire beating on your ass and fresh tattoo meant nothing compared to the fulfilment you had just being with Harry. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a moment of silence, resting his chin on your chest to look at you. He needed to collect himself before he checked on you so he was physically able to take care of you and provide whatever you needed. He definitely needed to have a shower or bath with you and rub some cream on your wrists and bum.

“I’m good,” You whispered back, smiling softly at him. “A little sore but so good… are you okay?”

“I’m perfect,” he smiled and softly kissed your sweaty skin, “can I pull out now?”

With a small nod, he gently pulled himself out of you and then started your normal routine. He went to get some water and a damp towel to clean you both up and then returned to clean you while you guzzled the entire thing. Some nights you two jumped in the shower straight away, but that was only if you weren’t going to have another round or were prepared to change the sheets at the same time.

Tonight wasn’t one of those nights. After you went to the bathroom quickly you returned and you both curled into each other’s arms to have your usual pillow talk. It was your favourite part of sleeping together because it was often when the truth came out or you found out more things about him. You loved that.

“I still can’t believe you did this…” Harry murmured, looking down at the tattoo. He traced his fingers over it, looking at it obsessively.

“Was it too much? Be honest…”

“What?” Harry was a little taken aback and looked up at you with a furrowed expression, “Never. Fucking unexpected but I love it,” he reached up to grab your cheek and you immediately nuzzled into it, holding your hand over his, “I love you, y/n. I don’t say it often enough but I do. And I want you in my life, I just don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“Let me come with you.” You responded, “next time you go back to the city, let me come. I want to see where you live and… I don’t know, maybe meet your friends? Or…” you felt a little embarrassed at the next words that came out of your mouth, but you weren’t exactly sure how else to say it, “work colleagues…”

Harry cracked the biggest fucking grin at how you phrased it, but he tried to not laugh so he wouldn’t embarrass you. “Alright. Tomorrow. I’ll take you back with me.”

“Tomorrow?” You blinked, not expecting him to just willingly agree like that.

“Yes. I don’t have a job until Thursday so we’ll have a couple of days together. But that’s only if you don’t have college or wo-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted quickly, knowing very well you did have university and work. Harry knew that too, he just wanted to see if you’d really skip a few days of responsibility for him. “I’d love to go.”

Harry smirked, nearly getting all worked up again at the thought of his angel skipping classes just to spend time with him. “Good…” He then cleared his throat and sat up so he could look at you, “I want you to have this.”

He removed his signature cross necklace from around his neck and motioned for you to sit up as well. “Harry… I couldn’t”

“You can.” He pressed, placing the necklace over your head. He eyed the way it fell right between your breasts and pulled your hair out from underneath it so it wouldn’t get tangled. “Always wear this, y/n. I mean it. The moment I take you into the city there will be people who care that you know me and they’ll use it against me.” Harry played with the cross between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the front of it, “Wearing this… it’s a protection.”

“How?...” You whispered, looking between the necklace and his gorgeous green eyes.

“Because this-” his hand fell to your thigh, squeezing over the plastic film of your tattoo, “-tells me that you’re mine and this-” he grabbed the chain again, tugging it ever so slightly, “tells the entire fucking world.”

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[no-144444]

nothing has to change- o.piastri

your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You were the World Driver’s Champion, as of 4pm that day. Yes, that could change in the next few races, half the season was still left, but you were proud. 

And so was Oscar. 

He stood at the very front of the barricade, a bright smile on his face as you ran over, wrapping your arms around him and the rest of his family. 

“You did it,” he whispered. “You’re amazing.”

You smiled, pulling your helmet off. “I did it.”

You felt proud of yourself. Proud that you could still excel in a team that didn’t want you. Proud that you had given them the points. Proud that you had let Oscar into your life. Proud that you had proved yourself worthy of RedBull, and much more. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You sat beside Oscar and Nicole at the dinner, across from Lando and Zak (who had invited themselves, much to Oscar’s chagrin). You quietly chatted to Nicole as Oscar made pleasant conversation with Zak and Lando. She noticed how you weren’t really… there. You kept looking at Lando, or Zak, or another team member. You were uncomfortable, nothing like the headstrong, loud girl she’d met yesterday. You were shy, reserved, and a little on edge. 

When you left the table to go to the bathroom, she tapped her son. “Get her out of here.”

He shrugged, sighing. “She won’t want to be rude-”

“Oscar, she’ll do anything you ask her to. Go.” 

He nodded, following you with your bag and jacket in hand. Kids these days. 

“Going to fuck her?” Lando scoffed, too drunk for his own good. A lot of the table stopped and gasped. Lando had never been so… vulgar. Oscar was disgusted. Just because neither you or Oscar worshipped the ground he walked on, didn’t mean he had to make the both of you miserable.

“What is your problem?” Oscar finally couldn’t take it. It was bullshit, Lando was an asshole. 

“It’s clear you’re in love with her,” he chuckled. 

“Fuck off Lando,” he shouted. “You’re such a dick! You’re so self-absorbed you wouldn’t even recognise someone interesting if they actually slapped you in the face. You don’t understand Y/n, and for her sake I hope you never get close enough to. You are a shallow, shitty, infuriatingly untalented asshole, with an ego the size of England. Maybe I’m in love with her, but at least I don’t act like she’s not there to feed my own tiny ego.”

And he turned around to see you standing there, a shocked expression on your face. You looked slightly terrified too, but he just decided to blame the shock. 

“Y/n I-“ he started but you cut him off by grabbing your things from his hands, and turning tail. The entire room was silent for a moment. “Fuck!” Oscar groaned, running out after you. 

He couldn’t have, he didn’t. He didn’t fuck this up. Lando didn’t fuck this up for him. He didn’t. 

He better not have. 

He raced through the streets of a city he didn’t really know, pleading that he’d find you. When he did, it was from a distance. You were sitting in a park. Your head in your hands. 

Lando had fucked it up for him. Slowly, he walked closer, too cautious to startle you. 

“I’m sorry about… back there-” he whispered. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you sighed. “I just… it’s a lot, yeah? I don't exactly see myself as the poster-girl for romance.”

He looked at you. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never really done this before. And I’m awkward and weird, and I’m rude to you-” 

“I don’t mind if you’re rude to me-” 

“You should,” you told him. 

You were both quiet for a moment, and he understood that this was a fork in the road. He could either push you too far, or he’d ruin everything if you felt the same by not speaking up now. The air was charged with an uncertain electricity, and he wasn’t perfectly sure what to do. Oscar was a man of logic, but love was illogical. He liked facts and numbers and a set of rules to follow. He didn’t like feeling uncertain. 

But he was happy to feel uncertain if it meant he kept you. 

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” he told you. “If you don’t want it to, we don’t have to do anything about it. I’m happy to be your friend. I’m not expecting anything.”

You looked at him, and when he saw the unshed tears in your eyes, his heart hurt. He gently reached a hand up and cupped your cheek, carefully wiping them away. 

“I don’t want anything to change,” you admitted. “I really like having you around Oscar.” 

He smiled, though he was slightly disappointed. Rejection from the pretty girl he was in love with was going to sting either way, even if she’d just told him that she actually enjoyed his presence. “That’s fine with me,” he whispered. 

You stared at him, silently asking for reassurance, and he nodded. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be-”

“Don’t apologise,” he reminded you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I think I do,” you said, looking down again. “I just… I’m not in the headspace to be in a relationship. McLaren is really… it’s a lot for me.”

So you did like him back? He couldn’t really decipher what that meant, but he’d work on it another time. 

“That’s alright,” he smiled. 

You couldn’t be more shocked by his behaviour. Yes, Oscar was the nicest man you knew, but you assumed he’d be mad, or at least a little bit annoyed at you. But he was just the same, kind, caring, lovely Oscar that he always was. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

After he walked you back to your hotel room, you stewed over your decision for a few hours. Maybe you did want Oscar like that. Maybe you were just self-sabotaging yourself as always. Maybe you were just being more cautious than you needed to be. 

But then you reminded yourself that this was Oscar that you were talking about. The only person in the entire world who supported you. You couldn’t let him get too close, lest he see all of you, and then you were sure he’d be gone for good.

You couldn't lose him. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[mattsfavoritestar]

ICEBREAKER , chris sturniolo

synopsis… inbox request !

warnings… toxic!chris, exbf!chris, hockeyplayer!chris, mentions of violence, mentions of cheating, minor mention of bloody injury, degrading, little bit of manhandling (good way dw), hair pulling, spanking, rough fingering, rough sex, unprotected p in v, lowkey public sex

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

“my ass feels like it’s going to fall off” you say as you rub your hands together for warmth. you already knew how cold the ice rink was yet you still decided to wear a skirt, thinking that your fleeced tights would keep out the frosty air. “i don’t know what’s more stupid, the fact that you wore a skirt or the fact that you’re wearing it for ch–“.

you quickly covered your friends mouth as you felt blood rush to your cheeks. “i'm not wearing it for him! i just thought it looked cute,” you grumbled. that was a lie. you did wear it for chris. you remembered how much he loved seeing you in one (as much as he loved the easy access). “okay, look at me.” your friend says as she grabs your shoulders.

“we caught him texting other girls, remember?” she says. you frown at the vivid memory. he had you wrapped around his fingers with that stupid smile and his baby blue eyes. you found countless of nudes (which weren’t yours) in his camera roll along side the many dirty texts to multiple contacts, yet he still somehow looked somewhat innocent in your eyes.

“now c’mon, we’re here for your brother not him” she says before walking towards the entrance. as you followed behind, you gave yourself a mini pep talk on how you were gonna completely ignore his presence and focus on your brother. you were so caught up in your head that you didn’t realize someone walking into your direction. right as you collided into his chest, the stranger quickly steadies you by your waist.

“careful” he says with a smile. you noticed the jersey being a number 12 with the opposing teams color. with a quick apology, you removed yourself from his hands and made your way to the arena. little did you know a fuming chris caught the whole interaction with a deathly grip on his hockey stick.

“another goal for the boston bruins!” the announcer shouts as the crowd roared. you were jumping as you clapped for the team. so far, the game was going smoothly with barely any penalties. a glimpse of chris’s number 3 jersey catches your eye. you watched as he rushed to the puck with determination. on the opposing team, number 12 surpasses him and hits the puck to the opposite direction.

it seemed like chris didn’t care for the puck anymore as he raced towards number 12. a series of gasps follow as chris harshly shoves him to the floor. the game pauses as the players watch chris rip his helmet off and toss it. he climbs on top of 12 and takes off his helmet then delivers him a punch to the face followed by another. and another.

the referee blows the whistle multiple times but the screeching sound fell deaf to chris’s ears. you saw your brother as well as number 2 race over to pull chris off him with a slight struggle. chris pushes both of them away from him then gets off the ice with an angered expression.

his coach meets him at the gateway as he yells at chris for attacking the opposing teammate. the entire time his coach is lecturing him, chris was looking around the bleachers. then his eyes locked on you. his face was flushed from the cold mixed with heated anger and his hair was damp with sweat. a small smirk found its way to his lips as he watched you practically check him out. you couldn’t lie, your body was providing you with a warmth that went straight to your core.

chris breaks eye contact as his coach tells him to go cool off in the locker room. “alright ladies and gentlemen— we’ll be back after a brief intermission” the announcer says as players start to exit the rink. you looked over to your friend— who was distracted by trying to get a close up of number 12’s bloody bruised face. you slipped out of the bleachers then left the arena in search of the locker room.

your heart hammered as you slowly opened the door. you haven’t spoken to chris in a week, which was the longest you’ve gone before giving in. the lights were dim and the room was quiet. you knew chris was in here since his gloves were laying on the bench in-front of you. “chris?” you called out cautiously.

you jolted as you heard a locker door slam shut followed by a heavy sigh. as you drew closer to the sound, you saw a trail of chris’s gear leading up to where he stood. he was leaning on the lockers with his head tilted up as he breathes rapidly— as if he was trying to catch his breath.

“miss me already?” he says as a devilish smirk forms on his face. you said nothing as you pad over to him and analyze his hands—which were closed into a tight fist. you take one of them into your own and lift it to eye level. his knuckles were bruised and dried with blood, you were unsure if it was his or the other guys.

“why’d you do it?” you ask in a soft voice. chris scoffs then snatches his hand away. “why? you worried ‘bout him or somethin’?” he rebuttals. you sigh as you meet his eyes and search through them. you could never understand chris or why he does things like this but you sure as hell try to.

“saw you gettin’ familiar with him earlier so i thought i’d introduce myself” he shrugged. a frown painted your face as you recalled the countless of times that chris has gotten friendly with other girls in front of you. “but chris— we’re not together anymore” you reminded him.

you watched his eyes darken as an angered expression formed onto his face. you gasp as he harshly grabs your waist and pulls you closer. “yeah?” he says as he leans closer to your face, “didn’t i tell you that y’can’t ever leave me?”.

he flips you both over and roughly pushes you into the lockers. you’re body burned more then ever but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or arousal. probably both. “chris m’not here for this” you say trying to convince yourself more than him.

“no?”, he leans down to your neck and trials kisses up to your ear, “then why’d you follow me in here?” he whispered. you give him no response. a shuttered breath leaves your lips as chris continues to attack your neck with kisses and occasional bites. your fingers curled into his jersey, pulling him closer and causing him to smile against your skin.

you gasp as he suddenly flips you around to face the locker. you felt him tug your tights down along with your underwear. the cold air against your skin made you shudder but it quickly surpassed as the harsh contact of chris’s palm connected to your skin making heated blood rush to that area. “said y’not here for this yet here you are in a skirt f’me— fucking slut” he scoffed.

you whined as he roughly grabs your hair and forces you into an arched position, your bare ass against fully clothed pelvis. you felt two of his fingers swipe through your folds then slowly enter you as he towers over you, watching your expression as he tucked his his bottom lip between his teeth.

your eyelids dare to shut as your jaw hung open with not so quiet moans leaving your throat. “did y’think he could make you feel this way?” chris snarled. you replied with a near scream as he picks up the pace. your legs shook as an unexpected orgasm came over you. you didn’t know if the blood in your cheeks was from embarrassment of cumming to quickly or pure desire as you felt your body yearn for more.

chris laughs as he delivers you yet another sharp slap to your ass. he removes himself from you completely but before you could turn around, you felt his hands grip your waist tightly. you felt his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, slicking itself with your arousal. you tried pushing yourself closer to him but he held you in place.

finally after what felt like ages, chris sinks into you slowly. “fuck baby— i needed this” he groans. your cheek was smooshed again the cold locker which contrasted to your burning skin. chris didn’t waste a second as he immediately picks up the pace, going deeper inside you everytime.

chris places one of his hands beside your head while the other nearly forms a bruise under his grip tightening. “look at you letting me use you— but y’not here for this, right?” he mocks your words with a small chuckle. your jaw hung open, your cries fell deaf to your own ears while a buzz replaced the lewd sound. with a slight whine, chris delivers one final harsh thrust then roughly pulls out.

he jerks himself off as ribbons of white painted your bruised ass. your legs shook with a dull ache, you were sure they would give out any second. you didn’t realize that he pulled out before you could finish but regardless, you wouldn’t really care anyways considering the lingering high from his fingers. loud banging at the door startled the two of you, “yo chris, coach needs you back on the ice!” a teammate shouted from the other side.

you were shocked on how you made it back to the bleachers on your own with your weak legs. “hey where’d you–“ your friend did a double take before taking in your appearance then giving you a disappointed look. a hockey jersey with ‘c. sturniolo, 3’ printed on the back that stopped mid thigh covered your clothes, leaving only your fleeced tights on display.

[saltofmercury]

"a.m."

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Summary: Early morning scenes, small nightmare.

Author's note: HOLY CRAP it's been a while! I haven't written anything in almost a YEAR. I'm glad that I've finally got a lil kick of writing back in me :) This is something small I wrote back in May just to get the gears working again.

"a.m."

You can hear his breathing to your left. 

Morning is just peeking through– a soft gloom enveloping your room. You’re not sure what time he got in, or how he got in this time.

“Why do you even have a key?” you ask when he unlocks the balcony window.

“In case you’re not home to unlock it for me.” He smiles big and wide, stripping the weapons aside.

It’s become a running joke to you both on how he decides to enter your apartment.

Your eyes shoot open. There’s a mountain of pillows surrounding you, warm blankets on top of you. The room is dimly lit from streetlights. You're almost sure it hasn't been a full 8 hours and yet—- your body is telling you to wake up.

You turn towards him. You almost never get to see this side of him. His breathing, slow and rhythmic. He looks so much younger when he’s relaxed. He takes over most of the bed. Arms curled above him, he’s wrapped most of the top blanket around him.

The scar below his left eye is raised, his lips are puckered out. A soft moan escapes his lips, then his body twitches. You’re on high alert.

Nightmares aren’t new. The first couple of nights that he decided to stay over your apartment, you were woken up by whimpers and sudden movements. You would sometimes catch them before he woke up and carefully soothe him back to sleep– rubbing his cheek, placing kisses along his face. Whispering careful “i love you’s” and “you’re alright i’m here now”

By morning, it was like nothing happened at all.

For him, though he may never admit it, it was nice to experience vulnerability. The constant battle he has to get a full night's rest. A plague that encases him at night.

You move closer, placing your hand on his cheek, tracing the scar with your thumb. You place a kiss on his forehead between his brows, then over the scar on his cheek. 

“You’re alright, you’re okay” you murmur.

An exhale — 

his face contorts a bit, brows furrow, then an inhale through his nose.

A hand cups your elbow, rubbing side to side. He’s fighting sleep. His eyes try to peel open.

“What time is it?” His voice, low and groggy.

“It’s too early, almost 5 am” You kiss him, apologizing. 

He groans —not even an hour of sleep. 

“Were you having a nightmare?” 

“No, I got in around 4…” He adjusts himself, the bed springs, a yawn escapes. Deflecting the question.

Sleep carefully disintegrates from his eyes. He inhales, and his eyes blink open. He can make your face out in the darkness, the gloom behind you haloing.

His body, heavy with fatigue, he pushes it aside to get closer to you, wrapping himself around you.

Warmth, vanilla, home, love.

“I used the front door today…” he mentions. He's a little proud of himself.

You giggle, adjusting yourself under his chin. His hand pulls you closer, rubbing warmth to your back. His legs warm around you. 

“Wasn’t it so much easier?”

He scoffs, remembering how ridiculous it felt to walk in with his helmet. He had to disable the cameras in the entrance then double check for anyone in the hallway to not scare them off.

“Everyone was asleep… thankfully. I just couldn’t help but think someone would see me, then see me use a key to enter an apartment.”

You smile at how silly it sounds. The Red Hood having an apartment to come home to.

“It’s much better than entering through a balcony window.” you whisper.

He hums, “Entering through a balcony never gave me nightmares.”

Tracing circles on his back, you lull him back to sleep, waiting for his breathing to even out. You whisper more love into his ear, hoping it reaches his subconscious.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : LEARNING CURVES : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: Logan helps you learn to ride his motorcycle. Amidst playful teasing and heartfelt moments, you both navigate the ride and discover that the real thrill is the time spent together.

THE SUN WAS JUST BEGINNING TO SET, casting a warm orange glow over the open road as you stood by the garage, anxiously eyeing the gleaming black motorcycle parked in front of you. It was a beast of a machine, all chrome and leather, looking as intimidating as the man who owned it. Logan stood beside you, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he handed you a helmet.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his gruff voice laced with amusement.

You gave him a determined nod, though your stomach was doing somersaults. “I can handle it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and comforting, like warm honey. He leaned in close, brushing a soft kiss against your temple. “I know you can, bub. Just don’t want you to wreck my bike.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him away. “Please, I’m more worried about wrecking me.”

With that, you threw a leg over the bike, settling into the seat. The leather was cool against your skin, and the handlebars felt solid beneath your hands. Logan watched you with an expression that was half-pride, half-amusement, like he couldn’t decide if he was more impressed or entertained by the whole situation.

“Alright, first things first,” he began, his tone shifting to something more serious. He stepped up beside you, his large hands covering yours on the handlebars. “Throttle’s here, brake’s there. And this”—he pointed to the lever—“is the clutch. Got it?”

You nodded, your heart racing as his breath tickled your ear. Having him this close, his presence so reassuring and strong, made you feel like you could take on the world. Or at least, this motorcycle.

Logan moved back, watching as you tried to start the engine. The bike roared to life beneath you, the vibration rumbling through your entire body. You couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Logan grinned back, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

“Look at you,” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “Natural born biker, huh?”

You revved the engine a little, testing the feel of it, but your overenthusiastic twist of the throttle made the bike lurch forward, nearly throwing you off balance. You yelped, your foot slamming down on the ground to steady yourself. Logan burst out laughing, his deep, throaty chuckle filling the air.

“Okay, maybe not a natural,” you muttered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Logan was at your side in an instant, his laughter softening as he rested a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’re doin’ fine. Just ease up a little. The bike’s gotta trust you, same as you trust it.”

“Since when did you get so philosophical about motorcycles?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I’m a man of many talents.”

You snorted, but the nervousness was ebbing away, replaced by a sense of determination. You took a deep breath, tried again, and this time, the bike moved forward smoothly, rolling down the driveway under your control. Logan jogged alongside, his eyes fixed on you like he was ready to catch you at any second.

“There ya go! Nice and easy,” he coached, his voice warm and encouraging.

You rode in a small circle, slowly getting the hang of it. Your heart swelled with pride when you saw Logan’s approving nod. Feeling a bit bolder, you gave the bike a bit more gas, picking up speed.

“Alright, hotshot, don’t get too cocky!” Logan called out, but there was a note of pride in his voice.

You were doing it! You were actually riding a motorcycle! The thrill of it coursed through your veins, the wind whipping through your hair, the powerful engine purring beneath you. You glanced back at Logan, ready to flash him a victorious grin—

—and that’s when you saw the mailbox.

“Oh shi—” You swerved, trying to avoid it, but the bike wobbled, and before you knew it, you were tumbling off the side, landing in the grass with a thud. The bike tipped over, but thankfully, it wasn’t going fast enough to do any real damage.

Logan was by your side in an instant, his concern barely masking his amusement. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

You groaned, rubbing your bruised shoulder. “I think I’ll stick to four wheels.”

Logan chuckled, helping you up before pulling you into his arms. “You did good,” he murmured against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. ��We’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe leave the mailbox out of it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. “Maybe you could just drive, and I’ll hold on tight?”

Logan’s arms tightened around you, his voice softening to a rumble that you felt more than heard. “Darlin’, you can hold on to me anytime you want.” He tilted your chin up, his gaze locking onto yours, and the teasing warmth in his eyes made your heart flutter.

“You know,” you whispered, “I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

He grinned, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss, the kind that made the world around you melt away until there was nothing but him. When he pulled back, there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep teachin’ you,” he said, his voice low and playful. “Can’t let my girl be anything less than the best, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Sure, Logan. Whatever you say.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and purple, you leaned into Logan’s side, the rumble of his laughter vibrating through you as you both stood there, the motorcycle forgotten. It didn’t matter that you’d wiped out on your first try. All that mattered was that you were with him, and together, there wasn’t a thing in the world you couldn’t face.

Well…except maybe that mailbox.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know x

Also, tomorrow the first chapter of my Logan mini series will air, so stay tuned!🥳

[childrenofcain-if]

Alternate universe where D is a football player because I can honestly see it 😂

They'd still be FwB with MC, who's a cheerleader (I love cliches heh). But at one of their final matches, they immediately run to MC after winning and kisses them in front of everyone. I've been thinking about this a lot

the locker room smelled like a nauseating mixture of sweat and antiseptic. there was an overall nervous energy in the whole area because of the upcoming game: the biggest of the season.

yale (bulldogs) vs princeton (tigers). the oldest college football rivalry in america since 1873. truthfully though? you really did not have that as your priority at the moment.

D’s shoulders were tense as they leaned against the row of lockers, their football gear half on, half off, like they couldn’t decide if they were gearing up for the game or gearing up for this conversation with you. you stood in front of them, your arms crossed, trying to hide the way your voice wavered as you spoke.

“why are we even doing this if it doesn’t mean anything to you?” you asked, your words sharper than you’d intended. you didn’t want to sound hurt, but the cracks were already showing and you hated yourself even more for it. “you said you loved me, D. was that a joke?”

D flinched, their jaw tightening.

“it wasn’t a joke,” they muttered, not meeting your eyes. “you know it wasn’t.“

“then what the hell is this?” you gestured between the two of you, the space that felt both too close and too far apart. “why can’t you just—” you stopped, biting back the lump rising in your throat. “why can’t you just be fair to us for once?”

D ran a hand through their damp brown hair, their helmet still sitting on the bench behind them. “because it’s complicated, alright? i’m really not good at this. i don’t know how to—”

“how to what?” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “how to be with someone who actually loves you? how to let yourself care about someone? how to not be a complete asshole?”

their silence was worse than any answer they could have given. you felt the sting of it like a slap.

“forget it,” you said, your voice quieter now, resigned. “this isn’t worth it. i’m not worth it, apparently. not to you.”

“don’t say that,” D said quickly, their voice low and rough, but before they could step toward you, the door opened, and your cheer teammates poked their heads in.

“hey, come on!” one of them called, her tone light but urgent. “we’ve gotta go!”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between D and the exit. you wanted them to say something—anything—that would make you stay, that would make you believe this wasn’t just another dead end. but they didn’t.

so you left, letting the door swing shut behind you, leaving D standing there with their heart in their throat and everything unsaid on their tongue.

***

the stadium was alive in a way that almost felt sentient, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the air, through the ground, through your chest.

the cheer routine was designed to dazzle; full of sharp, explosive movements, tight formations, and splits that skimmed the edge of possibility. every count of the eight-beat rhythm had its place: a high V at one, a perfectly synchronized clap at three, a ripple of tumbling that broke apart and came back together like a flock of birds midflight.

there wasn’t room for hesitation. you had drilled it for weeks, the choreographer shouting corrections until the moves were muscle memory. your body knew what to do, even if your mind was stuck somewhere else.

somewhere else was D.

you couldn’t see them from the sidelines, not at first. the field was a mass of bodies, yale’s blue and white clashing violently with princeton’s orange and black, and it all blurred together under the floodlights.

the roar of the crowd pressed against you, a wall of sound that rattled your ribs, the kind of noise that demanded participation. you gripped your pom-poms tightly, smiling like your heart wasn’t threatening to give out, and launched into the first set of motions.

high kick. clap. shimmy. back handspring.

on the outside, you looked flawless, exactly like what the crowd wanted: all energy and excitement, no cracks in the façade. on the inside, your chest was a knot, the fight with D replaying on an endless loop in your head like a broken VHS tape.

the pyramid was next, the most complicated part of the routine. the bases braced themselves, strong and steady, while the flyers climbed onto their hands. you were in the middle, the top of the pyramid, the highest point for the crowd to see. it was a position of trust. you had to believe your teammates wouldn’t let you fall. it wasn’t something you usually thought about, but tonight, the irony cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

when you extended into the final pose, one leg straight, one bent, arms raised, your eyes landed on D for the first time.

they were in the huddle, standing tall as the team circled around them and the coach, their helmet tucked under one arm. the older man was shouting something you couldn’t hear, D’s face fierce with focus. you wanted to stay angry, but instead, you felt your chest tighten.

D was magnetic in the way they moved, their command of the team absolute. you hated how much you still wanted to be near them, how much your body betrayed you even when your heart was screaming.

the pyramid dismounted, your teammates catching you as you came down. you barely noticed the applause; you were too busy watching D jog onto the field for the first play.

***

D’S POV

D glanced toward the sideline. toward you. again.

it was ridiculous, the way you could disarm them from thirty yards away. you weren’t even looking at them. your head was bent close to one of your friend’s, your pom-poms hanging loosely in your hands. you were supposed to be listening to your captain, but D could see the faint smile on your lips, the way you kept sneaking glances toward the field like you weren’t paying attention at all.

like your eyes were searching for D.

D tore their eyes away before anyone could notice. they didn’t need their teammates teasing them about this—not right now. it was bad enough that their chest felt like it was caving in every time they saw you, bad enough that your fight before the game was still fresh in their head, your voice sharp and shaking, your words a blade sliding between their ribs.

why can’t you just be fair to us?

the truth was, they didn’t know how to. not the right way. not in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were standing naked in a room full of strangers, every scar and bruise and ugly thing about them laid bare.

you deserved better than the mess that they were. you deserved someone who didn’t flinch at the idea of love. someone who could give you everything without being afraid they’d ruin it before it began.

but even as they told themselves that, D knew they couldn’t let you go. not really. not ever.

“alright, team,” coach barked, snapping D back to the present. “this is it. princeton’s undefeated this season, but so are we. you want to be champions? prove it. show everyone you’ve got what it takes.”

the team roared their agreement, slapping helmets and clapping shoulders, the kind of camaraderie that made D feel grounded and restless all at once. they shoved their helmet on and jogged out to the field, their cleats digging into the turf, their breath coming steady and sharp.

they could do this. for the team, for the win, for yale.

no.

for you.

***

the first quarter passed in a blur of plays and hits, the kind of bone-rattling intensity that left D’s hands shaking with adrenaline. they took the snap, rolled back, dodged a tackle by inches, and launched the ball downfield.

the crowd erupted as yale’s receiver caught it just shy of the endzone, but D didn’t stop to celebrate. their eyes found you again, like a compass always pointing to their north star.

you were clapping, your pom-poms bouncing, but there was something off about your gorgeous smile. it didn’t reach your eyes, and D knew it was their fault. they’d put that ache there, and it killed them to see it.

focus. they had to focus.

***

the second quarter was worse. princeton’s defense was relentless, their linemen big enough to make D feel small—a very uncomfortable thing. every play felt like a war, every hit a reminder of how close they were to losing. the score was tied at halftime, and the locker room was a mess of noise and sweat and tension.

“get your head in the game, diaconu,” their coach snapped, pulling D aside as the team filed out. “you’re playing like you’ve got something else on your mind. whatever it is, leave it in here. got it?”

“got it,” D said, even though they didn’t.

they didn’t leave it in the locker room. they carried it back onto the field, where it sat heavy in their chest, driving them forward and holding them back all at once.

you were watching. D could feel your eyes on them every time they stepped up to the line, every time they called a play. it made them want to be better, to play harder, to show you that they weren’t just a coward who couldn’t say the words you needed to hear.

it wasn’t enough to just win. they had to earn you back.

***

YOUR POV

you watched in horror as princeton’s linebacker, a hulking person who looked more suited for professional wrestling than college football, blindsided D after a throw.

it was a dirty hit, helmet to helmet, and D went down hard. you froze, pom-poms slack in your hands, as the crowd erupted in boos. for a second, D didn’t move, and your chest seized with panic. but then they rolled onto their side, their hand going to their helmet, and relief flooded through you so fast it made you dizzy.

they got up, wobbling slightly, and waved off the trainers who tried to check on them.

your fingers dug into the plastic of your pom-poms, the edges biting into your skin. you wanted to scream at them to stop being so stubborn, to let someone take care of them for once. but you were stuck on the sidelines, powerless to do anything but watch.

it was the last quarter and the score was tied, and every play felt like life or death. the crowd was on its feet, the noise deafening, as D took the snap for the final play. they dropped back, scanning the field, their movements precise and fluid. princeton’s defense was closing in, but D didn’t flinch. and then, with a leap that seemed to defy gravity, they threw the ball downfield.

touchdown.

the stadium erupted. the crowd screamed. the cheer squad jumped and waved their pom-poms like their life depended on it, but you couldn’t move. you just stood there, your heart pounding, your eyes locked on D.

they ripped off their helmet, their face flushed and damp with sweat, and for a moment, they let their teammates surround them, clapping them on the back, shouting their praise. but D’s eyes were searching, scanning the sidelines, until they found you.

and then they ran.

it wasn’t graceful or dramatic—it was desperate and urgent, like they couldn’t get to you fast enough. the crowd blurred around you, the noise fading into a dull hum, as D closed the distance between you.

they didn’t stop when they reached you, just grabbed you and pulled you into their arms, burying their face in your shoulder like they were afraid to let go. you could feel their heartbeat racing, their chest heaving as they caught their breath.

“i’m sorry,” D said, their voice muffled against your uniform. “i’m so sorry. i’m an idiot. i was scared, okay? i love you and i didn’t want to screw this up. i didn’t want to screw you up.”

you pulled back just enough to look at them, their gray eyes raw and unguarded, and you felt your own walls crumbling rapidly.

“you love me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

D nodded, their hands gripping your arms like you might vanish if they let go.

“i do. i love you,” they said, their voice cracking. “i love you so much it scares the hell out of me.”

you didn’t even realize you were crying until D’s thumb brushed a tear off your cheek. you let out a shaky laugh, leaning into them.

“i’m still supposed to be mad at you,” you said, but there was no heat in it.

D smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made your chest ache.

“yeah,” they said. “but can you be mad at me and be completely mine?”

you nodded, choking back a sob as you wrapped your arms around their neck, pulling them into a kiss. the noise of the crowd surged back in, louder than ever, and it mingled with D and your teammates hollering suddenly. but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered except D’s lips on yours, their hands on your waist, the way they held you like you were their centre of gravity.

when you finally pulled back, D rested their forehead against yours, their breath warm against your skin.

“will you still be cheering for me, baby?” they asked, their voice soft but hopeful.

you laughed through your tears, pressing another kiss to their lips. “always.”

[espinosaurusrexex]

Remember Me

WinterSoldier!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: After a fight against the most notorious Hydra agent of all, Steve and you discover that your assumed diseased friend Bucky is still alive. Old wounds resurface as you are confronted with the grappling reality that you have lived vastly different lives for the past 70 years. Will he remember your shared history? And most importantly: does he still feel the same?

word count: 3.1k

a/n: Just a short piece that I managed to finish. I know it's not a lot, but I hope you enjoy anyway 💕

warnings: a bunch of fluff and angst, mentions of war, mentions of sexism, swearing, Bucky is really broken in this one, happy ending (:

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Proceed with caution, unidentified shooter on bridge. I repeat: unidentified shooter. It is not clear what the motive is. Take cover and shoot on sight.”

“Dispatch, this is Captain America - we’ll take it from here.”

“With all due respect, Cap, I will keep my men on site to keep your cover.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Least I can do for you, sir.”

“Stop chatting it up with the police and do your job, Rogers.”

“Alright, alright.”

You chuckled and turned to Tony. “How long are we out?”

“Three minutes, 46 seconds.” 

“You gonna survive that long, Stevie?”

“That guy’s got a good aim on him, gotta give him that.”

Muffled noises pushed through your earpiece before you stepped into the back of the Quinjet to gear up. 

“Can’t let him do anything. It’s one guy they’re fighting... one.”

“Yeah, one Hydra-trained assassin who’s apparently immortal and got more deaths on his record than Romanoff.”

You huffed as the meeting recollected in your mind. The Winter Soldier had been the newest pain in the Avenger’s asses ever since you discovered that Hydra was still operating in the shadows of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“They’re just making a show out of everything, huh?” 

You strapped your gloves over your wrists and watched as Tony chuckled in the pilot seat. You and him had become good friends over the past few years. Ever since you and Steve had been discovered in the frozen airship of what you had thought to be your last mission about 70 years ago, you and Captain America had woken up in a vastly different world. One through which Howard’s son, Tony, gladly guided you. 

Both you and Steve were overwhelmed by the amount of changes the world had endured while you had soundly served your time as human popsicles, though Captain America seemed to struggle a little more with 21st-century technology and norms. 

It was fine, Steve had always been a little old-fashioned, even back in the day. You for one were delighted to learn about all the opportunities the world had to offer for women and other people who couldn’t have dreamed of any in the 40s. Because while Steve was celebrated for being the face of hope for the American people, you were still dodging snide comments doubting your place in the Army. And while you tried not to let anyone see the toll it took on you, it was the reason for enough nights you spent with Peggy sharing stories over a bottle of wine. 

You both decided the important men in your life should never find out. Though, of course, your not-so-secret didn’t stay hidden from Bucky for long. Which was one of the reasons you had jumped on that plane with Steve. Even when Bucky was already dead. Even when Steve was still oblivious. You constantly needed to prove yourself. But this one time, it had actually changed something – well, time had. 

You shook your head free of that thought and walked towards the cargo hatch. Tony had landed the Quinjet – it was go time. 

“Ready?”

“That guy won’t know what happened to him when we’re done with him.”

“Let’s rock his world, then,” Tony winked before his helmet closed and he flew out of the jet. You were close behind him, running the short distance from the ramp to the bridge from which you swung yourself off with a grappling hook. 

“What’s the status?”

“I’ve been shot.”

“I’ve got it, Bearcat check on Steve. He looks ridiculously helpless.”

“Roger that,” you sprinted towards the two fighting men on the street, as the Winter soldier threw Steve to the ground, his shield nowhere to be seen. 

“Okay, my turn.” You stepped in front of him, analyzing his movements, and dodging punches, trying to get some in yourself. 

“Oh come on, that’s not fair.” You huffed when he took a knife out of your leg holster and almost acrobatically threw it over your head just to graze your cheek with the blade. 

He had knocked off your guns at this point, leaving you with choking wire and some smaller daggers in your jacket. When he turned the right angle, you jumped his shoulders and locked your thighs around his neck, kicking the knife out of his hand and watching as he ripped your choking wire in half. Damn.

“Now, that’s not nice.” You threw the torn metal to the side as The winter soldier struggled to get you off him. A look to Steve told you he had a new plan, and with a short nod, you signaled your understanding to him. 

“But if you wanna be like that...” Steve threw you his shield and in a swift motion you managed to drag it over the soldier's head. He pushed his metal arm forward just in time, though your hit had already knocked the mask off his face. 

When the shield came down, you heard Steve’s footsteps halt next to you, the world going quiet. 

Your stomach churned when you watched blue eyes twitch between the dark smudges. Familiar and oh-so strange at the same time. 

“Bucky?” Steve stammered, and at the sound of his name, goosebumps rippled over your skin. 

The Winter Soldier’s look darkened before he reached for a gun. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

From then on, the day seemed like a blur. You remembered Sam knocking Bucky down and the lot of you flying back to the compound on standby. Steve was functioning a lot better than you were, considering the man you thought to be dead for over 70 years was currently handcuffed to a handrail on your jet. 

James “Bucky” fucking Barnes. Captain America’s best friend, founding member of the howling commandos, infamous war hero apparently turned assassin, and the man who stole your heart somewhere along the way. 

You dared a glance at the chained-up, unconscious brunette in the corner as Steve sat down next to you, a calming hand squeezing your shoulder. 

“Can I get you anything?”

You ignored him. “How are you not freaking out?” You whispered through glassy eyes instead. 

Steve’s expression softened when he pulled you into his chest, his other hand pressing your head further into him. His heart was hammering beneath his ribcage, his fingers cold to the touch. 

“I am. Just trying to be a captain.” His voice was strained when he mumbled into your hair. 

You just nodded in understanding, finding comfort in the fact you weren’t the only one feeling this way. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You watched him through the glass of the interrogation room with your arms crossed before your chest. Buck was sitting at the table, his head hung low, his dark hair falling in wet stands into his face. He didn’t move a muscle. For half an eternity, he stared at the table his wrists were chained to, almost statue-like. But when he finally looked up, you could see the confusion and nervousness in his ocean-blue eyes. 

They had given him time to recover, to shower, and feel like a human again. They forced him into normal clothes and offered him a bed to sleep. But it wasn’t enough. The man you were looking at was terrified and lost - exhausted and overwhelmed. 

Bucky visibly tensed when the door opened and Steve stepped into his sight. They spent the next hour reconstructing his past. Steve told him how he had ended up in the 21st century and by the end of their conversations, the tension was a lot less static.

“She’s alive,” Bucky stated and tore his eyes away from Steve to look at the one-way glass.

“She’s a tough one. Survived the crash without super soldier serum and came out of the ice just as unharmed as I did.” 

“What are the odds?” Bucky chuckled bitterly. “What are the fucking odds we all end up together again?” 

Steve only gifted his friend a sympathetic smile along with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Take it as a chance.”

“Feels like a punishment.” 

They were locking eyes and even though you were watching the interaction from the outside, you could feel the atmosphere turn somber. The men were staring at each other in silence for a while, though you knew there was an entire discussion happening in their eyes.

“Does she... does she want to see me?” Bucky’s voice was hesitant and broken. And you couldn’t help but somehow imagine a different question nestled in his words. 

You almost had to stop yourself from touching the glass with your hands, wanting to tell him that you were already seeing him - really seeing him. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Steve stood and with a last smile to Bucky, he exited the room. 

This was it. The door was open. The love of your life sitting only a few feet from it. Though it seemed like he was trapped inside another’s body. 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Steve murmured as he stood in the doorway looking at you by the window. And you just nodded, trying to suppress your pulse rushing in your ears. 

“Thanks.” It was only a whisper. You weren’t used to your voice being this small. And Steve didn’t seem so either. He was looking at you with sad eyes, fists clenched by his sides. There was nothing he could do to make you feel better. Not this time. And he seemed to know so. With one last tight smile, he sent a short nod your way and then left. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky didn’t look at you when you finally built up the courage to step inside his room. He was much bigger than you remembered. Thick muscles adorned his arms and shoulders. Shaggy, longer hair fell from his head and over his scrunched brows. His left arm was entirely of metal, a red star reminding him who had taken claim to him several decades ago. 

If you hadn’t known, the man before you had almost no resemblance to the soldier you loved in 1941. He had been lean and full of life. He was broken now. And you were terrified someone had taken the very thing from him that would keep him from becoming himself again. 

Without a word you approached Bucky, cupped his hands with yours, and undid the restraints that tied him to the table. And this was the first time he looked at you. Really looked at you. Bucky’s piercing blue stare was full of awe and sorrow, a deep pain etched beneath the grey flecks within the vibrant color. 

You sat down beside him. 

“Hey.” Your voice was shaky, dragging a long silence in its wake that only made your heart beat faster. 

“Hello,” Bucky finally whispered, breaking the spell. His voice was a raw timbre, like a long-forgotten melody. And so much more tangible now that you weren’t listening to it through a speaker. 

But that was it. Neither of you spoke afterward. 

There was so much that could have been said, so much that could have been exchanged, known, explored about the other. And yet it didn’t feel like any of the words known to you were enough to break the static tension in the room. You were just looking at Bucky, scanning every part of his body like it was a flash card for the most important test of your life. 

So, here you were: With the opportunity of a lifetime right at your fingertips and the confidence of a kicked puppy settled deep in your wounded soul. The person you had known for the longest looked so timid as if he were looking at a stranger. Not that he had ever been shy about strangers back in the day. But this was different. This was strange and beautiful, and scary, and exciting. No book in the world held the answers as to what to do in this situation. 

And the solution was so easy: you just had to say something. So why didn’t your damn mouth open?

The speaker above your heads crackled and then Tony’s voice rang through the room. And for the first time in what felt like hours, a tiny bit of the weight on your shoulders lifted with it. “Bearcat, If you don’t open your mouth and put the guy out of his misery in 5 seconds, I’ll personally mediate this incredibly static confrontation.”

You rolled your eyes and then glared at the mirror, knowing full well Tony was watching you despite your asking him to leave. You mouthed a ‘shut it’ towards the glass and then turned in shock when a familiar voice rose from the silence.”

“Bearcat?”

You stared at Bucky with soft eyes. There was an innocence in the way he slowly guided this conversation - almost like he’d always had. It was an easy question, a nice entry to the heavier stuff that was bound to be discussed. 

And just as you began to explain, it dawned on you how much you had missed about each other. How differently your life could have been if it weren’t for the cruel turn of fate.

“When Steve and I were discovered, S.H.I.E.L.D. was our home for a long time. They tried to put us in apartments, even set us up with chaperones to guide us through the new century.” Bucky looked intrigued, even leaning forth as he listened intently. You wondered if he ever realized how much time had passed when he was the winter soldier... if anyone ever cared to tell him. “But it wasn’t until I met Natasha that I felt like I had arrived. She showed me so many things and trained with me until I became an agent here. Howard’s son came up with the nickname. He reminds me of him.” You smiled and shook your head “He’s a pain in my ass but a genius that can be genuinely helpful even though I don’t want to admit it at times. I haven’t grasped the explanation fully, but apparently, my fast learning and efficiency when it came to fighting reminded him of one of those small powerful fighter jets that were finished just after the war.” You chuckled at the memory before your eyes found Becky’s again only to see pain all over his face. 

A silent tear rolled down his cheek and hit the floor before you could see it stain his skin. “I'm so sorry.” His voice was shaking, his body trying to make itself smaller but failing miserably with all the muscle surrounding it. He took up the room and your heart right along with it.

“Hey you have nothing to apologize for, you hear me.” You cradled his face and his hands instantly covered yours, only for his metal one to retract just as fast again. He was sorrowful and it made your heart ache. 

“You’ve been navigating through so much alone and this is yet another thing you had to do without me.” He confessed through his tears and squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t changed within - always caring for everyone around him and never putting himself first.

“I’m fine. Was then and am now.” You ensured him. “If you want to worry about someone, take Steve. He’s a lot more overwhelmed than I am.” Bucky chuckled through his tears, a deep seriousness settling in his eyes. “If anything, I’m sorry we didn’t save you sooner.”

He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known.” And there it was: a glimpse of the loving, caring, charming man you’d known so many years ago. A small smile snuck onto your face at the revelation and a spark of hope shot through your body. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you confessed, "We never had the time to actually be just us. To live all the dreams we shared back then.” 

Bucky's eyes were full of sorrow before he closed them and pressed his forehead to yours. “I wish I could say I missed you,” he whispered and slung his arm around you, “But I didn’t remember.”

“And that’s not your fault, you hear me.” Your hand stroked over his damp hair, pulling it back and making Bucky look at you again. “None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever doubt yourself. What happened to you is horrible. And I vow to kill every single person responsible for keeping us apart for this long. But not once will anyone ever consider this your fault.”

Bucky averted his eyes and turned his head but you were quick to catch his face with your hand. “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up. Please. That’s all I ask of you. Let Steve and me handle the rest and focus on becoming comfortable in your skin again. I can’t wait to meet the man you can become.”

“You don’t want to know me, doll. Not anymore. Even if it wasn’t my fault, it changed me. I’m not the man you-“ he stopped talking as you watched regret flash over his features. “I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t care what I deserve, Bucky. I want you. I always have and that won’t change because some bullies tried to brainwash you. The very fact that we are here talking like this shows how much stronger you are than them. How the good in you never wavered.”

“But I can’t even trust myself. How can I expect you to do so of me?”

You cradled his head harsher as you felt your own tears roll down your cheek. “All I need is for you to try and trust me. We’ll figure this out... like we always do.”

Bucky’s flesh hand had fallen to your thigh, a soft thumb stroking over your leg and he watched the movement in awe. You didn’t know how long it had been since he had last felt comfort but you were determined to make up for all the lost time. With the wild beating of your heart, you took his metal hand and laved your fingers with his, watching as Bucky’s eyes glued to your smaller hand in his. There was no fear of what could happen, no aversion towards the alien element attached to his body. And then, finally, he encased your hand with his silver fingers. 

Your other hand still stroked his cheek and you waited until he caught your gaze again. And once he did, you did not hesitate to slowly push your lips to his. 

Just a short, sweet kiss. One that held more words than you could ever say. And then you waited. What for? Maybe a rejection, the shake of his head, or the sheer confidence with which he used to kiss you decades back. 

Bucky’s breaths were shaky, his hands still touching you and sending softly timid comfort through your body. He held your gaze for a second... and then, he finally kissed you back. 

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[keikikait]

ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

check out my other rafe series here!

read the prequel series here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 4.9k

summary: rafe is late for your date at the island club

warnings: no smut but is suggestive (read at your own risk), handsy rafe, mild violence/fighting, whipped reader & whipped rafe, they go to a restaurant but i don't specify any kind of food, rafe is angry for like 3 seconds but not at reader, mean jj, use of the word 'whore', i don't think they've shown rafe's new place yet so i made one up, i haven't watched all of s4 so if i get shit wrong i'm sorry, not proofread

a note: this was supposed to be short. oops

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You and Rafe had date nights every Friday.

It was the only sense of regularity that he had, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world. He would plan it, tell you when and where to be, and you would eagerly oblige. He surprised you with something new every week; one Friday you’re driving across the thoroughfare towards the mainland for a shopping spree, the next Friday you’re on a private yacht watching the sunset. This week, he decided to go for the tried and true; dinner and a movie.

‘6 PM’, he told you, ‘and wear that silk emerald green dress.’ He had to run out for the day, still dealing with the aftereffects of Ward’s death and his departure from Tanneyhill. Trying to sell a giant, 6-bedroom mansion wasn’t as easy as you thought, as most of the residents of Kildare couldn’t afford to buy it from him. He was considering turning it into an Air B&B, a project he would rope you into to help with the interior design. You and Rafe had a new place, another mansion still located in Figure Eight, although this one is much smaller, a Spanish revival you had a lovely time decorating. 

As the afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the landscape, you found yourself perched upon a solitary bench situated beside the parking lot of The Island Club, the salty tang of the ocean breeze carrying the distant sound of crashing waves. Couples filed into the club, paying you no mind. Even though The Island Club wasn’t far from your new place, Rafe still bought you an Uber, just to make sure you were safe. It was almost 6:15 PM at this point, and every call and text to Rafe went unanswered. You had already informed the staff of his late arrival, ensuring that your reservation would not get cancelled. You check your watch again before standing, walking around the parking lot to check the streets.

Where was he?

You tug your dress down your legs. It was Rafe’s favourite on you, hugging your ass and hips perfectly. It was finally starting to get cold on the island, and even though the black leather jacket you stole from him didn’t exactly go with your outfit, it was keeping you warm. The wind flows through your hair, and you push it out of your eyes, looking down the street, trying to spot him on his bike. You sigh, your shoulders dropping. You turn around to head back to the bench, pulling your phone out of your small purse, ready to call him again.

You’re about to sit down when you hear the revving and rumbling of his dirt bike, pulling into the left side of the parking lot. You sigh, putting your phone away as you walk over to him. You bite your lip when you see him wearing that grey blue waffle-weaved sweater that makes him look delicious. Rafe turns his bike off, pushing the kickstand down before getting off, reaching up to unbuckle the strap of his helmet.

“Hey, handsome.” You say, stepping off the curb and approaching him. You reach out, putting one of your hands on his bicep, fingers slightly digging into the muscle. Rafe pulls his helmet off, keeping it clutched in his hand. His eye and cheekbone were swollen, slightly yellow, and a cut underneath his brow bone marred his otherwise handsome face. The cut was deep, and blood was caked along its edges. It was clear that he had been in a fight, and he had not come out of it unscathed. He winced as you suddenly reach up to touch his cheekbone, a worried look on your face. “What the fuck? What happened?”

Rafe winces as you touch his cheek, pulling back from your touch. He wasn’t in the mood for your coddling. His jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense from the fight. He had no intention of telling you what happened, either. You never needed to know about the trouble he was in. He puts his helmet on the seat of his bike and grabs your waist, pulling you in front of him. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying his best to keep his voice level so that he didn’t snap at you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, not bothering to conceal the bruises and blood on his knuckles. Was it his or someone else’s, or both?

“Are you okay?” You ask, moving your hand off his bicep to rest on his waist. “Rafe, please tell me.”

His expression hardens as you continue to push. His fingers grip your waist almost painfully tight. “I said, don’t worry,” he repeats, his voice stern. He’d never talked to you like this, and you could hear the warning behind his words. His eyes stare down at you, intense and full of anger, although you’re not quite sure if it’s meant for you. “Let it go.”

You don’t push it, not wanting to anger him anymore. It was supposed to be a nice, relaxing night. You wrap your arms around his waist to pull him into a hug, laying your head on his chest. Rafe hesitates, surprised by the sudden display of affection, but then he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you in close. He buries his nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, and for the first time that night, his shoulders finally drop, his whole body relaxing. He squeezes you tight to his chest, his chin resting on the crown of your head. 

He remains silent as he pulls away slightly, looking down at you. He keeps one arm wrapped around your waist, his hand gripping your side as his other hand flies to your neck. His grip is loose, but his thumb presses against your pulse — a small habit he picked up after he started dating you. In his own words, it’s a way to calm him down and to remind himself that you were safe.

Rafe sighs, pressing kisses to your forehead before leaning his against it, rubbing your pulse back and forth as it races under your skin. His voice is soft when he finally speaks, “I’m fine. Just ran into a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” You ask, rubbing your hand up and down his side.

“Nothing you need to be worrying about, sweetheart,” Rafe mumbles, still keeping his head pressed against yours. Rafe never used pet names with anyone else, but with you, it felt different. His eyes drift down to your lips, unable to resist. They were a faint shade of red, glossy and puffy from your bites, just as he liked them. “Just some shit with JJ and John B. I handled it.” He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips, the hand on your neck moving to cup your cheek. Even as he pulls away, he keeps your body pressed against him. “Let’s not let this ruin our night, alright?”

“Are you sure?” You ask, brushing your thumb across his abs. “We can go home and order in if you want. I don’t want you to feel compelled to go out tonight.”

“Baby, I’m fine,” he murmurs, his voice soft. He understood where you were coming from, but only you would ever try to get out of a very expensive date because you thought he was too tired. “I got reservations for a reason. I don’t plan on missing our date night just because of a little fight.” The hand on your waist moves to the small of your back, pressing your body closer to his. He’d planned out everything for tonight. A fancy meal, followed by a quiet movie night at your place, then ending the night with his face buried between your legs, your wrists bound to the headboard. He didn’t want to ruin a date night that both of you were looking forward to. 

You sigh, but don’t push it. You didn’t want to ruin the date with an argument. You grab his hand, careful not to brush across his shredded knuckles, before leading him towards the entrance. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

Rafe rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile a little bit at your persistence, thankful that you cared. He follows behind you, his strides matching yours. He winces a little bit when you grab his hand, his knuckles stinging from the fight, but he doesn’t dare let you know that. 

He holds the door open for you when you reach the entrance, waiting for you to go through before he follows behind, placing on hand on your lower back as you walk. His eyes drifted down to your ass, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and smacking it. Now that his father was dead, he had to try to keep the Cameron image clean and pristine at The Island Club. They weren’t fans of him to begin with.

You head through the small entrance, moving to wait in line for the hostess stand. The country club was pretty packed, a common occurrence for a Friday night. The couple in front of you were older, and the woman's eyes soften as she looked over her shoulder and spotted Rafe. 

He kept his hand on your lower back, not trying to hide the fact that you were both together. His eyes stayed locked with the older woman in front of you, not surprised to have already been discovered by one of the regulars. He could see the woman’s concern from a mile away, her expression shifting when she saw the scrapes and bruises on his face. Rafe sighed, his jaw clenching in annoyance. Even here, he couldn’t get away from his reputation. His hand started to rub small circles into your back, silently trying to soothe himself more than you.

The woman whispers to her husband before turning around again. “It’s Rafe, right?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow at the elderly woman, a hint of a scowl on his face as his eyes meet hers. He gives her a small nod, although he doesn’t feel like talking to a regular at The Island Club right now. He wanted nothing more than to spend the evening alone with you. “Yes, ma’am,” His response is short and brief. “That’s me.”

“I was a friend of your father,” The woman says. “We were business partners a few years ago. I’m sorry for your loss, Rafe. My condolences.” 

Rafe’s expression changes as soon as the woman mentions his father. He knew that most people from The Island Club had been friends with his old man and business partners with him. Hearing condolences for his father had become a regular part of his routine, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing about his father’s death every single time. His hand on your lower back tightens, pulling you a bit closer to him. He gives her a forced smile, trying his best to look polite. “Thank you, ma’am,” he responds, his voice stiff.

The woman smiles softly before turning back around, stepping forward towards the hostess stand. Rafe’s hands traveled from your hips to your lower back, pulling you closer to him. He was lost in reality, almost as if he didn’t want to admit to himself that his life was fundamentally changing. His father was dead, and his relationships with his remaining family were ruined. But he had you, and that’s all that matters to him right now.

You lean your head against his chest as you wait, hands wrapped around his bicep, rubbing it lightly with your thumb.

Rafe sighs as you lean against him, his hand on your lower back drifting down to cup your ass. He could only hope that the other patrons wouldn’t notice, although he didn’t really care that much. But that woman was going to tell everyone about how rough he looked tonight, and he knew that some people would have comments about that, too. Rafe lowers his head to speak in your ear, although his voice is quiet enough that only you could hear. “Can’t wait to get you home,” he murmurs.

"Yeah? You excited for me to get on my knees for you?" You ask. Just as Rafe had been thinking about you all day, you had been thinking about him. You couldn’t wait to sink to the floor in front of him, your hands eagerly unbuckling his slacks before letting him fuck your face. Your favourite part, though, was the way he gripped your hair and moaned as he cummed down your throat.

Rafe sighs, groaning low in his throat as your words go straight to his cock. He’d always loved it when you talked like this, even if you were in private or texting. He didn’t want you to talk to anyone else like that. You were his. “Mmm, I’m more excited to see your face when you ride me,” he mumbles, moving closer so that his mouth is right next to your ear, still careful to keep his voice low. He wanted to take you home right now, but he had been looking forward to this dinner all week, and he knew you were too.

The older couple in front of you step away, being led by the hostess to their table. You approach the stand, and you smooth out the front of your dress as you wait. Although Rafe was used to the rich life full of country clubs, cotillion and croquet, you weren’t. You wanted to make a good impression on the staff of The Island Club.

Rafe stands tall and proud as you both step up to the hostess stand, his arm still wrapped around your waist, his hand resting on the small of your back. He glances down at your dress, taking in every detail of your appearance. You looked absolutely stunning in that dress, and it was taking all of his self-control to not get hard right now. The way you anxiously chewed on your lip, the way your hair was shining in the ambient lighting of the country club, the way you wore the ‘Rafe’ name necklace he bought you…he loved everything about you. He tugged you closer, loving the way you put a hand on his stomach as you leaned against him. You both had matching gold rings, engraved with your anniversary, yours on your forefinger while his sat on his thumb. 

The hostess looks up to greet both of you. She glances down at the reservation book for just a moment before nodding, a polite smile on her face. “Mr. Cameron,” she says. “Your table is ready.” She gathers two menus before leading you through the dining room towards the more private, member’s only area of the country club.

Even though you had been dating Rafe for a while, almost a year, you were always surprised by his influence. He had everything he ever wanted at the tips of his fingers, and because you were dating him, you got those luxuries too; endless shopping trips, a house full of anything you could dream of. And a handsome boyfriend, of course.

As you walk behind the hostess, Rafe’s fingers intertwine with yours, holding your hand tight. He was aware of all the eyes on him, as you could hear the whispers and murmurs from their fellow patrons, knowing they were all aware of the fight with John B and JJ, and the rumors were probably already spreading like wildfire. The hostess leads you to a secluded corner with a single table set for two, two candlesticks illuminating the table with a warm glow. 

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbles to the hostess as his eyes drift towards the far corner of the room. He lets go of your hand with some reluctance, before holding the chair for you at the small booth. He was thankful for the secluded booth, knowing it was going to be easier to touch you under the table. Rafe slides in next to you, reaching over to grab your knee, stroking his thumb softly back and forth. He wanted to put his hand on your throat to feel your pulse again, but he didn’t think that the patrons and staff would like that.

You thank the hostess, setting your purse down in the empty space next to you. As the hostess walks away, Rafe’s hand slips under the skirt of your dress, grabbing onto your inner thigh and rubbing back and forth. His touch is featherlight, just the lightest graze of skin against skin, although he can feel all the heat from your skin. 

He picks up the menu from the table, pretending to scan the food while his hand caresses you. He leans in toward you, although his eyes are still scanning the menu. “Do you know what you want to eat, sweetheart?”

“You.” You say immediately, flipping the menu over to look at the other side.

Rafe can’t help but let out a slight chuckle at your immediate response, his hand on your thigh stopping for a moment. His eyes finally look up at you from the menu, an amused look on his face. “Mmm, not yet, baby, but you’ll get it later. Promise,” he grins, his eyes drifting back down to the menu as his hand starts to rub against you again. “And for the main course?”

You sigh, glancing over the options. You didn’t really love any of the dishes on the menu, but you weren’t opposed to eating any of them. Rafe wraps his large, warm hand around your inner thigh and squeezes, yanking you a bit closer. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes your head spin, your brain shutting down for a split second. You purse your lips as you read before looking away, shifting in your seat. “You pick.”

He can see the way your body reacts to his touch, and it satisfies him to know that he can still affect you like that. It just makes him more eager to get you back home tonight. His fingers press into your thigh when you move closer to him, but he quickly loosens his grip when the waiter comes up to your table. 

He finally decides what he wants for the main course, and he orders for the both of you. His hand slides down your thigh, finally withdrawing, although he places his palm flat against your skin, resting his hand just below the edge of your dress. You sip on your drink as you wait for your food, feeling Rafe’s hand travel up your thigh again, as if he couldn’t resist. After the waiter walks away, Rafe’s focus turns back towards you, and he glances around the room to make sure nobody was watching. Seeing as everyone around him seemed to be doing their best to ignore him, he felt comfortable enough to continue his touch. His hand moves from your thigh to your hip, pulling you closer to him. “I like this dress on you,” he murmurs, his eyes raking over your body.

“Thank you,” You say as his hands travel up higher. “You look really good, baby.” You reach out and place your hand on his bicep, squeezing it. You couldn’t resist. He always looked good, but something about the way he looked in that fucking blue sweater and grey slacks made you go crazy, wanting to put your hands all over him and your mouth on his cock.

He gives you a smirk as your hand wraps around his upper arm, and he leans back into his chair. Your praise always brought out the cocky, arrogant side of him, and he absolutely loved when you told him how good he looked. His ego always needed a boost. He flexes the muscle underneath your hand, and it ripples underneath his sweater. “Yeah? You like this, don’t you?” He grins.

You nod, your mouth going dry. It was so hard to concentrate, all you wanted to do was shut your brain off and let him take control for the night. He knows exactly what effect he was having on you, and he loved seeing the effect that he could have on your body just from a little flex. “You feeling needy, baby?” He mumbles, his fingers pressing against your panties, right over your clit. You suck in a breath, gripping his sleeve to try to ground yourself. You nod.

The smirk stays plastered on his face as his palm squeezes tightly on the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can see the way your shoulders tensing, knowing that you were trying your best to keep yourself from writhing in your seat. “Soon, sweetheart. We just gotta get through dinner,” he mumbles, although he wanted nothing more than to take you home right now and ruin you, make you cum over and over until you cry.

The waiter approaches with your food, setting everything on the table. It snaps you back to reality, and you move your glass so he can put your plate in front of you. As the waiter sets the plates down, Rafe reluctantly pulls his hand away from you. His hand goes to pick up his fork, although the movement is absent-minded. His eyes stayed focused on you, and the only thing he could think about was getting you home and alone. Eventually, he forces his eyes away from you and to his food. His other hand moves behind your lower back, resting his palm flat against the exposed skin, his pinky finger playing with the waistband of your panties.

You struggle through dinner, your thighs pressed together. The food was delicious, and you and Rafe spent a good amount of time talking about your plans for Tanneyhill, all the while he was brushing his fingers along your inner thighs and your panties. He was doing it on purpose, trying to rile you up, and it was working. You eat as quickly as you can, snatching your purse and  dragging him out of the restaurant after paying and leaving a tip.

You rush towards his bike, and he can’t help but chuckle at how desperate you are. He spins you around, pulling you against his chest. “Relax, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

You whine. “I need it, Rafe.”

Your whine was like music to his ears. His hand goes to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. His eyes are dark with lust as he looks down at you. “You’ll get it.” He says, grabbing his helmet and pushing it over your head. He secures the strap under your chin, kissing your nose. He climbs onto the bike, pushing the kickstand up.

“Do you have a helmet?” You ask, fiddling with it. It was definitely too big for your head.

“Nah,” He says, looking at you over your shoulder as you climb on, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I don’t need one, baby. I’m a professional. It’ll be fine, just hold on tight.”

“Rafe,” You say, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Are you sure?”

Rafe sighs as he places his hands on the handlebars, hearing the tone of worry in your voice. “Sweetheart, I swear, it’ll be fine. The house isn’t far,” he sighs, shaking his head and starting the engine. “I’ll go slow, okay? Just hold on tight and don’t let go. You’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”

You have no choice but to listen to him, tightening your grip around him, your purse squished between his back and your chest. “Okay.”

He nods slightly before reaching down to grab your thighs, pulling your body to fully press against his. He wants to be able to feel your skin against his. He doesn’t say anything else as he starts to drive, slowly making his way out of the parking lot. He had been through worse. He could handle a simple drive home without a helmet.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You pull up into the driveway of your house, safe and sound. You wait for Rafe to pop the kickstand down and turn the bike off before standing, putting your purse back on your shoulder. You reach up, unclipping the helmet before pulling it off, shaking your hair out.

Rafe climbs off of the bike, gently letting go of the handles just in case it came tumbling. He bites his lip before reaching out, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him, his other hand immediately coming up to cup your neck. “You were worried for nothing, baby,” he murmurs, gently pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, your hands flying to his waist, lost in the feeling of his tongue on yours.

“‘Bout time y’all showed up.”

You and Rafe pull away, glancing down your driveway.

JJ and John B hop out of JJ’s van, parked right against the curb.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You ask, your hands dropping from their spot on Rafe’s stomach. Rafe’s grip on you tightens, feeling you pull away. His eyes are narrowed as he looks at JJ and John B as they approach the two of you.

“What, you two on a date? Couldn’t even invite us?!” JJ laughs, his hands shoved into his pockets. You thought that Rafe looked awful, but it’s clear that he had the upper hand during his fight with JJ and John B. JJ looks terrible, his eye bruised and almost swollen shut, the side of his face scratched up like he fell onto gravel. John B has a split lip and a deep purple bruise on his eyebrow, his knuckles caked with dried blood.

“Wow, JJ. You look like shit,” You say, unable to hold back. “You already got your ass beat, are you back for more?”

JJ glares at you, his hands tightening into fists in his pockets. “Careful where you run your mouth, slut,” he growls, taking a step towards you. 

That’s all it takes to piss Rafe off.  “Watch your mouth,” he growls. He steps in front of you, blocking JJ’s path.

You just laugh, unable to take him seriously. You push past Rafe, shoving your purse into his chest. “Excuse me?”

JJ stares directly at you, his expression turning into a scowl. “Careful, you don’t want to fall back into old habits. You’re just a little whore for all of the Pogues,” JJ growls, and John B puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to shut up, but it isn’t enough for JJ to back down. He takes another step forward, his eyes locked on you and your face.

Everything happens quickly after that.

Before you could say another word, Rafe is launching himself at JJ, grabbing the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the side of his van. JJ tries to land a punch, but Rafe’s faster. He just keeps landing punches, one after the other, not letting up for a second. John B. jumps on Rafe, trying to hold him back, but it isn’t enough.

You quickly rush over, grabbing the back of Rafe’s sweater, tugging him backwards. “Stop. They aren’t worth it, Rafe.” His fist is raised, and he turns to look at you, hearing the panic in your voice. He freezes when you call out to him, and John B. jumps off of his back. 

The air is tense, everything is still and dead silent. All you can hear are their heavy breaths, and John B is holding onto JJ, preventing him from attempting to start another fight.

“If either of you ever come back here,” You walk towards them, getting up in JJ's face. “I'll bury you.”

JJ doesn't back off, and he glares down at you, a cruel smirk on his face.  “You gonna do it yourself?” JJ stands up, still being held back by John B. “Sweet, helpless little thing like you? Or are you just gonna try and hide behind your boyfriend?” His eyes trail down your body as his smirk grows, his teeth stained with blood.

You consider hitting him. You really do. But you know that JJ wouldn’t be scared to hit you back, and you really didn’t want to ruin this dress.

You step back before spitting on him.

A mixture of fury and shock shoots through JJ’s whole body, his face grimacing. “You bitch, I’ll fucking—“ JJ snaps, and he starts to come at you. John B grabs onto him, holding him back, but he’s barely able to restrain JJ, trying to calm him down.

You turn around, walking away from him, back towards your house. “Take your little bitch ass back to The Cut.” 

“You little whore, did you forget where you came from? Did you forget who you used to whore yourself out to?” JJ says, still fighting against John B’s grip on him. “You’re gonna regret that someday, you hear me? Someday you’ll have no one to protect your pathetic little ass, and I’m gonna be there, laughing at you. Just watch.”

Rafe starts to walk towards JJ and John B again, but you wrap a hand around his forearm, pulling him back. “Baby, stop. He’s not worth it.” You look up at him, trying your best to get him to calm down. 

JJ finally stops trying to shake John B off, realizing that he isn’t going to be able to land a hit on you, no matter how badly he wants to. “You’re lucky you’re not with the Pogues anymore. I’d teach you some manners,” he calls after you.

You drag Rafe back inside as JJ and John B get back into JJ’s van, the tires screeching as they drive away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

if you would like to be tagged for any future parts (if i make them), please reply to this post!

part two is here!

[lnfours]

doll | l.n

summary: ‘i’m not even joking when i say i’ve fallen in love w the way you write lando you have me giggling every single time and i love it - i’m not sure if your requests are open rn, but cld i request a lando x reader enemies to lovers kinda vibe? honestly whatever you wanna go with is fine but i need need tooth rotting fluff rn so maybe he has a nickname for her that only he uses and there’s a lot of oblivious-ness from both of them over the fact that they like each other :’‘)’ - @mars-dreamworld

warnings: fluff, language, enemies to lovers, female!racer, just overall a whirlwind of emotions. strap in.

masterlist | ask box 💌

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

lando norris was absolutely, most definitely, 100% the most insufferable person you had ever met.

in the beginning of the year, mclaren had announced that you’d be joining the team as a third driver, and of course people men took it to social media to express how they felt women didn’t belong in the sport. that racing was a ‘real man’s’ sport.

and now you needed to prove them all wrong, prove you were worth your spot on the team. you know you didn’t have to, that it wouldn’t necessarily change people’s minds, but you worked hard to be here. countless sleepless nights, crashes, tunings, everything, was worth this moment.

and now it was your chance. oscar had ended up with an injury after a crash in one of the practice races over the weekend, ultimately giving you his spot until he was recovered.

you and lando hadn’t really gotten along. you had found yourself battling with him on the track, the two of you going head to head in the garage after practices. you had thought his ego and his sarcasm was unattractive, whereas he simply just saw you as a threat.

but, deep down, he had a soft spot for you that he kept buried under the fake hatred. he didn’t actually hate you, who could? he admired your hard work and dedication, but be couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to take his spot.

“what the fuck, norris?!” you yelled, throwing your helmet to the ground as you stormed over to him. he wore a smug look on his face that you would’ve found attractive if it weren’t for the fact that he felt the need to cut you off in turn 5.

“what?”

“are you thinking with your brain or your dick?!” you shoved his chest, but he didn’t move a muscle. he didn’t even budge, just looked down at you with those stupidly gorgeous green eyes.

“you’d know if i was thinking with my dick, doll.”

“don’t call me that.” you gave him a hard look and he put his hands up in fake surrender, shaking them like he was scared.

and that’s where it all started, that stupid fucking nickname. every time he said it, it made your blood boil, made you want to connect your knee with his crotch. now that he knew how to press your buttons, he wasn’t ever going to let you live.

right now, your face was red as your blood boiled, sitting in the drivers room as your leg bounced. the two of you had it out again today, the crew immediately separating the two of you and telling you both to knock it off.

the embarrassment from your crew telling you to quit acting like a child replayed in your head the rest of the day and as you sat in drivers room, and slowly your anger turned into sadness. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but you failed. the tear rolled down your cheek and you sniffled to yourself.

but of course, the door opened at the wrong time, causing you to wipe your cheeks quickly before looking at who decided to barge in. your eyes met lando’s green ones, which immediately softened upon looking at you.

“can i help you with something?”

he licked his lips, his brain going a mile a minute. why were you crying? was it because of him? fuck.

“i uhm,” he stammered over his words, letting out a breath before speaking, “are you crying?”

you shook your head, wiping your cheek on the shoulder of your race suit, “no.”

he knew better, though. the door closed behind him as he sat across from you, “you don’t have to lie, y/n.”

the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue with that stupid accent made your stomach do flips, but you refused to give in. this is what he wanted, right? pull you close enough to destroy you and prove to everyone that you’re actually not good enough to be here.

“why do you care?” you asked, an eyebrow raising, “it’s not like you actually give a fuck, so can you go somewhere else with your fake sympathy?”

he immediately got defensive, “what makes you think i don’t care about you? would i have run over to you the other day at practice when you crashed if i didn’t care about you?”

you thought back to last week, your car going into the barrier on the track. lando had seen the crash, immediately following the crew onto the track and ignoring the drop in his stomach. you had climbed out, shaken up but okay when he reached you. he grabbed onto your shoulders after you tugged your mask and helmet off, your eyes distant as he searched them.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with concern, “y/n, are you okay?”

you snapped out of it, meeting his eyes before you looked down at your body, “i think so…?”

he grabbed your face into his hands gently, turning your face side to side as he tried to examine you. the medics pulled up, rushing over to you.

“it’s okay, we’ve got it from here.” the female said to lando. he hesitated before he let go, letting them lead you over to the back of the ambulance to check you over. you looked back at him, the feeling of his hands on your cheeks lingering as they ushered you in.

you looked back at the brit, shrugging, “i dunno.”

he chuckled, but it wasn’t laced with humor, more like disappointment, “okay,”

“why would i think that when you’re always trying to prove that you’re better than me?”

he didn’t say anything, looking down at the tile floor, “because i’m threatened by you.”

you scoffed, “tell me something i don’t know.”

“no, you don’t get it,” he said, sitting up again, “i’m threatened by you because you’re good. you’re insanely good. you race well, you train hard, everyone here loves you, the fans. you’re an inspiration. something i’ve always wanted to be for someone.”

your attitude shifted, looking over at the boy across from you. he wore a sad, regretful face as he played with the zipper on his suit.

“you’re an inspiration, lando,” you said, “the little boy who dressed up like you the other day? the one who said he wanted to be just like you?”

he shrugged, “one boy compared to thousands of little girls who see themselves in you. i know i shouldn’t be upset, you’re literally changing history, but seeing it makes me wish i was someone like you.”

“you’re right, you’re not like me,” you said, moving to sit next to him, “you’re lando norris, the one who got P2 in your home grand prix a few weeks ago, the one who goes out of their way to say hi to literally all the fans and take pictures with them. you’re literally someone’s ray of sunshine.”

he smiled softly, letting you continue, “be like you. don’t be like me, lan.”

his head snapped up at the nickname, “did you just call me ‘lan’?”

a smile spread across his face and you let out a soft laugh, “i guess i did.”

he smiled back, “thank you, though. i needed that. and, i’m sorry for how i’ve been towards you.”

you waved him off, the smile still playing at your lips. you tried to bite it back with your lower lip tucked between your teeth. he swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight. you nodded your head softly, “we’re cool. just pipe down the ego a bit, yeah?”

he let out a chuckle. being this close to him made you realize there was a hint of blue in his green eyes, the short stubble growing back from where he had shaved his facial hair. he was undeniably pretty and you were getting wrapped up in him and distracted. he was doing the same, his eyes scanning over every single one of your facial features as he tried his hardest to memorize them.

you smiled softly, “why’re you looking at me like that?”

he smirked, “you mean the same way you’re looking at me?”

you blushed, turning away from him but his eyes were still locked onto you. you went to stand up, smiling softly at him as it was nearing the beginning of the next race.

“i’ll see you out there.”

he smiled, “see you out there, doll.”

you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh as you let the door close behind you, the nickname no longer making your blood boil but suddenly making your stomach do flips.

lando norris was going to be the death of you.

[ive-been-timebombed]

PART THREE

💥Danny the avoider💥 and ✨Jason the Daddy issues✨

Jason decidedly hated Wickham. Both in the story and the blue dumbass. He had barely caught Dick when he decided to take an early leave and the damn floating asshat is just watching him like he was a the best thing he had seen in fucking years.

He needed to get Big Bird to the cave to check out whatever the fuck is happening to him. He needed to deal with the being and he didn’t know where to start. He can’t just shoot this problem and leave the problem could kill him with a snap of its fingers.. are they even fingers? The damn claws on it said otherwise..

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” Jason glared at the being pulled his brother up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Ghost, like you.?” The being spoke it looked awkward and it was picking at its nails similar to a kid.

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ Jason adjusted his helmet onto his head and looked around for his guns and the Dickheads sticks. Ignoring that panicking face of the being.

______

“God damn it- The fuck are you even supposed to be?” His son- his baby.. he can’t believe that his baby is right in front of him.. the very same one that he held all night when they wouldn’t stop crying.. the very same one that had explosive poops almost every night. Okay he didn’t miss that part. Or the other.. but he missed when he could look at his baby in the bed sleeping as laugh at the small snores that reminded him of his father’s. Or even the smile the kid had whenever he got back from work and picked him up from the neighbors.. oh god.. he really fucked up.. he gave his child away because of how selfish he was.

Back on track- wait did his kid not know he was a ghost? Actually he couldn’t judge. He didn’t either.. kinda really just thought he gained meta powers and not died.

“Ghost, like you.?” Danny said to his kid he felt so damn awkward.. he knew he should be more confident- being the king god thing of basically all does that to one. Take Pariah Dark for example. He was ugly yet still had the confidence to speak like he was the toughest guy around. Good reasons too, at the time he was the toughest guy around. Ghost? Guy? Same thing. No it’s not..

“Like me? The fuck you know about me. I ain’t know you and you don’t know me. Actually let’s keep it that way. Fuck off back to wherever the hell you came from-“ His kid truly hadn’t had a clue what he- wait. No, no, no he can’t lose his kid again. He already lost the rest of his friends and family he can’t lose his kid. Sure he had the ghosts and Ellie but this was his kid! The same kid that he held for three hours straight the night before he had to give his child away. He couldn’t let go again he couldn’t- wouldn’t. He knows where he is now- his core! He almost forgot! He needs to do something about that-

“No!” Danny yelled a bit louder than he wanted. His kid looked over at him his face was covered by the helmet thing. Why was his kid wearing that? “I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” His baby- grown up baby.. he didn’t see his baby grow up- held up the gun he had found on the ground pointing it at Danny,

“Oh- sorry” Danny floated back a bit he didn’t even notice that he got closer, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

Danny was a horrible parent wasn’t he? He horrible, horrendous, good for nothing parent. Oh.. he shouldn’t ruin his baby’s unlife anymore than he did. He should just fix his core make sure he is okay and leave. Is it getting hard to breathe or is that just him..? He could feel his core crying out to his baby’s core.. he couldn’t leave him again. He couldn’t but he had to. His baby had a life that wasn’t with him. He needed to respect that.. the lump in his throat didn’t go away.. in fact only got worse at the thought.

_________

“No!” The being yelled. It scared Jason. It was like his insides, his brain.. the pits wanted to go up to the being and hug it. Like it could fix all his problems with just a hug and a few words.. like he felt when he got those faint memories of his bio dad. He was told he was adopted or given away by his bio dad to his mom. His Ma explained that his dad, better than the Willis, His dad had wanted nothing more than to keep him. But he was in big trouble and made the decision to give him away for his safety. Lot of good that did. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if his dad didn’t give him away. Would he be happier? Would he have different siblings? Would he be in college and become a lit major? Or even an author? Would he have died..? Would his dad avenge him unlike Bruce.? Is his dad even alive..?

“I mean- Your core it’s malnourished. You stay like that any longer you’ll- uh.. I don’t know I didn’t pay that much attention to Frostbite. But you need help-“ The being continued, who the hell was Frostbite? Jason didn’t care enough to ask. He needed to not be near the thing that made him think so clearly.

“My core? That fuck is a core, also back the fuck up.” Jason almost relaxed his body with how close the being got. He needed to not be here. At all. Away.

“Oh- sorry” The being floated back even apologized, “Your core, it’s basically your soul, mind, and organ in a tiny ball. It’s malnourished because- your parent was horrible and didn’t get you your ectoplasm!”

“My parents were fucking awesome! My Ma was the best mother I could’ve asked for- Sure my adoptive dad was shitty as hell. But my Ma told me even my bio dad loved me like a life line. That he gave me up for my safety! Fuck even the only damn picture I had of my father he looked at baby me like a was the best thing in the world!” Jason snapped he knew he didn’t turn out like Dick or even fucking replacement, the picture perfect son but he knew his Ma and Dad loved him like they were supposed to. The only picture he had of his Dad was destroyed in the explosion. The picture was of his Dad, the somewhat skimpy black haired with white at the nape man, the blue eyed the was cold but looked at him with warmth, the man that had a scar on his lip and inhuman sharp teeth man holding a two or three year old Jason who was sleeping in his fathers lap. He loved that picture like it was the last bit of air on earth. He reminded him that he had someone out there that loved him out of the streets, when he was fighting with Bruce, when he was an idiot and got himself killed.. fuck.. he even tried to yell for him when he was laying on the cold concrete covered in his own blood after the Joker left him.

The being looked at him with wide eyes, it tilted his head and his mouth open a bit like he was gonna say something. That’s when Jason noticed it. The scar on the beings lip. The exact same scar that he used to look for on every man in Gotham when he was younger. The same scar that he looked at for years in the picture of his father. The same scar he wanted to give himself just to have something to remember him.

“Wait-“ Jason started his voice cracked, like a fucking teenager. Then the fucking man himself, Batman, broke through the window making Jason look at him then back over at the being in a panic only to see nothing but an empty room. Not even the summoning circle was there. The only evidence left was Wickham..

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #128 part 3

Danny walked into the room behind Batman to find his soulmate sitting on the couch. He had a first aid kit on the table in front of him but it wasn’t open and Jason seemed to just be resting for the moment. Well until he started speaking. 

“Take off the helmet, I’ve already seen my own damn face and it’ll make this fucking conversation that much easier.” Danny shuffled his feet for a moment before doing what he said and taking the helmet off. 

Setting it down on the table he sat down next to Jason and held out his hand. Skin contact was how you and your soulmate got back in their own bodies. Jason didn’t take it though. 

“Hold on, I was serious about those questions, can I guarantee you won’t bolt the second you’re in your own body?” 

Danny kind of chucked, it was a hollow half hearted kind of noise. “You and I both know what kind of state I’m in right now, I'd have better luck staying in your body.” 

Jason seemed to think it over for a moment before shrugging and taking Danny’s hand. A brilliant light and he was back in his own body, he was in much more pain than he remembered. 

Danny grimaced as he got into a more comfortable position, “I’d like to start with… an apology.” Danny was choosing his words carefully. He stopped to think for a moment before continuing, “I haven’t had the best experiences with circuses or clowns in the past,” the room and the com remained silent. “When I saw the Joker in front of me, I was terrified, my fists couldn’t help tensing… I swear I didn’t know I was holding guns until they went off.” Danny could feel himself start to babble a little bit.

His soulmate held up his hands, “so, if what you're telling me is correct the bastard clown is dead?”

Danny nodded hesitantly, after his babbling to Red Hood he was unable to say anything else. 

Jason continued, “alright, we can deal with that later. What Id like to focus on now,” he leaned in and gave Danny a harsh look that made him shrink in his seat a little, “what the fuck happened to you before the switch, gotta tell you, not a fan of whatever all that was.” He made a big hand motion gesturing all around him.

Another pause Danny didn’t know what to say, of course that didn’t slide with Jason. 

“Speak up, I don’t even know your name and you already know my identity.” Jason narrowed his eyes at Danny. 

He was right of course so Danny gathered a little bit of courage, “I’m Danny,” when Jason didn’t respond he let his gaze fall onto the floor and tightened his fists before continuing, “I honestly don’t know where to begin, I’m willing to tell you but could we maybe do it alone?” 

He took the communications device out of his ear and switched it off. Jason nodded and reached over to turn the com off his helmet. The only one left in the room was Batman and after a few moments of them staring back and forth at each other Jason spoke,

“He’s MY soulmate and not you or anyone else needs to hear this. It’s his business, if he decides to let you know what up we’ll let you but leave old man.” Jason’s words were stern and harsh but it eventually got the point across. Danny wondered briefly about how close he was with Batman considering how familiar he seemed to be speaking with him. Batman left after a few minutes and the two were left alone on the couch sitting across from each other. 

Danny took a moment to breath l but before he could begin Jason held up a hand, “hold on, let’s get your wounds properly looked at while you're talking. I won’t take no for an answer.” Danny sighed and mulled it over for a second but then relented and took his shirt off. It wasn’t pretty and the rags he wrapped around himself as a faux gauze wouldn’t hold in the long run. Jason seemed to stare at it for a moment before moving to open the first aid kit. Danny started talking after the shirt was off.

“I might as well rip off the bandaid so to say, I’ve been on the run from a government run agency. I’m…” he paused after he noticed how still the other seemed to get after the rags were completely gone. A large angry Y shape was across his chest, an everlasting reminder of the awful things that happened during his stay at the GIW facility. His soulmate's eyes flashed green and he looked away, seeming like he was trying to control his anger. There was a pause in the air, the kind of awkward moment where it just feels like bad luck to break.

“…What government organization?” Jason said after regaining his composure.

“They’re called the GIW or Ghost Investigation Ward, long story short there exists a law. If something produces the substance called ectoplasm, the life blood of ghosts, they are considered non sentient. They mistook me for a ghost.” Danny decided to go for half truths, with everything that happened he thought he probably shouldn’t tell his soulmate exactly everything. 

“And the belt?” Oh, that was one question he was hoping to avoid. 

“Ah, sorry if you got shocked, it’s set to shock me when I touch it, guess they wanted a way to subdue me if needed.” Danny joked, he knew he was thin and he was still a little short. He didn’t grow that much after the accident, he wondered how much taller he could have gotten if given the chance.

I’ll have these parts sectioned out a little better if I start posting on AO3. This talk will continue in part 4

Master Post:

Previous:

Next:

[indulgentdaydream]

Hello!

Can you do Jason todd x reader where he's crushing on the newest vigilante in Gotham?

Thank you

New in Town

Jason Todd x Reader || Fluff || Word Count: 1,185

Warnings: profanity (swearing), death mention, violence, low-key stalking but not really??

Wrote half of the fic. Was nearly finished. It didn’t save. 😩 the ONE time i decide to write outside of the notes app

I love the idea of Jason crushing on someone like a teenage boy because he never actually GOT that chance as a teenager so he never learned how to cope with those kind of feelings, so I sprinkled that in here.

I feel like this is poorly written forgive me 🙏

He hadn’t heard of you until six months ago. He hadn’t cared then, either. You kept to the other side of the city, you didn’t pose a threat, and he was already preoccupied with his own things to deal with. You weren’t that important to him.

Jason was walking across rooftops. Two weeks, roughly, since he had caught wind of the new name, aligned with the rest of the bats.

It was a night where the rain had let up for once. It wasn’t perfect, though. Never was. The clouds still too thick to see the bright moon and stars.

He was looking for an address, one that seemingly didn’t exist. He landed on another rooftop of a short apartment building. Jason could hear the sounds of two people fighting down in the alley below him.

He walked to the edge, looked down, and there you were. Dressed up in your vigilante gear, fighting some thug.

He crouched, watching. This was much more entertaining then his fake address.

The thug was much bigger than you, but you handled yourself well. The thug lurched forward. You planted a hard, flat, kick to his stomach. He stumbled back. You got in a good punch, a right hook. The thug went with it. He bashed his back off the corner of a dumpster before crumbling to the ground.

Jason nodded once in approval. You didn’t play.

You both saw it at the same time. The clouds parted for a moment behind Jason, the light of the moon shining down over Gotham for just a moment.

The shadow of the top of the apartment split the alleyway below in half, with Jason’s crouched form’s shadow landing right in front of the thug.

He stood up and stepped back from the edge just as you started to look up. He was out of sight before you could see him. At most, you saw the glint of his helmet, but nothing else.

He walked away. He didn’t want to deal with this.

Three weeks later, Jason’s standing on a catwalk in one of Gotham’s many abandoned warehouses. He’s high enough up, hidden within a shadow, that they couldn’t see him even if they had the brains to check up instead of around.

He’s holding his AR-15, pointed down below at the drug dealers he’s been following all week. His aim is steady, mind going over the motions of the possibilities.

“Psst.”

Jason whipped his head up. He aimed the rifle in front of him. There, on the other catwalk, ten feet away from him, was you.

You were leaning on the railing, smiling. Jason didn’t like how his first thought was the realization that this was the closest he had ever been to you.

“Want some help?” You whispered loudly, your smile pulling into a grin.

He looked back down, fixing his aim, “No.”

You leaned further over the railing, exposing nearly half your body to the drug dealers below if they so happened to look up. You whispered your name. Your vigilante name, that is. He didn’t respond.

“Rude,” he heard you mutter. You stayed silent for just a moment as he watched the dealers walk around their table, complaining about their business not showing up. The business that Jason had left dead in an alleyway an hour ago.

Silent treatment wasn’t going to work. You spoke up again, “Why didn’t you say hello? When you saw me in the alley?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” Except he had wanted to, just not like that. And not like this.

It was your turn to stay silent. Jason looked up without moving. With his helmet, you couldn’t tell if he was, or was watching the men below.

Standing up straight again, your head was turned away a little, obviously listening to somebody babble away in your ear.

He looked back down before you turned your head back, “Welp, should’ve accepted my offer. I gotta go.”

“Buh-bye,” Jason said dryly before you were walking off down the catwalk.

What can he say? He was intrigued after that. He’d watch you fight from hidden corners, never daring to step out. He waited for the right opportunity to talk to you again. He… did it for too long. A couple months too long.

It wasn’t stalking. That’s what he told himself. He hadn’t pushed to discover your identity, hadn’t learned your exact schedule. He just… kept looking for a chance to talk.

Jason hated it. Hated that he couldn’t come up with a way to approach you. Hated how he got tongue tied thinking about it. How his palms got damp. What could he say?

He ran into Dick one night. They sat on the edge of a building and talked. Which turned to bickering for a while, before it came into a “Who had the worst Bruce experience” argument.

He shut up the second you landed on the roof behind them, “I could hear you two from an entire street over.”

Dick clapped his hands together, a smile breaking out at the sight of you. Jason turned to watch. He walked over, happily calling your name. He got to you, pointing at Jason as he slipped an arm around your shoulders, “Tell this guy he’s wrong.”

You frowned, “I don’t even know this guy.”

Jason remembered he had taken off his helmet, left in only his domino mask. You couldn’t see the rest of his clothes from the fact he’s sitting facing away from you.

Speak! Dammit! He chided himself. He picked up his helmet from his side, bringing it around to show you. He watched your eyes widen in recognition.

“Ooooh,” you immediately nodded, “Yeah. You’re wrong.”

Jason found his words with an amused smirk, “You don’t even know what for.”

You shrug and Dick laughs, “That’s the spirit!”

Jason turned back around. He pretended like he was watching the city line, but he was really listening to yours and Dick’s conversation. He kept trying to look for ways in, ways to talk to you.

Now! Nope, Dick said something unrelated, too quickly. Now your conversation went in that direction. Here! Too late. He hesitated.

He stopped listening, pursing his lips in annoyance at his own stupid, boyish inability to talk to the attractive new vigilante.

“Oh… he said he didn’t want to talk to me. Probably annoyed by my presence.”

He tuned back in.

“How rude.”

“That’s what I said!”

Jason looked back over his shoulder. The two of you were standing there, arms crossed, looking at him.

“What?”

Dick seemed to remember something, “Have you two even been formally introduced?”

You grumbled something along the lines of, “Tried that.”

Jason shrugged, “I’ve seen them around,” he met your eyes, “You fight good.”

What kind of fucking compliment is that?

“So do you,” you smiled.

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. You could see the movement through the domino mask, “You’ve never seen me fight.”

You grinned, pointing at him, “That’s what you think.”

Jason smirked a little. Oh, he liked you, alright.

[bad268]

I love you work oh my lord !!! Can you do another Pezzy x reader I adore them and no one seems to request them much !! Something fluffy !! ( established relationship if possible !)

Confess or Drink Pt. 2 (Pezzy X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (I also combinded this with @strawberrycheesecake3 's request of Confess or Drink pt. 2. Hope y'all don't mind <3)

Warnings: language, jokes of domestic violence (trust it's light-hearted)

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1283

Summary: The day after the infamous Truth or Drink stream.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<- Part 1

~~(^Pinterest)

The ride to the nearest iHop wasn’t bad. I had ridden with Pezzy before, and it wasn’t any different than the hundred other times I rode with him. When we pulled up to the iHop, Pezzy shut off the bike and held out his hand to help me off.

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” I joked in a posh accent as I stepped off the bike and pulled my helmet off.

“Oh of course,” He joked back, taking his helmet off as well before standing up and gesturing toward the door. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I took his hand as he led us inside. There weren’t many people, so we got seated pretty quickly. We got to our table, ordered coffees, and sat quietly as we looked over the menus as if we both didn’t already know what we were getting.

“So,” I trailed off as I put my menus down and took a slow drink of my coffee. “Do we wanna talk about last night?”

“Let me just say this first,” Pezzy rushed as he put his menus down too. “I just need to know if it was a bit for the stream.”

“No…? What made you think it would have been a bit?” I asked confused. Everybody knows that alcohol brings out the truth in people, and I was certain he felt the same. At least, that’s what Grizzy told me, so I left loose for the stream. I decided before I started drinking that if I said anything, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“It’s just,” Pezzy hesitated, looking anywhere but at me. “With our job, we like to exaggerate things, and I don’t know if that’s one of the things.”

“Max,” I stated, and his attention snapped to me. In all the years I had known him, I never used his name unless I was being serious. He was always Pezzy or Pez to me. Always has been. “I wouldn’t fuck with you like that. What I said, I meant. You don’t understand how long I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, and when y'all invited me for the truth or drink stream, I thought I would just go with the flow. If I confessed, I confessed and we would figure it out later. We’ve always been a team, and I couldn’t stop myself from falling. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want.”

“I never said I didn’t want you,” Pezzy said quietly as he reached across the table to hold my hand. “I have waited years for my dream to come true, I’m just a coward and never took the first step. I would have rather been your friend than risk losing you altogether. Your confession was the best thing ever.” He stopped for a second and looked expectantly at me.

“This makes sense,” I laughed, leaning my head down to rest on the table for a second before looking back up at him, resting my head against my open palm. “Our whole friendship has been flirty because we were harboring feelings for each other. It’s no wonder the fans thought we were dating the first day I joined your stream.”

“No way the fans clocked us first,” Pezzy groaned as he smacked his face into his hand. Just then the waiter showed up to place our orders. We both ordered our breakfasts/lunches, and the waiter took off to put the orders in. That’s when Pezzy turned his attention back to me,” So where does this leave us?”

“Where do you want us to go from here?” I teased, taking a small sip of my coffee as I eyed Pezzy over the rim of the mug.

“I’d like to take you out,” Pezzy replied confidently as he also took a sip from his coffee, looking at me the same way I looked at him.

“I really hope you mean on a date,” I chuckled, causing Pezzy to choke on the hot liquid.

“Well, what the hell else would I mean?” He hissed as he leaned closer, confused.

“Take me out like,” I pause as I make a gesture of slicing my neck. Pezzy’s expression went from confusing to shock in seconds as I laughed. “I’m kidding just so you know.”

“I would hope so! I’d never take you out like that!” Pezzy gasped before smirking. “I’d use a gun.”

“Woah! Not even through our first date and you're talking about murdering me,” I said a little louder than the rest of our conversation as the few patrons looked over at us concerned. Pezzy frantically slapped at my arms to get me to quiet down. “Oh, and now you’re hitting me? This is domestic abuse!”

“No, no, no, stop,” He groaned with a small smile, knowing this was just how I liked to tease him. Everyone was still looking over at us, concerned, so Pezzy tried to remedy the situation. “It’s fine, we’re joking!”

“Um, your food,” The waiter said confused as he stood in front of our table with the food. 

“Oh, thank you,” Pezzy said, uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on us. 

“If we didn’t take the bike, I would suggest we take it to go,” I laughed as the waiter set our food down.

“We still could,” Pezzy offered. “I could drive slower than normal and we could head home. Or we could go to the park that’s like a block away.”

“I like that plan,” I smiled at Pezzy before turning my attention to the waiter. “Could we next boxes and the check please?”

Later that night Grizzy and Droid came back to the house, and we had Puffer over again. We didn’t plan on filming, but we were a group of friends who had nothing else better to do that night. We were all sitting in Grizzy’s recording room as the four of them played Mario Kart. I sat at Grizzy’s desk, so I could read chat.

“What happened after the stream? I need to know.” A lot of the chat had this or something similar, and part of me wanted to ignore it, but another part of me wanted to see what Pezzy felt.

“Hey guys,” I got their semi-attention because they were in the middle of a lap, “Chat wants to know what happened after the stream.”

“Pezzy got laid, that’s what,” Droid said immediately as all of the guys laughed minus Pezzy and myself. “Okay, not really. Grizzy and I stayed at Puffer’s place.”

“And we went to iHop,” Pezzy said just before cursing as he got hit by a red shell.

“Is that code for something?” Puffer whispered to Grizzy but their mics caught it clearly.

“No, it’s not code for anything,” I laughed at them. “We went to iHop, made a few questionable jokes about killing each other, and left to come home. It’s not that deep.”

“Not that deep! Pezzy never goes to iHop!” Grizzy pointed out as they all crossed the finish line with Puffer winning (shocker!). “He must really like you if you convinced him to go to iHop.”

“He took me there on his own accord,” I admitted as I put my hands up in mock surrender. 

“Because I know you like it!” Pezzy defended himself, and silence fell around the room. All of us looked between each other before I slowly turned my attention back to the screens. I briefly looked directly into the camera before leaning into the microphone.

“Pezzy and I may or may not be together now, so that also happened,” I whispered into the mic before glancing back at the rest of the boys who were not shocked at all.

“FUCKING FINALLY!”

~~~~~

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