#i could go on forever. i live in hell. but see i thought all this time my brain was helping me

[v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e]

Louis + his ways of saying "I love you" to Lestat

"Is this an offer, Louis? Have you come back to me, as lovers say?" His eyes darkened and he looked away from me. "I'm not mocking you, Louis," I said. "You've come back to me, Lestat," he said evenly, looking at me again. "When I heard the first whispers of you at Dracula's Daughter, I felt something that I thought was gone forever --" He paused. - The Vampire Lestat

There was so much I wanted to say to him, to ask him. Yet I couldn’t find the words really, or a way to begin. He had always had so many questions; and now he had his answers, more answers perhaps than he could ever have wanted; and what had this done to his soul? Stupidly I stared at him. How perfect he seemed to me as he stood there waiting with such kindness and such patience. And then, like a fool, I came out with it. “Do you love me now?” I asked. He smiled; oh, it was excruciating to see his face soften and brighten simultaneously when he smiled. “Yes,” he said. - Queen of the Damned

He grew reflective again and very sad. It almost hurt me to look at him. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but that would only have made him furious. "I love you," he said softly. I was amazed. "You're always looking for a way to triumph," he continued. "You never give in. But there is no way to triumph. This is purgatory we're in, you and I. All we can be is thankful that it isn't actually hell." - The Tale of the Body Thief

I came towards him, planted my hands on his desk and looked into his face. "I was so sure you would understand this. And by the way, I wasn't born a monster! I was a born a mortal child, the same as you. Stronger than you! More will to live than you! That was cruel of you to say." "I know. It was wrong. Sometimes you frighten me so badly I hurl sticks and stones at you. It's foolish. I'm glad to see you, though I dread admitting it. I shiver at the thought that you might have really brought an end to yourself in the desert! I can't bear the thought of existence now without you! You infuriate me! Why don't you laugh at me? You've done it before." - The Tale of the Body Thief

"Have you suffered in my absence?" I asked, looking back at the altar. Very soberly he answered, "It was pure hell." I didn't reply. "Each risk you take hurts me," he said. "But that is my concern and my fault." "Why do you love me?" I asked. "You know, you've always known. I wish I could be you. I wish I could know the joy you know all the time." "And the pain, you want that as well?" "Your pain?" He smiled. "Certainly. I'll take your brand of pain anytime, as they say." - The Tale of the Body Thief

I stopped. I put my arm around him. I held him close to me. “I’m Lestat,” I said in a low voice. “Your Lestat. I’m the same Lestat you’ve always known, and no matter how I’m changed, I’m still that same being.” “I know,” he said warmly. I kissed him. I pressed my lips to his and I held this kiss for a long silent moment. And then I gave in to a silent wave of feeling, and I took him in my arms. I held him tight against me. I felt his unmistakable silken skin, his soft shining black hair. I heard the blood throbbing in him, and time dissolved, and it seemed I was in some old and secret place, some warm tropical grotto we’d once shared, ours alone in some way, with the scent of sweet olive blossoms and the whisper of moist breeze. “I love you,” I whispered. In a low intimate voice, he answered: “My heart is yours.” - Prince Lestat

I couldn’t believe I’d heard right. I stared at him as helplessly as I had in the hallway of the townhouse when I’d first seen him, trying to grasp what he had said. He leaned close to me, and he put his hand on my arm. “ ‘Wither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people’; and because I have no other god and never will, you shall be my god.” - Prince Lestat and The Realms of Atlantis

When I was finally led down the stairs, Louis came with me. In the darkened passage before my resting place, he embraced me and held tight to me, his lips pressed to my ear. I was aware of my hands moving over his hair, embracing his neck, drawing him ever closer, in a way I had never done in our long years in New Orleans. We joined in the posture of lovers, brothers, fathers with sons. “I love you with my whole soul, and I will always love you,” he confided to me. “You are my life. I have hated you for that and love you now so much that you’ve been my instructor in loving. And believe me when I say you will survive this, and that you must for all of us. You will survive because you always have and you always will.” - Blood Communion

[noobsoconfusing]

‘domesticated dawg’.. domestic!hamzah

contains reader insert! and nsfw kinda at the end

- for his whole damn life, everything hamzah wanted was a home

- sure, he had one before, but to be honest, it was just a house. no meaning behind it other than his family living there with him.

- so when he eventually moved out, loneliness began hitting like a truck..

- he found himself alone. constantly trying to fit into everything mandy and martin did, but he understood his friends also wanted privacy

- although hamzah wished he could just live with his friends, everything seemed funner with them. mandy was nice, always sharing martin with him, letting him interrupt their conversations to add comments, making jokes about whatever and they even had a group chat!

- but still, that life was not his, it was martin’s. it was mandy’s. not hamzah’s.

- god, he so craved a relationship as beautiful as his friends. it made him so sad knowing that the only girl he pulled ever was in elementary school :(

- so when you stumbled upon his hectic life, he knew he was NOT letting u go. ever. never ever.

- and mother of god, you were just so so so perfect? how could you? like, for real, he asks himself everyday what the hell did he ever do to deserve such a beautiful human by his side

- as the relationship develops, he finds himself doing stuff he only dreamed about

- he enjoys every single little thing you guys do together, cherishes every moment with you, even when you’re not around he keeps your id picture in his wallet

- makes sure you don’t have to move a finger!!!

- dishes? he does em! the bed? he makes it! clean the cats litterbox? on it!

- sometimes you wake up to the faint smell of something burning, and you’ve gotten used to it by now it’s even comforting .

“sweetheart….” he’d whisper not to disturb your peaceful slumber, however the noisy rattling of the dishes and the blender going off earlier had you already awake.

“hmm?” you murmured slowly opening your eyes, his big eyes stared at you like a squished bug, it made you giggle how eager he was to serve breakfast in bed.

“you are never gonna believe what i just prepared!” he excitedly said.

you smiled, sometimes hamzah was like an excited toddler showing you everything he did or found.

“so like, last night i was on facebook and found this super cool french toast recipe and tried to make it today for you but uh… we didn’t have eggs… or bread.” he paused and you tilted your head. “so i also tried to make pancakes with water and the mix but uh.. you never really showed me how to lower the flame so uh, they’re bricks now…” he nervously scratched his head

he was so cute, or so you thought.

“it’s okay, hamzah, what did you make then?” you asked, invested heavily. he always managed to surprise you somehow.

quickly, he got up the bed where he was straddling you, and ran to the counter where he had left the plate.

“anyway, cereal!” he smiled so big waiting for your reaction of approval.

“wooooow! my favourite!” you smiled too.

“i know right!”

- hamzah tries SO hard to please you :(

- actually tries to spend every single hour of the day with you, due to his job he finds himself being at martin’s often, so he brings you with him each time!

- late night editing with him, where you two are just snuggled together under the covers, hamzah has his blue light glasses on, and you think, man, what a sight to see!

- hamzah actually thinks you guys are married..

- not to be intense or anything, but to him, being with you means for life. you guys are going serious. no escaping from this man now. no backing down now.

- you and the cats are his little family. he has found a home in you and is willing to keep it forever <3

- every moment with you counts to him.

- in the mornings you two brush your teeth together, sometimes he spits toothpaste on your hand to make you mad, which doesn’t really work because you do the same to him and then it all ends in a laughing fit

- HE HAS NO SENSE OF PRIVACY T_T

- you could be taking a shower and he’s right outside of the shower curtain taking a shit and talking about whatever was on his mind

- when you’re using the bathroom he would burst the door open to grab something he left inside, unapologetically look at you and smile innocently

- since your little house –apartment– is rather small, whenever you use the kitchen together he has to constantly guide you around in order to not bump into each other

- grabs your waist to prevent you from slipping if he spills milk or water..

- literally just an excuse to touch you, though.

- sometimes you’re cooking and he just sneaks behind you to give you a back hug. rests his chin on top of your head and stays there for a while

- needs you constantly ngl

- if there’s something wrong with the house, such as a leak or a burnt bulb, he would try his best to fix it himself to prove you he’s capable of everything

- usually ends badly and you have to call someone else to fix it but hey! he tried!

- since you both are not very extroverted, house dates are perfect.

- movie nights under the dim lights of the apartment that lead to make out sessions..

“h-hold…” you tried to say between sloppy kisses being planted on your neck. “hold on!” you laughed out loud when the hickey he was giving you tickled your collarbone.

“mhmm, why?” you could feel his warm breath as he murmured against your skin.

“movie…”

“rather do you, though.” he replied.

- ordering take out that just ends up on hamzah and you racing to see who can eat more

- he loves to see you wearing his clothes <3 like, it actually makes him physically happy and super fucking proud

- loves how his hoodies are undeniably big on you, and how his shirts falls down to your thighs, covering you up so perfectly. knowing you enjoy wearing his clothes just makes him realise how much you both need each other pretty much always

- hamzah has mentioned –to you– before his desire to actually grow your family a bit more, no more cats though, no dogs either. a baby, maybe. or two. three?

- and he was super blunt and serious about it, also. like he was being DEAD SERIOUS. he loves you, dude. this man is a family man.

“we are very serious, right?” he asked you out of the blue.

“yeah, of course.” you replied looking at his direction. the bed sheets covered his body so you could only see his face peeking out. it was funny.

“no but like, im super serious about you, about us… i love you a lot and i feel so deeply about you, is that alright? do you not feel weird about me? like, do you actually like me or…?” he rambled, and you knew how self conscious he could get sometimes ;(

“hamzah, i am so very serious about us too, i love being with you, why would you doubt that?” it made you sad, but you had to constantly reassure him.

he leaned in to kiss you, so soft and desperate at the same time, like he was trying not to break down.

“serious, right?” he asked again as he broke the kiss

“yeah, very serious, hamzah.”

a moment of silence. he played with your hair, then subtly touched your face in the dark, tracing your features.

“okay but speaking super fucking seriously, i wanna impregnate you and i wanna raise our children and live until we’re super fucking old, that alright?”

he deadpanned. and you never felt so loved, even if his ways were… odd. you knew he cared, and you did too!

“yeah. that alright.”

- morning sex hits hard w hamzah btw. so when you’re still tired and wanna be together you opt for this one as an excuse to get up until the evening

- this man needs you so much that he actually for real wants to merge your souls together

- but as he cannot do that yet, he settles for your bodies..

- sometimes when he’s working he just :( needs you and your warmth and your embrace and your presence and you you you you

- he’s obsessed with you to say the least

- yeah so cockwarming.. where he just begs for it, and you cant say no to that wet dog face :c though you know he wont even last a minute without moving cuz he’s needy like that.

- his hands are grasping at your waist for mercy, keeping you down and linked to his own body. he tries his best to keep still, though you wouldn’t mind if he actually started thrusting

- loves how warm you’re always :c it’s almost embarrassing how pathetic this man is for you

“mmm, im… oh, god! f-fuck, im sorry, can i…?” he whimpers, his eyes shut and his work long forgotten on the desk

and god, yeah. you need it too. he’s been inside for what felt like fucking hours. you were just as needy and desperate but didn’t wanna say anything :(

“yeah j-just…yeah..” you managed to say, your face buried in his neck, inhaling his cologne.

it was so damn intoxicating, you felt so drunk on him.

- big on aftercare. he wants to make you comfortable and loved, which yeah you feel like that around him. tho he also needs aftercare from you sometimes..

- hamzah thinks, you found him to save him. save him from his loneliness, his misfortune, everything. he is so glad that you exist and decide to share your existence with him.

- hamzah now doesn’t have to look for a home in other places. he doesn’t have to look out for love, for company somewhere else. he has you, you’re his home now. now and forever

- you’re a home that’s not taken. a home that’s not temporary. a home that waits for him everyday. a home that provides love and care. a home that he doesn’t feel he’s intruding..

- a home he doesn’t wanna run away from. not ever

>_<

down bad for this kinda hamzah bruv anyway hope some1 likes dis

[thezombieprostitute]

Lesson Plans - Part 1

Summary: Biker Hal Carter and Sheriff Lee Bodecker compete for your affections. Who will you choose?

Warnings: Implied abuse, Mentions of a character's death, Teaching stress. Please let me know if I missed any!

Hal never thought he'd be living a semi-domestic life. As much as he'd once had the goal of getting a cushy office job and a pretty wife, joining the Snowpiercer biker gang had been life changing. He'd loved the camaraderie, yes, but his first time on a motorcycle was invigorating. He often compared it to flying and loved every moment of it.

But then his brother, Jefferson, called and told him his wife had passed away. With Curtis's blessing, Hal left the group and went to help Jefferson and his baby girl, Grace. He started working, unofficially, at Jefferson's coffee and tea shop so Jefferson could focus on taking care of Grace, and himself, without having to worry about the bills or groceries. He would also do fixes around the place, becoming a general handyman, so that Jefferson wouldn't have to sweat so many expenses.

It's been a few years and Hal's little family has reached a kind of normalcy. Jefferson still has his bad days, but Hal makes sure to help him through. Whether it's by giving him space and taking Grace for a walk or sitting with him and letting him go on about his late wife.

Hal was never sure he'd be one for settling down, but seeing how much love Jefferson still has for his wife makes him reconsider. Especially if it resulted in a baby as sweet and good as Grace. Hal flirts with pretty much every woman he sees but, between work and family, he just doesn't have time for dating. But he doesn't begrudge his brother and niece. He'd give the world for them. But now that Grace was going to be at school all day, maybe he'd have the time to start looking for something serious.

Lee often joked that he was "married to the job". The officers on his force would agree. The man was dedicated to his work, taking the role of "public servant" seriously. Whether it was taking care of people during an emergency, making sure people felt safe in their daily life, or taking down criminals.

Ever since he was a kid, Lee wanted nothing else but to be a sheriff. He worked his entire life towards that goal. His parents had hoped he'd set his goals elsewhere and tried to push him into a career that paid better and was a lot safer, but he wasn't having it. Lee was nothing if not driven.

The problem was, all he had in his life now was his job. He was grateful the people of the county continued to trust him and his record well enough to keep electing him. His competition always had an advantage on him in terms of being "family people". They always played at being relatable because they had spouses and children while all he had was his record. But apparently that was enough for the voters.

Still, there were a lot of lonely nights and poor eating. He never had time or energy to cook. Never had time or energy to put into a relationship. But this election cycle he was running unopposed. Maybe it would be a good time to start looking for fulfillment outside of work.

It's your first day on the job in a new town. You hated leaving your job in the city, there were so many good memories. Unfortunately, there were even more bad memories. Your ex-boyfriend, Colin, and his friend, Detective Diskant, made sure of it. Colin had been such a flirt, you should've seen the red flags, but he was so charming. At first. It didn't matter which officers you tried to report him to, Diskant made sure to intercept and nothing would happen.

So you packed up and moved out to the middle of nowhere. You had no savings left after your move, having spent every penny just getting the hell out. But you'd make do on a threadbare budget. You've done it before, pretty much every day since you started college. That's probably just how it will always be. Coupons and penny pinching forever.

But at least you can still have a good life. Starting over doesn't have to be a bad thing. You'll just focus on work, your students, and try your best to forget about men.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82 ;@ronearoundblindly

[get-more-bald]

the thing about X6 is that he's essentially a slave given to the Sole Survivor by the Institute. and I think that the fandom's treatment of him would be different if the game addressed it or even just said it

[discountdyke]

i love (hate) my scrupulosity brain bc it is a huge reason i dont talk that much on here bc i type things out and then keep typing more and more disclaimers and explanations until ive completely lost the plot and just delete the whole thing

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[ann1eee]

Stay another minute

You were wounded.

The battle between Sukuna seemed to drag on, no one had any idea when the King of Curses would fall, if he would at all.

No matter that, he didn’t care right now.

You were wounded, and he couldn’t get to you.

-

Your cursed technique allowed you to see bits into the future, making you a formidable opponent. Along with that, you possessed a technique that allowed amplification of attacks, giving you special grade status.

With all hands on deck, you and Gojo took on Sukuna together.

Blood was trickling down your eyes, a sign that you were exhausting your energy rapidly. You didn’t care about that right now as you saw Sukuna’s world slash cut Gojo clean in half.

Your eyes widened. The attack would come any minute now.

Instinctively, you pushed him out of the vicinity, expecting to dodge the slash completely.

You were wrong. Although you had deflected the attack enough for it not to hit Gojo, and not cut you in half in his place, it still hit.

You dropped to your knees as you felt the searing pain of your flesh splitting along your neck, between your breasts, your stomach, and finally down to your hip.

He didn’t get hit. He didn’t die. He didn’t get hurt.

You don’t know if your injury is fatal, and you don’t care. You cant live in a world without Gojo, not because he’s the strongest but because he’s Gojo. You love him, and you’d do anything for him.

Putting your life on the line to save his wasn’t even a second thought.

You don’t remember when you blacked out, and when you reached Shoko’s operating table.

When you finally woke up, you were at JJT, in one of the beds at Shoko’s clinic.

You swallowed thickly. How long had it been? Was everyone okay? Did we win?

Was Gojo okay?

You ripped out the tubes connecting your arm to a drip, and used all your strength to stumble out of bed and towards anyone who could answer you.

Your expression softened with relief as you bumped into him, and his contorted to one of concern.

“What the hell did you do to your arm?!”

You blinked in surprise as you saw blood gushing out of your flesh where the tubes were once attached.

You literally could not care less.

You slammed your body onto Gojo’s, pulling him into the tightest hug you’d ever given anyone. Your body stung so bad, but you couldn’t care less.

He remained steady, strong arms around you, noticing your wince, as he lead you back to your bed.

“Please don’t rip things out of your arm, y/n!.”

“Did we win?” You ignored his advice.

“Of course we won. Yuji and Nobara saved Megumi.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. The all out battle was finally over, and your students were safe.

“Y/n.”

The seriousness in his tone made you pay attention to what he had to say.

“Please don’t ever jump in and risk your life like that for me, ever. Do you know how my heart sank when I saw you fall like that? I couldn’t even come save you because of that rat we were fighting. I felt so hopeless, waiting for someone, anyone to come and help you. I didn’t know if you were alive.. I..” He choked.

You felt horrible. You couldn’t imagine if the situation was reversed.

You pulled him into a tight hug, and kissed his cheek.

“I’m sorry my love. I won’t do that to you again.”

He smiled and hugged you back, careful not to open your wound.

“Let’s go home, y/n. Let’s take our well deserved break. I wanna take you to all the places I haven’t been able to, I wanna see you smile again and again. I want you to be mine forever, y/n, and even that won’t be enough time to show you how much love I have for you.”

You could cry. You’ve never heard sweeter words. You want to stay with him, have a normal life, be a normal couple. You know that isn’t possible due to your shared profession, but it sure as hell will become a lot lighter after the defeat of the King. Maybe, you could have everything you’ve ever wanted.

You could have Gojo Satoru, as your husband, spending your days and nights in his arms, your little family filling your home with warmth and giggles day after day.

You’d like that. And this was your new start.

[jo-com]

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚ ➛ A way to a dog lover’s heart

Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Summary: Despite his personal problem with dogs; Lando took it upon himself to study more about dogs and how to win their favor so that he can win yours.

Genre: Fluff, wholesome moments, Dog lover reader (Let’s pretend that Lando dislikes dogs)

Note: there are some grammatical errors and that this is not proofread, hope you enjoy tho!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⋆🍨｡𖦹 °✩ ─ ───────

Ever since his childhood days, Lando had some personal issues with dogs— it was an unpleasant memory that he wishes to forget. For him it was a gruesome event that marked his fear of dogs forever. It made him scared to the point that being approached by them make his instincts act up and run away.

The so called ‘gruesome event’ he was talking about was, Lando getting bit in the ass by a small dog. So terrifying.

People find it funny, hilarious even, but for him it was an “Traumatic experience.” Well so he says.

He vowed to never touch an inch of them, but upon finding out that you were a dog enthusiast— even his fear of dog won’t get in the way of winning your heart.

…

“I am so happy that you also like dogs, it’s hard to meet people that are inlove with them, like i am”

Lando let out a lengthy cough, “yeah uhm i love dogs so much its crazy.”

Your face lit up at his words, feeling your heart content with the same love you guys shared for dogs. Never have you ever met someone like him, he is so different.

“Sooo, would you like to visit me sometimes? I’d love for you to meet my babies.”

Lando licked and puckered his lips, releasing it with a pop— his demeanor shifted into a uncertain one. You could sense hesitancy from the way he moved.

You then picked up on his action and your once smiling lips were now pulling into a frown. Does he not want to meet them? Or does he not want to be bothered by going?

His eyes flickered back to your almost pouting face. The look in your eyes clearly screams, ‘slowly loosing interest’, he became wary of your expression and quickly lightened the mood by blurting out his response.

“YES, I would love to meet them” he slightly yelled, his voice even cracking a little.

You giggled at his anxious face, “sure, it’s another date then.”

Lando sighed contentedly, seeing your face warm up to him once again. His pupils dilated into a heart shaped as he stared more at your breathtaking appearance— if that’s even possible? Nonetheless lando was both stoked and afraid at the same time. But it’ll all be worth it when he makes you his.

…

Lando’s heart skipped a beat as he contemplated whether or not to ring your doorbell; he has been standing there for like 30 minutes now and was so scared at the thought of being pounced by your hell hound. Only staring at your front door and doing nothing.

“Lando? What are you doing just standing there?” You asked, your eyes narrowed at his standing figure.

With your sudden voice, he was quick to go back to his senses and compose himself in front of you.

“Oh uhm… you see.. ah i was just taking in this beautiful house of yours.” Lando answered, showing some of his teeth with an awkward smile.

You looked at him skeptically but soon shrugged it off and gestured for him to come inside, to which he happily obliged.

His chest began to shake once again, waiting for your dog to come at him and do the same thing the dog from his childhood had done.

He stiffly walked towards your living room. Taking in the interior and design that you’ve come to a liking. Mentally noting the things you’d love and prefer.

He was then interrupted when he saw the biggest golden retriever that he had ever seen run across the other room to where Lando was now currently standing. His eyes widened at it’s sudden appearance— his whole body shaking in fear at it’s sight.

Once you saw your dog, you were quick to run towards her and ruffle it’s fur; feeling her tender fur rub against your palms, “Hi my baby, did you miss me? God you’re so adorable like always, yes you are” you spoke in a childish manner while kissing her nuzzle.

Lando stood awkwardly at the side. He gulp down the saliva that was forming inside his mouth. He didn’t know what to do at this point, he was scared shitless at your dog.

You stopped what you were doing and momentarily glared back at lando, “come meet my baby, isn’t she so cute?”

He bit down his lower lip— sighing heavily to muster up his strength and atleast show that he’s interested. Even if it was forced.

Lando then lowered himself and took a knee by your side. He was now face to face with the so called beast and was clearly rethinking the whole situation he’s in.

“Come on now, pet her she doesn’t bite, trust me.”

He nodded slightly, “yeah..she’s just a little ball of…cuteness?” With shaking hands, he finally laid his hand in her head— stroking them stiffly as his fear still resides in his mind.

His heart pounded inside his chest when your dog swiftly licked his hand. “Ohh i think she likes you.”

The sweat that formed in his forehead were now crashing down his face— what has he gotten himself into?

…

“I am not ready tho, will it be okay for you to wait?” You asked, your tone laced with sweetness.

Lando nodded his head, “Yeah, it’s okay. I mean i can walk your dog while you finish up.”

Your whole demeanor lit up as he uttered those words— feeling a sense of closeness forming around you two. You were speechless at his suggestion; not one single guy you’ve ever dated asked you that. Ever!

Meanwhile..

On the outside Lando looked cool as hell when he said that but on the inside well… he was shaking in fear, he didn’t even know why he said that. Why would he? When he’s scared of them. Even touching them triggers his anxiety. But if it’s for you..

“Yeah sure, if it’s alright with you to spend time with her?”

He shrugged, “what do you mean? I love dogs!”

…

“I FUCKING HATE DOGS” Lando screamed— his whole body shaking and numb from running.

You see, when lando took her out it was all going great…. not until two dogs showed up and started chasing them.

His breathing became uneven while the two dogs kept following them and barking out loud, not louder than Lando’s screaming voice though.

Even the whole neighborhood could hear him and looking at him with pure judgment. Whispering amongst themselves and enjoying the free entertainment that lando had put out.

…

“So how was the run?”

“Uh it was amazing, she was…great, nothing happened at all it was so peaceful” Lando spoke, his voice trembled from being out of breath earlier.

You then grabbed her leash and escorted the two inside— taking it off her sooner as she stepped in your floorboards.

A smile formed in your lips, seeing your dog run with glee and then back at The driver in front of you, “thank you, really. I hope she wasn’t a bother.”

Lando stared blankly at you, his mind wandering at the events that happened earlier. “Like i said, she was amazing, i hope to do it again next time!.”

Like hell he will.

…

I am back y’all😜

[csainzoperator]

mwah mwah ☆

summary: the one where y/n and lando are the bestest of friends who are so blind bcs what the hell?? both of them are clearly madly in love with each other but cannot see it. a thread of how their relationship developed.

(lando norris × fem!reader)

read more under the cut!

an: its a little short but i hope you guys enjoy 🫶🏼

y/nusername has posted!

well done today! super proud, chicos 🫶🏼

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 28,123 others.

landonorris my lady luck 🧸

liked by y/nusername

- daniel3.jpg so this is how you're making a "move" ?

- oscarpiastri you do realise y/n can read these right??

caarlaando LMAO HELP THE DRIVERS ATTACKING EACH OTHER

estiebestiee MOTHER IS MOTHERING

mclaren always love having you in the garage! looking good with our papaya boys 🧡

- landonorris bro are you trynna flirt??

- carlossainz55 bro lando will find out where you live 💀

- lechaaaair LMAOAOAOAOA

f1wags love love love!!

landonorris has posted!

fun weekend!!

p. s i think y/n likes lewis more than all of us combined 🙄

tagged: daniel3.jpg, y/nusername

liked by daniel3.jpg, mclaren, y/nusername, oscarpiastri and 298,183,33 others.

y/nusername i think i surely like you a little more

- landonorris oh yeah?

- carlaaando "oh yeah?" DEAD. DECEASED. DECOMPOSED. IM. NOT. OKAY. AAAAAAAAA THEY'RE SO CUTE.

lewishamilton y/nusername you should drop by the garage! i could give you some signed merch if you'd like that :)

- y/nusername CHAT IS THIS REAL?!?!??+×*<÷[₹<₹

- y/nusername YES PLS I LOVE YOU SM

- lh44team LMAO SHE JUS LIKE US

- landonorris 😧😐🤨

daniel3.jpg LMAO LANDO NORIZZ FR

- carlossainz55 FR

- maxverstappen1 FR

- oscarpiastri FR

- landonorris i hate you all.

f1wags this is such a cute post 🎀

mclaren fratenizing with the enemy? i thought you loved us ☹️

- y/nusername I STILL LOVE YOU, my no 1 🧡🧡

landonorris has posted!

i rizzed her up and now she won't stop kissing me. says she's been missing out since 4 years. forever to go with my baby 🧸

tagged: y/nusername

liked by y/nusername, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 283,234,23 others.

y/nusername MWAH MWAH

y/nusername i cannot believe youre my bf 😧

- landonorris i love you gf 🫶🏼

- y/nusername i love you more bf 💋

- f1wags STOP. THEY. ARE. SOOO CUTE

daniel3.jpg FINALLY

- maxverstappen1 FINALLY

- georgerussell63 FINALLY

- oscarpiastri FINALLY

- carlossainz55 FINALLY

- charles_leclerc FINALLY

- daniel3.jpg guys wtf its like y'all are chanting this shit like a cult. i feel like a dad of 5

lechaaair MAMA Y PAPA

y/nfannn NOOO MY GF IS TAKEN?? 😞😞

mclaren our favourite couple 🧡

the end ♡

[lia-loves]

aventurine, ratio, and jing yuan crumbs because I’m not over them (why are they my fave males in this game?)

a/n: fluffy fluff I thought of for them! if you don’t like cussing, don’t read but that’s the only warning (and my poor attempts at humor) lol! :D

aventurine 

one of the best listeners there is, I said it. 

despite his persona, he could listen to you for HOURS and not get tired. also the type to remember specific things you like that you mention in passing and you get surprised when he knows what you mean

he could be gambling and you could be talking to him and he would almost memorize all of what you’re throwing at him.

the type of person to hype the shit out of you in closed quarters

ALSO ALSO IMAGINE GOSSIP KING AVEN like that would be so cute. you could text him during your lunch break at work and be like “omg babe guess what?” and no matter how busy he is, he ALWAYS responds immediately and it stuns you how quick he is. 

The type to throw/spend his credits on you almost (not enough to be reckless but you get what I mean) recklessly, but if you ask him to stop, he will. spending his credits on you is NOT his love language (imo)

he gets very cuddly at night and he is pretty warm to cuddle with (not in the summertime when it’s abysmally hot tho). he knows when to back off. 

when you called him Kakavasha for the first time, he cried because he has never been so emotionally vulnerable with someone before except for his sister. 

your honor, I love him (10/10 experience, y’all work shit out together)

dr. ratio

he is also a very good listener but will interrupt your tangents of interest to ask questions because he is curious and this is a subject he wishes to know better. 

Despite his “I hate idiots” aura/attitude, he would do ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING for you. you want a hug? it’ll be awkward as fuck, but he’ll give you one. 

top of the head/forehead kisses >>> for him are the way to this man’s heart, I just know it. he also likes giving you those types of kisses in closed quarters. 

I can’t see him liking butterfly kisses though, it would take too much adjusting and for whatever reason, it overwhelms him. 

texts you about his teachings, research, or any breakthroughs in whatever he’s doing as well as plans to stay late etc.,

his communication skills are top-notch it’s kinda crazy.

Topaz and Aventurine found out you’re his Lock Screen/ Home Screen, and they won’t let ratio love it down. (They love you too and probably don’t know you) 

9/10 experience because sometimes he can be a lil’ mean but he quickly apologizes to you so it goes back up to 10/10 :3

jing yuan

the clingiest motherfucker it’s insane, but you love it. 

anytime he gets a break, he messages you about how much he misses you. 

this man WILL pass the fuck out if you scratch his scalp, I just know it. the second your hands go through his hair and take out the ribbon, it’s game over for both of you. good luck trying to move an almost corpse with how heavy he can sleep. 

he tells yanqing ALL about you if he gets the feeling he is going to marry you. granted, you’d have to be with him for a long ass time before he tells yanqing anything about you, but if he has that feeling, he and yanqing will be having a session of talking about you and respecting people (instead of their rigorous training) cause why the hell not :D

he will be happy and upset if you’re a long-living species like he is, because while he wants to live forever with you, it’s possible he may get sad because of something happening with you. 

clingy but not overbearing- if you get overwhelmed, he WILL pick up on the signs and give space if you need it. 

I saw a post (which I reblogged bc that’s so smart fr) as well as yunli’s trailer (idk I think that’s what they said that was from) that jing yuan went “pspspsps” and i think he definitely treats you like a cat and does “pspspsps” to get your attention. you could be reading or doing something (your attention is not on him) and he’ll just go “pspspsps (name)” and it irritates the shit out of you

10/10 experience though, I love him 

© lia-loves 2024. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing on other websites. all of the writing you see on this blog has been written by me.

[drabblesandimagines]

Swipe Right

Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

--

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

--

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

��Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

--

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

--

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

--

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it’s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

--

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

--

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.” 

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

[sceletaflores]

"Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

pairing: older!patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. it was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. and as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

—or: it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig.

word count: 7.8k (hopefully this is long enough lol)

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex but in a loving way, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), semi-public sex (fucking in a car, you know i had to...), angst, swearing, cigarette smoking as a love language, slight mommy issues lmao, hints of mean!reader cause i still live for that shit, love confessions, rain scene cause i'm corny as hell, porn with SOOOO much plot, no use of y/n.

author's note: this might me the filthiest thing i've ever written lols. i actually DID get a couple asks for some more angsty patrick fics and ofc i love writing angst i'm just a girl i live for that shit. look at me doing what was asked of me and not just whatever i wanted! i'm a giver, what can i say. this fic was revived because of a few anon's who demanded it and i'm so glad they did. you guys got me to give this a second chance and i'm so proud of how it turned out. extra special shout out to @bii-aan-ckaa who fiercely advocated and waited very patiently for this! i'm so obsessed with you and your beautiful kind words. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Fifteen minutes. 

That’s how long you can stomach sitting in the sticky booth of the bar watching Patrick Zweig flirt with a woman you don't recognize across the dimly lit room. Fifteen measly minutes until you were giving your friends some lame excuse of needing fresh air and leaving the table to escape out into the alley.

It’s been a little over twelve years since you’ve seen Patrick. A little over twelve years since you turned your back on him with tears spilling down your cheeks and your favorite racket a mangled, smashed mess gripped tightly in your shaking hand as you walked out of his life forever. 

Or at least what you thought was forever, you guess you were wrong.

To put it lightly, your relationship with Patrick was…complicated. You met him the summer before you started at Stanford. He was tall with green eyes and curly hair and he was kind of an asshole but he made you laugh, so you let him fuck you anyway. At the time, you thought that was it. One really good fuck with a really hot guy you’d never see again.

You thought you were hallucinating when you saw him on the campus courts two months later, when he sauntered up to you with an unmistakable “I know what you look like naked” smirk on his face. He was just as tall and had the same green eyes and the same curly hair and was an even bigger asshole than he was before. You still let him fuck you anyway.

You never thought you’d get sucked into the storm that was whatever the fuck was going on between Art, Patrick and Tashi. Never thought that it would completely ruin your self esteem, your tennis, your everything.

You weren’t particularly close to Art or Tashi in college. Sure, you were all in the same circle. That didn’t make you best friends. Art was nice enough, but he never went out of his way to talk to you. You and Tashi were on the same team but that didn’t mean anything. You respected the hell out of her and her game, and you could tell she felt the same. Even with that respect, there was still a tiny part of you that resented her. 

She was number one, the pride and joy of Stanford, had a constant slew of brands and scouts up to her ears. It seemed like no matter how hard you worked that she would always be number one. It felt like you were always just inches behind her.

Clawing and scratching your way through the ranks since you were twelve to be second best was never the plan. Your mother made sure to remind you of that every chance she got.

Then slowly, she started beating you at more than just tennis. Patrick wanted her, it was more than obvious. At first you didn’t care, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was just a guy you fucked, he could do whatever he wanted. You were friends. There wasn’t a problem.

When you realized you knew more about Patrick than just how he worked dick, then there was a problem. 

At first, all the things you knew about him were boiled down to the vulgar little tidbits you’d notice when he fucked you. You know that he has a birthmark on his lower back. You know when he’d be close because he’d always bite your shoulder before he came. You know his favorite position was really missionary even though he told everyone it was doggy.

Knowing all that was fine.

You also know that he’s allergic to kiwi. You know that he only holds his cigarettes with his thumb and his pointer finger. You’d always know when he was nervous because he’d start tapping his fingers on his thigh. You know that when he’d listen to music he loved, that his right hand would drum along to the beat just a little bit faster than his left would.

You knew all those things because you were falling in love with him, and Patrick Zweig is not someone you fall in love with. Especially not with Tashi Duncan in the picture.

You tried your best to push it down, to pretend you weren’t hurt every time Patrick chose Tashi over you. When he’d miss your games because he was with Tashi, when he’d blow you off to go meet Tashi, when he started to stop returning your calls or replying to your texts. All things you never cared about before started slowly eating at you. You felt awful most days, holed up in your room wallowing in self-pity. Your GPA was steadily dropping as the semester went on. Even your tennis started slipping, and you lost your winning streak to a fucking scrub. When you finally cracked and broke down to your mother over the phone one night she just scoffed.

“Well what did you think would happen when you started to depend on that boy? Dependence is weakness, darling.”

Dependence is weakness. You blocked Patrick’s number that same night.

It all came to a head when he blew up at you after Tashi’s injury. Everyone was pretty shaken up about it. You’d never forget the way it buckled, the way the sharp snap rang through the court, the way she fell to the ground screaming. You’d never seen her cry before. 

Patrick found you later that night, all alone on the practice courts trying to burn the day out of your mind by serving balls till you collapsed. It was the first time he talked to you in weeks. He was pissed. Screaming at you, calling you every nasty thing he could think of, getting up in your face. It was a fucking mess. You both said some things that should have never been said, but it ended when Patrick accused you of somehow being the cause of all of it.

“You hate Tashi, fucking hate her. You wanted something like this to happen. I bet you’re just over the fucking moon that she’s finally out and you can take her place. You can finally be number one seed and you're fucking ecstatic, aren't you? You’re so fucking pathetic, so desperate for validation. Maybe if mommy paid attention to you for once, you wouldn’t be so fucking needy. You're just a sad, delusional fucking runner-up, grasping at whatever shreds of importance you think you still have.”

You stood there, stunned by his outburst, each word hitting you like a physical blow. It was insane, nothing but Patrick blowing things way out of proportion in the midst of his anger.

You wanted to scream, to deny it vehemently, but the hurt and frustration choked off your words. Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of anger and heartbreak swirling in you. Vision blurring out everything but Patrick's face twisted up with rage as he glared at you, his words lingering in the air like poison. 

You told him about your mother because you thought you could trust him. You thought he was the only person that really understood you, his dad was a piece of shit too. Him using something so delicate as material to hit you where it hurts was the last straw.

You blew up, all the things you’d been keeping bottled up for months finally boiled over in you swinging your racket down on the green concrete over and over until there was nothing left of it to break. You didn’t even look at Patrick as you walked away. You never saw him again.

You’d love to say it was also the last time you thought about him, but that would be a lie. As much as he hurt you, and as much as you hated him for it, your mind refused to let you forget him.

You still smoke Camel Blues because that was your guys’ brand, even when you should have quit years ago anyway. You still buy the same color lighter, pink. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than an easy choice, that it’s a good color. It’s not at all because you can still hear Patrick’s teasing voice in the back of your head bitching, “I can’t believe you make me use a pink lighter.” when he always forgot his and had to borrow yours. 

It’s not based on a compulsive need to be reminded of him every single time you use it. It’s just convenient, okay.

You know deep down that they were the only remnants of a past that you still couldn’t fully let go of. As much as you tried to bury those memories, they lingered, melded into the corners of your mind like stubborn stains. 

It wasn’t just the cigarettes or the lighters. It was the way you still find yourself thinking about him. Patrick, with his tangled emotions and overwhelming presence, had left an inescapable mark on your life. And as much as you wished it, he wasn’t someone you could easily erase from yourself.

Even twelve years later you’re still trying to convince yourself that dependence is weakness, that you were better off without him. But sometimes, in the quiet moments like this when the smoke curls from your cigarette and the pink lighter flickers in your hand, you wonder if he ever thinks of you, if he regrets how things ended between the two of you.

Maybe it's not that you can't escape Patrick's grip on you after all these years, it's that you just won't.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don't hear the heavy door to the bar swinging open, or the sound of gravel crunching underneath approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit,” a deep voice rings out from your right, “someone pinch me.”

Your whole body tenses, your cigarette freezing a few inches away from your lips. Something like fight or flight starts to quietly buzz beneath your skin. You’d recognize that voice anywhere, even despite the gruffer, more grown up tone that wasn’t there the last time you heard it.

Your heart’s already kicking into overdrive when you finally start to hesitantly turn your head, time almost slowing down as your eyes sweep over the alley. You kind of don’t want to believe that your luck is this shitty. That maybe it was all in your imagination, that you were thinking about him so much you were starting to hear things that weren’t really there, that he was still back in the bar feeling up that blonde girl. But it can never be that easy, and sure enough, there he is.

Patrick Zweig is standing a few feet away from you with both hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and a wide, achingly familiar grin lighting up his face.

You’re quiet for a few long moments, completely shocked into silence. Your mind races with a million different things you want to say but can’t find the voice to. You should be causing a scene. You should be losing it, screaming, crying, throwing things, slapping him hard across his unfairly handsome face. But you don’t, too surprised to even move. 

Patrick speaks again, taking several steps towards you. “It is really you, right?” he asks, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an easy, lopsided grin. To anyone else, the laid back, carefree tone he was going for would sound genuine. You can barely pick up on the stunned, almost breathless edge lacing his words, like he also can’t believe you’re standing right in front of him.

He steps into the light shining from a dingy lamp above the door, it basks around him in a yellow orange glow.

Same eyes, same ears, same Patrick.

For years you’ve thought about this exact moment, what you’d say if you ever saw him. You lose all of that practice the closer he gets. He’s less than a foot away from you now, an expectant look on his face. He’s waiting for you to say something. 

You feel like running, like stubbing your cigarette on the pavement and making a break for the door. You already ran from him once, but old habits die hard. 

You don’t run, you refuse to take the easy way out. You’re a grown woman, you’re stronger than you were in college, you’re going to the goddamn Olympics. It’s only Patrick for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing here?” It sounds harsher than you meant, but that’s probably for the best. He doesn’t deserve kindness from you. 

“Tennis.” Is all he says, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Camel blues. “What are you doing here?” He parrots back, smacking the bottom of the carton, plucking the one that shakes out between his long fingers. “I’d think that Miss. Team USA would be too busy for bar crawls.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing skeptically. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you or not. “It’s not a bar crawl,” you shoot back childishly, feeling defensive under his heavy gaze. “We’re celebrating.”

Patrick just nods, letting out a small hum in lieu of replying. He's close enough now that you can see gray strands streaked through his hair. He looks older, a few barely there wrinkles creasing his skin as he pops his cigarette between his lips. “Got a light?” he asks around the filter, holding his hand out expectantly before you even answer.

It’s still just as annoying. You roll your eyes, sighing dramatically as you fish your lighter out of your skirts pocket. You place it in the open palm of his hand, ignoring the fireworks that go off at the base of your spine when his fingers catch on your wrist as you pull away.

He mumbles out a half-assed thanks, cupping his hand around the flame to shield it from the wind. If he notices the color, he doesn’t say anything. It feels wrong that he doesn’t tease you about it, staying silent as he tosses it back to you when his cigarette finally lights. You ignore the hurt blooming in your chest as you pocket it.

Patrick takes a deep inhale, the tip of his cigarette burns bright red. The way his lips wrap around the filter has heat spreading through you. “Shocked you’re still smoking,” he waves his free hand at you vaguely, smoke flowing from his lips as he speaks. “It’s not super admirable.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s really how you want to start this?

“Start what?” he asks coyly, leaning his shoulder too close to you against the brick. He’s playing dumb, the smirk on his face gives him away. 

You say nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. He has a beard now, sort of patchy and fairly new looking. You wrinkle your nose up at it. 

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s acting like this. All calm and collected like he’s catching up with an old friend, like he didn’t say all those horrible things to you. As if every single word he said that night isn’t still engraved in your mind and carried with you through your whole career. 

Patrick’s quiet for a bit, taking another slow drag. “Have you seen either of them?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s treading the water of your boundaries by bringing this up. “Or am I your first?” He lets the innuendo hang in the air, trying to joke his way through something neither of you really want to talk about.

You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the part of the street you can see through the alleys opening.

You don’t need to ask who “them” is.

You just shake your head no, not wanting to have to say anything out loud and make this into a whole thing. The smoke from your cigarette swirls through your lungs, warm and familiar. 

You’ve seen them both at multiple tennis events. Things like matches, and galas, and charity auctions. Hell, they watched from the stands when you won Wimbledon for the first time. You just make sure and avoid them like the plague, always running the other direction the second you see a short bob and cropped blonde hair.

You’ve been in the same room with them countless times over the years but you might as well have been in separate worlds. The only “contact” you’ve had with them since you all graduated was weirdly ominous.

Art followed you on Instagram after you got your third career slam, but he doesn’t like any of your posts. You’re one of the mere twenty accounts in his following. You never followed him back. 

Then, when your career first started taking off, the press somehow learned about your past with Tashi. They started using it to their advantage when picking headlines for any pieces written about you. “The only woman in the world to beat Tashi Duncan!” It pissed you off to no end. It was stupid, a way to get clicks on their sad little gossip sites. And it wasn’t even fucking true.

They finally stopped when you threatened to sue their asses. Apparently, Tashi noticed.

She sent you flowers. You threw them out.

Patrick nods back, taking his own slow drag. The sound of traffic hums in the background, the music from the bar bleeding through the wall mutely. 

“Congrats on that,” he says casually, looking you up and down slowly. You fight not to squirm under his gaze. “On making the team. That’s some serious shit. I always knew it’d be you, out of all of us.”

It’s a blatant lie. You were always four out of four in college, the one person in the group with the least potential for stardom. If it wasn’t for Tashi’s injury, she’d definitely be in your place — on top of the world.

He’s trying to pacify you, to butter you up. All it does is grate on your nerves and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

“Did you just come out here to interrogate me? To mess with me?” you ask sharply, frustration starting to get the better of you. “Do you want a fucking autograph or something?”

Patrick laughs, throwing his head back. “Nope, I wanted to catch up. It's been a while.” he shrugs, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I just know how much you like talking about yourself, that’s all.”

You pause, picking up on the clear implication of his words. “Excuse me?” you question, turning towards him.

“Just saying,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “When we were younger everyone always thought I was this arrogant, cocky, self obsessed prick…” he trails off, an infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. It does nothing to soothe you, only adding fuel to the fire of your anger. “And they were all right, I was. But, that’s also exactly what you are right now.” he finishes, tapping the ash off his cigarette.

You feel it, all the emotions swirling inside you of at seeing Patrick again threatening to burst. Anger and misery waging a war in your stomach. The wind is starting to pick up around you, making goosebumps break out over your skin. The fabric of your skirt swishes around your thighs. You feel clammy, but it has nothing to do with the temperature drop. 

“Was?” you ask, condescending and mean, crossing your arms across your chest defensively. “You really don’t think you’re still all of those things?”

Patrick chuckles, shoulders shaking with amusement. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it. “I’ve changed, Patrick.” you say sternly, brows furrowing in displeasure. Your tone is hard, frustration seeping into your words. Considering the last time the two of you spoke, this was almost going well. It’s just like Patrick to ruin something before he needs to.

You know distantly that you could deescalate the situation, but maybe you’re more alike than you thought. Maybe you’re just too greedy to keep the peace. “So fucking sorry that I’m not the same person I was in college, but I actually chose to grow up.”

Patrick snorts, exhaling a plume of smoke through his nose. “Yeah, clearly.” he mutters under his breath, it’s condescending and sarcastic. It pisses you off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask sharply, cigarette now forgotten and steadily burning away at your side. 

Patrick shrugs, like it’s obvious. “You’re still so lost. I sure as shit don’t have a red, white, and blue track suit hanging in my closet, but at least I know who I am.” He doesn't sound angry, only sure of himself, like he may have been thinking about this for a while. His face is passive, body relaxed as he leans against the hard brick.

Your jaw clenches, anger running hot through your veins. He doesn’t know anything about you, hasn’t for over ten years. He doesn’t have the right to try and talk down to you, not after all the hard work you put in to get to where you are.

“My wrist alone is worth ten million. What are you worth now, Patrick?” You’ll be embarrassed about bringing up status later, you always try to stay as humble as possible, but you’re too mad to care. You just need to hurt him, to hurt him like he hurt you. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that Patrick’s parents cut him off a while ago, that he’s been slumming it ever since. “I know exactly who I am, I’m a fucking Olympian.”

The venom in your tone is sharp, each word from your lips like a knife stabbing through the tense air trying to draw blood. “You’re a fucking nobody, Patrick. You’re irrelevant. Washed up. Buried. Forgotten.” You pause when your voice starts to shake, taking a deep inhale of smoke to try and calm yourself. Your hand is shaking too, ash falls from the burnt out tip down to the gravel. Patrick just watches you, his expression doesn’t change. Smoke billows from between your lips, blowing away with the wind. “We’re not on the same level, not anymore.” 

Patrick’s unfazed, staring back at you with his cigarette dangling from his lips. He takes it between his fingers, letting his arm drop to hang at his side. “I’ve been thinking about you.” he says casually, head lolling to the side lazily. He looks at you through his lashes, eyes sweeping over your face slowly. “I was just thinking about you, and now you’re here. Right fucking in front of me.” he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “You look…” he trails off, green eyes taking in every inch of you. “You look amazing.”

Your pulse flutters wildly, you feel so light headed, like you could pass out any second. “I’ve missed you, missed you everyday since that night.” His expression is that same half cocked grin from before, all smooth bravado and easy smiles as if he’s not staring at you like you’re the very blood coursing through his veins. All the air drains from your lungs, mind racing what feels like a thousand miles per second. 

He sounds like he means it. He looks like he means it. He can’t possibly mean it.

A loud chant ringing through your skull is the only coherent thing screaming through all the mess. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking fall for it–

“Well I don’t miss you.” A lie. “You were nothing to me, Patrick.” Another lie. “You were just easy dick.” Your stomach twists painfully, like your body is physically trying to stop you from lying to yourself any further.

His face stays neutral, it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Patrick had a terrible poker face in college, you could read him like a book with a single glance. It was one of your favorite things about him, how expressive his face always was.

Now he’s just staring down the bridge of his nose at you passively, the picture of indifference. It’s another reminder of how long it’s been, that he’s lived a whole life without you in all that time. He takes a long drag off his cigarette, never breaking eye contact with you as he does.

His lips are slick and pink, just how you remember them. The beard isn’t so bad, it makes him look more rugged, more like a man. It’s the most drastic change in his appearance, far different from the smooth skinned pretty boy he was before.

He exhales, a long stream of smoke blowing past your ear. “What are you still doing here then?” he muses with a small shrug. He leans in even closer, slowly, like you were a cornered animal he didn’t want to spook. You can smell him, something woodsy with a hint of musk. You can see the clusters of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose, almost completely faded. “If I’m nothing,” he clarifies, simple, easy. “Why are you here?”

It’s a loaded question, one he obviously knows the answer to. It’s a dick move, forcing you to confront what you’re really feeling. Your eyes start to sting, complicated emotions welling up in your throat. “Fuck you Patrick.” you whisper weakly, all the bite in your tone getting lost in your dejection. Your lip wobbles warningly, you try your best to stifle it. You refuse to cry in front of him.

Patrick’s face does something funny, turning his eyes to the sidewalk. “I need someone like that again. Someone that isn’t afraid to fucking check me, that wants me to do better and not because they just see a check or a legacy or whatever the fuck else my parents expected from me. Someone that wants me to do better because they actually believe in me.”

The honesty in his voice takes you by surprise. He gets more worked up the longer he talks, chest rising and falling a lot faster than before. Rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.  “I fucked up that night, I know. Now my life’s a fucking mess, and I need someone to help make it make sense again.“ 

You scoff thickly, shaking your head in disbelief as you fight back tears. “And I’m that person?” you ask skeptically, brow raised in question.

“You always were,” he replies easily, his face forming into a sad smile. He almost sounds like his old self. Your brain flashes the image of Patrick leaning outside the door of your science lecture, waiting to walk you back to your dorm. He’s smiling wide enough to show teeth, looking down at you with brilliant green eyes, just like he is right now.

Suddenly, he wasn’t the boy that broke your heart on a tennis court twelve years ago. 

He was the boy that held your hair back when you threw up after drinking too much at a frat party and still stayed the night even though you didn’t hook up, his chest pressed against your back like a security blanket the whole night. He was the boy that let you make friendship bracelets on the handle of his favorite racket, and secretly kept the one you made for him braided around the neck for weeks until you finally noticed the fraying blue strings still in place when he forgot his tennis bag at your dorm room one night.

Suddenly he wasn’t anything but the boy you fell in love with when you were eighteen years old.

You swallow hard, heart pounding against your ribcage. Your cigarette falls from the slack grip of your fingers, plummeting to your feet where it burns out on the pavement. 

It’s like you lose control of yourself, like all your morals get shot out of a cannon into the sun. You’re lunging forward before you know what you’re doing, fisting the fabric of Patrick’s shirt and pulling him down to meet you halfway. Your first kiss with Patrick in twelve years.

It’s a mess of teeth clashing together roughly, with way too much tongue and spit to be classified as romantic. It’s desperate. It’s angry. It’s fucking filthy and it’s exactly what you need.

Your tongue forces its way between Patrick’s lips when he gasps in shock, mapping out the familiar territory of his mouth like muscle memory. His big hands fly up to hold onto your hips as he eagerly returns your kiss, pressing you up against the brick and sucking your tongue lewdly. He tastes like smoke and bottom shelf whiskey. You moan into his mouth, wetness starting to seep through the thin material of your panties.

You stay like that for a while, just kissing until Patrick slides the hard line of his cock against your hip strategically. You moan at the size of it pressing onto you through his jeans, breaking the kiss to inhale a couple lungfuls of air. “You’re not fucking me in an alley.” You say bluntly as he trails wet kisses down the side of your throat.

He laughs, nipping at your collarbone teasingly. “My car’s a block away,” he offers between kisses.

You think about it for a second. Deciding on whether or not you’re going to let Patrick fuck you in the backseat of his car like you’re two horny teenagers and not full grown adults.

“Lead the way.” Is all you say, finally letting yourself smile when Patrick starts to drag you away from the bar. 

You shoot your friends a quick text letting them know you decided to head home early, already in the uber you ordered when you’re actually letting Patrick drag you across a blessedly empty parking lot to an old SUV parked in the middle. A completely one-eighty from the Porsche he used to drive.

He takes a second to press you against the door, capturing your lips with his again. It’s a slower kiss, sweeter than the one you shared outside the bar. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach when he cups your face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He fumbles blindly for the car door with his other hand, pulling it open and pushing you into the back. He follows closely, climbing in and shutting the door behind him.

Patrick’s back on you in less than a second, yanking at the buttons of your shirt impatiently, fingers too big to work them through the holes as fast as he wants to. He lets out a frustrated growl, grabbing both sides and pulling hard. The buttons all go flying in different directions, landing in different spots around you.

“That was three hundred dollars,” you mumble against his lips, not wanting to stop kissing him for even a second. He looms over you, broad and all encompassing. He sits up to yank his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside and popping open the button of his jeans.

“You can buy another one,” he says simply, shucking his jeans and boxers off all in one go. His dick is long and lovely, tip red and drooling pre-cum that drips all the way down to his balls. Your mouth waters, desperate to taste it, to feel the weight of it on your tongue and down your throat. You push it to the back of your mind. There’s no time for that, both of you too keyed up to do anything other than fuck.

Patrick leans down, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. He turns his attention to your pulling skirt down, panties going with it and getting tossed onto the floorboard carelessly. His eyes zero in on your bare pussy, wet and on display. The cool air shocks your system, making you want to press your thighs together but Patrick’s hands keep you spread open.

“Fuck,” he whispers quietly, moving to roll the knuckle of his right index finger over your slick entrance, just barely rocking it into you. You gasp, your whole body trembling with need. “Just like I remember.” He mutters to himself, pushing in the smallest bit deeper. 

Your leg kicks out, patience starting to wear thin. “C’mon, Pat.” you mewl sweetly, bucking your hips up in a clear invitation. “Fuck me.”

Patrick shifts up onto his knees, silently shuffling closer to your spread thighs. His cock juts out from his body, so thick and heavy that it doesn’t point straight up, instead hangs angry and red between his legs. His big hands slide halfway up your thighs, you shiver at the way they skirt across your skin lightly. He presses you backwards by them, leaning over you with your legs slung across his shoulders.

His cock drags across your inner thigh, trailing a sloppy line of pre-come as it does. You nearly wail, wrapping your arms around Patrick’s broad shoulders as you beg for him to give you what you want.

“God Patrick! Put it in. Please, put it in. Let me have it, please, fuck–,” you beg frantically, arms tightening around his shoulders like you’re trying to drag him impossibly closer to you. He goes willingly, burying his nose in the soft skin of your neck. He presses a small kiss directly over your pulse.

“I’m gonna give you this cock, baby.” he whispers lowly, hot lips brushing against your skin with every word. He slides the head of his cock through your wet folds, stopping to rub it over your swollen clit a few times. “Gonna get all up inside you and fuck you exactly how you like.” He slides the length down, letting his tip catch on your empty, clenching hole.

You’re so damn worked up, writhing and pushing back and begging Patrick to just fuck you already, that you can’t take anymore teasing. Your hole contracts around the tip of his dick like it’s trying to suck him in. He sinks in deeper, slowly feeding every thick inch into your aching cunt.

“God,” Your name falls from his lips in a shuddery breath that fans over your fluttering pulse. “You still smell the same.” It’s the same stunned, breathless tone from when he first saw you. He presses his face cheek to cheek with yours, the rough texture of his beard scraping against your skin. 

Patrick moves his hips against you slowly, deep strokes that drag every thick inch of him against the walls of your cunt. The tip of his cock stabbing that sweet spot inside you that makes stars glow bright on the ceiling of his car each time you blink. The angle has his balls pressing against your cunt as he fucks into you, the excessive pre-come leaking from his tip mixing with the sticky wetness of your juices leaves an obscene ring of creamy white around the spread hole of your cunt. It sticks wetly to the base of Patrick’s cock with each thrust, shining back at you on his skin when he pulls out.

The slow thrusts feel amazing, but you know it’s not enough. You need him to pound into you, to bully his big cock into your cunt like he’s getting back at you for shutting him out. You need him to fuck you. 

“Harder, Pat…” you whine breathlessly, clawing desperately at the polyester seats.

He groans loudly, hips immediately speeding up, getting rougher, meaner. He leans up to get more power behind his thrusts, breaking your tight hold on his shoulders. “This is where you belong,” he grits out, sweat dripping from his forehead to fall onto your heaving chest. The sharp smack smack smack of his hips bruising your ass gets louder, the lewd noise filling the car. “Where you should have been this whole fucking time, spread open on my cock.”

The only thing you can even get out anymore are pleading whines and loud moans of Patrick’s name as he pounds into you like he’s trying to kill you. The harsh snap of his hips inching you further up the backseat until your head’s knocking against the doors handle on each mean thrust. Your feet bounce by his ears, body almost completely folded in half so all you can do is lie there and take it.

The car rocks steadily, anyone who spares a glance at the SUV will know what’s going on inside. 

Patrick sneaks a hand between your legs, fingers sliding over your swollen clit. You scream, throwing your head back in pleasure as the calloused tips over his fingers work you over. “Fuck yeah,” Patrick mutters, turning his head to lick and bite at your ankle. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful. I missed you so much, missed this pussy.” His voice is pinched, hips fucking into you impossible faster.

The wet squelching noise of your cunt is filthy, splattering against Patrick’s heavy balls with each thrust. “I know she missed me too, didn’t she baby?” he taunts, eyes wild and blown out. “Taking my cock so well, squeezing me so fucking good.”

“Close,” you gasp out. Patrick pitches forward, licking into your parted lips as he rubs tight circles over your clit faster. He kisses you sloppily, smearing spit all over your lips and chin. His sweat drips onto your face and mixes with your own, it should be gross, but it makes you even wetter. The primal part of your brain overjoyed to be claimed by him. He lifts his fingers up the tiniest bit, smacking them over your clit with the smallest amount of force.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly, back arching off the seat wildly as you gush around his cock. You claw at his back desperately, nails raking down his skin hard enough to leave angry red welts in their wake.

“Shit– that’s good, milk it out of me baby, work for this fucking load.” he groans, hips not slowing down as he chases his own release. His breath puffs over your skin, the rhythm of his hips starting to falter the closer he gets. You whine, trying your best focus on clenching your cunt over his cock in your fucked out state. “That’s it, baby– God – you’re gonna make me come, squeezing me so tight I can barely fucking move…” he growls, teeth sinking into your neck hard.

You hiss sharply, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure starts to become too much. He licks over the bite mark, like he’s apologizing. “Gonna fucking come inside you, fill you up so good, fuck–”

His rambling dissolves into a loud groan, hips giving one last thrust as he buries himself as deep in your cunt as he can. You feel rope after rope of warm come flood your insides, painting your walls with it. It feels like hours, him unloading into you with cut off moans and grunts. 

You're still desperately trying to catch your breath when he finally starts to pull out of you as gently as he can. The red tip of his cock popping free lets the river of his come leak out from your abused hole, spilling out of you to drip onto the car’s seat.

Patrick curses at the sight, scooping the white, creamy mess onto his fingers so he can fuck it back into you. You hiss at the over stimulation, thighs squeezing together around his hand. Your chest is still heaving, breathing erratic as you slowly come down from your orgasm. Patrick tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, smiling warmly as he takes you into his arms and shifts around until he’s sitting up against the door with you curled into his chest.

The windows are steamy, melting all the streetlights outside into a swamp of warm colors on the glass. They shine through the car like sunlight piercing through a stained glass window. You feel light and hazy, like you’re in a dream. Patrick’s body grounds you, firm and familiar against your back. It’s quiet for a long time, only the sound of soft breathing fills the car. You're scratching your nails through the hair on Patrick’s chest when he finally breaks the silence.

“There’s…” he says into your hair, trailing off near the end. He’s idly tracing shapes on your lower back. A circle, a square, a circle, a diamond, a square, a heart. “There’s this challenger in New Rochelle in a couple weeks, I’m entering it. You should come.” 

Your heart drops, the delicate cloud encompassing you and Patrick forcefully ripped away in less than a second. You’ve already heard of this challenger, seen all the publicity it’s been getting since Art’s name came up in the conversation surrounding it. The ‘Phil’s Tire Town Challenger’ is all anyone can talk about. 

If Art’s there, she will be too. Sitting in the stands in a classy Ralph Lauren two piece, watching her husband and Patrick on the court, looming over the two of them for the first time in years. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing her. You can’t stomach the thought of Patrick seeing her, terrified that the second she spares him a glance you’ll be right back where you were in college, an afterthought left in the dust for something better.

Your stomach lurches violently, you feel nauseous. The heat of Patrick’s backseat becomes almost unbearable, making it harder to breathe. You rip yourself away from him, tearing through the backseat to find your clothes. 

Patrick startles, sitting up with a concerned look on his face. “Jesus, what's wrong?” You can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over your back, not sure if he should touch. “What did I do?”

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Your throat feels tight, chest constricted and heavy as you try to take in lungfuls of air. You tug on your skirt and panties haphazardly, grabbing the first shirt you find strewn across the car's floor and yanking it on. You know it’s not yours but you don’t care, too busy trying to shove your shoes back onto your feet and push open the door all at once.

Patrick questions you the entire time, voice confused and insistent as you tumble out into the parking lot. The cool air feels like a life jacket, the smell of rain fills your nose as you try to steady your erratic breathing. You’re still trying to tug your right shoe on as you start to speed walk away from his car.

You can hear the sound of feet slapping behind you on the pavement as you walk. A strong hand wraps around your bicep, whipping you around. Patrick only has his pants on, shirtless and barefoot in his haste to catch up with you.

“What the fuck are you doing? What’s wrong?” He sounds genuinely concerned, his eyes searching your face closely. It makes tears burn hot at your waterline, blurring your vision and falling to trickle down your cheeks when you try to blink them away.

“This was a mistake, Patrick.” your voice is thick with emotion, you try to wrench your arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go, not squeezing tight enough to hurt but to try and keep you in place. You need to leave, to get as far away from Patrick as you can before you’re in too deep. “Please, let go.” Your voice is small, shaky and weak and so unlike you. The panic from the car is still wrapped around you, growing tighter every second you spend with him.

Patrick shakes his head wildly, raindrops slowly start to fall onto his bare shoulders. “No, fuck no! We can talk about this. We just need to talk–”

“Patrick stop!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, loud and desperate as you double your efforts to free your arm. “Please just let me go!”

You don’t know if it’s the way you said it or the look on your face, maybe it’s a bit of both, but something makes Patrick let you go. Dropping your arm from his grip and letting his own hang limply at his side.

Rain starts to come down all around you, large drops hitting your skin and soaking the cotton of your shirt. You let yourself meet his eyes, they're sad in a way you’ve never seen before. The green turned dull and lifeless. It looks wrong on him.

When you can’t stand the hurt look on his face any longer, you leave. Walking away deeper into the rain, small puddles splashing up around your shoes with every step. You hope Patrick doesn’t follow you, that he lets you go. You’re doing him a favor by making the choice for him, it’s easier this way.

“You know, I think I really loved you.” He calls from behind you as the rain really starts to pick up. His voice almost gets swallowed by the thunder, you wish it would have. 

Against your better judgment, you look back. Patrick hasn't moved, still standing in the middle of the parking lot. The rain is making his hair stick to his forehead, starting to seep into the denim of his jeans to darken the gray. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice tiny and pathetic. Patrick probably couldn’t even hear you over the wind whipping through the air. He stares back at you, there's too much distance for you to see the look on his face. You turn on your heels and keep walking.

It’s nostalgia in its sickest form, the dark familiarity of the situation washing over you with the rain as you walk away from Patrick again. Ignoring every call of your name and desperate pleas for you to come back is new, you can’t tell if it hurts more or less than the silence of last time.

You wrap your arms around yourself, tears mixing with the trails of rain running down your cheeks. It’ll make it easier to convince yourself later on that you weren’t really crying, that it was just the rain. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and this will all be behind you. Patrick will be fine, he doesn’t really love you. In a few weeks he’ll go to the challenger and forget all about you. 

You hear your mothers voice ring out in the back of your head as you walk.

"It's for the best, my love. Dependence is weakness."

You hope to God that she's right.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[thatonebabybat]

Being Masc & Goth

This blog usually isn't fashion-focused, but I was thinking about alt fashion and how it's sometimes a struggle to figure out how to style things in a masc way if you're interested in darkalt fashion, but you don't want to go too casual or basic with it. So I thought I'd throw together some tips, link some DIYs, and maybe throw in a few moodboards. I want to preface this with one thing: You do NOT have to adhere to traditional gender roles. Fuck anyone who tells you that you do. If you're a guy and you want to get into alt fashion don't let anyone tell you that you can't pull off a skirt or a dress or a strappy top. Literally the whole point of being alt is Doing Whatever The Hell You Want Forever. However, not everyone feels comfortable in that (I made this post because I'm transmasc and sometimes the long gothic dresses make me dysphoric), and not everyone is safe to do that ( as much as it sucks ass, if you live in a conservative area sometimes it can be genuinely dangerous for guys to wear makeup and dresses in public, and your safety should always come first), so I thought I'd lay out some tips on how to dress alt and masc from my own experience. I'm still learning so feel free to leave your own advice in the replies or reblogs! General Styling Tips: - Jackets. Jackets, jackets, jackets. Something about a big jacket always seems to give an outfit a more masc energy, and adding a cool jacket to an outfit can be a great way to elevate it and add some extra visual interest. I like black blazers, leather jackets, and black denim jackets in particular, but vests (formal menswear ones or more casual denim or leather ones) can work well too, especially in hot weather. - Any basic black pair of jeans will look 100x more alt if you loosely attach some chains to the pockets or belt loops. Also, pants with wider legs tend to look more masc than tighter fits. not sure why. Slacks can also be a really good and underrated option. - If you want to find good headwear, cool sunglasses have never failed me. You may be able to take some inspiration from Ouji fashion as well, but that's just my personal taste. - If you have a basic piece around, you can add pins, patches, safety pins, etc for a more casual look, or if you're going for something more formal, trims and lace details and embroidery can really add interest and elegance to it. (if you can't sew, you can order iron-on embroidered patches online or find them in craft stores that'll do the trick just fine.) This can take your pair of slacks or plain black blazer and turn it into a piece of formal gothic menswear you can make a staple of your wardrobe. - Find inspiration in your favorite goth artists. There's a lot of really cool goth music out there and a lot of those bands get really innovative with their looks! Figure out what you like about their style and try incorporating a few things in, it's fun! - If you have an alt wardrobe already but it just seems like something's missing or it could use some interest, try switching up the silhouettes or adding an extra layer! Seriously, don't be scared of playing with textures and sleeve shapes! I see a lot of dudes who just wear a band tee and a pair of jeans all the time, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, that can be a great look! But I think a lot of dudes just genuinely think that that's their only option and that everything else just "wasn't made for them" and that makes me a little sad. shred up some shirts and layer them, wear some bell sleeves, throw some extra safety pins or studs on, have fun! No one said masc fashion couldn't be fun. Unisex/Masc DIY Videos I Found:

... And Some Inspiration!

[These are all goth music artists, I wrote the band/artist names in small text on the images that were not already watermarked for those who are curious]

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism: "If you die tomorrow, would you have any regrets?"

G/N. Jake, Goo, Gun, DG, Ryuhei, Sammy. Reminder that Gun is canonically a gamer lmao.

Jake looks up at you in surprise, the morbid question catching him off guard.

"Why?" he asks, tilting his head.

"It was just a question I read."

"Hmm," Jake rubs at his chin and gazes off somewhere in the distance, no doubt thinking about all that has happened in his life. "Yeah. Loads."

Oh. You weren't expecting that-

"A lot of things I've made my peace with," Jake shrugs and you know he means Sinu and Samuel and Big Deal.

The mess with Workers, the falling out with Samuel and end of the Golden Era, the arrest of so many of his crew. He knows his mom is disappointed that he is so much like his father, his time in juvie, and Jake thinks if he tried better in school instead of fighting then maybe things would have worked out a lot differently.

"But-" he tugs on your hand, pulling you off-balance and falling straight into his lap.

"I'd regret not spending more time with you. All the time trying to be a good boss rather than a good boyfriend."

You open your mouth to argue that he is a good boyfriend but he continues on-

"I'd regret leaving you on your own. Even though I know you'd find someone easily," And Jake manages a small wistful smile, "I'd regret not being there for you."

.

.

"Me?" Goo blinks, looking up from his manga.

"Yes, you. The only other person here."

"Just checking, Cupcake." Goo thinks briefly for a moment before making up his mind.

"I'll regret not seeing how this manga ends," then he narrows his eyes, stabbing angrily at the page, "And not going to Japan to hunt down this asshole for killing my fave off-screen."

"Goo!" Maybe this is on you for expecting a serious answer.

He gets up and makes his way to you, peppers kisses all over your face as you roll your eyes. "You're not planning on killing me are you, Sweetheart?"

"Yes. Tonight. There's a knife under my pillow."

"Make sure you don't wake me, do it quick," he grins mischievously then-

An unpleasant thought pops up and he pulls a face. "Once I'm dead, you better not fall in love with anyone else. My ghost will haunt you, y'know."

"Fine, I'll just be sad and alone and mourning over you forever."

"Perfect!"

But what would Goo actually regret?

What's the saying? You can't take it with you.

Goo has such fun plans once he retires from all this crew shit. Neither of you have to work another day again, you can just spend the rest of your lives terrorising the general public instead. Travelling the world, swimming in a pool of money together, sleeping on a bed of cash. All that fun stuff.

Goo doesn't regret the time amassing his fortune, his little safety net for the future. But if he was to die tomorrow, he would regret not having that future with you.

.

.

Gun pauses the video game at your question, then turns to you with a brow arched, "Why do you think I'm going to die?"

"It's hypothetical. Like in a fight or something."

An arrogant smile spreads, "And who's strong enough to kill me?"

You click your tongue in annoyance at his response although you hate to admit that damn, you find his attitude sexy as hell. There's just something about him being able to back up his confidence with his skills and talent.

"Just answer my question!"

"No I would not have any regrets," he says, already turning back and resuming his game.

Of course Gun doesn't. As if someone like him would have any regrets.

Eyes still on the screen and fingers clicking on the controller, Gun adds quietly. "But you will be taken care of."

Oh.

If Gun were to die tomorrow, he would regret not being able to take care of you. Being by your side. In his line of work, it is always a possibility no matter how strong he is. The least he could do, and has done, is make sure that at least no harm or hardships befalls you after he is gone.

Money, protection, freedom. If he can't have a future, then he will assure yours.

.

.

DG falters mid-stride, giving it the briefest of thoughts before coming to a conclusion.

"Nope," he says with a cocky smirk.

He has very little to regret. His life as DG is what most people dream of. Fame and fortune, power and influence.

As James Lee he has proven he's the strongest, he's the peak and untouchable.

There's very little left for him to accomplish. Why would he have any regrets?

But, he supposes, as he is later handled by the assistants and the stylists, then plasters on a fake smile for TV appearances before being ushered to some event full of schmoozers and fakers and having to make small talk as DG, the idol and CEO-

Is that maybe if he could do it again, he would choose something with more privacy. More freedom. That he could do what he wants, whenever he wants.

And most importantly-

That he can walk hand in hand with you down the street without rabid fans screaming and the paparazzi photos making headlines.

Without you being on the receiving end of death threats and unhinged letters, and his agent and company telling him that he needs to apologize for his relationship. Backtrack it. Single idols sells better, appeals to the public more.

If DG died tomorrow, he thinks that actually he would regret this. He regrets keeping you in the shadows.

.

.

Ryuhei doesn't hesitate and tells you he wishes you were his first. For everything.

Even hand holding. Even hugs.

You pull a face at that.

"That's... Sweet." You say, lying through your teeth as Ryuhei looks at you with concerned puppy eyes.

"You wish the same, right?"

"Sure," you agree because where's the harm in appeasing this goofball.

In truth, and Ryuhei hates thinking about it, is that he does desperately wish that he met you first. Before Mitsuki, before anyone else.

Nevermind that it's a completely futile, fanciful dream because everything that has happened has led him to you.

But he thinks it would have worked out better. He could have been a better person, a better boyfriend. If he met you before he had a chance to develop his sex pest tendencies and obsessive behaviour that you had to stamp out.

It's pointless though. Not even worth dwelling on. What has happened has happened and he could only try to be better now.

Ryuhei considers the question again with a sigh. If he dies tomorrow, what would he regret?

Oh yeah! He would absolutely regret this!

"I'd regret that we can't bang anymore!"

"Ryuhei!"

.

.

Samuel immediately feels defensive at your question.

He thinks about what he hasn't yet achieved. All his dreams of becoming King, being at the top, and yet he's no closer.

"Why?" he asks, eyes starting to narrow behind his glasses.

You hold up both palms, in a gesture to indicate you didn't mean anything by it and your face tells him to just chill.

"I dunno. I found it and thought it was an interesting question."

"It's not." Samuel says, effectively ending the conversation and eyes dipping back down to his phone.

But it doesn't just end.

Samuel spirals and doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day, his shortcomings haunting him instead.

He drinks and he smokes and he spends even more time at work, trying to dull the ache of his inferiority.

The mornings and nights pass by in a blur, a string of toxic behaviours and self sabotage, until eventually - he comes to.

His failures and faults pushed to the back of his mind, rather than a constant reminder.

Then like a fog clearing, he finds clarity again. He sees your face, the worry, the trepidation... The guilt for asking an innocent question.

And Samuel knows that his biggest regret of all if he dies tomorrow is that you deserved better and he hasn't been able to give that to you.

[gothamhappiness]

You are my heaven 3 (Bruce Wayne x f!reader)

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. And then you asked for more :)

My masterlist is here.

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: no proof reading, stressed out neglect!Bruce, mentions of dead characters, jealousy and all kind of bad feelings, language

This was Hell. It had to be a nightmare, right? It couldn’t be the reality. It couldn’t be the truth. Someone was toying with him, torturing him even. It had to be an illusion of some sort. Or maybe he was stuck in the darkest part of this mind, full of his worst fears.

No child, no wife, no Alfred, no Justice League, no good day, no good night. 

Gotham wasn’t usually funny, but this was pure punishment.

At first, Bruce thought that the worst part was how awful the business was with Wayne Enterprises; there was so much work to take care of, all the time, and no one he felt like he could trust. 

Then he realised how empty his manor was. It was dark and quiet. It was making him want to throw up because of how tight it was making his chest and stomach. He couldn’t stand this utter silence. He couldn’t stand to not be able to play the annoyed mentor with his children and the good husband to you.

Not even having Alfred was a punishment, a torture, a cruel life. How was he supposed to care about everything without Alfred? How was he supposed to stay sane without the man who raised him? How was he supposed to survive without him? 

He so deeply missed the children. He tried to find them, but they were in prison, dead or gone from Gotham: Dick was a police officer who died during a mission, Jason was in prison, Tim died in his parents' accident, Stephanie had left Gotham forever, Cassandra killed herself to not be a killer anymore, Duke died as he looked for the Joker, Damian didn’t exist.

And Barbara looked so happy, Bruce didn’t even dare going to talk to her. And when he passed by her, hoping she would talk to him, she just seemed surprised to see Bruce Wayne in her local library. All the people he knew didn’t know him anymore or weren’t there to know him or to care about him.

In some desperate attempt, he looked for Talia, but the league of assassins simply kicked his ass for having tried and reached for her. They weren’t interested in him, merely wondering how he knew about them. He almost got killed that night, but he found a way out, like he always did.

Except he didn’t seem to be able to find a way out from this Hell.

The worst part was definitely your absence. He was so used to going to bed with a pretty little wife by his side. He was so used to kissing her goodnight. He was so used to her cute little whines for five minutes more of cuddles in the morning. He was so used to having his arm around her waist wherever they went. And he missed that so much. He wanted you so badly. He needed you so badly.

Fuck, he promised himself to not ditch any more dates with you once he would be back to what reality was supposed to be. He would take such good care of you. He would make you forget about the divorce papers and not just by saying to Alfred “She had a good life here and she loves the children, so she’ll stay”. No, he would make sure you actually wanted to stay. With him. With your husband.

He needed to find you in this world. Maybe you could help him, at least to not completely go insane.

He quickly found you, and for a brief instant, he was so relieved that you seemed to know him. You clearly weren’t his wife since you didn’t even live in the manor, but thank god he hoped you were his girlfriend. But your coldness hurt him more than he would ever admit it.

“What do you want, Bruce?” you groaned when you saw him at your door

“Just wanted to check on you” the man tried to smile

“Look, I’ve already told you that I’m not interested. You creep me out, man. And it’s not because the cops won’t do anything if I call them, that you can keep going here. So please, stay away from me and stop sending me gifts that I need to send you back. We’re not a thing, and we’ll never be” you told him before closing your door.

Bruce knew he was going to lose it.

He started to try and recall what happened the night before everything changed so drastically in his life. He slowly remembered this mission with the mad scientist. He remembered the light he saw right after he was going to sleep by your side. He was feeling so weak and strange then. Something happened then.

He needed to find the man. When he did, the scientist was actually a teacher in the University of Gotham, who was talking about the possibilities of parallel universes. It was how Bruce finally understood what happened. It wasn’t his reality. It wasn't an illusion. It was another world.

For a very brief instant, he felt very bad for the version of himself who had to deal with this world and this constant loneliness. But he couldn’t care. He wanted to get back home, surrounded by his people and their attention. He was relieved in a way because now he knew how to escape from this place.

He worked hard for several months. He showed a very dark version of himself, as he was forcing the scientist to find a way to send him back. He was slowly losing himself. He needed to come back home soon, or he would start to actually kill; why would he care about crossing the lines in a world that wasn’t his? In a city that didn’t like him anyway? In a life where no one loved him?

The media were commenting on how ruthless Batman was lately. Bruce couldn’t help it. He was feeling so bad. And there was this nasty little voice inside his head telling him over and over again that “Maybe no one realised you were gone. Maybe no one wants you back. Maybe that’s why you’re still there months after. Another man is fucking your wife, another man is talking to your children and to Alfred, another man is leading WE and the Justice League. And they all don’t care. Worst, they like him better”

The scientist wasn’t obsessed with the idea of getting rid of Batman so he thought about things quite differently. He found a way to send Bruce back to his world but he didn’t switch places. So when Bruce arrived where he was supposed to be, he was quite shocked to see another him.

What was worse was that you were by his side, laughing at something the man murmured to you. His arm was wrapped around your waist. It was then that your husband noticed how round your belly was. You were pregnant. You were heavily pregnant. There was no way it was actually his child. It had to be his. Didn’t you notice it wasn’t your husband who was making love to you? Or did you want it? Him?

The sole idea was driving him crazy with pain and raw jealousy. The jealousy that the Bruce of the other world felt when he first arrived in this world, the “real” Bruce” felt it too. His life has been stolen away from him, and he needed to get it back. 

It drove him even crazier when he saw how his children acted around the stranger. How could they all seem so happy around him? He hoped that no one understood what happened. He hoped that you all thought it was him.

He didn’t know what to do though. He couldn’t come back to the manor, he couldn’t show his face, so he hid in the dark for a little while. He kept stalking all of you, getting sick in the stomach each time he saw his children or you or the Justice League with his other self. Everyone seemed to do so much better.

Or maybe it was just his paranoia and the mean voices inside his head that wanted to make him believe that you all loved this other Bruce better than him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the child you were carrying. He had wanted that too, but you never seemed ready.

And now…

Now he needed to find you.

--

Part 4

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

Taglist for this series <3 (you’re my heaven)

@bat1212

@karakento

@kneelforloki

Thanks for the ideas <3

@motherofdragons1998

@silverklaus

@optimisticmoonunknown

@kazuko-stuff

[kasagia]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Benny Cross x fem!ex-girlfiriend! reader Summary: After your rather stormy breakup, Benny decides he can't live without you. He'll get you back. At any cost. Even if he has to force you over his motorcycle and take you far out of town. Taglist for Benny: @aleemendoza2425-blog Benny Cross' Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist P.S. I accept requests for Benny if you want to read sth specific with our boy 😊

Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you Bygones will be bygone eras Fading into gray We broke all the pieces, but still want to play the game I told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way... Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back - "imgonnagetyouback" Taylor Swift

“What the hell is he doing here?” You ask angrily, looking out your office window as you see your ex’s Harley parked next to your car.

"Maybe he forgot something from you. Did you give him all his stuff back?" Your friend asks, putting the papers into a folder.

"No. I gathered all four of his shirts and two pairs of pants and made myself a campfire behind the house." You huff angrily, closing the blinds so you wouldn't have to watch the blue-eyed Vandal leaning against your car.

"So what does he want? From what you've told me, your relationship ended in a hell of a bad way, and he was a world-class asshole." You tremble at the mere memory of your breakup with Benny.

You and he met at one of the Vandals' bar. You happened to go there for a drink with your girls; he noticed you and started talking with you. He was flirting with you the whole night and tried to take you with him for a ride on his bike. The first time you turned him down. Then he tracked down where you lived and showed up at your door, offering a ride to your work.

You should have seen a red flag then. But you were too stupid and infatuated by him enough to think it was romantic.

As time went on, he took you to Vandals meetings more and more often. And it was fun. Until you had to bail him out of arrest, pick him up from the hospital, and wait forever for him at home, wondering if he'd be sleeping next to you in bed or at the police station.

And one day, when he ended up in the hospital after some guys beat him up for wearing Vandal's colours, you broke. You begged him to stop while he was still alive and well (which was doubtful considering the doctors were still debating whether to cut off his foot); you literally knelt by his bed and cried like a baby while all he cared about was whether he could keep riding.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst was that every time you argued, he threatened to leave, to disappear, that it would be best for you if he left you alone. And at first you begged him, terrified, to stay, but over time you started to react to those words... more aggressively.

Then you decided you were fed up with living with the wandering cat he was and broke up with him. Roughly. Stormily. Your neighbours heard more than one of your arguments, and the whole street saw you throwing his stuff out the window and finally throwing rocks at him as he rode away on his beloved Harley. On second thought, maybe you were both two big damn red carpets.

"I don't want to know. Will you take me home? The last thing I want today is to meet that son of a bitch."

You sigh, dragging the papers to your desk. You grab your black blazer and throw it on over your white shirt. You adjust your black pencil skirt and grab your purse to follow your friend.

You took the job as a secretary right after breaking up with Benny. You quit your old job not wanting him to know where you worked, but apparently Vandal had his ways. You wonder if choosing another job wasn't a slap in the face for Benny. Choosing such a boring and ordinary job would piss him off even more and prove that you really aren't made for each other.

Just like Benny, you could be hellishly mean.

"What the hell?" Your friend asks as you exit out the back and her car isn't in the parking lot. But there is another Vandal with his motorcycle.

"Johnny." You greet him and walk over to him, crossing your arms. Your friend is hot on your heels. "What are you doing here?"

"Kiddo said you two have a problem in your relationship."

"We don't have any relationship, so there is no problem between us. But apparently, my friend lost her car. Can you help her?" You ask him, furious with Benny for not acknowledging your breakup.

"Y/N... you know that I don't like to get involved in the shit that's not mine, but this kid has been going crazy for a month now. He's been doing even worse shitty things than before, and I can't tell you how many times we've picked him up from jail in the past few fucking weeks. If you ever cared about him, talk to him. He's becoming wildly unpredictable. Even for me."

You bite your lip at his words. You know perfectly well what Benny is like, or rather what he was like before he met you. Thanks to you, he stopped riding so fast and carefree, ended up in the hospital much less often, and even obeyed the speed limit when you were with him on his bike.

You can only imagine what he's been up to in your absence and to what extent, since Johnny took an interest and came to you to talk about it.

"Don't manipulate me, Johnny. You know damn well he deserved it. Now you know what I had to deal with throughout this whole fucking relationship." You reply dryly, not wanting to fall for the Vandals' sweet words again.

You loved them like family, but sometimes you have to cut yourself off from them to save your sanity. And you desperately needed some time to yourself and a break from all of Benny's antics.

"Well... I know Benny isn't easy, but he really is a good kid. Carrot and stick. That's what he needs. And for the sake of your lady-buddy's car and your friendship... maybe you should go and have a few words with him."

"Screw you." You growl, rolling your eyes, and walk away from them. "What are you waiting for?! Take her to this fucking car!" You shout, walking back to the main building to exit through the main entrance.

Johnny puts your friend on his bike, and all you can do is give her an apologetic look as he takes her to where they moved her car. You don't even want to know how they did it.

You sigh as you walk through the office and stand in front of the main exit doors. You glance at your watch and walk out of the building with your heart in your mouth.

You walk down the sidewalk with the other people from work who have just left. Benny's blue irises land on you immediately. He straightens up, stopping leaning against your car and throwing away a cigarette he was smoking. He looks at you expectantly. You nod at him and pretend to walk in his direction.

You cross the street on the crosswalk, but instead of turning right towards the parking lot, you run as hard as you can to the left towards the bus stop.

"Y/N!" Benny shouts after you, and a moment later, you hear the thud of his combat boots against the pavement as he runs after you.

The bus pulls up to the stop, and you run inside. Luckily, the driver closes the doors before Benny can get to them. He bangs on the glass, shouting your name and some curse words, but you can't hear him clearly as the bus starts moving.

You breathe a sigh of relief and wipe your sweaty forehead. This time you did it. You just hoped your friend would get her car back before Benny went to Johnny and complained to him that you ran away.

But for now, you're happy that you managed to outsmart your ex.

The next morning you cautiously peer out from behind your front door, searching for a head of blonde hair. Even though you couldn't see any Vandal's motorcycle through the window, you wanted to be sure that none would suddenly pop out from nowhere.

You sigh with relief, not seeing anything suspicious.

You open the door wider, but something is blocking you. On your way out, you notice a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers. You pick it up and examine it carefully, but you don't see any note or card. But you do see a necklace.

The flowers are tied with a fucking necklace. The necklace Benny gave you at the beginning of your relationship with his initials carved into the back of the silver heart. (One of the guys worked at a jeweler's and did it for him for practically free through a connection or something.) The necklace you threw in his face when you broke up with him.

Furious, you want to throw the flowers in the trash. Instead, you decide to put the necklace in your pocket and walk to work. On the way, you pass a school and hand the bouquet to the first girl you see. At least she was happy because of those damn flowers.

As you continue your walk, you see a motorcyclist in the distance. You tense up and quicken your pace, praying that it's not a Vandal, but apparently you're out of luck today.

"Y/N?! How long have we not seen each other?!" Danny screams as he rides to you. You sigh as his bike blocks the entire sidewalk and force a smile.

"Probably ages ago. How you doing?"

"Great. Can I give you a ride somewhere? Where's Benny? Shouldn't he be the one hauling your ass to work?" He asks, already taking out a helmet for you. You reluctantly accept it and climb behind him on the bike.

"We broke up." You inform him, knowing full well that he's been away from the Vandals lately due to studies and his photography stuff.

"Oh shit. He must be devastated then." He comments and starts the engine. You hold on to him as he drives you to the address you gave him.

The drive takes a few minutes. Luckily, your car is still parked outside the building, and you don't see any parked bikes.

"Thanks. Danny? Can you give this to Benny? You probably will see him sooner than me." You say and hand him the necklace. He nods and drives away, leaving you alone.

You approach your car and curse, seeing the lock placed on the wheel. Not a police lock. A lock that the Vandals often put on and took off in exchange for small money. A small tag was attached to it. It had the date and time written on it—probably their next meeting that they wanted you to join in exchange for taking the damn thing off your car.

"Bad day?"

You flinch and turn around, surprised by someone's presence. You sigh with relief when you see only Mike—an accountant from the company you worked for.

"Bad week. Plus, it looks like I'm grounded." You say and kick your leg against the wheel of your car.

"Yeah, I recognise that. My friend had to pay them like $100 to get that damn thing off. He was rushing to some meeting and couldn't wait for the police and similar stuff. I can get someone to take it off for you."

"I'm afraid I don't have enough money." You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for a weekend with the Vandals. In Benny's company. Talking to him. You already feel sick.

"For free. Friend of mine owns me a little favour."

"Seriously?" You ask, shocked. He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hands and nods, giving you an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, no problem. And before he will do it... do you mind if we both go to lunch? I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to..."

"You know... I would actually like that." You interrupt him with a smirk, seeing him stuttering, unable to finish his sentence as he blushes.

"Really?" You almost giggle at his incredulous question and the gleam of happiness in his eyes. You nod with a huge, genuine smile, practically forgetting why you agreed to this date in the first place. "So... in four hours at the exit?"

"I will be waiting." With a smile, you leave him behind and enter the office. Maybe this day wasn't such a tragedy after all...

Benny was drinking beer with Johnny and Danny at a table in their favourite bar. The Vandals were circling him like vultures, just waiting for a little sensation and gossiping about his breakup with you.

"It must be hard for you, man. We all saw how much you loved her. Like a Catholic loves a goddamn God."

"Too bad she can't see it." Benny mumbles, lighting a cigarette. His one hand plays with the necklace he left on your doorstep this morning, which you gave to Denny. Benny gave you his fucking heart, and you still rejected it. He had to try harder. He had to talk to you first.

"Hey Benny-boy? How are you? Are you still getting over your breakup with your girlfriend? Do you love her that much? Come on, come with us. We'll race to the brothel, and you'll forget about this bitch in a second." Some Vandal walks up to him and pats him on the back.

"Benny no..." Johnny is interrupted by the crash of Vandal's jaw as Benny's fist hits him.

A second later, a beer bottle shatters over the head of a bleeding man on the floor, and Johnny and Danny try to pull him away from the guy. The entire club boos and cheers for the fight, but the guys quickly drag Benny outside.

"What the hell?! You can love her, but damn, don't be such a girl and react at each shitty comment!" Johnny yells at him and hits him in the chest with his hands. Benny huffs indignantly and puts his hands in his pockets to stop himself from hitting him.

"I hate her!" He growls furiously and plays with the necklace in his pants' pocket.

"And love her just the same, huh?" Danny asks and gives Benny a cigarette.

Benny doesn't answer. He smokes furiously, trying to clear his head, but all he can think about is you. Your scent, your taste, the softness of your body, the shudder of your breath beneath him, the way you clenched your hands around his shirt across his stomach when you rode with him on his bike, the way you pressed yourself against him and snuggled up to him every chance you got... fuck, he missed you. More than he previously thought he would be.

"Benny?! I saw your girl with some man in a suit! At that one of those Italian restaurants on the corner of Main Street. You know, the shitty one for rich people. You should do something about this." One of the bikers rides up and informs him, then rides away before Benny can say anything.

"Kid, don't…" Johnny tries to stop him, but Benny is already on his motorcycle. He starts it and rides as fast as he can, ignoring the shouts behind him.

All Benny could think about was how he was going to beat up the guy who dared to touch you. You were his girlfriend. You were one of the Vandals. You might have been on a break, but that didn't give any man the right to hit on you. Not when you had Benny and Benny had you.

It was simple logic. Nobody messes with the Vandals and their girls.

Benny sped through the city, not stopping at red lights. It wasn't until he was at a restaurant that he stopped his Harley.

He didn't turn off the engine, though. He was staring intently through the restaurant windows and checking out each customer until his eyes landed on you and some shit in a suit who had the nerve to get your attention.

Benny tugged on the handle, causing his bike's engine to roar furiously—like a guard dog giving a warning before it attacks. He increased the engine's roar until your eyes met his.

A cold shiver ran through him as you threw him one of your angry looks, and he felt hurt when you ignored him and continued to talk with the man sitting in front of you and gave him one of your most wonderful smiles. Fuck it. The guy wouldn't be able to walk when Benny got to him.

Benny reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pack of Marlboro, and lights his cigarette. He holds it to his mouth with one hand while the other continues to crank the handle of the engine, so that the roar of the engine drowns out any conversation you might have had with the man in front of you.

He smirks as you and the guy in front of you stare in his direction. He holds a cigarette between his plush lips and waves at you, causing an irritated frown to form on your forehead.

Benny can't help but feel a strange bile rising in his throat as he looks at the two of you. You were on a date with a guy who was clearly the opposite of Benny. He wonders if this is what you really want—a boring guy with a boring job and a tonne of money who could build you a house with a fucking white picket fence and drive you to work in his Cooper car and the kids to preschool. It makes him sick to think that you could be anyone else, that you could have anyone else's children, that you could be married to some guy in a suit and live the life of a fucking decent 1950s shitty family.

Benny knew perfectly well that he couldn't give you what this guy could provide you. He couldn't even afford a date at a restaurant like that.

However, it didn't change the fact that he loved you so damn much.

"Hey! Biker dude, leave Y/N alone!" A guy in a suit comes out of the restaurant and yells at him. Benny calmly finishes his cigarette and throws it on the ground, staring silently at the man in front of him. "Did you hear me, degenerate? Get out of here!" The guy pushes him, hitting his chest. For Benny, that's enough.

He lands the first punch with his right fist, landing perfectly on his opponent's cheek. The next punch sends blood pouring from the man's nose onto his snow-white shirt. But for Benny, it's not enough.

He throws the guy to the ground, and the two begin to fight in earnest. Benny, however, has a much greater advantage and motivation as he takes out all his anger on the guy below him. He only snaps out of this strange trance when someone's hands pull him away from the bleeding man below him.

"What the fuck was that, Benny?! You almost killed him!" You yell at him angrily, pulling your hands away from him as quickly as you can. Benny says nothing, staring at you silently as he processes what he just did. Several other motorcycles pull up in front of the restaurant, with Johnny in the lead.

"Let's go, kid! Before the police arrive."

Benny stares at you, not quite wanting to leave before he explains why he beat up your date. But he stops himself the moment he sees the fear and disgust in your eyes. It hurts Benny more than any punch he could have taken. He clenches his jaw and walks to his bike. He starts the engine and gives you one last long look, then lowers his head in shame as he joins the other Vandals.

Your hair flutters in the wind as you watch the Vandals drive away. You run over to Mike and wait with him until the ambulance arrives. But you don't follow him to the hospital. You have more important things to take care of in the city.

With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You wait patiently outside, considering the pros and cons, but before you can chicken out and leave, Betty opens the door for you.

"Y/N? This is quite a surprise."

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you." The woman makes room for you and lets you in. You greet her and Johnny's daughters, who are watching a cartoon on TV, and you go with her to the kitchen, where you can talk in peace. "It's about Benny."

"I expected it. You know, we were all very surprised when you broke up. We were convinced that a week longer and the boy would start looking for an engagement ring for you."

"Benny and marriage? Not in this lifetime, I guess." You scoff and sit down at the small kitchen island with a smile, thanking her for the coffee she made you. "He fucking almost beat my date to death today. He's acting crazy. Johnny tells me he's been like this since I broke up with him, but we both know he was like this long before we even met. What the hell am I supposed to do, Betty? Get out of town? Out of America? Vandals have expanded all over the states, and most of them aren't the same old club they used to be."

"I know. Believe me, I know best." Silence falls between you after her words. You nod, understanding perfectly that she of you had the most right to worry. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. "Y/N... I'll give you some advice. If you don't care about him that much... if you think you can forget and move on, then save yourself. Run away wherever you want, as far away from him as possible, and forget. But if you can't... then stay and talk some sense into him before it's too late to save him."

"Save him? You know perfectly well he won't abandon the Vandals."

"Like you said, they're not the same Vandals they used to be. They've changed. Johnny sees it. Benny sees it. And they both still fool themselves, but when some shit happens, it finally gets to them. And believe me, Benny loves his bike and freedom, but the Vandals aren't his family anymore. You are." You fall silent at her words, processing everything she said. You nod and sigh, taking a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. "We smoke outside." She admonishes you. You laugh quietly and raise your hands in surrender.

"All right. Thanks for everything, Betty." You sigh as you leave the house. You light a cigarette and walk across town to the Vandals' bar. You have to finish everything you had to finish with Benny. You couldn't just leave town without a word. There's no telling what the Vandal would do if you suddenly disappeared.

You throw your cigarette into the bin and take a few calming breaths as you approach the biker's bar. Their engines are already roaring, and some of them, probably the young and new ones, eye you warily as you enter.

You look around the bar and frown, unable to find Benny. You walk further in, pushing through the sea of people and sitting at the head table where Johnny sits with his most important men.

"Hello there. Where is Benny?" You ask them, taking the beer from Johnny. The man raises an eyebrow at you and watches as you take a sip.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to him?"

"I have to. I'm leaving town soon. I'd rather tell that to that ticking bomb." Johnny nods, fully realising what you mean. You see Cockroach get up from the table and go to the phone. You try to listen in on the conversation, but Johnny effectively talks you over and drowns out any conversation the man was having at the bar.

"When are you coming back?" He asks, but you don't answer. You take a sip of beer and tap your finger on the neck of the bottle. "I see. The kid won't be happy, you know that?"

"We are no longer together." You snap back, trying your best to maintain your relatively indifferent attitude. "Besides, after the shit he did today, he only proved that I can't stay here anymore."

"He went for a ride. He'll probably be at the lake. Or on the streets breaking a few traffic laws. You know him."

"Too well." You nod and stand up from the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cockroach exit the bar and get on his bike. You frown and shake your head. They're not your problem anymore. "Tell him I'm looking for him. When you will see him."

"Sure." He agrees and nods. You nod back and turn to leave the bar. You scan the place one last time, knowing full well that you'll probably never set foot in it again.

Your heart clenches as you remember all the times you spent here. Both the good and the bad. Shortly after you broke up with Benny, you cursed this building. You'd rather see it burn down, along with all the Vandals that reminded you of what you'd lost.

You try to hold back the tears that are welling up in your eyes as you involuntarily recall your first meeting with Benny. The pool table is still in the same spot. How easy it would have been for you not to have looked that damned way and not fallen for the charm of those blue irises and the exposed muscles of his arms. How much disappointment and heartbreak you would have avoided if you had never entered that bar. And as much as you despised and hated that place, you loved it and the people in it for a long time and fiercely. And one of them in particular.

But how much more tragedy and sadness could you endure? How long could you live in fear and uncertainty in a relationship that was supposed to bring you only happiness and those good thrills?

Benny wanted to be free. So you will give him that freedom.

"Y/N!" Johnny calls after you before you leave. You sigh and turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." You nod at him and leave the bar.

You leave everything behind. And you feel like a piece of you is dying in the flames of time and the cry of your tormented heart..

Surprisingly, it doesn't take you long to pack. Nor does it take you long to get off work. Two days later, you're standing in the hallway of your house, ready to hand over the keys to your cousin, who's supposed to be selling it.

You stare at the picture Danny took of you and Benny when you were sitting at one of the biker picnics. Benny and you were leaning against his bike. He had his arm over your shoulder and was staring at you with loving puppy eyes while you smiled at the camera.

You sigh, putting the photo into your wallet and impatiently waiting for your cousin.

Just then, there's a knock on your door. You sigh and open it. You freeze, completely shocked, when you see Benny there.

"I didn't hear your bike."

"I parked down the street. So you don't get scared and run away." He says, still leaning against your door frame.

"I'm not scared of you." You huff indignantly, looking at the scratches on his face. You frown, not remembering him getting any injuries from Mike.

"I had an accident."

"Of course you had." You snort, crossing your arms over your chest. You see his jaw quiver slightly, but he just continues to stare at you with those stupid blue eyes of his, like you're the only girl in the world. "I'm leaving." You inform him, swallowing hard and waiting for his reaction. He drops his gaze to your hands and nods.

"I can see that." He says, nodding at the large travel backpack behind you.

"I won't come back." You inform him, carefully observing his reaction to it. Of course, he doesn't show anything. His face is stony as he looks at you, and his facial muscles don't even move as he doesn't reveal a single emotion to you.

"You won't come back." He repeats, not moving an inch from his spot by your door. You clench your teeth in irritation, to which he just smiles. And oh, that damn smile of his...

"That's it. You can go. You always said you'd be the one to leave. Too bad I had to be the one with the balls to do it." You say angrily, ready for him to turn around and walk to his bike, but all he does is continue to stare at you. You shake your head and push past him when you see your cousin.

You ignore Benny as you sort out the details with your cousin. You grab your backpack and walk him back to his car. You say goodbye to him and watch the car drive away. As you turn to go to the bus stop, you bump into Benny's chest.

"Sorry. I didn't see you." You say, quickly pulling away from him and trying to suppress your blush after your hands were briefly on his chest. The damn thing still had some well-trained muscles.

"Give you a lift?" He asks you seemingly innocently and puts his hands in his pockets. His gaze burns you, making your blush stay on your cheeks a little longer.

"Where are you going?" You ask as you both walk in the same direction. You don't feel like going with him, but you're not going to tell him that yet. You know he'll think of anything to make you get on that fucking bike with him.

"Florida." At those words, you freeze and stand still. You swallow and look at him for a long moment as you remember how you once begged him to go to his cousin in Florida and start a new life there. Then he chose his bike. And you chose yourself.

"To your cousin?" You ask carefully, resuming your walk.

"He hired me at his car workshop." Benny nods, walking glued to your side with his hands clasped behind him.

You feel strangely at ease talking to him. You're out of the habit of it. Of having him so close to you, of feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, of his intoxicating scent, of having his hypnotising irises focused on you and of listening to that raspy voice of his.

You missed him.

"You will have a job?" You ask, shocked. You can't imagine a free spirit like Benny finding a permanent job with set hours. "Well... that's good for you. I guess." You comment as you both walk. Suddenly he steps in front of you and stops. You sigh when you see his bike parked exactly two steps away from you. Fuck, you let that son of a bitch lead you to his bike.

"Are you getting in?" He asks, nodding at his bike. And as much as you want to say yes, you know it'll be bad for both you and him.

You shouldn't be together. Or at least you didn't think so. Even though you loved him so damn much.

"I will buy a train ticket." You politely decline his offer. You expect him to nod silently, get on your bike, and ride off into the sunset forever, but he still stands firmly in front of you, blocking your path.

"Where to?" He asks and looks at you suspiciously, as if he knew perfectly well that you didn't know where you were going yet. You only knew that it was definitely far from Benny.

"You don't need to know." You growl stubbornly, trying to get past him and finally move on.

But Benny won't let you. Before you can register any movement, he moves quickly and takes your hands. He wraps them tightly around his waist, and suddenly you hear a metallic click and something cold and heavy being placed on your forearms. Handcuffs. Bloody handcuffs.

"Benny!!" You growl at him angrily and struggle as he walks towards his bike. "Where the hell did you get handcuffs from?"

"Cockroach." He answers shortly and sits down, making you have to follow his lead. He fucking kidnaps you.

"Benny... let me go!" You scream, trying to punch him in the stomach, but the handcuffs are so short and far enough away from your wrists that all you can do is hold on tight as he prepares to ride.

"Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you." He tells you calmly, and you stare at him in disbelief. What the fuck?

"Don't joke! Benny!" Either he ignores your screams (which is most likely) or he doesn't hear them because at that very moment he starts the engine of his Harley.

So all you can do is sit behind him, holding on tight as he drives who knows where. Amazingly, he stops at red lights and doesn't go over the speed limit. It's only when he gets to the highway that he drives a little faster than the speed limit, but not enough to be considered dangerous driving.

You rest your cheek against his back in defeat as you realise there is absolutely no way out of this. Not if you want to stay alive. You can feel him relax a little as he rides forward, and you are not trying to fight with him. You sigh, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to rest behind him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of freedom as you whizzed through the air on his bike.

Fuck, you missed it.

The only break you get is a stop at a motel when the fuel runs out and the cold night starts to set in. Benny rents you a room (which is surprising because you were always the one paying) at the motel and leaves you there while he goes to fill up his Harley.

You think about escaping, but:

1. Benny took away the keys and locked you up there.

2. He made sure to rent a room on the highest floor of this damn building.

3. You were too tired and hungry after the ride to come up with some plan.

That's why you lay on the bed and wait for him to come back. Hopefully with food. It would be nice to eat something before you will kill him.

As if on cue, the keys turn in the door, and Benny steps inside. In his hand he has a large paper bag, which he places on the bed opposite you in an apologetic gesture of sacrifice for his sins. He can go to hell. Him and his damn puppy eyes.

"What is it?"

"Burgers. Took it for you. Your favourite." He says and makes sure he's locked the door. He puts the key in the keyhole and goes to the window.

He looks at his bike and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one and looks outside, not sparing you a single glance.

"Where's your jacket?" You ask, seeing as he's not wearing his Vandals' colours. It was weird seeing him in just a T-shirt.

"On a bike in the trunk. I don't know if they'd let me here wearing that."

"You never took it off." You say shocked and raise your eyebrows at him. "You will be cold without it." You notice and take the food out of the bag. You don't eat yet, wondering if you should leave him some, if he even ate anything before he came here.

"I was cold without you." He answers quickly without even thinking much about what he's saying. You see his cheeks redden slightly as he realises he said it out loud. "Eat." He clears his throat and takes a drag on his cigarette. You sigh and start eating. You hum, savouring the delicious food, and you swear you hear him chuckle quietly from his spot by the window. Big bastard.

"Where we going?" You ask him before biting into your burger. You frown as grease leaks onto your fingers. You lick them, unconsciously teasing Benny as he... imagines what your lips wrapped around just as perfectly as they now were wrapped around your fingers. He clears his throat, seeing that you’ve caught him staring at you.

"Florida. I want to show you something." You eat in silence, wondering what he wants to show you that makes him literally chain you to himself and drag you out of town.

"And then?" You can't stand it anymore and finally ask, curious about his future plans and how long he actually wants to keep you with him.

"And then you will decide."

"Decide what? Do I want the fur handcuffs or the regular metal ones?" You snap at him, irritated.

Your sharp mockery makes him throw his cigarette out the window, and his gaze lingers there, as if he were ashamed of what he had done. On the other hand, you didn't give him much of an exit or opportunity to talk normally. You wanted to leave—just like he had promised so many times that he would do. So why did he stubbornly want to keep you if he had never cared?

Benny wasn't one for words. He was sparing with his thoughts and emotions. And for a while, his actions spoke loud enough of his devotion to you. For a while. Then your honeymoon phase wore off, and you were annoyed that he never verbally confirmed to you what his eyes had told you so many times as he held you close by the fire at night at one of the Vandals meetings.

On this particular night, some famous actress that the guys were crazy about was coming to town. Half of them got on their bikes halfway through the party and wanted Benny to join them in hunting her down and taking a picture with her. They even bribed Danny to go with them and take their stupid pictures.

"Come on, Benny. You're not coming with us? I remember you were the one who hung her poster in the club so you could get a good view of her from the pool table." One of the guys was convincing Benny, who was currently lying on the grass and resting his head on your lap, practically forcing you to comb your hands through his blonde locks.

"I have a much better view here!" He shouts at them, not even turning his head in their direction. His blue eyes never leave your face. You blush a little, ducking your head and closing your eyes as you try to ignore the whistles and teasing from the boys at his response.

A moment later, Benny props himself up on his elbows and steals the most delightful, mind-numbing kiss. You cup his cheek in your hand and let yourself sink into the feeling of his soft lips against yours, letting out a quiet sigh when he tangles his hand in your hair and presses you against the trunk of the tree behind you. You ignore the cheering Vandals put on and completely immerse yourself in your little bubble with Benny.

Everyone had their poison. For Benny, it was cigarettes and his Harley. For you, it was him. And back then it didn't bother you one bit.

"I... if you want to go you can. I won't stop you." Benny mumbles under his breath, pulling you from your thoughts. You shake your head, snorting, and set the bag of food on the nightstand next to your bed.

"Thank you so much that you provide me with my basic human rights!" You growl at him angrily, reminding him about those stupid handcuffs.

"You didn't even want to give me a chance to explain myself to you. And you know perfectly well that I never ask for anything or expect anything in return. I... I didn't see any other way to get to you. And I'm not going to apologise for that."

You roll your eyes at him, irritated. But you can't say you don't see the reasoning behind his actions. But the prospect of being dragged around by him deeply offends your innate feminism.

Seeing that you have nothing to add to the matter, he closes the window. He walks over to you and grabs the blanket off the bed. You frown as he sits down in the armchair, clearly intending to sleep there. And you don't like the fact that even though you had him in the same room, you won't be able to have his arms wrapped around you. Especially since it's so damn cold in this motel.

"Come here. You will get sick by sitting near this window. It is cold outside, and they don't even heat the room." You grumble and make room for him on the bed, hoping that you don't have to tell him the real reason you want him next to you to get him in the same bed with you.

"I will be fine." He speaks carelessly and reaches into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Benjamin Cross." You growl at him, which finally gets his full attention. "Get your fucking ass here." Benny rolls his eyes but obediently stands up. He takes off his shoes and lies down next to you in bed.

He covers you with an extra blanket and leaves an absurd amount of space between you that you honestly hate. But you won't make the first move and throw yourself into his arms. Not after he kidnapped you. But... could it really be considered kidnapping if you partly wanted it and you didn't really have anywhere else to be?

You sigh, tossing and turning in your bed as you try to find a slightly comfortable sleeping position. But it's impossible to fall asleep with Benny so close to you when you are not even able to touch him. Especially when his warmth and scent reach you, assaulting you and every ounce of restraint and self-control you had.

"What's the matter with you?" Benny asks as you toss and turn in frustration once again.

"Nothing."

Benny knows that tone. All too well. So he hesitantly moves closer to you and experimentally places a hand on your waist. When you don't push away from him, he gently pulls you toward him and tightens his hold, pressing his chest against your back. You sigh and press your lips to his forearm, rubbing your nose against the tattooed skin.

Benny doesn't comment on that. That's something you like about him. That even when you do completely absurd things, he doesn't comment on it, doesn't deny it, just stands by you in silence. Just like now.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze it so hard that his rings dig into it. But you don't care. It's nice to finally have him this close.

Benny rests his chin on your shoulder and runs his nose against your temple. His beard gently tickles you, but you do nothing about it. It's been a long time since you've had this feeling of him close to you. You turn in his arms and snuggle into him.

Benny gently strokes your back with his hand, holding you close to him without a word as you revel in his scent. For a moment you forget why you should be mad at him and stay as far away from him as possible. So when his lips fall to your forehead and he presses a long kiss there, you grab his chin and steal the kiss from him.

His full, plump lips feel wonderful against yours and caress you nicely. You moan when you can finally taste his lips on yours again, and you remember how much you've missed this feeling. His hand roams over you, and you let him touch you wherever he wants. Benny, on the other hand, is confused. One moment you're yelling at him and you're angry, and the next you want him close to you and you kiss him like there's no tomorrow. It's a nice change. But Benny is afraid of how long it will last. Of how much longer will you want him? And will you want to leave again?

For now, he had you back in his arms. And he wanted to savour that feeling. And he will give you a goddamn reason to stay.

He cups your cheek in his hand and deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth again, as if learning you all over again, before wrapping his tongue around yours. You sigh as his hand slides teasingly from your cheek, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and to the hem of your jeans.

"Benny..." You sigh as his cold fingers touch the skin of your stomach after he unbuttons your jeans TOO slowly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Benny almost chuckles at how fast and furious your head is shaking. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep from making any sound as he gently brushes his fingers over your folds. The motel walls were thin after all. "Open your eyes for me, my little rascal, and say the words. After this, there will be no turning back."

You don't even think about turning back. You don't think about leaving him. You only think about how wonderful it is to have him by your side again, how wonderful his hands feel on you, and how much you want to kiss his stupid mouth until you both have enough breath. And that's exactly what you do.

With that form of agreement from you, his fingers gently delve into your folds, exploring previously familiar territory and teasing you unintentionally as he tries to appreciate every little second he has with you.

Sex with Benny was like that. Unique, intense, a long marathon. Because, as he said, you never know when it's the last time. Although you always prayed that it would never be the last time and that he and you will both live to experience another of your hot sessions.

For now, God listened to a sinner like you...

You almost scream as he digs his long fingers into you up to his knuckles. His rings rub against the entrance of your cunt, the even colder than his fingers metal is making you shiver. Benny kisses and nibbles your neck, leaving a trail of hickies from your lips to your collarbone.

His fingers slide in and out, pushing against that sweet spot inside you that makes you scream his name. His rings push through and enter your vagina, and you can see them glistening with your arousal. And it's fucking hot. As hot as Benny's hard manhood pressing against your thigh.

You dig your nails into his neck and moan into his ear as his thumbs is pressing your swollen clit, working with all his might to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.

You bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans and cries of pleasure so everyone in the motel doesn't hear you, but Benny won't have any of that. He kisses you hungrily and pulls his hand away from you completely. You gasp, lifting your hips and seeking his hand, but he doesn't resume his ministrations until a soft moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips.

"Such a good little desprate girl for me. You take my fingers so damn well now, wrapping your tight unused walls around them, and before when you were scandalously empty, you were a nasty little brat. I shouldn't reward you for running away from me, you know, my sweetest?" He mumbles in your ear with his hoarse voice, still refusing you the touch of his sinfully long fingers.

The tears in your eyes fall freely onto the pillow as you try to gather the last remnants of logical thought to somehow prove yourself to him, because you know you won't come if you just grind against him desperately in the hopes that he'll finally give you more.

"Please Benny… I… oh… I won't leave… I won't leave.."

You tangle your hand in his hair and tug on it, to which he lets out a soft growl from his plump lips. In punishment, he gently nips your collarbone, adding another hickey to the collection, as he thankfully pushes his fingers deep into your velvety wet and eager walls again and tries to bring you immense pleasure.

And it doesn't take him very long. A few thrusts of his fingers, kisses scattered across your neck, collarbone, and cleavage, and you're falling apart beneath him. Your brain is a useless mush as you come from the mere ministrations of his fingers and the dirty words he whispers in your ear. You're drunk on Benny, on the feel of his fingers inside you, his weight on you, and the burning marks his lips leave on your skin.

You lick your lips in anticipation for him to strip down so you can get to the main part, but he just flops onto his side next to you, ignoring the obvious hard soreness in his pants, and wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you against his chest.

"I missed it." He whispers, kissing your knuckles. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, but he doesn’t move to taste you on his fingers. He simply places your joined hands on his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

You know this is the closest you'll get to an admission of guilt and an apology from him. So you accept it and gently snuggle into him.

"Good night, Benny." You whisper into his neck. He shivers.

Goosebumps appear on the skin of his neck, but he doesn't move. You just lie there, cuddled up to each other, and he presses a long kiss to the top of your head. You feel fulfilled, satisfied, happy,

He lies under you politely, ignoring his discomfort, and you know that this is some kind of sick punishment for himself. Yet you do nothing to stop it. He has to realise that he can't just take you on his bike and take you to hell knows where. He needs to realise that he can't be such a free spirit anymore if he really wants you. That he can't keep doing the shit he did with the Vandals.

Even if you're happy with how things turned out after he dargged you out of the town.

And when the next day he takes you to Florida and shows you the old family home that he inherited from his deceased father and says that he would love to burn this place down in the past, but now he wants to keep it and renovate it for you if you agree to stay with him as his wife, you know you can't stay mad at him forever. Especially not after he slides one of his rings off his finger and places it securely on yours in a silent promise and understanding between you.

You whether gonna be his wife or gonna smash up his bike, (you haven't decided yet) but in the end you gonna finally make him yours and only yours.

After all, he didn't get you back just for you to leave him again. You will stay with each other until the very end. Even if it would destroy you.