#but I think with pain especially it’s easy to just be like ‘oh yeah it eased up’

[vaguely-concerned]

Thinking about the symbolic weight of smoking in the TLT universe that comes to the fore in The Unwanted Guest -- the way it moves through from person to person: Pyrrha smoked, and Augustine wanted to impress her in all her stone cold fox MILF James Bond glory (and tbf who wouldn't) so he started too. and even though as far as he knows she's been gone for a myriad and is never coming back, he keeps the habit. Ianthe sees something in the hollowed-out Faberge eggshell of Augustine that resonates with her, all that gilded eloquent emptiness and disdain through the ages, so she picked it up from him to try to emulate it. She picked it up so hard that Palamedes -- the exact spiritual antithesis of the 'smoking! on a space station! what a powermove' ennui Ianthe so admired -- spontaneously unnerded enough to even known how to, simply from a sort of contact contamination of the soul.

G1deon and Augustine sharing a jittery smoke after their near-Harrow experience during soup night, and it's the closest thing to any real sense of brotherhood that remains between them. Pyrrha going ten thousand years dying both literally and for a smoke (and then Camilla sold her fucking cigarettes (for a third of what they were worth, probably Pyrrha's own good, and also more importantly grocery money). what an entirely haunted time to be alive etc.). Augustine and Mercy trading a cigarette back and forth in the middle of their collusion over the love and murder of god.

An act of small and measured self-destruction in the name of something a little bit like connection when you're stuck somewhere in yourself where love itself dares not or cannot tread (ritualized, transmissible)..........

[littlespoonevan]

always so wild to me when u can actually feel medication working like I have a really bad headcold rn and when I dragged myself up off the couch earlier to brush my teeth I Truly felt like I was going to collapse I was so weak but then I took my little cold and flu tablet and now, legit less than half an hour later, I feel almost human again???? Remarkable

[autism-corner]

i love handsewing but man this would be 100 times easier if i actually had a machine.

[wyvernest]

back massages

pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader

warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping

summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour

"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.

"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"

You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."

"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.

"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.

He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.

But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.

He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.

Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.

"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.

"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-

"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-

"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.

He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.

"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.

"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."

Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.

"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."

You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.

Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.

"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.

"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"

Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.

Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.

"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.

Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.

Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.

"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.

"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."

Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.

"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.

You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.

The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions have you shivering lightly.

"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.

"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.

In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.

He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me give you one too, cariño."

You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.

How could you possibly say no?

You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.

The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.

His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.

Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.

You start feeling your pulse in your neck.

One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.

Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.

"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.

A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.

He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.

“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”

He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.

Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.

“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.

‘Don’t stop.’

Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.

You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.

As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.

A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.

“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”

He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.

He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.

Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.

His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you

You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.

A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.

Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.

“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.

A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.

His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.

It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.

He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.

With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.

You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.

The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.

a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Too Easy

Request: Anonymous asked: "okay i have a tyler owens request!! him and reader are both tornado wranglers and they’ve always had a somewhat flirty relationship, but at one point they’re out chasing and the motel they stay at that night doesn’t have enough rooms for all of them so Tyler and the reader decide to share and reader has a nightmare? or just some kind of angst or hurt/comfort with a happy ending? love ur work!"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, tornado mention

A/N: I changed it from flirty to an enemies to lovers-type relationship, just because i've been craving to write that type of banter. as always, comments & replies are super appreciated!!! thanks for reading :)

As soon as you saw the familiar red Dodge truck parked outside the motel you groaned. 

“Is this guy everywhere, all the time?” Halle, one of your crew members, mumbled from the driver’s seat. She pulled your SUV into the only empty spot in the parking lot. 

She was referencing Tyler– another local storm chaser and absolute pain in your ass. His Ram truck was like a symbol all around Oklahoma. Everyone in the midwest knew his name– and what he did. You, on the other hand, knew him as a self-absorbed jerk that constantly put his and his team’s lives in danger for a few hundred thousand views on YouTube. He was cocky and obnoxious and arrogant. And you couldn’t stand him. 

Unfortunately for you though, Tyler Owens and his entire team went where the storms went. Which meant that you were stuck dealing with him– especially during tornado season. 

“Let’s just get a room, maybe we missed him,” you mumbled before turning to the backseat. “Anna, could you pass me my bag?” 

“Sure thing,” she replied, grunting as she handed your duffel over. 

“How about two rooms tonight?” you suggested. “I feel like I haven’t actually slept since we were in Austin.”

“God, I’ve been waiting for you to suggest that,” Halle mumbled. The bags around her eyes suggested she was just as eager for a good night’s sleep as you were. 

Together, the three of you dragged yourselves towards the motel lobby, exhausted and desperate for both a shower and a bed. 

“Why don’t you guys wait with all the gear? I’ll go in and book the rooms,” you offered. 

“Two of them,” Halle said with a relieved smile. 

“Two rooms coming up,” you promised. 

They nodded in agreement and settled in on the curb while you wandered inside. The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside. As soon as you did, you realized that, to your absolute dismay, a familiar someone had already beat you to the front desk. You’d recognize those stupid, broad shoulders any day, even if you were sleep deprived.  

“Evenin’ m’lady,” Tyler’s little sidekick said teasingly. He tipped his baseball cap towards you.   

“Hey Boone,” you greeted back curtly.   

“What’d ya think of that beaut earlier, huh? Not too often we get two storm cells like that.”

“Yeah it was somethin’,” you replied absentmindedly. Honestly, you didn’t dislike Boone. He was friendly– maybe a little overzealous for your liking, but overall a nice guy. It was a shame he was always around Tyler– otherwise you might not always be so annoyed with him, too.  

“There she is,” Tyler beamed. He approached you and Boone while he tucked a few room keys in his wallet. “Were you fillin’ Boone in on why you picked the wrong storm to chase today? Because that’s a story I want to hear–” 

Your gaze fell to the floor, chest tightening the same way it did in the field earlier. “The winds changed last minute– I didn’t catch it,” you muttered, although you shouldn’t even have to explain yourself to this hillbilly. 

“Ah, I see. Man, you’re off your game, sweetheart. Usually it’s me missin’ those signs. What do you got cloudin’ up that pretty little mind of yours?” 

Anger began seeping into the corners of your mind. “Why do you even care?” you asked icily. “Thought you’d be happy to have that storm all to yourself.”

“Oh, I was sweetheart,” Tyler winked. “But I don’t mind sharin’ with you.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him towards the front desk. A younger girl with short, red hair offered you a smile. “How can I help you?”

“I need two rooms please,” you requested, it took about all the energy you had left to smile back. 

The girl sucked in a breath of air. “Oh, I’m so sorry– this gentleman here just rented three rooms. All we have left is one.”

“One?” you asked in disbelief, mouth falling open. 

She nodded. “There’s two beds, though, if that helps.”

“Shit,” you grumbled. Your team was exhausted– and you knew that you couldn’t just take back your promise for them to have their own beds. 

“I’m sorry–” the girl repeated, but you shook your head. 

“No, it’s okay. Not your fault,” you said quickly, trying to remember your manners.. 

“Somethin’ wrong over there sweetheart?” Tyler asked teasingly.  

“Yeah, you took all but one of the rooms. Now my team doesn’t have enough.”

“C’mon, I’ve seen you guys cram into one room before.”

“Yeah, but they’re exhausted. We haven’t had our own beds in weeks and I promised them…” your voice trailed off. Why the hell were you even explaining any of this to him? “You know what? Just forget it–” you turned back towards the receptionist. “I’ll take the one room, please.”

After passing your card over and paying, you turned and pushed back past Tyler and Boone. But before you could reach the door, Tyler’s voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What are you just gonna go back on your promise? That’s really gonna disappoint your team–”

“I’ll sleep in the damn truck,” you snapped, zero patience for any of his sarcasm or feeble attempts at a joke. “Happy?”

“Hey–” he said, voice softening instantly. “I was just kiddin’ around.”

“Really funny,” you said, sarcasm dripping off your tongue, now more than usual, Tyler was getting on your nerves. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and disappoint my team.”

Without waiting for whatever retort Tyler could come up with next, you finally pushed your way through the door without looking back. 

You found Halle and Anna in the same place you left them– still sitting on the curb, slouched over and exhausted-looking.  

“Hey guys, bad news–” you began, guilt already spreading through your stomach. But before you could, the bell to the lobby door rang out, causing you to groan.  

You took a deep, steadying breath to calm your nerves, just in time for Tyler to speak. “Now I have an idea– how about we share? I got three rooms for my team, but that’s six beds… we only need five.”

You spun around so fast, you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash. “Look Tyler, as much as you know I love your antics, can we not do this right now? Please?”

“Who said anythin’ about antics?” he pressed. “I’m bein’ serious here. Your two can have their beds and you can take one of ours.”

“No way,” you spat quickly. “I’m sleeping in the car.”

By now, Halle and Anna had seemingly picked up on the situation. They stood up and crossed their arms disapprovingly in unison. 

“You can’t sleep in the car, that’s ridiculous,” Anna said. 

“Yeah, why don’t you and Anna take the room and I’ll share with Tyler’s crew,” Halle offered. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I promised you guys a good night’s sleep tonight– I’m not letting you crash with them.”

“Well we’re not letting you sleep in the car,” Halle argued back. “It’s like… eighty-five degrees out here.” 

You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, trying to think. But the truth was, you really were just so, so tired. You wanted everything about today– the storm cells you got wrong from earlier, the endless hours of driving, and lack of sleep, over with. And if bunking with someone from Tyler’s crew was the only way to make that happen, well then, so be it, you finally decided. Better you than Halle or Anna. 

“See– even your team isn’t as scared of us as you are,” Tyler chuckled. 

“Fine,” you snapped, shaking your head in disbelief. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Who am I sharing with?”

Maybe you’d get lucky and get to room with Dani or Lilly–

“That would be me,” Tyler chirped, eyes glistening under the streetlamp. 

Well fuck me, you thought. 

…

You curled up in the double bed closest to the wall. By the time you got up to the room, Tyler had already claimed the one closest to the door.

You heard the water snap off in the bathroom, followed by the sound of Tyler peeling back the shower curtain. That was your cue to feign sleep, if only to avoid any further conversation with him for the night. You rolled over and pulled the blankets up to your chin. 

After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom– the noise from the fan growing louder and a sudden whiff of his shampoo washing over you. You’d never admit it– but the way he smelled was actually one of the few things you liked about Tyler. 

“I know you’re not sleepin’,” he said as he began rummaging through his bag. 

“How the hell would you know that?” you groaned. 

You heard him chuckle softly. “Because you wouldn’t have answered if you were.”

This fucking cowboy. 

“Well I’d like to be sleeping,” you said, still not rolling over to face him. 

“And here I was hopin’ we’d use our little sleepover to get to know each other a little better.”

“You can lay off the act,” you said suddenly, all of your anger and exhaustion just melting into a pool of unfiltered irritation. 

There was a brief pause before Tyler replied, “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no audience in here– no team members watching, no YouTube subscribers viewing us. You don’t have to pretend to be all sweet and charming.”

“I wasn’t aware I was pretending–”

“Oh cut the shit, Tyler. You love to drive me crazy me– just admit it. And it's probably my fault for letting you get to me so easily. But I mean, c'mon, was it your plan all along to just get me to share a room with you so you could keep me up all night getting to know me better?”

He let out a huff of air that sounded frustrated, as opposed to his usual amusement. “You’re something else, Y/N, you know that?”

You were caught off guard by Tyler’s use of your actual name. He always resorted to nicknames– either sweetheart or the town he knew you were from. In fact, in the few years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever repeated your name was the first time you told it to him. 

You sat up in bed and finally turned to face him– trying to gauge his demeanor. 

“I offer you a room– I didn’t have to do that, you know? And believe it or not, I didn’t offer it to you just to make your life miserable. I did it because I didn’t like the idea of you sleepin’ in your car alone–” he shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”

Before you could even think of a reply, Tyler was peeling back the covers of his own bed and crawling in. He laid on his left side, back facing you.

You stayed in place for a moment, too stunned to move or speak or do much of anything.

Eventually, you laid back down, trying your best to deny the pool of guilt spreading through your stomach.

… 

With one arm you held on to your sister's hand as hard as you could– feeling the muscles in your shoulder strain and pop as you did. 

“Hold on!” you shouted, pleading with her not to let go. 

With your other hand, you were clinging to the handle on the storm shelter door. Somehow it had managed to pop open after the two of you had escaped inside. 

She looked down at you, her body suspended in the air– nothing but sheer, unfiltered terror reflecting in her round-rimmed glasses. 

“C’mon!” you screamed. 

“Please–” she gasped. “Please don’t let me go!”

“I got you!” you screamed, but you could feel that your grip on her clammy hand wasn’t as tight as it needed to be. “No–” you yelled. 

“Don’t let me go–” she repeated, nails digging into your skin desperately. 

But you didn’t even have time to adjust your grip before she was slipping away– in the end, the winds won. 

In the blink of an eye, her body was being sucked away from you– further and further into the dark storm clouds barreling your way. 

“No!” you screamed, reaching for the spot her body was moments before. “No!” 

But then you felt your own grip slipping on the door handle and you knew you needed both hands to hold on if you wanted to survive. So, using all your strength– you dragged yourself to the bottom of the storm shelter. You found the safest corner– next to some old piping to curl up. 

The whole time the storm raged on above you– you couldn’t stop screaming. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against your knees, making yourself as small as possible. And then, with everything you had left, you wound your arms around the piping and held on like your life depended on it… because it did. 

…

Your name sounded so distant when you heard someone calling it– like it was miles away. Then, vaguely, it came more into focus as it was called again. 

The third time, it was right next to you– and it was familiar… but you didn’t dare to look up. What if the storm was still raging outside? What if it took you next? 

Hands gripped your shoulders– causing you to jolt awake. 

Your eyes shot open as you pulled yourself from your nightmare. Tyler was sitting on the edge of your bed, his mouth hung open, like he was out of breath. 

“Tyler?” you croaked, attempting to sit up from the mattress. 

“You’re okay,” he said instantly. “You’re okay– you’re safe.”

Once you had managed to sit up, you studied Tyler’s face for a moment, trying desperately to gauge if any of this was real. Despite the darkness around you, you could still make out every feature– every crease, every freckle, every single piece of stubble that made up his shaved beard. And as much as you’d admired Tyler’s face in the last few years, even you knew that you couldn’t have been that detailed in your imagination.   

You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing there– how he had gotten in her room, when all of a sudden, the same memories that had plagued you in your dream resurfaced in your mind.

The sight of the EF4 tornado that destroyed every inch of your childhood home. The image of your sister’s terrified face– right before she was ripped from your grasp. The sound of her scream, dissipating with the raging winds. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Tyler soothed. 

You turned to face him– Tyler was here because he’d let you share his room… because he was way kinder than you ever gave him credit for. And now he was here– witnessing you completely falling apart.

Tyler’s lips began moving– he was talking. But despite the vague comfort from his tone of voice, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying. It was like the winds were still raging around you– muffling everything. 

You felt like your heart might just beat out of your chest– maybe that was the tornado working to rip it from your skin. 

“Hey–” a voice… no, not a voice. Tyler’s voice, said. “You gotta breathe.”

What was he talking about? You were breathing– of course you were breathing. Unless... unless the tornado ripped out your lungs instead of your heart. And now that you thought about it, no, actually, you weren’t breathing. You tried to inhale in, but the air wouldn’t come. You gasped, chest tightening while you began to tremble. 

Your lungs weren’t in your chest– your lungs flew away– just like your sister.

Firm, rough hands cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look forward. You were met by Tyler’s green eyes, currently blown open and wide with worry. 

“Breathe, baby,” he instructed. “With me– look.”

Baby, you thought. That was a new one. You didn’t hate it nearly as much as you hated sweetheart. 

You watched desperately as Tyler inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly, like he was hoping you’d follow along.  

You tried. Really, you did.

Your wide, desperate eyes met his. But instead of following along, all you could do was imagine what your sister’s body had looked like after being struck by debris and tossed halfway across town–

“With me,” Tyler repeated firmly, his thumb stroking across the surface of your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, craving comfort. 

Tyler continued producing loud and deliberate, slow and calming breaths. After a few seconds, you latched onto the sound, mimicking it, and following along the best that you could. 

Your shoulders relaxed slightly when you realized that you could actually breathe– which meant that EF5 hadn’t actually ripped them out of your chest. 

Tyler’s brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “There you go,” he whispered.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly, feeling even guiltier than you had for snapping at him all night. 

He hesitated– like he was actually debating on lying to you or not. 

“Was I screaming?” 

“I mean, a little bit–”

You nodded before letting your gaze fall to your lap, where you began picking harshly at an old hangnail, a feeble attempt to distract yourself. 

“Do you–” Tyler began. “Do you have those nightmares often?”

Now it was your turn to contemplate lying. But then you remembered what an absolute jerk you’d been to Tyler all night, and figured you at least owed him the truth. 

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s partially why I wanted to sleep in the truck.”

Tyler smiled softly. “And here I was thinking it was because you hated me so much.”

“I’m sorry–” you began, voice shaking slightly. “I know I can be a jerk.”

One of Tyler’s eyebrows shot up like he was surprised. 

“What?” you asked. 

“No it’s just… that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize.”

“What can I say?” you mumbled, trying to make light of things. “You seem to always see the worst versions of myself.” 

Tyler’s gaze softened, like he knew you were talking about more than your lack of apologies. After a moment he sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Glancing up, you hesitated. Your heart had just stopped pounding in your chest, but the thought of talking about what had happened in your home just a few short years ago made it speed up again.  

“You don’t have to–” Tyler said quickly. 

“No– it’s just…” your voice faltered. “I just haven’t really talked about it.” 

Tyler was patient. He stayed still on the edge of your bed and waited for you to be ready. After you sorted through some of the thoughts in your head you whispered, “You know I’ve been chasing in Oklahoma since I was a teenager?”

Tyler’s face lit up in surprise. 

“It’s true. I took a few years off… and when I came back, I was upset to see Oklahoma had a new storm chaser. One that everyone seemed to like more than me,” you admitted. You weren’t sure why this was all flowing out so freely, but even you had to admit that it felt nice to be honest. “That’s why I’ve been so mean to you, I think. It felt like you were encroaching on my turf. And then you showed up with your fancy truck– and all your gear, and I suppose I just felt a little jealous.” 

Tyler nodded in understanding. “Why’d you take a few years off?”

Your voice caught in your throat. Only when you hung your head did you feel confident enough to answer. “Remember that EF5 that hit Logan County a few years back?”

Tyler nodded. 

“My family’s farm was in Logan County. My parents were away– on a weekend trip to Colorado to see family. But I’d convinced my sister to stay home with me, because I didn’t want to go,” the words that were your mouth suddenly didn’t feel like yours. And the trembling hands in your lap didn’t feel like yours either. 

“The storm turned last minute. We barely had any warning. But I grabbed my sister– and we ran to the storm shelter. We made it, too– but then the door ripped open. When she went to shut it…” your voice trailed off. “Well you can use your imagination for the rest.”

You finally gathered up enough courage to glance up at Tyler. His eyes were fixated on you– sadness and sympathy plastered all over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said genuinely. 

“Yeah, well…” you said weakly. “The worst part is– I think I remember locking the storm shelter door– but I wonder every single day of my life if I accidentally forgot. Which… I mean, convincing her to stay home already makes it partially my fault. But I can write that one off– and remind myself I didn’t know what was going to happen. But forgetting to lock the storm shelter?” you sighed. “That would be a harder one to forgive myself for.”

Tyler scooted closer towards you on the bed. He raised his hand– he was reaching out to comfort you. But then he pulled back, like he thought better. You were surprised by how disappointed that made you. 

“It’s not your fault–” Tyler assured you. 

It was the same thing your parents had said your whole life– so why couldn’t you believe it? 

“I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it was,” you said. “She’s gone and I’m not. I took a few years off from chasing because I just couldn’t… I couldn’t get myself in the right headspace for it. Every time I saw a cell forming, I’d panic– and I’d want to run from it, not chase it. Things are better now… but every once and a while, I still run. Like today,” you admitted. “I knew the winds changed. I knew the one to the east was gonna die out. That’s why I chose it.” 

Tyler sighed. “And then I gave you shit for it,” he said, remorse in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you admitted. “And I’m really grateful you let me crash in your room. I think if I’d been screamin’ like that in my car, it would’ve caused quite the scene.”

Tyler’s lips tugged into a gentle smile. “I told you I didn’t mind sharing when it came to you. Plus, I learned more about you during our little sleepover than I have in the last few years chasin’ next to you.” 

“Yeah, well…” you mumbled. “Don’t get used to it.”

Tyler smirked. “Does that mean you’re going to go back to hating me tomorrow, when we’re no longer roommates? Or have I finally cracked through that tough ole shell of yours?”

“You keep offerin’ me motel rooms for free and I’ll be an open book,” you laughed. 

Tyler nodded, like he was storing that offer for later. 

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” he said, suddenly clapping his thighs before standing up. “But all that screaming got me wide awake. You hungry? I’m buying.”

He held out his hand– waiting for you to take it. 

“Are you offering me a room and dinner in one night?” you teased. 

“And all you had to do was reveal your deepest, darkest secrets and traumas to me,” Tyler smirked. 

“Tyler Owens, you’re too easy,” you said, gladly taking his outstretched hand.

[hoshifighting]

jealous!wonwoo

— synopsis: wonwoo brings you to his friend's birthday party to finally introduce you to his friends for the first time. however, your kindness is having an unexpected effect on him.

— WARNINGS: smut, jealousy, possessiveness, slut shamming, penetrative sex, rough sex, creampie, mentions of blood, cum, a lot of dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, jealous!wonwoo, kind!reader.

it's changkyun's birthday, and you stand in the midst of it all, your fingers tracing the rim of a cold drink, feeling a little out of place but excited nonetheless. it's your first time meeting wonwoo's friends, and he's been talking about them for weeks, making you feel like you've already known them forever. he was thrilled to finally introduce you, the person who’s captured his heart, to the people closest to him.

wonwoo’s been glued to your side all night, smiling proudly as he watches you effortlessly charm everyone around. he loves how gentle you are, how kind, and he was confident you'd get along with everyone. that’s why he fell for you—because you make things easy, even the hard stuff. but now, as he stands talking to jihoon, something feels off. he can’t quite pinpoint when it started, but a weird knot's been forming in his stomach.

“so, y/n,” changkyun grins, rolling up his sleeve to show off a fresh tattoo on his forearm. “what do you think? it's still healing, but i think it turned out pretty dope.”

you lean in closer, eyes widening in appreciation. “oh wow, that's amazing! i've been thinking about getting one for ages but never had the guts to go through with it. you must have a high pain tolerance,” you laugh, lightly brushing his arm with your fingers.

wonwoo’s eyes flicker over to you, catching that moment. something about the way you’re leaning into changkyun’s space, the genuine interest in your voice—it rubs him the wrong way. 

he tries to focus on jihoon’s story about a songwriting mishap, but all he hears is the distant hum of voices. he can't help but feel a pang of something—jealousy? possessiveness?—as he watches you interact so easily with his friends, especially changkyun.

“yeah, it hurt like hell, but it was worth it,” changkyun chuckles, glancing over at you. “maybe you should get one too, then we could be tattoo buddies. what do you say?”

you laugh, a warm sound that feels like home to wonwoo, but now it’s mixed with an unfamiliar sensation. “maybe i will,” you say playfully.

wonwoo feels a strange twist in his chest, like something fragile and delicate is being tugged at. he knows you’re just being your usual sweet self, but seeing you get along so well with changkyun, someone he’s always been close to, brings out a protective side he didn't know he had. he doesn’t like this feeling—this weird, prickly sensation crawling up his spine. it’s not like him to feel insecure, especially around his friends.

he tries to shake it off, but it's like an itch he can't scratch. “hey, y/n,” he calls out, trying to keep his tone light, “come over here for a sec. i wanna introduce you to jihoon properly.”

you turn towards wonwoo, catching a glimpse of the slight tension in his eyes. you can sense something’s off, but you don't want to make a scene, especially not tonight. 

you nod and give changkyun a quick smile. “sure, be right back,” you say, walking over to wonwoo and jihoon.

“everything okay?” you ask quietly, searching his face for a clue.

wonwoo smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “yeah, just wanted to make sure you were having fun. it’s a lot, meeting everyone at once.”

it doesn't take much for wonwoo to feel uncomfortable again. even as you chat with jihoon, he can't help but feel a flicker of unease. jihoon's quiet personality, paired with your genuine curiosity, makes wonwoo's insides twist.

he knows you're just being gentle, like always, but that's the thing—everyone likes it. not just him. and that thought gnaws at him, despite knowing it's irrational.

he tries to brush it off, but the more he watches, the tighter the knot in his chest becomes. the final straw comes when jihoon leans in closer, discussing something that makes you laugh, your eyes crinkling at the corners. without thinking, wonwoo excuses himself and heads straight for you, an unfamiliar urgency in his step.

“hey, can we talk for a sec?” his voice is calm, but there's an edge to it you can't quite place.

you glance at him, noting the tension in his posture. “sure,” you reply, excusing yourself from jihoon with a polite smile. wonwoo leads you to a quiet corner of the room, away from the prying eyes of his friends.

“what’s up?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light, but the atmosphere feels heavy.

“let's go home,” he says, avoiding your gaze. the abruptness of his request catches you off guard.

“home? already?” you echo, genuinely surprised. “but it's still early, and we haven't even had cake yet.”

wonwoo shrugs, his expression unreadable. “i just... i think we've been here long enough.”

you can sense something's off, but he's not giving anything away. it feels strange, leaving the party so soon, especially when everyone seemed to be having a good time.

and while he tries to mask it, you can read him like a book. deep down, you know he's somehow mad. 

the car ride home is silent, tension thick in the air. you try to ask him what's bothering him, but he brushes it off, offering vague reassurances that everything's fine. it's frustrating, his refusal to communicate, and you decide to push him—just to see how far he'll go, denying what's clearly eating at him.

once you both arrive home, you kick off your shoes and head straight for the bedroom, ignoring his attempts to engage in conversation. his eyes follow you, growing more intense with every step you take away from him.

 the silent treatment is intended, a way to force him to confront whatever he's hiding. wonwoo stands in the doorway, watching as you busy yourself with trivial tasks—checking your phone, removing your jewelry. the longer you ignore him, the more palpable his anger becomes.

“y/n, can we talk?” his voice is low, barely containing his frustration.

you continue to avoid his gaze, feigning interest in your phone. “about what?” you ask, your tone almost dismissive.

that’s all it takes. 

something in wonwoo snaps, the last remnants of his patience fraying. in two quick strides, he's in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. the sudden movement startles you, and you drop your phone, eyes widening in surprise. his grip is firm, not painful, but enough to let you know he's serious.

“stop it,” he growls, his voice laced with an unfamiliar edge. “stop pretending like you don't know what's going on.”

you blink up at him, “i don't know what you're talking about,” you say, but the slight quiver in your voice betrays you.

wonwoo's eyes darken, a dangerous glint flashing in them. “don't play dumb, y/n. you've been doing this all night—flirting with my friends, acting like it's nothing.”

your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by his accusation. “i wasn't flirting,” you protest, but the words feel weak, even to you.

“oh, please,” he scoffs, his grip tightening slightly. “don't give me that innocent act. you know exactly what you were doing, batting those pretty eyes, laughing at their jokes. you loved the attention, didn't you?”

you feel a flush of anger rise in your chest, but before you can retort, he pulls you even closer, his breath hot against your ear. “you're such a fucking slut,” he whispers, the words dripping with venom. “enjoying every second of it, making me look like a fool.”

his jealousy, his possessiveness, it's intoxicating in a way you can't quite understand. and he knows it too, sees the way your breath hitches, the way your body reacts to his words.

“is this what you wanted?” he hisses, his hand slipping under your shirt, fingers digging into your waist. “to push me until i snapped? well, congratulations, baby, you got your wish.”

before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, rough and demanding. it's not a kiss; it's a claiming, a punishment. he kisses you like he wants to devour you, like he's angry with himself for wanting you this much. you kiss him back with equal fervor, matching his aggression with your own, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. he groans, the sound vibrating against your mouth, and you feel a surge of satisfaction.

with a growl, he pushes you against the wall, hands roaming over your body with a frantic urgency. he tugs at your clothes, tearing them off in his haste, not caring if he rips fabric or skin. there's no time for tenderness, no room for gentle caresses.

as his fingers slip beneath your shirt, they pause, feeling the delicate texture of lace and satin. his breath hitches when he discovers the coquette lingerie you’re wearing, complete with tiny bows adorning the bra and panties. you can almost hear his thoughts—did you wear this just to tease him?

he yanks down the waistband of your panties, revealing more bows trailing down the sides.

the sight of you, so perfectly dressed to seduce, makes him want to tear everything off and claim you right there and then.

he grabs your hips, his grip firm and commanding, and without another word, he pushes you harder against the wall, positioning himself behind you. the soft, feminine bows are the last thing on his mind as he enters you without warning, rough and rigid.

you cry out, the sensation heightened by the feeling of the lingerie still partially clinging to your body. the combination of pain making your knees to buckle, and he doesn't give you time to adjust. 

“you think this is funny?” he hisses in your ear, his voice dangerous. “teasing me like this, showing off like some kind of slut?”

he doesn't give you time to adjust, thrusting into you with a punishing rhythm, his hands digging into your flesh. “this is what you wanted, right?” he grits out, his voice a harsh whisper in your ear. “to be fucked like the slut you are?”

you moan, the sound echoing in the room. he pulls your hair, forcing your head back as he pounds into you, each thrust harder than the last. it's brutal, almost savage, and yet you can't get enough. you revel in the way he takes you, the way he owns you, body and soul.

“god, you're so fucking tight,” he groans. “so wet for me, like you were just waiting for this.”

you bite your lip, trying to stifle your moans, but he notices. he always does. with a snarl, he reaches around and grabs your chin, forcing you to face him. “don't hold back, i want to hear you. i want everyone to know how much you love this.”

you can't hold back anymore. the intensity of his thrusts, the harshness of his words, it's all too much. you cry out, your voice raw and desperate, echoing off the walls.

“w-woo,” you sob, your voice shaky and breathless. 

every thrust feels like it's tearing you apart, and the sensation of his big cock stretching you is overwhelming. he growls at the sound of his name, making you feel like you're teetering on the edge of something explosive.

wonwoo’s hand slides down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your underbelly with a teasing slowness that contrasts with the brutal pace of his hips. he knows exactly what he's doing, savoring every second of your desperate whimpers. 

his hand dips lower, and when he finds your clit, he circles it with rough, intentional movements that make your whole body jolt. the pleasure is electric, a stark contrast to the roughness of his thrusts, and it sends you spiraling.

“getting fucked like a little slut, all dressed up in this cute lingerie just for me.”

you can only moan in response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to form coherent words. his fingers work your clit with a ruthless accuracy, driving you closer and closer to the edge. every flick of his wrist sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and you can feel the tight coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter.

“such a greedy little thing,” he continues, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “clenching around my cock like you want me to fill you up, huh? you want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow?”

his cock feels impossibly big, almost splitting you in half, and you can’t help the way your body responds, muscles clenching and pulling him deeper. it’s too much, and yet not enough, every thrust bringing you closer to the brink of thoughtlessness.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his voice strained with effort. “gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that.”

the knot in your belly twists tighter, the pressure building to a fever pitch. the world narrows down to the feeling of him inside you, his hands on your body, his voice in your ear. you know you're about to fall, your orgasm so close you can almost taste it.

“please, please,” you babble, your voice a desperate plea. “i’m so close, wonwoo, please—”

his hand speeds up on your clit, his fingers pressing down with just the right amount of pressure. it sends a shudder through you, and with a final, brutal thrust, he pushes you over the edge. 

your orgasm knocks you down, your entire body convulsing with the force of it. your walls clench around his cock, almost pulling him over the edge with you, and he lets out a low, guttural moan.

the world blurs as the tides of your orgasm continue to wash over you, your body trembling with aftershocks. you can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock twitching as he chases his own release. the sensation is almost too much, and yet you crave it, needing to feel him come undone inside you.

“cum for me,” you whisper, “please, wonwoo, i need it—”

with a strangled groan, he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as he finally lets go. you feel him pulse inside you, the heat of his release filling you up. 

you can feel yourself dripping as he pulls out, the sensation of his cum mingling with your own. your pussy feels almost numb, a lingering ache from the vigor of it all. your legs are trembling, barely able to hold you up as you try to steady yourself against the wall. your breaths come in ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a soft hiccup that you can’t seem to control.

 “hey,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he gently turns you to face him. “are you alright?”

you nod, though the effort it takes to stay upright makes your knees wobble. 

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close and guiding you to the bed. as you sink down onto the mattress, the world seems to tilt slightly, your body still recovering from the overwhelming sensations. wonwoo sits beside you, his hand stroking your back in soothing circles.

“i’m sorry,” he says quietly, his tone filled with genuine remorse. “i didn’t mean to be so rough.”

you manage a small smile, leaning into his touch. “it’s okay.”

he nods, his eyes still searching yours for any signs of discomfort. “just... let me take care of you now,” he says, his voice tender. “lie back.”

“woo…”

“hm?”

“i'm yours.”

[notthestarwar]

are you normal or do you print out your ao3 comments and make them in to a little book so you can look at them all together when ur feeling sad

[augustinewrites]

“you’re an idiot.”

“really, doc? you’re gonna insult me after i came all this way to see you?”

you pause what you’re doing to stare down at wriothesley with a wholly unimpressed look. “you were wheeled in on a stretcher.”

(he’d even come in shirtless, one hand resting behind his head all laid out like a fontanian model in a clothing campaign.)

he dismisses the fact with a wave of his good hand, tsking. “only because sigewinne threatened to tranq me if i didn’t get on!”

you know for a fact that the head nurse is still stationed outside the infirmary in case his grace tries to leave without staying for overnight observation.

“she should have done it anyway,” you hum, taking his wrist and using it to carefully position his arm at his side. you nod at the nurse across from you holding the band to keep him steady. “deep breath now, your grace.”

wriothesley draws a breath and releases it quickly, grinning up at you. “so, what are you— fuck!”

“get him a sling,” you instruct, stifling a laugh as you let go of his arm and step back. “i’ll get him an ice pack.”

the two of you move around the infirmary, quickly gathering supplies as the duke lets loose a string of expletives that would make sigewinne faint.

it’s quite entertaining to see the duke pout, holding a heart-patterned ice pack to his shoulder. “i think i deserve a kiss for that.”

“a kiss is going to help with shoulder pain?”

“duh.”

this time, you don’t stifle your laughter as he closes his eyes and puckers his lips.

you pull a sticker from your pocket, pressing it to his waiting lips. “you were a very brave boy.”

his pucker turns into a pout as he uses his good hand to take the sticker off, sticking it to his discarded gauntlets. he looks more like a puppy than a wolf in this state.

with the worst of it out of the way, you begin tending to any scrapes or bruises.

it should be simple, but wriothesley doesn’t make it easy. he flexes playfully whenever your fingertips brush his biceps. insists on holding your hand when the antiseptic touches his wounds.

“okay, you’re all done,” you tell him, peeling off your gloves and tossing them into the bin. “but you will have to stay overnight so we can monitor you for any concussion symptoms.”

his brows raise as he clicks his tongue, smirking. “oh? are you asking me on a date?”

“no,” you say, tucking your clipboard under your arm. “i’m doing my due diligence as your physician.”

“but it’ll just be me and you and this very romantic lighting…”

“it’s dim light because someone keeps forgetting to put in the order for new ones.”

“they’re dim? hm, i didn’t notice. how could i when your smile lights up the room?”

you roll your eyes when he winks, but can’t help the heat you feel spreading across your face. “if you keep this up, i’ll have sigewinne and her tranquilizer gun stay overnight with you instead.”

“if i stop and you stay, will you at least have tea with me?” he asks, a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

“fine, i’ll stay. but only if i get to pick the tea,” you tell him, pulling a chair to the side of his bed and shedding your lab coat to get comfortable. “you’re especially insufferable when you’re injured, aren’t you?”

he reaches out and pulls the chair closer, so you’re sitting between his knees. “and yet, you’re finally succumbing to the temptation of my rock hard abs and winning personality.”

“no,” you deny, but you’d be lying if you said being this close to his spectacularly toned torso wasn’t doing…things to you. “it’s because you have liyue imported tea.”

“yeah,” he says, flashing you a charming, sinful smile that makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck raise, threatening to shatter your resolve. “if you say so.”

[freedomfireflies]

Outlawed*

Summary: The fifth and final part to Knockout*

The one where Harry just wants to fight, and you just want to love him.

Word Count: 10k (folks...we made it!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, blood, violence, brief use of a knife, pain kink, size kink

“Cherry?”

Instantly, your head lifts. The familiarly warm nickname sewing up the frayed seams of your heart and sending it into a tizzy.

However, instead of the handsome stranger you’ve come to miss, you find Owen. Eyebrow raised and expression curious.

With a quick clear of your throat, you pull your attention back. “What?”

“Cherry,” he repeats, nodding now toward the pastry in front of you. “Is it cherry tonight?”

You look down as well. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yup.”

“Hm.” His lips press together in thought. “I like the cherry. The way you make it, it’s…it’s sweet. But just a bit sour.”

“Yup...”

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.”

His hands disappear into his pockets with a short nod of his head. “I know the customers really like it, too. Get comments about it all the time.”

“That’s good.”

“You could probably make it every night. If you wanted.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s a bit of a tense lull now as you continue rolling the dough, and you notice Owen begin to shift just out of your peripheral. He doesn’t normally hover when you’re working, not unless he’s got something he’d like to talk about, and his lingering glances make your insides begin to itch.

So, you raise a brow, and look over. “Is something…wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, not at all,” he stammers. “I just…wanted to check in. See how you’re feeling.”

Curious, you straighten up.“Oh…why?”

“Well, I’ve just noticed how quiet you’ve been,” he explains. “And I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just…trying to get my work done.”

He steps closer. “I noticed your friend hasn’t been coming around as much. The sullen one, with the dark clothes and broody temper?”

And despite everything else, you can’t help but smile at the memories. “Oh, yeah, well…I don’t think he’ll be coming by anymore. Don’t worry.”

“Ah.” A brief pause. “Is it because of Jesse?”

Instantly, you lean back, pulling the rolling pin away from the counter in surprise. “What?”

“Jesse. The other boy who was in here,” he says. “The tall, snobby one in the fancy clothes? Kind of annoying?”

“I…yeah.” Your lashes flutter. “I guess, I mean. They don’t really…get along. But…it’s probably my fault, too.”

He hums to himself almost contemplatively. “You’re not back with him, are you? The Jesse one?”

“Uh…no. Why?”

“I just…I don’t like him,” he sighs, arms crossing over his apron. “I think he’s trouble, and truth be told, you don’t always look that happy when he’s around.”

And you know he’s right, although you are a little surprised that he noticed. “Oh…well, no. No, not at all.”

“Good. Good.” He nods again. “Honestly, you can do a lot better than him, darling. Especially considering everything else he’s involved in.”

Now slightly more startled, your head tilts. “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know,” he begins, moving even closer before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to talk out of turn, and I certainly don’t want to scare you, but…I imagine you already know a little of what he really does, yeah?”

And even though you should know better than to answer, and even though you have Harry’s stern voice ringing in your ear not to trust him…you nod.

“Right, well…I know how much trouble that might put you in,” he continues. “And I know that with the fighting, and the betting, and the outsourcing…I’d hate to see you get dragged down with him—”

“Wait, what? What outsourcing?”

After a quick glance around the rather empty kitchen, Owen sighs, and murmurs, “Look, I don’t know everything, but a few months ago, he approached me with a proposal. He explained about the fights, and about the betting, and said that I’d be making easy money. That it was a guaranteed win because his fighter never lost.”

And suddenly, the image of Harry in that ring – night after night, hit after hit – paints itself across the forefront of your mind. You lose your breath, chest constricting with the thought of all the pain he endures at Jesse’s hand.

“And from what I could tell, he was taking the betting outside of the fights,” he explains. “I don’t know where or to how many other people, but he was pretty confident. And truth be told, I started to wonder if he’d maybe rigged it.”

“Rigged it? How?”

He shrugs. “I’m not really sure. Maybe he was paying the other fighter to lose or maybe he was paying his fighter extra to make sure he always won. Either way, I said no, and he took his business elsewhere. I think he was afraid of getting caught.”

And it makes sense. Every little detail clicking into place as you recall that night at the match. Jesse’s threat and his insistence on Harry’s win. Harry’s refusal not to play his game.

You straighten up. “Right.”

“Look, I just…I don’t want to see you get dragged down with him,” Owen finishes softly. “You’re a good kid, and he’s…you can do better. You can do a lot better than him, and I hope you know that.”

And you do now.

“Thanks,” you murmur before placing the rolling pin down. “I know this is a bit last minute, but is there any way I might be able to leave early today? I think I need to go find him.”

“Yeah. No problem.” He checks his watch. “Joshua’s supposed to be coming in soon. I could have him cover for you if you’d like to leave now.”

“Really? Would that be all right?”

“Sure. The pies probably won’t be as good as when you make ‘em, but…” He throws you a smile and you laugh. “Do what you need to do. And if you need any help, just give me a call, okay, darling?”

Nodding quickly, you wipe your hands down the front of your apron before ripping it off. “Of course. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

You’re out the diner door in under two minutes, nearly sprinting to your car as you work out a plan.

You’re almost positive that outside betting goes against the league’s rules (although you wonder if an illegal, underground fighting society even has any rules at all). But especially if it means Jesse ends up making more money on each fight than anyone else actually involved. The fighters included.

And if Jesse truly doesn’t want anyone else to know, you might have just found your loophole. A way to get him out of the picture and still keep Harry safe. 

You aren’t sure where to start. Truth be told, you aren’t sure what you’ll even say. But perhaps you don’t have to say much. Perhaps you only need Jesse to know that you know, and he’ll take care of the rest.

You head for the one place you know he might be. Your heart aches to call Harry, but without an address, a last name, or a phone number, you don’t really have very many options. You can only hope that he’ll find you once this is all over.

When you finally make it into the darker part of town, your pulse begins to pound. Slamming against the sides of your ribcage as you pull up to the familiar building and park. Right beside the only other car in the lot.

It’s not until you step out that you realize who it is.

“Well, well, well,” Jesse calls with a devious smirk, exiting his vehicle as well. “What a surprise, sugarplum. Come to watch tonight’s big fight?”

You take in a brave breath and begin toward him. “No. I’m here to talk to you.”

His brow raises, but he seems relaxed. In fact, far too relaxed for your liking. “I see. And can I assume this has something to do with your little boytoy?”

“Not quite. But it does have to do with you.”

“Ah.” He grins to himself before dramatically gesturing toward the warehouse. “Then, by all means.” 

So, with a shallow exhale, you oblige, trailing after him and toward the front door just as you did the other night. It’s an eerie deja-vu.  

And perhaps you should feel a bit more nervous than you do, but deep down, you know him. You know that he’s lacking any real emotion or regret, and maybe, that might just give you an edge.

After typing in the passcode, he leads you inside. The once glorious space now dark and empty. Sporting nothing but the large boxing ring and the stunning chandelier.

“I’ve gotta be honest, sugarplum, I don’t know what you said to him…but it worked,” he begins as you both walk further into the room. “I’ve never seen him fight like that before.”

You purse your lips together in an effort to resist screaming at him. “Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It is.” He stops near the ring and turns around, leaning on it as he studies you. “And I knew you’d come through.”

“Great. So, you’ll leave him alone now, right?”

“As long as he wins, sure.”

“You mean, as long as he makes you money.”

His arms cross now, and that smug expression makes you want to slug him. “As long as he does what he gets paid to do, then there won’t be a problem.”

“Right. And as long as you can keep outsourcing the bets.”

For the first time, he hesitates, that arrogant grin slipping ever-so-slightly as he raises his chin. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I stutter?” You step closer, and you notice him tense. “The money that you outsource to other bettors. The money that you make – that Harry makes you – on these fights every time he wins.”

His jaw ticks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“No? You wanna bet on that?”

And you don't think you've ever seen him so livid. Not even on his worst night when you were together, and your insides begin to wrench.

But before he can reply – before he can really do anything – a door opens. Allowing a rather bright stream of light into the warehouse as you and Jesse both reach up to shield your eyes.

And then...you see him.

Harry.

It takes him a moment to understand what he’s really looking at, but you catch the exact second he realizes. The way his face contorts and his fingers curl into his fist.

And you want to explain, want to take back everything you said and tell him the truth, but he’s already speaking up before you can.

“What the fuck is this?” he calls, and it’s so very angry. But he’s not talking to you.

He’s talking to Jesse.

Jesse merely rolls his shoulders back, attempting to settle back into his condescending façade. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“No?” He scoffs. It’s bitter and full of disdain. “Because anything you fucking say to her concerns me.”

Your heart skips.

Jesse, however, merely snorts to himself before glancing at you. “It’s a wonder you manage to get anything done on your own.”

Harry instantly strides closer, and you suddenly feel safer. Relieved to be near him again and desperate to feel him. To wrap yourself in his arms and never let go. To make things right. 

But not once does he look in your direction. Instead keeping his focus on the man near the mat as he approaches. “Don’t fucking speak to her that way,” he nearly growls. “In fact, don’t speak to her at all.”

“Or what, hm?” The haughty cadence is back. “Do you really think you have any power outside of this ring?”

“I think I can knock your fucking teeth down your throat anywhere I goddamn please.”

“How incredibly barbaric.” Jesse’s brow cocks upwards. “Is he like this when he fucks, too?”

This question is directed at you, and no sooner has it left his mouth does Harry suddenly surge forward, grab him by the collar, and slam him back into the ring.

You gasp – or maybe you scream – before Harry removes one hand in order to send it flying straight into Jesse’s nose.

Blood is everywhere. Dripping from Jesse’s mouth, smeared across Harry’s knuckles, splattered along the concrete floor.  

And you want to intervene. Want to do anything that might make you feel a little less useless, but Harry is delivering the second blow before you can decide.

“You fucking—” Punch. “—piece—” Punch. “—of shit.” Each comment is swimming in vile contempt, his expression livid and incensed. 

You’ve never seen him this outraged. Didn’t even know a person could hold this much resentment, but it sends chills down your spine.

“Harry,” you murmur, taking a tentative step closer. “Harry, wait—”

“After everything you’ve fucking taken from me,” he sneers in Jesse’s face, “you wanna take her, too?”

Jesse’s only response is to suck in a large gasp for air that becomes gargled by the blood in his throat, and you feel sick. 

“Harry,” you try again, grasping onto his other arm in an effort to tug him back. “Harry, wait, there’s another way—"

He brushes you off almost too easily. “And now—” Another hit, this time to Jesse’s stomach. “—you think she can save you? You think you can use her to get what you fucking want?”

He sends his busted knuckles straight into Jesse’s teeth, and your insides twist.

“Harry, stop,” you plead, yanking on him a bit harder. “I found another way, okay, please—”

“You fucking think…I’m gonna let you use her?” he seethes before pulling his arm back for the next hit. “You’re out of your goddamn mind—”

Without much thought, you suddenly rush around him, and place your hands on his chest. Wedging yourself between the two just before he can land the next strike to Jesse’s jaw.

It’s stupid and it’s impulsive and it’s rash, but it works. And it’s the only thing that seems to pull him back from that treacherous edge as his eyes find yours and his arm instantly drops. 

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in days, and you want to cry. Because he’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before. Void of any emotion or understanding except for the realization that he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Harry,” you whisper, and his name cracks from your throat. “Harry, please, I…I found another way. Okay? He…you don’t have to do this—”

“I know. I want to,” he replies, still rather hostile.

“But I don’t want you to,” you argue. “Okay, I think we can get out of this. There’s a way to get him out—”

“I don’t want a way. I want to fucking kill him.”

“Harry, you…” You suck in a quick breath and move closer, nearly gluing yourself to his tense frame. “He’s outsourcing the bets. He’s stealing money from the fights, okay, and we can get him out.”

He looks surprised for all of a minute before the look suddenly vanishes and he attempts to brush you away. “I don’t care. He deserves this.”

“Harry,” you nearly gasp, “if you do this, they’ll kill you. Okay, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you—”

His features soften, although he still begins to push past you. “You’ll be all right—”

“Stop, just listen—"

“Cherry,” he warns now, “get out of the way.”

“Harry, please, don’t do this. You can’t do this—"

“I don’t care. Move—”

“Harry—”

“Cherry, move—”

“I love you.”

He stops. Seems to freeze right where he stands, but you barrel on. Clutching onto his dark, familiar hoodie as though trying to grab at his heart.

“I love you,” you repeat in a strained whisper. “I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I lied, I…I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was helping, or…or doing what was best, but it wasn’t – I wasn’t. I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. Blinks. Doesn’t move.

“And I love you.” You suck in a shaky breath as the tears fight their way to your waterline. “I love you so much it makes my chest hurt, and I can’t lose you, and…and please. Please don’t do this.”

And you’ve never felt so vulnerable or afraid. And not because of his silence, but because you’ve never loved anybody the way you love him. And you’ll understand if he no longer feels the same or if he’s changed his mind. If he wants to punish you for your lie or for your attempt to say it now.

Instead…he moves to rest his hands over yours. Keeping them over his heart before dipping down…and kissing you.

And it fixes everything. Absolutely everything. Because it’s perfect and familiar and so incredibly Harry.

And you’ve missed him.

You feel an arm slowly snaking around your lower stomach, and you begin to smirk against his lips before you realize who the arm really belongs to.

It yanks you back, ripping you away from the man you love until you’re cemented against Jesse’s chest.

Something cold and sharp is settled against your throat, and you take in a quick gasp for air. 

Harry attempts to remain calm as he’s forced to watch, but you can see the edges of his sanity coming loose. Jaw clenching, teeth gritting, brows furrowing. His shoulders are tense beneath his sweatshirt, his hands are balling into fists, and his head is cocking to the side like he’s debating whether or not to lunge.

Jesse merely laughs in your ear. “This is so fucking pathetic. And so goddamn cliché, sugarplum. Is this really what you want? Him?”

You squirm a bit in his hold, and Harry takes a brave step forward. But almost instantly, the blade of the knife begins to press further into the soft skin of your throat, immediately forcing Harry back with a dark scowl.

“Easy,” Jesse warns as you both go still. “Come on, now, I think you both know better than that.”

“Jess,” you pant, reaching for his wrist. “Jesse, please—”

“It’s so simple,” he continues, ignoring your attempt. “So fucking simple. Just win the match. Win the goddamn match and you get to go home."

“I don’t fucking care. Let her go,” Harry seethes. “This isn’t about her—”

“Except that it is.” Jesse’s smirk widens. “Of course it is. You wanted to leave to protect her, so you will stay to protect her. You made it about her, dear Harold. I’m only following your lead.”

Something shifts now in Harry’s expression, and it nearly ruins you. He looks…lost. So very lost and helpless. Like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do without you.

Jesse presses his nose to the side of your cheek, and you feel the warm blood smear across your skin. “So, if you wanna take this away from me, then I have no problem returning the favor.”

The knife is pulled taut to the curve of your throat, and you hiss, making Harry’s face pale.

And when his eyes finally flitter to yours, you realize what you have to do.

“Harry,” you whisper, nodding once. Subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man behind you before you smile gently. “It’s okay.”

You’re not sure he truly understands, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. He will soon.

So, you slowly lift your arm until you can bend your elbow, only to send it flying straight back into Jesse’s stomach.

It’s not enough to really harm him. In fact, it’s hardly enough to even surprise him, but it does distract him just enough to loosen his grip on the knife. Giving you the room you need to spin around in his hold and deliver your fist to his face.

The shock of the blow seems to do more than the strike itself. But he goes stumbling back, nevertheless, and the moment his arm has dropped from your waist, Harry steps forward and rips the knife from his hand. 

Once it’s in his possession, he grabs onto your wrist, and wrangles you behind him.

“Don’t ever…” he begins, stepping closer until the tip of the sharp blade can rest just beneath Jesse’s jaw, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

Jesse says nothing. He merely stares through his swollen eyelids and bloodstained lashes. 

“You’re no longer Harry’s sponsor,” you add. “And you’re no longer a part of the league. Do whatever you have to do to get out. Or we’ll do it for you.”

Harry smirks, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so smug.

When Jesse doesn’t answer, the weapon is nudged further into his bruised skin, forcing him to suck in a sharp breath as he finally grits, “Fine.”

Satisfied with his response, Harry lowers the knife, and steps back just far enough to let Jesse slip by. And the two of you watch as he stumbles toward the door without a single glance before disappearing into the parking lot.

Leaving you both behind.

The moment he’s gone, Harry turns to you, wraps his arms around your waist, and hoists you into the air. Keeping you snug in his embrace while you squeal and fling your arms around his neck for stability.

“Oh, that’s my fucking girl,” he nearly groans, and you laugh. “M’so goddamn proud of you, baby. Never seen something so fucking hot.”

You dip down until you can nuzzle your nose with his. “Well, I learned from the best.”

“Yeah? Good.” His grin nearly splits his face. “Can I please take you home now?”

And you nod so quickly, you’re nearly dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, easy. Easy, sweet girl, deep breath. I’ve got you, yeah? Know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon.”

With a sharp exhale, you motion your head up and down, allowing Harry to pull your hand closer in order to continue dabbing the alcohol swab over the torn skin of your knuckles.

His tiny bathroom falls quiet as you sit on the edge of the sink. Him between your legs, attention trained on your bruise. And while the sensation is rather uncomfortable, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so cared for. So…fulfilled and secure.

And you realize, this is how you were always meant to feel. 

With him.

“It’s gonna sting for a bit, but I’m almost done,” he promises, eyes softening when he sees your pained wince. “You’re being so good for me, Cherry, I’m so proud of you.”

You pout and it makes him chuckle. “You made it look so easy.”

“S’cause it wasn’t my first time.” He reaches for the gauze. “And we already know how I feel about pain.”

With a smirk of your own, you jut your chin toward him. “Yeah? And how are you feeling now?”

“Now?” His expression is wicked as he now leans just close enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Now…I feel fucking insatiable.”

You waste no time kissing him. In succumbing to his games and his endless teasing. You kiss him, and you don’t care if that means he wins, because you’ve never needed anyone or anything more.

And he’s so entertained by your desperation. His own bandaged hand finding your cheek as you sigh against his tongue and settle into this moment of adoration. 

When he pulls back, you’re winded.

He goes back to work dressing your knuckles, wrapping the white gauze around and around until your torn skin is thoroughly protected.

And you watch him as he does this. As he sweeps his thumb gently along the ridges of your hand before bringing it to his mouth in order to leave yet another kiss.

“There,” he murmurs, trailing his lips across the fibers. “All better.”

It’s the most beautiful and romantic thing you think anyone has ever done for you, and your heart lodges in your throat. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“…do you hate me?”

Surprised, he instantly straightens up and leans back. “What?”

“Do you…do you hate me? Because of what I did? What I said?” You attempt to ward off the influx of impending tears, but you can already feel the first one slipping free. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

His expression immediately drops as he reaches up to grasp onto your face once more. Thumbs brushing quickly along your warm skin as you sniffle. “Cherry…I could never hate you. Ever.”

“But maybe you should,” you whisper. “I hurt you, and I lied to you, and…and I don’t deserve you—”

“Baby,” he breathes, surging forward to press his forehead to yours in an effort to silence you. “Don’t ever fucking say that again, do you hear me? I know exactly why you did it, and I could never be mad at you for that. I was only hurt because I didn’t want to lose you. But you were only trying to protect me. I know that.”

“I said I didn’t love you,” you nearly croak. “I said I loved him. After everything you’ve done for me—”

“You had to,” he interrupts, and his understanding only hurts more. “Cherry, you had to. It was the only way, and I know that. I knew it then, too. You’ve only ever tried to protect me, and I wasn’t letting you.”

You grab onto his wrists and vow to never let go.

“And it’s not fair that you were put in that position,” he continues. “It’s not fair that you were forced to make that call, and it’s not fair that I dragged you into this. You were expected to choose between somebody you’ve known your entire life and somebody you just met. That’s not fair, and I never should have made you—”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you hiccup. “It was never a choice. It was always you.”

Those pretty pink lips pull back into the softest grin you’ve ever seen. “You were trying to save me, sweet girl. I know that, and I will never, ever hate you. I love you.”

I love you. The three best words you could ever hear, and your first sob wracks from your chest as you fling your arms around his neck to kiss him.

He kisses you back, but it’s soft. And sweet. And meant to convey exactly how he truly feels. 

And it works because this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just him, and this moment, and those three words.

“Easy,” he warns through a strained breath. “Baby, careful—”

“Please,” is all you pant. “Harry, please, I can’t…I can’t wait any longer, please.”

And he nearly coos with amusement as he nuzzles his nose under your jaw in order to paint more kisses along your throat. “Can’t wait, hm? But what if I want to make this special?”

“It is. Is special—”

“Cherry,” he chuckles, “it’s all right. M’not going anywhere. We don’t have to rush, all right? S’been a long day and I don’t expect anything—”

“But I do,” you huff. “I’m ready, I want to. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

He laughs a little louder now, leaning back in order to see you. “I’m just trying to take care of you, sweet girl. We didn’t wait this long to throw it away because of him. I want this to be good for you. I want you to be sure that this is really what you want.”

And you appreciate the sentiment more than you’ll ever be able to explain. But right now, there is only one true way you want to spend the rest of this horrid day.

So, you lift your leg and hook it around his hip, pulling him back between your thighs with a pleading look.

In turn, he smirks, fingers returning to your chin with a playful squeeze. “Thought I was the insatiable one.”

“We’ll take turns,” you exhale before surging forward to kiss him again. Capturing his lips between your own and savoring the feeling you never thought you’d feel again.

And you can see his resolve crumble. Can see the way his eyes fall shut, the way his chest rises and falls beneath his dark shirt, the way his hands grasp onto your waist to keep you close.

He’s hungry. Ravenous. Losing the fight before it even begins, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Because now – now – he can have you. He can give you exactly what you want, can be exactly who he wants to be for you.

“Where do you wanna be, baby?” he asks through teasing nips to your neck. “The bed? The couch? D’you wanna go back to your apartment? Might feel more comfortable for you—”

“No, I don’t care,” you interrupt anxiously. “I don’t care, I just want you.”

He grins against your throat. “My greedy girl,” he murmurs, and your stomach flips. “Let’s go to the bed, yeah? Wanna lay you out and see you.”

And you want nothing more than to let him.

Regretfully, he pulls his lips from your skin and steps away, and you feel like you might die without him. But he’s quick to remedy this by taking your hand in order to help you hop down from the sink. Leading you out of the bathroom and through his apartment toward the bedroom.

His apartment isn’t what you expected. Although, truth be told, you didn’t know what to expect. It’s a bit bigger than yours, but there’s something…empty about it. Hollow, almost. The furniture is scarce, the colors and décor are few and far between. It doesn’t even look like anybody lives here, something he pointed out the moment you entered.

“Hardly spend any time here,” he’d said as you glanced around. “S’just a place to sleep, really. It’s never really felt like a home…until you walked through the door.”

And it was wildly cheesy, and perhaps a bit lame, but it was everything. 

His bedroom doesn’t seem to be any different as he leads you inside. The walls are a dark grey, and his bedding is a similarly dark shade. He’s got one chair and one dresser. It’s quite clean, all things considered. No clothes lying on the floor or towels slung over the closet door. 

It’s so very…Harry.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as your eyes flicker about the room. “Know it’s not very romantic.”

But you merely grin as you shake your head and grasp onto his hand. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You drag him toward the mattress before plopping down rather contently. “It’s so you. And I love that.”

And he only smiles before chasing after you and wrangling you into his arms.

It’s a faster dance from there. His hands and lips are everywhere they can reach. Slipping up the backs of your legs, ghosting over the curve of your hips, pulling at the zipper on your dress.

You merely settle in his embrace and allow him to take whatever he’d like. To touch and kiss each lingering thought away until all you know is him.

He’s careful but practiced. Treating you with the same adoration and gentle precision as he always has. And you’re so very thankful to feel so safe in his arms. A kind of security you weren’t sure you’d ever find in a partner the way you have him.

With anyone else you’ve ever been with, sex has always been transactional. A means to an end. This thing that you do to get off and nothing more. And despite your submissive preferences, there have been times when you truly felt powerless to your partner. Simply…there. Until they decided they no longer needed you.

But Harry…

He looks at you like your body is sacred. Like he’s undeserving of being so close to you. Of getting to touch you, hold you, feel you. Completely in-tune to every noise you make and every flutter of your lashes. Constantly on guard for your enjoyment and consent so he never goes any further than you want him to.

But you know, undoubtedly, that no matter how far he goes…it’ll never be enough.

You want his everything. His all. Anything he’s willing to offer, and you imagine you feel about as grateful as he looks to be here with him like this. To witness this kind of tender reverence.

He settles onto his back and pulls you on top. Placing you in a straddle over his waist until he can gaze up at you. “You okay, Cherry?”

You nod quickly – breathlessly – before resting your hands on his chest to brace yourself. “Just excited.”

His smile is boyish and charming, showcasing that familiar dimple that makes your cheeks warm. “Good. Want you to be.” He rubs soft circles into your hip before his brows furrow. “Y’know what I just realized?”

“Hm?”

“I still don’t know your name.”

And despite it all…you laugh. “I’ll tell you on one condition.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

You smirk. “I still want to be your Cherry.”

He chuckles as he squeezes your sides and drags you closer. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs as you dip down to kiss him. “Always.”

With a soft smile, you trail your lips from his cheek to his ear, whispering the forbidden name almost timidly.

And to your surprise, he only grins wider. “That’s beautiful, sweet girl. S’perfect, too. Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You feel the blood rush to your face as you bury your lips against his throat and gently tug at his skin. “Okay, all right.”

“I mean it,” he insists, palm slipping around the back of your neck to tug you back out. “Cherry, you’re beautiful. I don’t say it to say it. I look at you…and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

And maybe they are just words. Maybe they’re meant to make your insides twist and make your heart swoon. To be romantic and suave.

But you believe him. Because you can see in his eye just how much he means it. Can feel it in your stomach that he’s never been as honest as he is right now.

Further proving that everything in your life…has led you to him. Every decision, every regret, every mistake. It brought you right here, to this moment, in his arms. 

You don’t waste any time on replies or longing looks. You kiss him, and you resume this frantic dance, and you beg him to make things better. To ease this ache in your stomach as well as your heart.

So, he does.

Nimble fingers pull at the zipper along your side, loosening your uniform until he can guide it up and over your head. Only stopping once to whisper, “S’this okay, baby? Can I see you?”

You nod almost impatiently. “Yes, yeah. Whatever you want, promise.”

“Hm. Careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he hums warningly. “Or I might just take you up on that.”

The moment your frame is revealed to him, he nearly groans. Allowing his hands to smooth up and down your shivering silhouette as you anxiously wait for more.

However, instead of allowing him the time to indulge in your body, you begin to tug at his sweatshirt. Silently requesting he reveal himself to you, too.

He smirks. “All right, hold on.”

He barely has a chance to sit up before you’re reaching for his hem in a desperate attempt to remove it. Making him chuckle as he grabs onto his collar before swiftly pulling it over his head. 

And you nearly sigh. Because he’s so ethereal to look at. Every ridge, and tattoo, and scar. The way he breathes, the way he flexes. You can’t help but reach for him, skimming your fingers down the dips and curves of his toned chest and stomach almost reverently as a breath catches in your throat.

And he lets you. Studying you closely while you study your hand. A moment of silence passing before he mumbles, “Baby?”

“Hm?”

He reaches up to tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “M’gonna have to stretch you a bit before we start, okay? Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer almost too quickly. “That’s fine. I’m not worried.”

He seems amused. “I know you’re not, but I am. You know I’d never want to hurt you. And I just want to make sure we go at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

There’s an odd sort of fluttering in your chest as you scoot closer and slip your fingers into the curls on his neck. Stroking his roots in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m okay with any pace as long as it’s you.”

“Promise?”

You nudge your nose against his. “Promise.”

Finally, he seems satisfied. “Okay, sweet girl. Then can you lay down for me?”

You’re on your back before he can even finish the question, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his and drag him along with you.

“Cherry,” he laughs again, and the sound is like music. An orchestra of joy and infatuation that you can feel all the way down in your toes. “Can’t be that greedy, can you?”

“I can,” you pant, hips bucking up as he reaches for the silk around your waist. “Just please…”

“Please,” he repeats thoughtfully, pulling his focus to the material he’s slipping down your legs. “You really are my sweet girl, hm?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“Guess I have made you wait, yeah?” He discards of the delicate panties before smoothing his palm up the inside of your thigh. “Made you sit and be good?”

“Harry…”

“And you have been,” he muses, ignoring your mewling. “Been so good for me. Think I need to show you how proud I am. And apologize for being so mean to you. For making you go so long without.”

He moves to settle between your parted legs, one hand beside your head to brace himself while the other travels down the expanse of your stomach. Calming the trembling skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reaches what he’s looking for.

He looks at your face first. Examines your expression and the flutter of your lashes. Stilling just long enough to listen to you breathe. “It’s okay, Cher. I’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his hair and smile. “I know.”

His thumb is the first thing that finds you. Ghosting gently over your clit and down in order to prepare you. Ease you into the sensation.

You take in a satisfied inhale that melts into a whimper and he grins.

Pushing through your folds, he slows when he finds your arousal. Glancing down to see it for himself. “So warm, baby. Missed this.”

“Missed you,” you nearly whine, and he seems pleased.

The tip of his digit pushes in just far enough to tease you but not enough to satiate you. Leaving a rather hollow feeling in your stomach the moment he pulls back out.

You just about slump into the mattress. “Harry…”

“M’just trying to be gentle,” he says. “And I wanna take my time. Wanna really feel you. Remember this moment.”

Your heart swells. “How oddly sentimental of you.”

He shrugs before pushing the finger back inside. “Maybe you just bring it out of me.”

Your back instantly arches from the bed when he reaches his knuckle. And the gratified look he wears seems to worsen this untamable ache.

“There you go,” he coos. “See? One’s not so bad.”

His pace is slow to begin. Torturous in a sense, but he knows that. He wants to work you up, make you squirm. Have your pleas falling from your tongue like water from the sky.

And of course it works, it always does. You weren’t sure what else you expected, but as he continues this steady rhythm, you feel your sanity slowly begin to come undone until you only have one choice.

“Harry…Harry, please, can’t…can’t—”

“What, sweet girl? Need more?”

Your head quickly motions up and down. “Please…”

“All right.” He pulls back before going again, this time with a stretch a bit more prominent. “Know you can handle two, yeah?”

And he’s right, you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t nearly ruin you to do so. Because while two is decidedly much better than one, it’s still not nearly enough. And more importantly, it’s not the one thing you really need.

You pull harder on his hair while you writhe beneath him. Eyelids growing heavy as the sound of his fingers driving into your pussy grows louder. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” He dips down and trails his lips along your cheek. “Gotta let me do this, baby. Just a bit longer, yeah?”

“Can’t…can’t wait—”

“Yes, you can.” His tone is firm but kind. Encouraging. “Know you can. Let me make you feel good.”

He begins to go faster. Thrusting into your cunt until your pulse is racing at about the same speed. 

And he’s beautiful. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes you dizzy. Hovered over you on the bed, muscles flexing with each roll of his arm. There’s a soft glow behind his head from the light of his window, illuminating his curls like a halo.

It’s rather fitting, you realize. After all, he is your guardian angel.

“Breathe,” he instructs, kissing down the curve of your throat before finding your chest. “Almost done, yeah? Doing so good for me, look so pretty taking my fingers. Know you’re gonna be so beautiful taking my cock, hm?”

Again, he dangles the image right in front of you, only to take it away before it can fully render. “Har—”

“Shh,” he says again, mouthing at the swell of your breast that’s being pushed up out of your bra. “Gonna give you another. Want you to be still for me, okay?”

With a rather disappointed huff, you oblige, watching as he scoots back just far enough to get a better visual.

Three fingers brings you to the gates of heaven. As does that look in his eye when he sees the way your pussy stretches around the larger digits. 

You can quite literally see the groan leave his body as he stares at you, lips parting in mesmerized bliss.

“You okay?” he manages to ask through a strained exhale.

“Yes,” you pant. “Can take more, I promise.”

“More, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please…”

He only hums.

Seconds go by before you’re gasping for air. Nails scraping down his scalp in desperation as he works you open. He’s incredibly focused, proud of the work he’s doing, and of the way your body bends to his will.

“There we go,” he praises softly. “Just like that. So fucking wet, sweet girl. Know it must ache.”

“It does…it does, Harry, please—”

“Got an itch you can’t scratch, yeah? Need me to reach it for you. Need me to fix it.”

“Please…”

“Almost, baby, almost.” 

You feel the fourth begin to push in and you suck in a sharp breath.

He stops. “It’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly. “Gonna take me like a good girl. Already doing so good, just a little more. Relax for me.”

You do your best to obey, allowing your limbs to fall limp beside you, despite the tightening of the coil in your stomach.

Even still, it works just enough to allow him more room. Slipping in the added digit until you see stars.

The pumping is loud and driven. Truly an exercise in restraint – for both of you – as the pace begins to quicken and the noises begin to increase.

Then, he brings his other hand into play, and brushes his thumb over your clit.

And you don’t mean to – you didn’t even realize you were so close – but you cum suddenly and with a rather lewd moan that makes his eyelids flutter.

“There,” he whispers, as though entranced. “There we go, good fucking girl.”

You can’t seem to get enough air in your lungs as you come down. And Harry chooses not to help as he finally removes both hands…and begins to pull you apart.

He exposes your clit to the colder air in order to dip down and ghost his mouth across the top. Releasing a warmer breath that sends chills straight down to your toes, making you squirm rather violently.

“Har…Har—” you gasp, fisting the blanket below. “Please, can’t…can’t—”

“Just wanna look at it,” he says simply. “S’so pretty—”

“Harry,” you whimper, writhing beneath his hold. “Harry, this is mean.”

“Mean, hm?” He smirks now and you want to die. “Well, I don’t wanna be mean, baby. Wanna be good for you, just like you are for me.”

You choose to take this as a sign to continue, sitting up just enough to reach for his belt and begin to tug it undone.

He laughs now, glancing down at your frantic fumbling with a knowing grin. “Cherry—”

“No,” you huff. “No, it’s my turn.”

To your surprise, he only hums. “Go ahead, then.”

You do, yanking the belt through each loop before tossing it aside and moving for his zipper. You don’t imagine you’ve ever worked so fast or so hard for something (specifically a cock) in your life.

The moment he’s able to wrangle his dark jeans down his legs, you’re dragging him back down. Ignoring his protests and his reminder that he still has one article of clothing left.

Instead, you work on ridding yourself of your own, unhooking your bra and tossing it into the same pile as his boxers.

And now, as you both settle into your nakedness together, every imperfection on display, you realize you’ve never been more content. Because baring your heart to him was far more vulnerable than baring your skin.

And because this is where you were always meant to be.

“Okay, baby, m’gonna start slow,” he repeats yet again, and you nod. “Just tell me if you want me to stop or slow down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nearly whine. “I will, I swear.”

“Good. And…shit, a condom, do you…do you have a preference—”

“Pill,” you pant. “I’m on the pill, just go.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes, please. I need to feel you, Harry, please…please.”

“Okay, all right.” He takes hold of your hips and positions you where he wants you before settling between your thighs. “Deep breath, okay? Just keep your eyes on me, I’ve got you.”

Another nod – quicker, more frenzied.

He takes hold of his cock and your eyes nearly roll back. It looks so beautiful in his hand. Just as stunning as you remember, and even though you never imagined you’d find one so appealing, your mouth seems to water.

Your leg hooks around his hip, subtly urging him closer, and he obliges. Giving himself a tug or two before gently trailing the tip down your aching cunt.

He moves up and down to collect a bit of your arousal before he finds your hole and slowly begins to push inside. Sinking in about half an inch before checking with you.

You nearly scream. “It’s okay. It’s okay, keep going.”

“Are you su—”

“Yes.”

His mouth curls up into a knowing grin as he continues. Allowing his cock to slip even further into your waiting pussy while your walls slowly stretch open to accommodate him.

And you’re hardly afforded the chance to enjoy this newer sensation before he suddenly dips down to kiss you. Perhaps an attempt at distraction, although it’s hardly needed. Because now you aren’t sure what to focus on, what feeling to indulge in. From his lips, to his cock, to the way your stomach nearly caves in on itself. 

“Fucking shit, baby,” he groans against your tongue. “Shit, you’re so tight…feels so good—”

“I know,” you agree. “God, please don’t stop—”

“No. Never.” He sinks in a bit further and you dig your teeth into his bottom lip. “M’almost there, you still all right?”

“Yes…yeah, I’m perfect. Perfect, promise—”

“That’s my girl,” he nearly seethes before he suddenly drives forward, sheathing himself all the way.

You both still the moment he’s fully inside, his face now disappearing into your shoulder as though to brace himself.

And you wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt not to let go. Allowing your body the time it needs to understand this new intrusion and find pleasure with it.

When it finally happens, the stars align.

“Okay,” you pant, gently scratching at his back to garner his attention. “Okay, go.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Need more, Har, please.”

He pulls his hips back and the whimper you release is almost feral. But it seems to do wonders for him, because his expression twists into something desperate, and you feel your chest implode.

He settles into a soft, slow pace. In and out, in and out, in synchronicity with your eager pants for more.

And there’s too much happening all at once. Too much to watch, too much to take pleasure in. 

The curls that drip down his forehead, the way his body looks as it connects with yours, the feel of his mouth going down your chest.

He’s everywhere all at once and somehow, it’s still not enough.

“Taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, seemingly to himself. “Could taste you forever.”

He takes your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking at the pebbled skin before nipping at it gently.

You keen, arching from the bed until you nearly knock into him. “Har—”

He hums around your nipple, and you almost cry with frustration and pleasure.

Everything feels slow. Almost too slow but there’s something tender there. He’s not trying to fuck you, he’s trying to feel you. To mold your body to his and it’s rather effective. Because the way you crave him feels like heaven and hell all in the same second. 

“Harry,” you whisper, practically deranged as you drag your hands down his chest. Nails tracing patterns down the tattoos across his abdomen. “Please…”

The noise he makes in response to your scratching is almost animalistic in nature, and you nearly flinch as you quickly lower your arms. Upset to have caused him any pain.

“No,” he groans, lifting up to nudge his nose under your jaw. “No, don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What?”

“Keep…shit—” His rhythm falters and you can almost feel the way his dick seems to twitch. “Keep going, s’okay. Want you to scratch me. Want you to hurt me, baby.”

And somehow, this reminder of his pain kink feels almost like a blessing. “Yeah?”

He nods faintly before attempting to resume his pace, and you happily take the lead.

Your fingers hesitantly return to his broad torso. Delicately tracing the muscles as they roll beneath your touch until you gingerly begin to press in. The sharp edge of your nails dancing across the expanse of his already torn skin.

In turn, he releases a strained noise that becomes lost beneath the grateful kisses to your collarbone. And you realize how much he truly enjoys it.

He gives you complete control of his body, of his pleasure. Because the harder you scratch at his scars, the more urgent his thrusts become. Until the sounds echoing around the room begin to echo between your ears. And the slapping of his hips into yours is inescapable.

“Feels so good, Har,” you nearly cry, lifting up just enough to kiss him quickly. “You’re so good to me. Always.”

“Shit.” His eyes about roll back before there’s a sharp snap of his cock into your eager cunt. “Always gonna take care of you. Promise—”

“I know,” you sigh. “I know, I love you.”

You say it now, and suddenly, everything changes.

It doesn’t matter if he’s heard you say it before or if he already knows because the look in his eye nearly guts you. 

He’s so…happy. So incredibly happy and endlessly enchanted that he begins to grin. “You love me,” he repeats. Not a question.

You smile as well, and the sentiment seems to explode out of you. “I love you.”

And it’s perfect, this moment. This connection of two bodies and two souls into one. The way you stumbled through the dark until you found each other, and it makes sense. Everything makes sense now with him. Clarity in the truest form.

“I love you,” he echoes, and he means it. You can feel it in every thrust, every syllable, every brush of his lips against yours. “I fucking love you, Cherry—”

“Please,” you gasp, leg dropping to the bed while your arms follow suit. “Har, please—”

“Gonna cum for me again?” He begins to go faster, chasing after your orgasm. “Let me feel you around my cock, sweet girl, come on. Already feel so good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Can’t what, hm? Can’t hold it?” It’s almost sadistic the way he speaks, but you know he’s merely enamored. “I know. I know, it’s okay. You can cum for me, don’t have to wait. Promise I won’t be mad.”

You aren’t sure what you’re about to do, all you know is that you never want this feeling to end. This moment, this security. You just want to touch him, and look at him, and taste him for the rest of your life. 

He interrupts your silence as a request for something more, and he offers it in the form of his dominance.

He takes hold of your wrist and hoists it above your head, pinning it to the mattress before settling his weight atop your chest. Trapping you beneath him until you have no other choice but to indulge in everything he has to give.

And you do.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine, isn’t it?” he purrs, teeth nipping below your ear as his fingers intertwine with yours. Holding your hand as he keeps it caged to the bed. “Spent all this time just waiting for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes…yes, fuck, Harry—”

“You were so patient. So good.” He’s growing more determined – sloppy – and your head begins to spin. “God, but you just needed me, yeah? Needed me to make it better—”

“Better,” you repeat almost mindlessly.

“Needed me to erase him—”

“Please—”

“Leave my mark. My fucking mark—”

“Harry—”

“You were never his,” he grits, and you aren’t sure who he’s really trying to convince. “You were never fucking his, you were always mine. And he knew it—”

“Shit, I can’t…can’t—"

His other thumb moves for your clit and you feel tears fill your eyes. “Yes, you can. Know you can, baby, and you will. Always do so good for me, gonna take my cum, aren’t you—”

There’s a strain on your muscles from the way they’re being stretched above your head, but you realize there’s something satisfying about the subtle pull. And when it’s coupled with a firm pinch of the sensitive nerves between the rough pads of his fingers, you start to lose it.

“There – shit – there you go,” he inhales, glancing over your face before watching the way his cock slips in and out of your pussy. Dripping in your arousal and smearing across your thighs. “Take me, just like that. Feels so fucking good, sweet girl, keep going…keep—”

You cry out and writhe helplessly beneath him. Pulling your arms from out of his hold in order to sling them around his neck and cement yourself to his chest.

And you have no choice but to succumb to the pleasure before you feel him follow.

“Fuck—” He surges forward, burying himself in you completely, moans melting into your feverish skin as you cling to each other. “Shit…I love you. I really fucking love you, Cherry.”

You smile lazily before bringing his mouth to yours. “I love you, too.”

He kisses you. All through the moment and then some. Until the sun has disappeared and the moon has been hung between the stars.

And you know that you have never been happier than you are in this moment, right now.

Just you, and him, and a pussy full of cum.

“Darling, we've got some at table six, could you go check on ‘em?”

With a quick nod of your head, you readjust your apron, and grab the notepad Owen is sliding toward you before slipping from the kitchen. 

You find the eager customers waiting just beside the counter and take their order with a charming grin and a promise to slip them some leftover pie.

The diner isn’t too busy tonight, and you’re grateful. Now that you’re on dessert duty, you spend a majority of your shifts working on new recipes and finalizing the specials for the coming week.

Truth be told, you rather enjoy this new task. It keeps your mind occupied and your thoughts from drifting.

And baking is your happy place. Your sense of calm amidst a sea of uncertainty, almost rivaling your own true source of serenity.

Harry.

Once you’ve returned to the kitchen, you sneak a glance at the clock. 12:06 A.M. He should be here soon. Probably tired. Perhaps a bit stressed. Hopefully no worse for wear than usual.

Fight nights always tend to leave you on edge. You know he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, but you can’t help but worry. It’s what you do best.

Still, you’re happy for him. Because while pies are your happy place, the boxing ring is his. He’s only ever wanted to fight – to make money, channel his anger into something good. And perhaps it’s not a sustainable lifestyle, but for right now, it’s what he wants to do.

And you respect his choice. You’ll respect any choice he makes, as long as he’s the one making it. Instead of it being made for him.

Besides, without Jesse there, you find that Harry tends to have a lot more fun. He leaves the fights with a busted lip but a bright smile, and it makes your heart swell until it feels as though there’s no more room in your chest.

Last you heard, Jesse left town. Harry refused to tell you what really went down at the club once the other members found out, but you decided that was probably for the best. No matter what fond memories you still have of your childhood friend, he’s not who he used to be. And you won’t ever be able to change that.

But for the first time in a long time…you’re okay with that.

The clock continues to tick the seconds away, and with each passing one, you grow a tad more anxious. Your guardian angel is late. At least by a few minutes, and you scurry about the diner as your thoughts race about a mile a moment.

And then, just as you’re readjusting the cake stands and tidying up the dessert display, you see it.

Your not-so-strange stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in that familiar, white gauze, and are stained with streaks of red.

But he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

And you grin wider than you have all day.

“Hi, Cherry,” he calls the moment his head lifts, allowing you a better look at his stunningly damaged face as you scurry closer. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you nearly giggle, slipping off your apron before sliding into the seat across from him. “How was it?”

“Easy,” he snorts, but there’s a sparkle in his eye. “And I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“M’off for the next few days. Thought you could come over…and not leave.”

You laugh as you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Good.” He glances down at your interlocked fingers almost fondly. “Hey, you know what I just realized?”

“What?”

Now, a mischievous expression begins to form. “I never introduced myself.”

And for some reason…you can’t help but laugh.

“So,” he begins, rather charmingly as he raises your hand in order to shake it formally, “hi.”

And you really fucking love him.

“I’m Harry Styles.”

I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE AT THE END!! This has been such a fun story, and SUCH a wild ride that I feel very lucky to have gotten to take with so many incredibly wonderful people!!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along and left the nicest comments or notes!! I cannot tell you what it means to me!!

Harry and Cherry will def be back for extras soon, but until then...I love you 🥹♥️ Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Previous Part:

~ Uppercut*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @swiftmendeshoran @straightontilmornin @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @cherryshouse @harryscowgirl @mypolicemanharryyy @snwells @cherryluvhobi @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @kittenhere @nominsgirl @lovrave @laelamarley

[hazza043]

Daryl speaks, his voice firm and rough. "I don't like you, woman. Never have, never will." You look up at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You feel a sting from his harsh words and try to hold back your emotions. "Okay," you say, beginning to walk away, trying to keep your dignity intact. You slowly slump back to the prison, and when you reach the gate, Carl asks, "Where's Daryl?" You shrug, walking to your cell, trying to escape the pain of Daryl's words.

But as you lie down on your cot, you can't shake off the feeling of rejection. Days pass, and you try to avoid Daryl as much as possible. However, it's hard, especially when you're living in such close quarters. One day, as you're walking out of the prison, you see Daryl sitting by the gate, cleaning his crossbow. You try to ignore him, but he looks up and catches your eye. "Hey," he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say. Then, you shrug and walk over to him. "What?" you ask, trying to sound nonchalant. Daryl looks at you, his eyes searching for something. "I'm not good at feelings, and how could you like an old man like me?" You're taken aback by Daryl's vulnerability, and your heart softens.

"You're not old, Daryl," you say, trying to reassure him. "And feelings aren't always easy for anyone." Daryl snorts, looking away. "You're just saying that to be nice." You take a step closer, your voice gentle. "No, I mean it. And even if I didn't, it's not about age or appearance. It's about who you are as a person."

Daryl's eyes flicker back to yours, searching for sincerity. You hold his gaze, trying to convey that you're genuine. "I...don't know what to say," he mutters, his gruff exterior cracking. You smile, trying to put him at ease. "You don't have to say anything. Just knowing you're trying...means a lot." Daryl nods, his expression softening. For a moment, you see a glimmer of hope, of connection.

Then, he looks away, clearing his throat. "Yeah. Well. Just forget it, okay?" You nod, understanding. "Okay."

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a sense of wonder. Did Daryl just open up to you? You're not sure, but you sense a shift in his demeanor. You realize that beneath his tough exterior, he's struggling with his own emotions. Days pass, and you notice Daryl watching you from afar. You catch him looking at you during meals or while you're working in the prison yard.

You start to feel a flutter in your chest, and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, Daryl feels the same way. One evening, as you're walking back to your cell, Daryl falls into step beside you. "Hey," he says, his voice low and rough. You look up at him, your heart racing. "Hey," you reply, trying to sound casual.

Daryl clears his throat. "I've been thinking...maybe I was wrong about you." You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?" Daryl nods, his eyes locked on yours. "Yeah. Maybe you're not so bad after all." You smile, feeling a spark of connection. "Maybe I'm not." Daryl's expression softens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of hope.

Then, he looks away, his mask slipping back into place. "Just don't get too comfortable," he mutters. You laugh, feeling a sense of excitement. "I wouldn't dream of it," you reply, wondering what's next for you and Daryl.

[luveline]

what about Steve finding out he’s gonna be a dad for the first time??? or him doting on you while you’re pregnant 🥹

You’re asleep when Steve’s starts kissing you. “Love you,” he’s saying between presses of his lips, the words bouncing off of the side of your nose. 

You blink, eyelashes sticky with sleep. Your back aches and couch springs groan as you try to stretch, Steve’s arms locked around you to hold you in place. “What time is it?” you ask. Your voice barely comes out. You try again, “How long have I been sleeping?” 

You tip your face back. He’s laid down beside you, smiling, his hair crushed by the cushion under his cheek. You brush it out of his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he says, sounding happy and affectionate at once. “I’ve been home for an hour. We napped.” 

You can tell. You feel distinctly relaxed. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Nauseous.” 

“Oh no,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest. His hand slides down to your stomach. “What’s she doing to you?” 

For a moment, he talks so gently, with so much love, you assume he’s talking to the baby. But then you realise he’s talking to you, and you melt like soft taffy under a hot sun. “Nothing, really.” 

“No?” he asks, hand on the topmost curve of your bump. 

“I think I didn’t like lunch. My taste buds are changing or something.” 

“I can make you something. I’m an excellent chef.” 

“Maybe…” You curl into him as much as you can in the limited space. “In a minute.” 

“In a minute,” he repeats, half teasing, half something warmer. He’s turned on his side to give you and your bump enough room, an arm curled underneath you surely dead and the other still resting gently on your stomach. The air between you is warm, almost damp, too hot from napping together but neither of you willing to move away yet. 

You get lost in thought. The nice shape of his smile is distracting, especially still lax with the after effect of a good sleep. 

“What was your day like?” he asks eventually. 

“Just quiet.” You close your eyes and let them sting, tears collecting under your eyelids that you blink away. “I think the baby is making me really tired.” 

“Well, you’re making a baby. It’s hard,” he says. “Much easier to begin with.” 

You smile rather than laugh, too tired. “Way too easy. How was,” —you yawn wide, eyes watering yet again— “your day?” 

“A little less tiring than yours, obviously.” 

You rub your nose into his polo shirt. “Every shift is another pair of socks.” 

“This one’s worth more than that. A box of diapers for sure. And a couple of days of groceries, I guess.” He kisses your nose messily. “Got your vitamins on the way home.” 

“Thank you… Actually, my day was agitating. I have this itch between my shoulders I can’t reach.”

“Yeah?” he’s immediately interested. 

“Yeah, would you– yeah, to your– little more…” You drift off as his hand sneaks under your shirt and his nails find the awful evil itch that’s irking you. He knows exactly where to go from the slightest hitch on your breath, and he isn’t cute about it. He likely leaves scratch marks behind. It’s exactly what you needed. “Thank you so much.” 

He rubs the scratches with the side of his thumb to cover the pain until it’s faded. “You’re welcome, honey. I’m your guy. Itches, rashes, headaches, weird moles. I’m always gonna be your guy.” 

“Until the baby comes along ‘n then you're their guy.” 

“I guess so. I think you kind of…” You’re both so tired your conversation comes out slowly, but it comes. “…make that promise when you decide to have one. I’ll be her guy, but that’s not– I’m always gonna be here for you. I’m still gonna be your guy. You’ll have to share me, that’s all.” His nose crinkles with his smile. “I’m not gonna give you half, though. I’ll just have to double my efforts.” 

“Really?” you ask. You hadn’t realised you were worried until he mentioned it. 

“Duh, babe. Not gonna punish you for something I did to you.”

“This isn’t a punishment.” 

His fingers spread over your shoulder, skin on skin. “For sure not. I’m not talking about the baby, I mean me. The way I am. I’m not gonna choose her over you, I’m going to take care of you both.” 

His polo is easy to collect and squeeze in your hand as you tip into his chest. “You’ll have to choose her sometimes.” 

“So you admit it’s a her?” 

“I admit nothing, H.” 

“I’m on your side forever,” he promises, noses inclined together, your bump pressed to his abdomen. He’s hugging you like there’s nowhere else in the world to be. “I’m always gonna look after you.” He scratches your skin in emphasis, much kinder and longer strokes of his hand. “Always.” 

[scary-lasagna]

I LOVED THE VAMPIRE POST SMM. So like would Liu, EJ, BEN and Jeff let their vampire s/o bite them and drink their blood?

Homicidal Liu

Liu is squeamish when it comes to blood due to his past trauma of obvious reasons.

And even with a high pain tolerance, he wouldn't voluntarily allow himself to be bitten.

Many risks come with the first bite; An artery could be sliced, blood infection, too much blood loss, you hate the way his blood tastes so therefore you will hate him forever.

That last one was just Liu's imgaination running wild, but all together it's pretty risky.

He might offer a test bite, not a full chomp, but a little nibble on his arm to see how it feels. A pinprick was all he could describe it as.

But he quickly backed out once he caught wind of the blood trickling down his arm.

He might allow a second attempt, but not anytime soon. 

Sully, however, is a different story. He would let you drink this body dry, and force Liu forward in the middle of it just to be a sadistic asshole. 

Either way, they're both willing to try at least once.

Eyeless Jack

Jack doesn't think that you would enjoy his blood very much.

Much like the liquid that seeps from his eye sockets, his blood has a tar-like consistency. 

It wouldn't go down easy, and if your body rejects it since it's not truly 'blood', it won't come back up easy either.

Ultimately, Jack says no due to your safety. It just too big of a risk for Jack to feel comfortable letting you take a bite out of him.

Jelly donuts are better, anyway. Especially at 3am while everyone else is asleep.

BEN

BEN will act tough and dominant up until it's actually time for you to bite him.

He'll get squirmy and find excuses to delay the inevitable now that he's talked the big talk and agreed to do it.

You'll of course call him out on it, and will nervously sit down and away from his stack of DS games that he wanted to organize alphabetically. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You ask him, with a comforting hand on his knee.

"Yeah.." Ben sighs and rubs the back of his neck with a nervous tic. " I'm just afraid it'll hurt or I make a weird noise or something." He chuckles lightly.

"We can start, and if you want to stop we can and I won't judge you for it." You reassure. "Or we can do blood lettings which doesn't involve biting."

"It's that like plague doctor shit, though?"

"Well yeah but it doesn't invol-"

"Just take a bite, babe."

He trusts you with all of his heart. And he lets you take a bite.

And yes, he does make a weird sound.

Jeff

Oh hell yeah, fucking go for it.

No questions asked.

Jeff thinks it's hardcore, and frankly, he's not experienced enough to know the dangers of blood letting or blood biting. He just thinks your hot and that you wanna bite him.

And honestly? Go for it. He's probably got a few diseases lurking in there but you're immortal so it doesn't affect you.

He would urge you to keep going even after he feels light headed, just ot see how long he can stay awake.

Jeff can be an extremely convincing individual, but do not trust him.

He can and will pass out and then you will have to call Eyeless Jack and explain everything to him.

He will not be happy.

Jeff will try to kiss him thinking that he's you.

And then Jeff will get swatted away and start crying out of rejection 

[kirihoon]

BAKUGOU GETTING HIT WITH A TRUTH QUIRK

because why not 🤷🏻‍♀️

cw: tons of curse words

"Bakugou-san, are you okay?" you ask him. You saw him get hit with a villain's quirk earlier. Though he seems physically fine. Well, relatively. He has more than a few scratches and bruises from the fight. Nothing that'll leave a mark tho. You're still worried of how the quirk might affect him.

"tsk. I'm not fine! I'm hurt!" you stood there shocked at his response. Never in the five years you've known him has he ever answered that way. You've heard him say he was fine while being wheeled into the hospital, stabs all over him.

Bakugou is just as shocked at his answer.

That isn't what he meant to say! He's not fucking weak! He's the strongest hero, damn it!

But he doesn't have time to ponder this because you quickly move over to him, checking every inch of his body and muttering that he needs to go to the hospital.

"Oy! I said I'm not fine." He meant to say he was fine! He swears! Please don't think he's some weak ass hero who can't handle a few cuts. "Fuck! That isn't what I meant to say!"

At this point, you're freaking the fuck out. How hurt does he have to be to actually admit it? You don't even register you're surroundings. Neither of you notice the villain tied up and smirking at you and Bakugou's little conversation.

"Are you in pain? What can I do? How can I help? I swear it's gonna be okay. Okay? Don't panic, don't fucking panic!" you say in a rushed increasingly higher voice.

You are definitely not panicking, nope. Bakugou's fine. He's a hero. He's a great, strong, and resilient hero. He's going to be okay. He is. You promise yourself that he is. But, but what if?

Your breathing quickens now. This can't be happening. He can't, he can't do this. You haven't even been able to confess your feelings to him. You've been hyping yourself up for a couple months now, ever since you've decided to admit you like him after a few years of silence. He can't not let you at least say it. Selfish bastard.

"Y/n? Are you okay? I know you're cute as fuck when you're worrying about me but you don't have to. I'm going to be okay."

What. The. Fuck. Where the fuck did that come from? Bakugou didn't mean to say that. Well, it is true, he thinks. But all his blood is now rushing to his cheeks. Blush reaching even his ears and neck.

You're no better. You're wide eyes from panic are now due to you being flustered. Okay, calm down Y/n. There has to be a rational reason why a hero waaayyy out of your league is saying you're cute. Maybe he got hit in the head a little too hard? Maybe it was a quirk that makes him lie or damaged his eyesight or something. Yeah, that's probably it.

You say nothing as you turn around and find a medic who could help him. You practically sprint away from him. Your heart is beating too fast. Maybe you should find yourself a medic too.

Bakugou is left there, embarrassed. Oh no. He's an idiot. Y/n ran away. Of course, they don't like him that way. That sweet angel sent by the gods. How could theh ever like a loud, aggressive, and angry man like him?

He needs to explain himself. Maybe he could say it was a joke. But that seems cruel. Maybe he could say he wasn't talking about you. No, that doesn't even make sense. Maybe he could blame Deku. Yeah, that always works. But how could he make it seem like Midoriya's fault.

He ends his inner monologue and decides he should just talk to you. He found you alone near one of the ambulances, looking around.

"Hey, y/n. Let me explain." Okay that's the easy part. Now, for the actual explaining part. He's a mighty hero, he's taken down a shit ton of villains. Why does this seem to be way harder. "The truth is, I like you. I have for a while now. It's true, you're cute when you worry. Especially when it's about me. It's nice to know I matter enough to you for you to actually care if I'm okay."

Huh? That's both of your reactions. Where the fuck did that come from? This time, Bakugou is the one to leave. Embarrassed and scared of your response.

You catch up to him and grab his wrist. "I like you too, Bakugou-san! I thought I never had a chance with you. Please, go on a date with me!" Your puppy dog eyes stare at him, into his soul. You patiently wait for his response despite your growing anxiety. "F-fine! Dumbass. I should have been the one to ask you out." He says, rolling his eyes. Yet, he still couldn't hide the smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes while staring at you.

Six months later, you and Bakugou are happily together. You and him were sorting through a couple criminals' files for a report when you stumble across the incident that kick-started your relationship. Only then did you realize he was hit with a truth quirk.

-----

Bonus:

"What just happened?" A flabbergasted Midoriya asks as he watched the interaction between Bakugou and Y/n.

"I genuinely don't know." Kirishima answers, looking equally shocked.

The villain snickered, "I know what happened~" he says in a teasing tone. The two men look at him, waiting for an explanation.

"I hit him with a truth quirk, he can only say the truth for a couple hours" he says, smirking despite the chains around him.

-----

"Hey, Bakubro! Who's your best and manliest bro in the whole world?" Kirishima asks Bakugou back at the office. Only the two of them and Midoriya are present. They just finished discussing the logistics of the incident.

"What the fuck? Obviously it's you, Shitty Hair!"

"Aw, Bakubro, you're so sweet!"

-----

"Soooo, Kacchan, do you like, only pretend to still hate me?" Midoriya felt guilty for using the villain's quirk but this was just too good to let go.

"Of course, you're my oldest friend and stuck with me through my bullshit. I'll be a damned fool to actually hate you now." Midoriya straight up just bursts into tears.

He's going to kill these two.

-----

a/n: yey finally finished with this. imagine all the questions kaminari would ask him if he found out.

[maple-the-awesome]

Body Swap || Part 1/2

Part 2 ||

Pairings: Wild, Four, Sky, Hyrule x Reader

Overview: A wizard's spell leaves you both in a state of confusion, especially upon realizing you're no longer in your assigned bodies. No Wind for this one, so we'll just give him a cookie and spare him the trauma for today -.-/🍪 The other boys are at my mercy, though

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

This dungeon had been going great - so great, in fact, that you were actually sad to reach the end of it. Sure, the puzzles were a pain in the butt and the miniboss was an embarrassing waste of time, but what had made it all worth it was the fact that you had gone through every trial right by Link’s side. 

In a group of ten travelers, a date day with just the two of you is rare - extremely and unjustly rare - therefore you had both jumped at the chance of completing this dungeon alone together. Everything was going swimmingly, too, right down to the main boss battle. A tiny, itty bitty yet still very evil wizard is nothing compared to your combined force, so you expected it to be a piece of cake that would end in a wonderful memory to look back on later. Instead, it ended in a very different, less appreciated way.

One more hit was all it should've taken to defeat the little guy, however right as Link raised his bow for the final arrow, the wizard began swinging its wand around in a last ditch effort for success. Fearing for your partner's safety, you had rushed over with your shield, hoping to use it to block whatever spell the wizard planned, but in an unexpected twist, said spell turned into a cloud of smoke instead of a ball of energy like you expected.

As the boss made his escape, the fumes of his final spell poisoned the air and entered your lungs with an uncomfortable burn. Link and you both fell to your knees in coughing fits, suddenly feeling dizzy and woozy much to your concern...

Aside from the initial wave of nausea you felt, that wizard's spell seemed like nothing more than a harmless distraction for escape, at least that's what you would've went on thinking if not for the sight that greeted you once the smoke officially cleared.

"Oh jeez! ...Uhhh, are you alright?" Although a shock indeed, you remain calm with your first priority being to check on Wild who's still fanning away the fumes from his face.

"Yeah, I'm alrig -" He freezes almost as soon as the words are said, his eyes immediately shooting open to look down at his body - or rather your body that he's suddenly found himself in, "WHAT THE -?! HOW AM I - I'M YOU?!"

“Very observant, Wild,” You roll your eyes before looking around the room to find no sign of that wizard. Whether that’s fortunate or unfortunate might depend on your ability to reverse this little problem he’s now left you both with, “...Guess that little guy was such a sore loser he decided to play dirty then retreat. What a coward.”

Standing up, you start examining yourself for possible injuries - ones that weren't already a part of Wild's collection, that is. Thankfully you see nothing aside from a small cut above your hip from a hit he had taken earlier; an easy fix with the help of a red potion. If only the same could be said about your incredibly tangled hair that you pull a leafed branch out of with a cringe, "When was the last time you've taken a bath?"

"Rude!"

"Personal hygiene is very important. It keeps you from harboring full-on ecosystems in your hair."

"...You sound just like the Captain…" Wild mumbles under his breath while pushing himself off the ground. Once up, he wobbles and holds his arms out for balance as if he’s never stood on two legs before.

"Oh, the Captain! He’s going to have the time of his life with this one - all the boys will, I'm sure,” In Wild's opinion, your teasing smirk doesn’t quite carry the same effect as it would if on your assigned face. Instead, it looks a bit...silly to see you speaking as himself and judging on your sniffled laughter, he, too, must look equally as funny glaring back at you as you. 

"Ugh. I can already hear Twilight blaming us for not being careful enough," He groans, subconsciously runs his hand over his arm which is smooth like silk rather than being rough with scars. Huh. He had forgotten how that felt...

"Yep, we're in for a heap of nagging and annoying jokes when we get back, but I say we at least have some fun with it while we can. Wanna see how long it takes anyone to notice?" You nudge his side as you pass by towards the exit of the boss chamber, your suggestion finally lifting his spirits.

"I don’t know. It could take them all night if we keep our mouths shut about it."

"No way. They'll notice as soon as I do something stupid and you don't, which should take approximately an hour at most…I mean, assuming that you’re not asked to make dinner tonight.”

“Oh, well in that case, they’ll definitely notice then. You’re a terrible cook.”

“Rude!”

You moan while rubbing your burning eyes. Even with them closed, you can still see remnants of the same flashy colors that had followed after that wizard’s stupid spell; like a firework show inside your eyelids that's so realistic you can actively smell the gunpowder.

"Don't panic," You hear someone say. You assume it must be Four since he's the only other person here, although his voice sounds different, almost like…

"Don't...? Why would I panic - AHH!" Once finally being able to see straight, you expected to find Four kneeling in front of you, but instead you just see yourself. It's as if you're looking directly into a mirror until you glance down at your hands. That's when you let out a shout, doing the exact opposite of what Four asked by instantly panicking upon realizing they aren't actually your hands, but his. Your clothes, your hair, your BODY; IT’S ALL HIM!

"I’M YOU!”

"I can see that."

"YOU’RE ME?!”

"Yes."

"...H-How are you not freaking out?" You blink at him - er, you? Whoever! You blink at who should be Four but is actually you as he simply shrugs in response to your question as if this is just another Tuesday for him!

"This isn’t really the ‘craziest’ thing that's happened to me. Maybe in the top three, but..."

You stare at him for a long minute, wanting to be angry that he's behaving so calmly right now, although he does have somewhat of a reputation for being one of the more relaxed Link's, not to mention the pair of you have seen some pretty crazy stuff during your adventures, both separate and together.

Running a hand through your hair, you take deep breathes and try your best not to be so freaked out especially once remembering this isn't technically your hair you're touching which makes you instantly stop the action, "...What do we do to fix this?"

"I...don't know."

"You 'don't know'? What, are we supposed to just live like this forever?!"

"No, of course not!" He crosses his arms uncomfortably and sighs, "We'll find a way to reverse the spell and get back to our normal bodies. We're in Legend’s world, but I think he mentioned that his Zelda knows some magic, so if we can get to the Castle, she might be able to help us."

You groan, running your hand over your face in irritation. You were having such a good day until this point! Why can't the universe allow you just one normal evening with your boyfriend, huh? Is that too much to ask for?

Four offers you a hand and helps you up. Once on your feet, you realize yet another detail about your current situation that makes you uncomfortable, "Woah. I'm not used to looking at myself from another perspective like this…or being so low to the ground.”

Four rolls his eyes at your comment before taking your hand and dragging you after him outside of the dungeon.

"Oh, come on! Doesn't it weird you out, too? Looking at yourself from my point of view while I’m in your body?"

"Of course, it’s weird,” He sighs again, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I'm just considering myself lucky I'm only looking at one of me."

"...One?"

"Sky? You alright?" You crawl blindly out of the smoke cloud, coughing along the way while keeping your eyes squeezed shut to prevent anything from getting in them. Although you receive no verbal reply, you can at least relax upon hearing Sky's wheezing close by. 

You’re about to repeat your question, yet your voice dies within your throat. Once opening your eyes, you see yourself kneeled on the ground where you fan smoke away from your nose with a face scrunched up in irritation – except that’s not really you. It can’t be! You’re right here, so how is it that you’re suddenly able to look at yourself through a third person perspective? …Then you look down, slowly but surely putting the pieces together in your head.

"...Sky?" 

Just as predicted, the 'other you' looks up in response, even giving a small hum before their eyes go wide with the same shock you undoubtedly mirror.

“(Y/n)? Is that you? You’re –“

“- You…And you’re me,” It doesn’t matter how many times you close your eyes and reopen them. Each time, you’re greeted by the same sight. Thanks to that stupid wizard, you’ve switched bodies with Sky which definitely wasn’t on your agenda for today…or any other, for that matter. Worst part? Neither of you know a thing about magic to reserve this, “…Shit…”

“M-Maybe someone else knows how to fix this?” Sky suggests hopefully, although judging on his waivered smile, even he must realize it’s a long shot. Not many Links are accustomed to magic either, and believe it or not, no one’s been in this situation yet not that they’ve ever cared to share, anyway.

“Here’s to hoping…Come on, we should at least get out of this place before that wizard comes back and switches our heads,” Sky gulps, but nods.

Standing to your feet, you brush yourself off and prepare to make your exit from this dark boss’s chamber, however you pause in place when you notice Sky following you at much slower pace, his posture rather stiff as he holds his arms slightly away from himself, “…Why are you walking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…” You copy his stance then give him a pointed look that makes him bow his head in embarrassment.

“I-I don’t want to touch something I’m not supposed to!”

"Awww, that’s sweet, but dude, you can relax. They're only feminine arms. They won't kill you," You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling at how careful and sweet he's trying to be. If there’s one thing to be grateful for in this situation, it’s that you got switched around with a gentleman instead of a pervert, "Just don't touch my breasts or anything and we’ll be good.”

Poor Sky whimpers uncomfortably after your comment…Yeah, hopefully this situation can be solved without leaving any lasting trauma behind...

"Mmm...Hey, are you alright?"

Hyrule's voice sound so distance despite him being so close by. You wish you could see him, but every time you try to open your eyes, you're only met with blurred colors and sparkles, "...I-I think so..."

Hyrule sighs and is about to say something else, but his relief is instead punctuated with a gasp once he looks down at his hands. He whispers your name, however his voice goes unnoticed the first time. He has to shout it a bit louder for you to actually hear him. Finally, you're able to open your eyes and see a bit more clearly - at least that's what you thought before looking over to his voice and just seeing yourself.

"What kinda spell was that? My eyes aren't working right," You start vigorously rubbing them again only for Hyrule to reach out and grab your wrists to stop you.

"They're working. At least, I-I'm pretty sure they're working. You, uh, see yourself instead of me, right?"

"Yeah."

"And I see myself instead of you."

"Okay?"

Hyrule bows his head, removing his hands from wrists to stare down at them with a wobbled frown, "I don't think it's a trick of our ours. I think that spell switched our bodies."

"...Oh...Oooh!" After his words sink in, you glance down at yourself and pick at your tunic, confirming that it feels as real as it looks.

“Alright. This might seem bad, but look on the bright side: neither of us are hurt so the others can scold us too much, right? Let’s just get back to camp and –" Hyrule’s cut off when you suddenly squeal. Startled, his head snaps back up at you, fearing that perhaps you had gotten hurt somehow, yet to his surprise, you have a bright smile on your face as you tangle your fingers in your hair – or rather his hair.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just – I’ve always wondered if your hair is as soft as it looks and it definitely is!” You giggle, unable to help yourself from testing your theory personally. Hyrule's hair has always appeared to be the fluffiest out of all the Links and you've been dying to ask him if you can touch it, perhaps even braid it. Now that you technically in his body now, might as well, right? It's at least some benefit to this weird situation, “What do you use to wash it?”

"I, uh...water, I guess?"

“…”

[strawberryshortcake0413]

Last hope (part 2)

Characters:yandere Leon S Kennedy (older version) x reader

Disclaimer: This fanfic contains dark-themed topics, such as kidnapping, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-consent, unwanted pregnancy,etc

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. MDNI

Warning: yandere Leon Kennedy, kidnapping, non-consent, depressed reader, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, unwanted pregnancy, emotional & mental abuse, out of character leon, smut etc

@ianrkives credits for the divider, thank you!

The pictures used does not belong to me!!!

Chapters: pt1 pt3

4 months. That's how long Leon kept you in his hell of a house. From being the freest soul on earth, doing whatever you wanted to be kept in a single room with nothing but a bed, and a window.

You learned one or two things about him during the months of “rest” as he says. If you willingly participate in his role-playing scenario, he lets you roam around the house freely with him as a tour guide.

The deep dark circle below your eyes was slowly turning to the same color your cheeks were. During the day you didn't have to feel like a failure, like you always did, whether it was in school, university, or work.

You hated to admit it, but his house seemed like an escape from your busy life. Even if most people would either pity you or see an opportunity to step on you like killing an insect after learning of your past, something about it seemed familiar. Almost as if you wanted to go back to your old life before Leon kidnapped you. Your old life was the escape from your current situation

“Fine,” you thought just before your consciousness went back to remember your accomplishments in life. You're not the kind of person who lies to themselves. You had a pretty hard life. Especially your childhood, which gave you an unhealable wound that would last a lifetime.

Now thinking, it was a silly dream of you to think you would be a famous singer. You sang well, maybe when you were 10, you had to toughen up for the harsh life.

But seriously. How many people become surgeons from a girl who had nothing but a public school education? Do people think it was easy to get a full-ride scholarship? Maybe to some rich kids with ties. But even with words, no one could explain the pain you went through to get here. Just for a random old guy to steal everything you had, just like your mom.

“Oh. Her?” You chuckled to yourself causing Leon to turn in your direction while he typed something on his computer.

She stole you from a good childhood, your first boyfriend, and almost your only chance of escaping her, scholarship. The bitch tried to hide your letters from you, lucky you to have a mother like this. Fortunately, you found them under her bed while she was passed out on the couch 2 days before the due date to respond. And to even think about the time you caught her sleeping with your first boyfriend.

Hope both of them are burning in hell.

All of this suffering, even your mother's failure in becoming a parent could have ended with a simple procedure. But no. Your mom decided to keep a baby she knew she couldn't love and take care of. Hell. You don't even know who your dad was. Or what he looked like.

“What are you smiling at? Baby” Leon came to interrupt your bitter thoughts, pushing back your hair behind the ear.

You stared at him like a beaten cat. Leon was proud of how far you came. From cursing and yelling every second to being calm around him was a big deal to the man.

“You're a happy baby? Is it me? Am I making you happy?” Leon smiled, giving you showers of kisses on your neck, lips, and cheek.

“Yeah,” you replied sarcastically, going back to thinking about yourself.

“Aw, don't be like that. You know daddy does everything to make you happy” Leon said, laying you on the bed, starting to kiss your neck again.

Leon's smile turned to a grin as he saw his angel giggling happily. He slowly crept his hand under your shirt, squeezing a breast in one hand while the other worked to cup your cunt.

“Fuck. What-” you started, the zoning out session interrupted again. As his tongue entered your mouth, you kissed him back out of the habit you developed for the last few months.

“Shh. Daddy got you” he said, pulling away to throw off his shirt before doing the same to yours. His breath hitched as he took in the scene before him. Your two perky nipples reveal themselves to his hungry eyes. He took one in his wet mouth causing you to breathe out heavily.

“Leon-”

He pulled away quickly, raising his eyebrow at you.

“Who?” He muttered. His dear dove rolled her eyes and whispered a nickname he gave himself.

“Louder baby. Daddys can't hear you when you talk like a mouse” he chuckled.

“How much do you want to humiliate me??” You yelled out in weeks for the first time. Leon signed as he realized he had to come to reality to face the truth. The blonde wanted so badly to believe his darling stopped this phase of rage.

“Baby, if you keep acting like a spoiled brat, I would have no choice but to spank you. I know how much you hate it” Leon says calmly.

You thought about the situation for a few seconds before deciding getting spanked was more humiliating.

“Daddy,” you said silently before hiding your face in the pillow.

Leon turned you around and started pulling down the shorts you wore along with your cotton underwear.

Just get it over with.

Leon immediately started to slurp at your cunt before gently biting your clit.

“You were a bad girl today. You know how bad girls get it right?” he says as he pulls down his jeans. Leon groaned as his hard cock slammed against his belly. “Open your eyes, baby,” he says as he lays on top of you.

You hesitantly opened one of your eyes before doing the same to the other, not wanting to get Leon angry.

Around 2 months ago, he slapped you so hard you felt sore in your mouth for 2 days. At the time you felt good causing him pain, even if you got the price. Unfortunately, the price was learning to never bite his dick, or you get slapped across the cheek so hard you fall on the floor.

As you popped your pretty eyes to him, he lined his cock to your entrance, guiding it up and down. The simulation makes both of the pair groan. Leon smirked as he felt slick forming around his dick, making slick sounds.

“No fingering since you were a bad girl. And what bad girls get?” Leon groaned as his tip twitched.

“No prep” you gasped as he pushed it all in one push. Your hands on his chest tried to push him back, causing Leon to lock your hands above your head.

Leon soon started moving, at a pace he felt pleasure. Today was not about you, you needed to learn your lesson. His dove wriggled while moaning.

“Feels good doesn't it? You just gotta ask daddy” Leon groaned as your legs wrapped around his torso.

“D-Daddy…” you whined as he rubbed your clit furiously. The man groaned loudly as you clenched around him, almost making him see stars.

Leon increased his thrusts as his dove started to moan louder than before. Clenching like your life depended on it.

“Daddy… i-im I'm gonna c-cummm” you whined before gushing all over Leon's dick.

“Bad girl. Who allowed you to finish?” he barked, slapping your clit causing you to squirt. He groaned in satisfaction, the feeling of your come with the whine that came out of you, popping the pressure in his lower belly.

You could feel the warm, liquid seeds flowing inside you.

For the past few hours, you figured the nostalgia you had in mind is not the one most people think it is. You were so used to getting shitty treatments, you started treating yourself like shit. You can't even think of a nice memory without someone stabbing your back.

“Dove, the breakfast is ready. Daddy made you your favorite.” Leon grinned as he placed a plate with some salad and yogurt.

He affectionately stroked your tears-stained cheeks. You sat on the chair, if anyone saw you, they would have thought you didn't have a spine.

You gave up. It was your last breakdown. You promised yourself, that no matter what happens, you are going to go back into your life. Even if it was shitty. You can change the coming events to go back. The future. It was your last hope. For yourself.

But again, it wasn't even clear if you would make it out alive. It was either you kill yourself or giving in to his dreams. If Leon manages to get you to obey his wishes, you will lose yourself. The only thing that you have, your achievements. You loved your career too much to end it like this. All those sufferings can not be meaningless like this. If you have to give up, you should at least try to be free.

Leon noticed the change of attitude you had, from barking at his face or ignoring him completely, you were being a good girl. Helping him clean up the house, letting him kiss you without resistance, and following his rules.

“Daddy… can I… have orange juice…” you muttered, trying not to be embarrassed. Leon's smile grew upon hearing you correctly address him. He pats your head gently before kissing your temple.

Pouring some natural juice he chose at the store in the plastic cup so that his dove can't harm anyone in the process of dining.

You took the cup and sipped the juice as Leon stared at you. Maybe it was time to get to know him more. At least who he was.

“Daddy… Can I ask you something?” You mumbled silently. Leon raised his eyebrows in response. What possibly could his angel be asking him about?

“Yeah… What is it?” Leon asked cautiously, he can't let you know unnecessary details of this evil world filled with a bunch of monsters.

“Um… I… what… what do you… like?” You muttered. You thought getting to know him was easy, asking a few questions and done. Your pathway to freedom, aka your life. It was stupid to ask about his personal life all of a sudden after you didn't give a single shit about him for more than 4 months.

Leon narrowed his eyes, the question was fine but the way you worded it seemed suspicious to him.

“What do I like? About what baby?” Leon asked as he turned his back to you while cleaning the counter as an excuse.

“Um… just what you like to do,” you said while sipping your juice. Why were you so awkward? The real you didn't hesitate to say shit in front of anyone about them. But now you were scared of what he would think of you.

“I love taking care of you, love. Now sleep. It's your bedtime” he smiled as his fingers tapped on his watch indicating 9 pm.

[roger-that-cap]

seven summers

bradley bradshaw x fem! reader

this my first fic in what feels like a century for a completely different fandom. i have been gathering up the courage to do this again, and i've been sitting on this for about two months now. take it easy on me y'all i feel like a sixty year old veteran re-enlisting right now and i have NO idea how to reload my weapon

warnings: absolutely none! well theyre a little sad for a minute but nothing that tumblr can't handle

word count: 5.9k

Loud spaces weren’t really in your list of favorite places. You could tolerate bars more than you could do clubs, though, and your best friend took that into consideration when she planned the night out for you two. The music was loud and the people were starting to get rowdy, but at least no one was grinding on you or begging for a dance. That was always when you would wrap it up for the night, shaking your head at even thinking that it was a good idea. 

“Thank you,” you told the bartender, an exceptionally gorgeous older woman who always seemed to have a meddling look on her face. Her hair was lightly waved around her face as she looked you up and down for a second. You thought she was going to say something, but she just nodded at you once with a small smile before you turned away again, facing the crowd of people you were about to delve back into. You were just leaving the bar top with a soda (you were the DD, as always) when you tripped over someone else’s huge shoe. 

“Oh, shit,” a manly voice said as you tripped, and hands caught your arm before you fell over all the way. You looked up and saw a blond man in an achingly familiar navy uniform looking down at you, and your eyes narrowed as his eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry.” 

His uniform nearly brought you to a scene of painful flashbacks. You knew you were bound to run into attractive men in uniforms so close to a base, but there was an air about this man that made you feel like you were almost running right through the mist, right through the shadow of a man that you once knew, and a man that wore that very same uniform as he walked away. 

You loved Alexandra, your friend you met through other friends. The only downside was that she was in the Navy, and that meant that you were almost always surrounded with memories of your ex boyfriend when you were with her. Him and that stupid uniform that stole him away. 

“No worries,” you said after a few seconds, smiling at him. “It’s crowded here.” 

“Oh, nice tattoo,” he said, and your hand immediately went to your collarbone, where the one tattoo you had rested. It was a nicely done tattoo of a honeybee, a mark of your past. Something you probably should have gotten removed, but every time you tried to convince yourself, you gave another reason to not get it removed. Deep down, you knew why you couldn’t go through with it.

“Thank you, I got it a while ago.” That was all you could say as memories flashed in your mind, but you managed to smile. 

“You look really familiar,” he said, and you noticed that he also had an air of confidence to him as well as familiarity. He was an attractive man, almost too perfect. And he had a smile that you knew lured girls in far too often to be completely innocent. 

“I’m kinda new to the area,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe we’ve run into each other at the grocery store or something? Or if you’re a frequent flier at the hospital.” That happened a lot. People you had never had as your own patients would sometimes recognize you, especially if they were often there. 

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked you up and down one more time, almost like he was genuinely trying to figure out what his own mind was trying to remind him, before he nodded his head at you with a small smirk and a toothpick between his lips and left just as quickly as he came. And then your friend was taking his place, jabbering on about something as you tried to clear your own head. 

You never wanted to be one of those people that lived in the past, and for the most part, you weren’t. You lived in the moment. You loved to make new memories, find new things to do, and meet new people. You loved meeting new people. However, the problem with meeting new people, especially men, was that there was that one guy from that one specific relationship that you had gotten yourself in that made it feel like everything was all for nothing. 

Bradley Bradshaw. 

You didn’t even know exactly what it was. You had been in plenty of summer flings that were passionate and fun, but you got over them easily enough. You had met so many people, loved and lost, and they all stuck with you in different ways that all felt sweet in one way or another. But Bradley? There was something about him that stayed with you in a different way. The thought of him kept a lingering taste of something distinct on your tongue. 

In a way, he was the biggest waste of time you had ever spent your life on. There were two years that you shared being officially together, but it felt like forever. You should have known he was trouble the second you saw that military-grade mustache, and the confident walk he always had. You should’ve known he would cause you some pain the second his eyes and his smile proved to be a deadly combo. You poured so much love into that man in a short time in the grand scheme of things, and looking back, it was as much of a waste as it was a privilege. 

For a while, you prayed for his return. He had broken your heart right before he left for his deployment, but that didn’t mean that you wanted anything to happen to him. You prayed for a while for him to come back safely and then come right back to you, and then that progressed into you praying to never see him again. You wished for his safety, you always would, but you never wanted to hear anything about him ever again unless it was saying that he landed safely back on US soil. After that, you wanted his name to be gone with the wind and buried with the dust of time. 

Either way, he was in your thoughts forever and always, regardless of how many summers passed or how many people there were after him, how many you had met to pass the time. And as you stood in the middle of the bar with Alexandra, you were frozen in shock as you realized that you probably manifested the very fighter pilot in front of you.  

He had seen you first. He was surrounded by attractive people in uniforms that you knew had to be his friends, and when you caught the eyes of the very blond man that you fell over before pointing at you with the angle of his head, your jaw dropped a bit. The man from earlier looked at you and slapped Bradley on his back, giving a blinding smirk before saying something to him that you couldn’t hear. 

You were sure you looked silly standing there, freezing up the second you recognized him with a pool stick in your hand. You felt all the tension in your body work together to keep you as straight as a board. You blinked when your friend nudged you, completely oblivious to the mini panic attack you were about to have, and you swallowed and looked away like it didn’t nearly hurt you to stop looking at him. 

You felt like you were drowning. 

“You’re not tapping out or anything, right?” Alexandra asked, narrowing her eyes at you. “We’ve barely been here an hour, and you already have that uncomfortable look on your face.” 

“What look?” You managed to murmur, completely aware that he was still looking at you. His gaze felt as familiar as it had back then.

“The one where you’re looking for escape routes,” she teased, even though she was starting to look concerned. “You do it all the time. Hey, are you okay?” 

“Yeah!” You said, way too loud to be normal. “I’m good.”

You prayed he didn’t approach you. He had plenty of distractions on his side of the room, lots of friends to talk to even though it was obvious they were trying to get him to go over to you. You were hoping that he would never come up to you or look your way again, but you were sick to your stomach when you realized that him walking away would mean he didn’t care nearly as much as you did. 

You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to understand that none of what you were seeing was a dream. 

“Hi!” A woman’s voice from behind you said, and you turned around. You saw a woman in uniform smiling politely at both you and Alex, and you assumed that she knew her, but then her attention was on you. “I’m sorry, I just had to come over and say I love your dress.” 

You were a simple creature, and one of your fatal flaws was that you were exceptionally friendly. That easily, the tension left your body as you spoke to the woman. You smiled kindly at her. “Thank you! I got it at a thrift store, but you can check the back to see where it’s from if you want!” She grinned at you, and then you saw her eyes wander to your hand. 

“Oh, your ring is pretty, too!” The woman said. “When’s the wedding?” She joked, and you laughed. You wanted a big wedding, back then. Back when you could see the groom in your head, imagine the words he would say, and even imagine your first name combined with his last: Bradshaw. But that was nothing now. 

“Thank you! You’re so sweet. It’s from my mom though, she gave it to me a few years ago.” She gave it to you, her big, shiny ring that her first husband had bought her just as a gift. Instead of pawning it, you begged her to have it. It had no sentimental value to you at all. It kind of looked like an engagement ring, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It warded off men for the most part, and it was a piece of her. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m Nat! Most people around here call me Phoenix.” 

You grinned at her and shook her hand before telling her your name, and you knew right then that you liked her. She was extroverted, but very polite. Just your type of person. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“You too!” She smiled at you before she continued her walk to the bar, and you didn’t think anything else of the nice girl in uniform.

The next few minutes went without any issues at all, and you felt like you could ignore the situation at hand and have a good rest of the night with Alex before it was time for you guys to head home. 

“Hey.” 

You weren’t hearing his voice. You just weren’t. You made your next shot in the game and ignored him. 

You could feel him get closer to you, so close you could smell his cologne. Your eyes watered when you realized it was the very scent you picked out for him all those years ago. He still wore it. 

You heard a very manly throat clear from beside you, and you realized that he wasn’t going to give it up. “Hi,” he tried again, and you breathed through your nose and finally turned around, looking face to chest at him before you looked up. 

He was smiling down at you. He was smiling down at you as if nothing had happened, and no time had passed. You smiled back at first like muscle memory, but then your face dropped to a frown almost immediately. His smile fell, too. He nodded at your friend in acknowledgement, but she was too busy eyeing him up and trying to decide if he was a threat to you or the night to know that he was being friendly. 

“Bradshaw,” you said, and his frown got deeper when he realized you called him by his last name. He hated that. You weren’t in the Navy and you had been together, you and he always insisted you reserved the rights to using his real name. Not his call sign, not his last name, but the one his parents had given him. “It’s been a while.” 

“Bradley,” he corrected gently, almost like he thought you genuinely forgot, or like you threw out his first name from your personal dictionary. As if you could ever forget a detail about him. That was the blessing and the curse that he left you with. “You look-” he stopped talking for a moment, and you could have sworn that you saw an ocean of fondness in his pretty eyes that shouldn’t have still been there. “You’re still so beautiful.” 

Your words felt caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that his tan made him look beautiful. You wanted to say that he had filled out so nicely, and that his scars still fit his face perfectly. You remembered kissing them while laying in the summer sun and you remembered kissing them under the tiny Christmas tree you guys had bought together and plugged in. You were both so broke it only had about ten ornaments on it, but that never mattered. Never to the two of you. “You… still have that mustache.” 

“You always liked it,” he said, a small smile coming back into his expression, but you didn’t give one back. 

“So you’ve kept it growing in hopes to run into me?” 

“Maybe I have,” he answered, and you blinked at him. He had always had a flirty personality. 

You just blinked. “Uh, yeah. That’s nice.” Was it? It was opening every old wound you had ever had. Every wound that was partially healed by another person’s fleeting kisses was being torn right back open by one sighting of Bradley Bradshaw. 

“It’s- it’s amazing to see you, how have you been?” 

You were becoming more and more confused. How in the hell was he being so chipper? Maybe chipper wasn’t the word, he was being polite. Or, maybe it was that he wasn’t falling apart like you were. How? How was he managing politeness when you were hardly breathing? The thought that he would walk away from the conversation like it never happened made you irritable and defensive at the same time. “Why do you care?” 

His brows furrowed, and he was looking at you as if you were saying all the wrong things. “Because I care how you’ve been.” 

“Why?”

He took a look at your friend, who was still staring him down. “Uh, can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you pursed your lips together. 

“No, she’s good right here,” Alexandra said, and you gave her a small smile. 

“No, it’s okay, he’s fine. He’s big, but he’s harmless.” You saw his chest puff up in just the slightest at the mention of his physique, and you rolled your eyes. “We can step outside, but I’m not going home with you.” 

“Okay!” He said, a little too loud for the setting, and you fought back a smile at how excited he was just to talk. You squashed the fondness down. “Okay, uh, come with me.” 

The second your foot hit the gravel outside, his fingers were touching yours. The touch was innocent, but you still yanked your hand away. He backed away understandingly. “Force of habit, sorry.” 

And it was. You remembered his little quirks. You were always pretty independent, and he had always been touchy and protective, so the compromise back then was that he would lay off while you were inside of a building, but he would hold your hand and guide you all he wanted to the second you walked outside. 

“I- uh, I wanted to talk about us.” 

“The past?” You said, crossing your arms. 

“We’ve known each other for a long time,” he said slowly, like he was just then realizing he was treading on very thin ice. 

“We knew each other,” you corrected, fully aware of your friend piecing the situation together by the expression on her face, and you gave her a look that held promises of filling her in. 

“Don’t be like that,” he said, coming a little closer, and you felt your eyes burn when you smelled his familiar scent even more. Your tradition of buying men cologne that matched their personalities had died after Bradley. It was something you didn’t really understand why you did it yourself, but it was fun, and Bradley loved it. He was the fourth guy you had done it with, and he was the last. It just didn’t feel right with anyone else, and it was simply something else you kissed goodbye when you and Bradley went your separate ways. 

“I’m not being any certain way.” 

“I would definitely say that we know each other,” he said, a short chuckle dying on his lips, and you could hear the hurt in his voice.  “We were together nearly every day for two years. We’d sit on the river and on the beach and talk about everything for hours. We road-tripped cross-country. I remember everything you ever told me back home, and I remember the last summer we had together like it was yesterday.” 

You looked back up at him with eyes that you knew had to be full of sadness. “That was four summers ago.” 

You saw it set in with him how much time really had gone by. You watched his eyes widen and his lips poke outwards as he breathed out. “Wow.” 

Had time really not passed for him as slowly as it did to you? 

All you could do was swallow and turn your head away from the breeze. “Yeah.” 

“Do you have a boyfriend now?” 

Part of you was so thrown by his question and his lack of tact, especially because he had been such a good flirt back then. Maybe time had changed him. “I’m married.” 

Immediately, he shook his head with a small smile. “You’re not.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, even though you were enjoying the back and forth. It felt so familiar. “How would you know that?” 

“That was the first thing I checked before I came over,” he admitted, and you cocked your head at him. “I looked at your finger and saw the ring before you even noticed me. And then I asked Phoenix to go over to you and make sure it was what I thought it was, and I was right.” 

You gasped. You should have known that that stupid nickname was a damn callsign, the glaring beacon of a person that meant that they were a pilot. And pilots were… they were hard to love. 

“I knew that if I came over to you, there would be no way I could hold my tongue from trying to win you back, so I had to make sure you weren’t married first, at least. But I’m not even sure that would’ve stopped me,” he muttered under his breath, and you rolled your eyes. 

You were still a little bitter over him sending one of his friends to talk to you, and how well he knew you. He knew you never would have responded to a random man the same way you did Phoenix. “How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?”

“I’m praying.” And then he sighed. “I don’t have anyone either.” 

You would have laughed in his face if you weren’t so gutted. “I find that hard to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Considering you broke it off so you could run around and meet other girls, I would be very shocked if you didn’t have one with a ring on her finger by now.” 

His eyes widened to a size that was almost comical. “What?” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Before you deployed. You know, when you broke up with me so that you could go talk freely with other women.” 

His facial expression was so shocked that you almost bought it. He looked genuinely thrown in a loop by your words. “I didn’t break up with you to meet other people, Bee.” 

You nearly caught whiplash at hearing your old nickname pouring like straight up honey from his mouth. No one called you that in a long time, mostly because ‘Bee’ was reserved for Bradley after a day he met you in freshman year of college, and you did an entire presentation on conservation of bees with passion that none of the other students had in their slideshows. It was what had drawn him to you in the first place.

 “That’s what it felt like.” It still felt like that, four years later. 

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head slowly. You hated how handsome he looked even when he was confused.  But he had no right to look confused. “That’s not what happened at all.” 

Your tone said it all for you as you crossed your arms. “Um, that’s what I remember, Bradshaw.” 

He ignored what you called him, but you saw it in his eyes that it still bothered him. “I cut it off because I felt awful that you were going to be forced to wait for me,” he said, taking a step closer, and you saw his sad brown eyes begging you to listen. “We were still so young, you were even younger than me. It wasn’t fair for me to ask you to keep waiting for me, especially because I kept going on dangerous deployments.” 

His words were bouncing around in your head. You calculated what he was saying, narrowing your eyes and trying to make sense of how it was changing your entire perspective of what happened, second by second. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” You blurted, but he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he looked relieved. You never really made a habit of swearing, not even while arguing, but when you rarely let a word slip, it meant that you cared a lot. 

Bradley wasn’t quite sure which way you cared and if it was in a good way or a bad way, but he was determined to change the passion to a way that would benefit the both of you. 

“If you want me to be,” he rasped, and you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Did you just say you didn’t want me to wait for you?” 

He blinked. “Yeah. You were what, twenty three? Your whole life was ahead of you. It wasn’t fair for you to have to wait for me to come home when you… you’re full of so much life. You had just gotten your dream job at the hospital, and you were so happy. If you were to stick it out with me gone, you would just have to decide between your job and me anyway when I got home. I ended up getting stationed somewhere else not too long after I came back home, just like I knew I would.” 

“Bradley, I told you I wanted to travel, anyway. That job was not my forever job.” 

“But-”

“I was prepared to wait for- for forever.” It was his turn to look shocked. “I really would have, Bradley. You just never even gave me the chance to. You pulled the rug out underneath me. You didn’t even ask me.” 

He ran a hand over his face as the weight of the decision he made for the both of you settled heavy on his chest. “Oh, god.” 

“I assumed you were deploying and you wanted to meet new people. I mean, I know that a lot of… you guys are cheaters. The stereotypes are true a lot of the time. I just figured you were sparing me from the cheating and cutting it off before it could get to that point.” 

“Oh, god, no.” He shook his head. “You- thought I was cheating on you?” 

“Well- what else was I supposed to think?” 

“I would never,” he said, using his hands to make a broad “no” gesture. “You’ve always been it for me, ever since we met. There couldn’t have been anyone else, and there hasn’t been this whole time.” 

You tried to mask the way you were falling into a puddle at his feet. “You’re so dumb.” 

“Is it dumb of me to think you’ll hear me out a little more?” 

You rolled your eyes at him, but your skin felt like it was on fire being so close to him again. “You’re plenty dumb, Rooster.” 

“You never called me Rooster.” 

“Well, I don’t know Bradley anymore.” 

“I- why are you saying that?” He asked, and his face grew even more distraught. “You do know me. Nothing’s changed. Nothing is different at all besides the time. I still- there’s nothing that has changed about the way I feel for you.” 

“What do you want me to say?” You couldn’t confess your love to him again. You loved him, a part of you always would, but you couldn’t handle him coming out of the blue and telling you everything you had secretly been wishing he would say to you for years. He was coming in like a dream. It was far too good to be true. “We got lost in translation four years ago and there's nothing we can do about it. Unless you and your pilot friends have been smart enough to build a time machine.” 

“I would build a thousand time machines if it meant that I could change what I did, I was stupid. I was so stupid.” He stepped closer. “But I never stopped loving you. Not even once.” 

A tear ran down your face, and that’s when you knew it was time to go find Alexandra again. “I-I gotta go, Bradley.” Before you could even turn around all the way, he took you by your hips and turned you back around, both pairs of your eyes wide mirrors of the other. 

“I have been haunted by the thought of you for four years now,” he said, voice as soft and gentle as the breeze, but the grip he had on your hips was so desperate it almost made you sob. “I haven’t even- I’ve tried, but there hasn’t been anyone else. Not emotionally. Not even close, Bee.” 

You couldn’t say the exact same. You tried and succeeded for a time, but they were never complete fixes. Just when you thought you were happy with someone else and free of the clutches of Bradley Bradshaw, he snuck right back. He ripped that rug out from under you every time without fail without even being present. That was your problem with each “relationship”, you were looking for a remedy and closure for a relationship that the next person had no idea about and no obligation to make better. 

But you had definitely been haunted by the lack of Bradley Bradshaw. He was there all the time with you in your mind, whether you wanted him or not. 

“This,” you said, shaking your head, and judging by the look on his face, he knew he was losing you. “This is a lot.” 

“Wait, don’t walk away. I just got you back.” 

“I’m not back, Bradley.” 

“You’re back in front of me,” he said, and you stopped turning away from him. “That’s all I could ask for. Even if you want nothing else to do with me ever again, I just want to stand here and look at you for one more minute. Please.” 

You put your hands over your face the second you felt your eyes start to burn and overflow with tears. You could feel his energy before you even felt his true touch, and the second you felt his arms around you, you broke down. 

“I thought- I thought you were so nervous a few days before you left because you were going to propose to me.” 

You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving your mouth. You had been so humiliated about jumping to conclusions that you hadn’t even told Alexandra about that part. You never planned on telling anyone that was the reason why you were so hurt, especially not the man who caused you all that pain. It had been sitting heavy on your chest, the humiliation and the sadness alike, for all four summers. You never planned on letting it loose. 

But you had already said it. 

“You boys get married so fast, and honestly, I was ready. I thought you were nervous because you were going to ask me to marry you, not because you were breaking up with me.”

 “Oh.” 

“It gutted me so bad when you broke it off. I thought it was going to be the opposite- I thought we were going to start our lives together and then you just…” you looked down at the ground as you tried to swallow back down the memory, even though everything was coming back so strong. “It was gone, that fast. And I realized I loved you a lot more than you ever loved me, obviously.” 

“That's not even close to being true,” he said, shaking his head rapidly. “You can ask any of the guys I shipped out with. I was fucking miserable the whole time. And I know you don’t know the new guys I’m with, but this new squad even knows that there’s nobody else. You’re the one that got away.” 

“You let me go,” you corrected, and he smiled sadly. 

“Because I loved you.” 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” you said, but you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him. “That’s for fairytales, stupid.”

You felt yourself leaning into him, and he was letting you. His body language was inviting you in. You could see it in his eyes and you could feel his hands trembling as he moved them from your waist to hover over your back, like he was ready to pull you into him the second you gave in. You knew it was only a matter of time before you did give in, and the longer you felt his hands hover over you like you were stained glass, the more you craved his familiar, burning touch. You felt the pull to him like you were magnets. Like he was the sun and you were Icarus. You were the moth to his enticing flame, but he had always seen you as a butterfly. You were terrified to get burned for the second time, and fall from grace all over again. 

“That one pilot said he recognized me,” you blurted, and you felt his eyes on you even though you couldn’t look at him. “I’ve never met him before, have I?” You might have. You used to know a lot of his old friends. He shook his head. “How did he know me?” 

Without hesitation, his answer came. “I have pictures of you in my cockpit.” 

That was what threw you.  “What?”

“Most pilots keep photos of important people in their cockpit. It reminds them to fly safer. In the worst cases, it’s so that they can see a glimpse of family before they go down.” 

Your heart was soaring so high that it was breaking with the pressure of it. “You have a picture of me in there?” 

He had absolutely no shame about it as he nodded his head firmly. “Yeah, I have pictures of you. In my cockpit and in my locker.” Were you his screensaver, too? You didn’t know. 

But you were in his locker. It made your heart flutter and it sent you right back to highschool. “More than one?” 

“I have so many that my squad recognized you without me even saying anything. Hangman was the one who told me you were here.” 

“Oh.” 

He kicked the rocks underneath his foot, and then he was squinting back down at you. “You thought- you thought I was going to ask you to marry me?” 

Just like that, your soaring, cracking heart plummeted again. “You don’t have to rub it in, Bradley.” 

“No, it’s not that at all. I just- you would’ve said yes?” 

“Of course I would have said yes, stupid.” You ignored how his eyes lit up and turned your body away with crossed arms. He was always so expressive, even when he didn’t want to be. “But that was a long time ago.” 

“Not too long,” he rushed, and you shook your head. 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, especially because it was mostly to get the tears away. “It was a while ago, Bradley.” 

“There’s no amount of time apart that would make me not want to be with you, Bee.” 

Your head swiveled to him upon hearing your nickname from him again. “It- it doesn’t just work like that, dude.” 

“Why not?” 

“We were stupid back then. We lived off of blind faith and a whole lot of hopes. It doesn’t work that way anymore.”

“We make our own rules, that’s the glory of being adults.” He took your hands and you faced him, and the hope in his expression nearly floored you. “Who said we can’t pick up where we left off?” 

You scoffed, even though you weren’t even close to laughing. “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy about you, but you’ve always known that,” he said with a smile. “You’ve always known how to work with it, too.” 

For a moment, you felt a glimmer of hope and you felt the whisper of a smile come onto your face. And then you crashed again, and he must have seen it all over your face because his own smile went away and was replaced by concern. Before he could even ask what happened that fast, you threw your face into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. 

He held you back just as quickly, and you knew he had been waiting for you. He smelled like home and he even felt like it, and when you opened your eyes all you could see was that stupid, loud Hawaiian print. 

“I-if we do this again you- I can’t handle it if you leave me again. I couldn’t take it. Please, Bradley.” 

“Don’t you even worry about that,” he said firmly, holding you so close that it felt like the two of you were physically molding together. “If you give me the chance, I want a shot at forever.” 

You pulled your wet face away from his shirt and looked up at him as your heart raced in your chest. “Huh?” 

He stared down at you for a moment, and you could see in his ever-expressive eyes that he was thinking about saying something to you that was about to change everything. “I fully intend to become your husband when we’re ready, if you let me. Just the way you wanted, and the way I’ve always dreamed about. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The logical part of you knew that he was being ridiculous. Bradley was nothing if not overzealous, nothing if not reaching for goals that were just short of being unattainable. He was the version of Icarus that always managed to get back to earth safely by the skin of his teeth. He always put the cart before the horse, but somehow he always managed to get there. 

So, you knew he was being serious. As crazy as he sounded, he was. 

“Do you really mean that?” You didn’t have to ask that question. In fact, the words felt like acid on your tongue, but your heart pressed you to ask it anyway. 

“Nothing could get me to leave you again, especially not my own stupidity.” He was holding you even tighter. “I promise.” 

You were going to hold him to that with the same intensity that he held you with. 

*****

oh boy.

so this one i’ve been sitting on forever and i’m tired of looking at it, but i have nothing but love for this fic that is pulling me out of a writing slump. i wrote it out of pure love for rooster though so i felt like i had to share it!! also- this comes from two main things;

two songs (“7 summers” and “ ‘98 braves” by morgan wallen) and then me being dumb enough to get involved with a military man of my own. he’s been gone for a while so i’m manifesting he comes back soon. anyone who is thinking about getting with a person- especially man- in the military (i can only speak for the united states military bc that’s where i’m from), you better be tough. i know they look good. i know they have this energy to them- trust me i’ve been obsessed since i was like 15. way before top gun maverick. but if you’re gonna be stupid, you better be tough 💀💀💀 and if you need any guidance to being stupid, i’m always here!!!

if you’re new here thanks for stopping by and checking it out! if you’re from an old fandom of mine but read it anyways i love you so much, it means a lot. 💕💕💕