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evvlevie · 9 months

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❤️‍🔥„Evie how do I manifest xyz???“ watch me teach you manifestation basics in one post. ❤️‍🔥

Hello again! It is me: your favorite shifting blogger Evie and today we are covering the 101 of manifestation (based on the law of assumption). I get plenty of dms and asks that go along the lines of „Evie can I manifest a car?“ or „Evie can I manifest a boyfriend?“ or „Evie can I manifest to become the next president of the United States“ et cetera, et cetera.

The answer will always be as clear as day: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN. Wanna know why I know that? BECAUSE YOU CAN MANIFEST EVERYTHING EVER 🥳🥳🥳.

„but how do I do that?“

Well this answer is gonna take some time as it is not definitive.

A lot of people like affirming as a method. Others love to visualize. Some people meditate and others listen to subliminals. I tend to get creative, I have written my manifestations on toilet paper and flushed it before and it fucking worked. What I mean to say is that there is no DEFINITIVE way to manifest stuff. If Mary can affirm like crazy and have her desire by tomorrow, this might have not worked for Jennifer. Jennifer affirmed for 169 days straight and never received her desire (because subconsciously she never thought that affirming would work). But when Jennifer lit a candle, thought about her desire and blew it out like a birthday candle, she had her desire 15 minutes later, because she always had this intuition that this would feel more natural to her.

At the end of the day: try as many things as you can, as you will naturally realize what makes sense to you and what doesn’t. I did try affirming like crazy and I never got any desire ever that way. But for example listening to music and feeling every single word sung in my heart has gotten me WAAAYYY further. There is no real reason for that other than some things work for you and some things don‘t.

„but why?“

Well. You believe certain things to be true. You might believe that there is no real love out there and that manifests and now you are lonely and in raging heartbreak. You might believe that you are the most glowing and magnetic person on this planet and for some reason that has proven itself through people thriving in your presence and begging to be near you. Because guess what. You manifested it.

„but I never intentionally tried to manifest that every person I ever interact with breaks my heart in a soul crushing manner!“

Look. You manifest literally every single aspect of your life. ALWAYS. The whole point of manifestation as I am teaching you is to consciously control the way things manifest. But you have always, are always, and for ever will have been always the only creator of your reality. Your thoughts, your beliefs, your emotions and your desires manifest constantly. If you subconsciously believe that you are the most unlovable person on this planet guess how this will manifest into the physical realm? As every person you meet ever breaking your heart and declaring you as unlovable. And the key to everything is realizing that only you can decide what happens in your life. You are the source. The author of the book and the director of the movie. The painter of the artwork and the chef in the kitchen. Nothing you have ever witnessed has never not happened THROUGH you. You just didn’t realize it.

„So how do I consciously manipulate my reality?“

That’s when you step in your actual power. Listen, you control things. Everything. Nothing happens without you ordering it to happen first. You decide what is real and what is not. That’s a fact.

Now when you imagine your crush Johnny to text you, and you declare that to be the truth, a stone-hard fact and a thing that 100% is real and has happened, that energy will reflect itself in your reality.

You manifest by deciding what is real.

You manifest by declaring your truth.

You manifest by choosing your fate and sticking to that choice.

„What if I decide for Johnny to text me and Johnny never texted me?“

Oh but he did text you. In your imagination remember? And we, the only creator of our realities, decided that that is real. So Johnny texted you. What you mean to say is:

„Why don‘t I see a text from Johnny in my physical reality?“

There it is. The ONE error everybody does when getting into manifestation: looking for validation from the physical realm.

„Well obviously I am looking for my manifestation in the 3D world, that‘s what I am manifesting it for Eves!“

That is the moment where I educate you about ✨states✨

When you desire something, like let’s say a new phone, you are doing one thing in particular: you are recognizing the lack of the new phone in your life. (The state of desire/ the state of lack) When you visualize yourself getting a new phone, and you decide that is real now, you inevitably enter the state of being wish-fulfilled, the state of having it. Your job is to stay as loyal as possible to that state. Because your state manifests.

If we visualize the new phone, declare that as real and true, enter the state of wish-fulfillment, then look for confirmation we already disproved our state of being wish-fulfilled because if why are you looking for proof of your truth if you knew it was true? You know for a fact that 2 + 2 equals 4. you are not spending every day proving or disproving that fact, are you?

By searching for confirmation you will re-enter the state of being in lack, because you are actively recognizing and accepting the lack of that desire by looking wether you already have it or not. If you truly declared the imagination as real, why would you search in the 3D for it?

The 3D reality will always conform to the 4D reality anyway so just accept that you have it the minute you visualize it/affirm it/ and so on. And that’s why searching for something in the 3D is pointless. If the imagination comes first, if that is the reality where everything happens, if that is the place where everything stems from, why are you searching in the goddamn reflection for validation? Your imagination is the top validation you could ask for because it is TRUE. IT IS REAL. Your physical copy of that will always always always only portray what you have created in your mind in the first place! Why are you looking for Johnny’s text message in the reality that is bound to copy your imagination anyways? Why aren’t you more concerned with what you are visualizing and thinking about all day because these things WILL show up regardless? And if Johnnys Text Message didn‘t manifest YET then why are you believing that reality WHEN IT ALL CAME FROM YOU ANYWAY. YOU CREATE EVERYTHING BRO. If you can’t see it yet that doesn’t mean it would have never appeared, that just means you entered the state of lack again because you have been searching at a place that always comes second anyway. Do not believe what you see, believe what you decide to be real. YOU DECIDE. YOU YOU YOU AND ONLY YOU.

„So the trick is to recognize imagination as real?“

Correct.

„What happens when I accidentally recognize the lack of something in the 3D? Is my manifestation then lost?“

Nope. As long as you stay loyal to your state, you are not losing anything. If you happen to think „god I manifested that stupid text from Johnny two hours ago where is it?“ and then correct yourself with for example something along the lines of „ahhh wait I remember! The DID text me! Two hours ago in my real reality! Silly me!“ and that’s it! No need to overthink it. You decide what is real, so if you don‘t dwell in the fact that your physical reality doesn‘t show the picture you want to see, and you keep on re-entering your state of wish-fulfilled, and make it your dominant state, nothing is lost. It is only lost if you decide that it is. If you accept the physical copy as the truth and not the place where it all stems from, the place where your manifestation is already done anyways, then you lose it. But only because you decided to lose it.

„Okay so Evie I want to manifest that Johnny and I get married but he is currently married to another woman and has eleven kids with her. Can I manifest my desire anyway?“

First of all: you can manifest everything

Second of all: because circumstances never matter!

„But what if I want to manifest to get into Harvard even if they already sent me their rejection letter?“

Even then.

If you are the only creator of your reality, then you have been the one responsible for these circumstances in the first place anyways. If you can put yourself into your circumstances, you can remove yourself out of them just as well.

It is not your job to figure out how your subconscious goes about eliminating your circumstances, your job is to concentrate on what you want to declare as real. And then declare it as real. And stay in your state of wish-fulfilled. The rest will happen by itself. Trust. Me.

„So how long do you think my manifestation will take to appear in my physical reality?“

Depends. What do you think how long these things should take? Because that’s what it will boil down to. If you believe that every single one of your manifestations arrives within 2 minutes, then that’s your reality bro, that‘s what’s true. If you believe that a manifestation will always take up to a month until it happens well then that’s your truth. The only limit there is your belief.

It also does not matter wether you are trying to manifest climate change to stop or a cup of coffee. There are no „big manifestations“ or „small manifestations“. Manifestation is manifestation. But you THINK that Johnny texting you is such a huge deal that you MAKE it to something harder to get so you spend more time dwelling in lack so it takes more time to appear. If I told you that manifesting a dandelion on the sidewalk is the same thing as manifesting fucking Obama to kiss you, you wouldn’t believe me because you take things like probability into account. Which is totally irrelevant. The question is not „how probable would this have been to happen to me if I didn’t manifest it?“ in order to figure out wether something will manifest faster or easier. The better question for this would be „how much do I want this to happen?“. Because as soon as you decide something is real, it is. And then it copies into your physical world. Without a doubt. Which is exactly why you should never catch yourself get impatient or „wait“ on your desires to appear in the 3D. The trick is to know it will happen anyways. But everytime you check the 3D or wait for change to happen then you are re-entering state of desire/lack. That‘s when you are accepting that what the 3D is showing you, must be a fact, EVEN THOUGH YOU DECIDE WHAT IS REAL AND WHAT ISNT IN THE FIRST PLACE.

„so basically how do I manifest a scholarship for example?“

Okay let’s take a test run. I want to manifest a scholarship. So I pick my most favorite method of manifesting which is visualizing (for example). I lay down in my bed, close my eyes, take a few deep breaths and really set the scene as detailed as I can. I imagine myself opening my laptop, clicking on my E-Mail Icon and read through the E-Mail I received in which I got accepted into my dream scholarship. I freak out because I have been waiting for this moment for ever and I am so happy and I let myself feel every single emotion that is connected to my desire being fulfilled. I open my eyes and I am happy because I know that this moment just happened. I enter the state of wish-fulfilled and now I go about my day all proud and confident because I know that since I declared my acceptance into the scholarship as real, it happens anyway. I know it is real, which is why I don’t get all worried about it showing up in the 3D and I let go of all the worry and all the anxiety attached to the situation where I still desired that scholarship. Because I don‘t anymore. Because I have it. Because I decided that that is what is real, so now it is.

Two days have passed and I still have no E-Mail in my account and the old me pops up and thinks „where is that scholarship that we manifested“ I immediately recognize that some part of me seems to think we are lacking something. I correct my behavior and remind myself through re-imagining the scene of me getting accepted to the scholarship and reminding myself consciously „that’s right! I already have the acceptance to the scholarship! It‘s real, I remember!“ and let go of the negative feelings attached to the state of desire. I stay loyal to the state of wish-fulfilled and I do not seek validation from the outside, only from my imagination because I know, that only my imagination is real, only my imagination is to be trusted.

„This sounds like it takes a lot of practice“

It does. Some people get used to this way of thinking easier than others. Some believe their 4D sooner than others do. Some might never accept the 4D as real and never consciously manifest anything ever because they are too set on viewing the 3D as factual and set-in-stone. Others accept the Imagination as truth immediately and have 100k dollars in their bank by tomorrow because they adapted to this manifestation-type-of-thinking faster than you did maybe.

But that is normal. Forreal. Some take years perfecting this skill, and others try it once and then leave it.

But to be fair: if you are manifesting literally everything in your life anyways, wouldn‘t you rather be able to control it at least? Even if it takes you several days-weeks-months-years to finally get it right? Doesn‘t that make so much more sense?

This post was inspired by a lot of asks and dms people have been sending me, and I genuinely hope I was able to help❤️

Thank you guys so much for trusting me and supporting my blog❣️

It truly means the world to me, knowing people are listening to my advice and seeing results from that❣️

I am yours in every reality,

Evie <3

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hana-no-seiiki · 9 months

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Hello! I hope you are doing well, I have an idea, feel free to ignore but I hope you like it.

Yandere Male Deliquent x GN Ex Bully

Like he tried to make them explode and being their “true self”, because in the past, when they were younger, they defend him and he became a delinquent just to see them again.

Sorry if my English is bad.

Bye!

YAN! DELINQUENT OC x GN! EX BULLY! READER

Also your English great anon! Dw about it.

AAAAAAA I’ve meaning to do more Yan! Delinquent recently anon!! You read my mind. For those new to my account. I already have a Yan! Delinquent OC named Mori Ban (see tag: hns.moriban) who was the first to really blow up from my yan! ocs. I always loved this trope with yan stories hhh

tw/cw: DDNE, mention extreme bullying, assault, and harassment. (brought out my trauma for this one). i imagine reader to be amab/masc for this one but there are no explicits allusions to that.

Uttering the name [L/N] [Y/N] was enough to strike fear in the hearts of men. Literally and figuratively speaking, your voice was enough to make even the highest of authorities piss their pants. Not only were you capable of destroying a person’s physical body with your very own hands, you were able to dismantle everything from their relationships and reputation to their financial situations in life.

People predicted you to grow up and become an even more menacing, ruthless person. You had the potential, and with the way you were it was simply the natural trajectory.

But like you always did, you broke everyone’s expectations.

You were like the delinquent version Serena Van Der Woodsen. Mindlessly strutting in as if you hadn’t put several companies to bankruptcy because the owner’s kid looked at you the wrong way. Nonchalantly eating your lunch in the same vicinity of your old victims as if you hadn’t shoved their face into the toilet as a way to pass time. Cheerfully waving at the student council president as if you hadn’t constantly blackmailed and assaulted them for several years just so they’d do your homework and projects. No one was safe from you. You had no code. As long as you felt like it, any life could be destroyed.

Standing opposite to your current path was Mori.

He used to be the punching bag of your lesser goons. Known for being weak and poor, only good for his academic excellence.

He grew up to be almost as fearsome than you. Where-areas you were coldblooded, revelling in the pain you brought upon others. He was a lot more morally guided. Sure, his enemies often suffered worse fates physically, but he wasn’t like you in the way he picked his battles. He only brought hell to those that deserved it. Those that hurt other people first.

And then there was the way he treated you.

You technically belonged to the category he dealt with. You ruined dozens, maybe even hundreds or thousands of lives in a whim. You were the devil in a pretty suit of skin. Despite your lack of hostility nowadays, you never apologised or took accountability, never attempted to atone for your mistakes. The only reason why others haven’t confronted you about it was because of fear. They didn’t want to potentially anger you and set off a bomb.

But Mori? Mori could handle you.

After all, he dedicated his whole life to being your equal; serving you, aiding you.

In fact, he was just so disappointed to see you this way. All disgustingly docile and horridly disciplined. What kind of monster tamed you to be like this? Mori chuckled at the thought. No one but him can match you. You must have started behaving yourself for the sake of appearance. All of this was just a façade. If you had truly changed you would have begged for forgiveness to those you’ve wronged. If you had become a better person then you wouldn’t be discreetly glaring at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

If someone had truly taught you to be a goody-two-shoes he would have killed them ages ago.

“Hey, [N/N]. Sweetheart. How ya doin?” Mori leaned forward. He grew to be quite a ways taller than you and had to lean over to meet you face to face. Much to your chagrin.

“Fine. It’s so nice of you to ask Ban. If you’ll excuse me.” You adeptly moved to the side. You had dealt with this man-child several times throughout the semester already and knew to just avoid him at all costs lest you lose braincells and precious energy talking to him.

However, you could only take two steps before his hands grappled unto your wrist.

“Woah woah woah there. We’re not done yet.”

You don’t look back, and firmly yet calmly stated, “Yes, we are.”

“It’s a little late but we have yet to give you a homecoming party. That wouldn’t be fair for the great [Y/N].”

You turned back. Eyes wide, not of surprise or anger, but from sheer awe of this man’s audacity.

“I know what you want, and you’re not getting it from me right now.” You scowled at his beautiful pink eyes and effortlessly yanked your arm away from him. You didn’t know it yet back then,

but you had already lit the match.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#hns.moriban #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yancore #dom reader #sub yandere #yandere drabble #yandere self insert #yandere x y/n

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seuonji · 4 months

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彡 just wanted to see you. — choi seungcheol

๑ goody two shoes yn au!

notes ๑ student council president yn x delinquent svt bf !!! — somehow the perfect, rule abiding president started to become close to the token bad boy of the school. wonder how that’s going.

genre ๑ fluff!

warnings ๑ non

word count ๑ 0.6k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! i plan to make more of these! let me know which members you want to see next<3

seungcheol was one of the common people you’d see walking into the student council room. as president, this was your least favourite case to handle.

you heard the door open and just as you were about you look up to see who it was, they spoke and as his voice lingered in your ear, you didn’t have to check anymore. “vice president mina sent me here, said that ‘yn will take care of you.’” choi seungcheol mocked the voice of the vice cheekily.

“let me guess, jumped over the fence again and got caught, again?” you monotonously stated, not even batting an eye at him. your eyes were too busy on paperwork to give mind to the boy who was playfully frolicking towards you.

“just like how we first met!”

it wasn’t how you first met, but it was your first interaction. cheol obviously knew you cause you were the president. you knew him by word running around the school about a cheeky brat that skipped classes and often jumped the fence to avoid detention or school activities he didn’t want to participate in.

“are you doing these things just to get sent here?” you tiredly sighed.

“anything to see my cute significant other,” he smirked as he leaned onto the side of your chair, patiently waiting for you to look at him.

and you finally did.

but he was met with tired eyes.

“shit, you okay yn?”

suddenly it all spilled out.

“cheol you can’t keep getting into trouble!”

you rarely used nicknames with him. you always used his government name despite the way he disliked it. he always had to remind you to try and use nicknames when you started dating but you never did. and now you were.

“i can’t keep defending you, literally. and what if one day they don’t send you to me but the actual disciplinary head? i don’t want you going through that!”

there was a vivid guilt in his eyes as you spoke and he slowly kneeled down to be below your level, “i’m sorry i didn’t know it was that serious. i’ll hold back.”

you turned from your seat to face him and held his arm to pull him upwards, “it’s okay just. yeah i i would appreciate it if you’d stop your antics. you’re great at football i don’t understand why you don’t enjoy going to practice.”

“you think i’m great?” he smirked once again making your hands form a fist which he got a peek off so he patted your head and pulled out the stool from under your desk that he installed himself in your room.

“so, how are you going to take care of me? braid my hair? sing a lullaby?” he slowly leaned towards you.

“just go to your practice dummy.”

“huh? no consequences of my actions?”

“want me to send you to the disciplinary head?”

“what do they do there?” he asked with a clear tone of curiosity as he placed his arms over your shoulders.

“i don’t know, community service? clean the toilets?”

“going to practice right now,” he stood up from his seat and dusted off his clothes which made you laugh a bit.

just as you adjusted yourself to return back to work, he gently held your face in his hand and his face coming closer to yours, he gave a peck on the lips leaving you quiet.

“see you,” he poked your cheek as he walked out.

you sighed once again and sat properly in your desk but found a piece of candy with a crumpled note by it saying, “i didn’t get into trouble, i just wanted to see you dear. take it easy, i love you.”

you’ve heard from almost everyone just how much of a cheeky and troublesome boy he was but they would only be able to hear from you how sweet he actually was.

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medlilove · 2 years

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Please click for full resolution, k?

Finally managing to upload this after failing yesterday! Here, have some alt outfits for our favourite freak and geek, Eddie Munson. The fact that we only got one in canon is a crime.

Some notes on the details because who’s going to stop me?

These are all post season 4 au everyone lives, thanks for asking.

All the graphic tees are taken from real heavy metal shirts.

The After the Gig one, feel free to make up your own backstory...

Why yes House Party Eddie is looking at Steve, while wearing an Ozzy tee and a (real! I found it online!) Bat belt buckle. I spent way to long on this one. I wanted a full confidence Munson.

Eddie got dragged into going for a walk up the hill with the gang by primarily, Steve, Dustin and (a very convincing, dare you to say no) Nancy. They want to have a bonfire for the Vecna-versary. It was a hike, Eddie did not sign up for a damn hike. At least he wasn’t the last one up the hill (Robin).

The record in Eddie’s bag is the toilet Metallica album from ‘82 (Metal Up Your Ass). It always sold out before Eddie can get down to the city. So when Garath showed up outside Steve’s place 7:38am (after being sent over by a groggy Wayne in the trailer park) who had heard from a friend who had heard from a sister who had heard from her boyfriend that their go to shop in Indianapolis had got 15 new crates of inventory the night before, he grabbed the nearest clothes he could find and jumped in the van. Leaving a bewildered Steve still half asleep in bed. He was in such a good mood that day, he was completely oblivious to how jarring his appearance was.

The logo on his hat is Harley Davidson. It’s a straight copy of an old beanie. I head-canon that he works in a garage that his uncle is familiar with after high school. He seems like he’s good with his hands.

Eddie hates deep winter, how can he perfect his metal head look when it’s all hidden under coats and scarves? The first time Max saw him across the lot, in a giant coat taking out the trash, cigarette in hand, she thoroughly made fun of him. It pissed him off like mad, but deep down he was glad he could put a smile on her face…he supposed.

The badge on his coat is a (real) retro Tolkien one that says: ‘Gandalf for President’.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things 4 #my art #steve x eddie #eddie the banished #stranger things au #eddie stranger things #medlilove art #steve harrington #Fashion #outfits #etc

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khujoor · 4 months

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apple pie ch.one

tw: zhongli makes reader a bit uncomfy

wc: ab 1.3k

"we should all go out tonight! like when we were younger in middle school," ayaka said, trying to get the groups attention.

"can't, got wrestling practice," beidou said, not bothering to look up from her phone.

"i can't either, my mom wants me to meet some guy she's been dating," you sighed, putting your homework in your bag.

your friend group wasn't necessarily large, only five people, but others may disagree. it consisted of ayaka, the class president, beidou, the athlete people loved, ningguang, the student council president, keqing, the council's secretary, and you, y/n.

"is he famous?" beidou asked, suddenly interested in the discussion.

you couldn't blame your friends for no longer having interest in discussions, or no longer having free time, you were all seniors, only a month from graduating. you all also had other friends too. it wouldn't be a lie if you said you'd prefer others than them at times.

"i don't know," you shrugged. "i never met him."

"you think he's gonna be an old man?" ningguang asked you.

"i think he was born in '87 since my mom got him something year of the rabbit related. or '75 but not even my mom is 40 yet."

"he's young then. you're about half his age, if he's 36, that is."

you weren't necessarily excited to meet him. ever since your father passed away at a young age, your mom got a new boyfriend every other week, acting as if she was going to marry them, only to break up since your mom lost interest.

you thought your mom was the reason why you didn't have a proper relationship, you don't know what love really is. sure, your mom got you stuff, never yelled or hit you, and wasn't constantly out the house, but she never knew how to show affection towards you.

"do you think this relationship will turn out well for your mom?" beidou put her legs up on the empty chair next to her, grabbing a piece of gum for herself.

"beidou!" keqing looked at beidou, not wanting you to be hurt by her words.

"it's fine," you sighed. "i hope so, but i don't think it will. she's a very picky woman, y'know?" you sarcastically said.

you wished your mom would have a proper relationship. a not creepy boyfriend. maybe you can get a father figure too while she's at it.

"i think.. i'll get a rich boyfriend. then, we can live together, far from here, wouldn't that be nice?" you daydreamed.

"finish school first," beidou snorted.

"why don't you move into the dorms?" ningguang questioned.

"you know my mom can't afford it. if she could, i would've gladly moved in the dorms," you grabbed your phone from your pocket, opening your bank account. "even my part-time job doesn't give me enough money to live on campus," you showed the balance on your phone, a mere 150 dollars.

"you just got hired," keqing said. "just save up, you'll have enough money soon."

"we're all going to be out of school by then."

you wore the most expensive thing you owned, or probably the only expensive thing you owned since you hardly spent much on yourself. it was a dress, but wasn't too fancy or revealing.

"(y/n)! are you ready yet?" your mom called from her bedroom, as you heard her complain about what purse would best suit her outfit.

her boyfriend was supposed to pick you two up to take you all to the dinner, and while there was about 5 minutes left, you were decided whether you really wanted to go or not.

you can easily pretend to be sick, right? a few random stuff thrown in the toilet looks like throw up, doesn't it?

"you be on your best behavior tonight, okay? i really love him, so you better not ruin this for me."

you love your mom, if love was the right word for it, but she said that everytime. and everytime she ended up ruining it herself. what were you gonna do?

you slipped on your flats, changing from your original plan of heels, considering school made your feet sore.

you stood outside, next to your mom who dragged you outside, saying it'd be better to be outside so he wouldn't have to wait.

"mom?"

"yes?"

"do you really love him?"

she took a moment to say something.

"of course i do."

as your mom's words lingered in the air, you couldn't help but feel a sense of skepticism. it wasn't the first time she had proclaimed her love for someone new, only for it to end in disappointment and heartache. but this time, something felt different.

maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about him, or the genuine smile that graced her face whenever he came up in some conversation of yours.

you sighed, pushing aside your doubts for now. after all, you wanted nothing more than to see your mom happy, even if it meant going through the rollercoaster of emotions that came with her relationships.

folding your arms across your chest, you forced yourself to wear a supportive smile as you waited for her boyfriend's arrival.

just as you were about to suggest checking the time, a sleek black car pulled up in front of your house.

"he's here," you said, looking at your mom.

"you should sit in the front seat, i'm sure he'd love to meet you," she said as she sits in the back.

"fuck," you groaned, rubbing your temple in frustration. you didn't like meeting new people, and now you were expected to sit next to a new person?

you opened the door, sitting down, making sure you were close to the door as you put out your hand. "i'm (y/n), it's nice to meet you. my mother always talks about you."

"really? i'm honored," his voice was deep, yet carried some sweetness as he looked back at your mom. he shakes your hand firmly, his hand feeling a bit rough. "i'm zhongli. you may have heard of my company, liyue? we're an entertainment agency."

"oh, yeah, i've heard of it before," you put on your seatbelt, wondering what to say to keep the conversation going.

he had a fairly nice car, it looked newly polished, and had the new car smell. you would believe him if he told you this was a brand new car.

"your mother tells me you're top of your class?"

"yeah, barely. hopefully i'll graduate top of my class," you said, looking forward, even if you desperately wanted to look away, you didn't want to be that disrespectful.

"what do you plan to do after high school?"

"become a scien-"

"a doctor. she wants to be a doctor," your mother interrupted you, but you doubt that did anything considering you said most of the title already.

zhongli's smile seemed to widen, but it didn't reach his eyes. "ah, a studious young lady. that's commendable. and dreams… they have a way of evolving, don't they?"

you nodded, trying to shake off the discomfort that settled over you. the rest of the ride was spent in awkward silence, broken only by occasional attempts at forced small talk. each passing moment increased your desire to escape this situation.

finally, the car pulled up to the restaurant, and you were relieved to step out into the crisp night air. the restaurant's ambiance couldn't dispel the tension that lingered, and the evening unfolded as a series of strained conversations and awkward silences.

#x reader #genshin #angst #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli #yandere zhongli #zhongli #zhongli genshin #zhongli x reader #yandere male #male yandere #tw yandere #tw angst

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roosterforme · 1 year

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Old Habits Die Hard Part 15 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets drunk at Tyson's birthday party, but once again, your heart is the one feeling the pleasure and the pain that comes with being around your boyfriend.

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, fluff and non-consensual touching/groping

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Tyson's birthday party was the loudest thing you had ever heard. The music and conversations seemed to be competing with each other, so you stuck close to Bradley. Wordlessly, he pulled you into the kitchen where it was a tiny bit quieter.

"Grab us some good beers, Sugar," he told you as he reached for the bottle opener. "It's gonna be a long night."

"Why are there so many people here?" you asked, holding out both beers for him to pop the tops off.

"Tyson is our chapter president. The head honcho always gets a rager," he said, taking one beer from you and kissing your cheek.

"That makes sense."

"Stick with me, Sugar," he said, running his fingers along the knot you had tied in his tee shirt before stroking your bare skin. "We'll have fun."

That's all it took. Both bottles ended up getting set down on the counter as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I always have fun with you," you told him between kisses. And just as you felt Bradley's hands run down your back and over your butt, the kitchen door opened to reveal Tyson.

"Hey! It's time for shots! Let's go, you two!"

He already looked drunk for how early it was, and you didn't know how many shots he would be able to handle.

"Twenty two shots?" Bradley asked, grabbing a bottle of vodka from a cabinet along with a shot glass.

"Is that a good idea?" you asked, looking between your boyfriend and Tyson.

Bradley just chuckled. "He's allowed to ask other fraternity brothers to help him out at any time."

"I hope you're thirsty," Tyson said, pointing to Bradley. "And I hope you're ready to make sure he vomits in a toilet and stays out of trouble," he said, pointing to you.

You just shook your head and followed them back into the noisy front room. Dev was standing on a table yelling that it was time for Tyson's birthday shots, and Bradley was wrapping his arm around your waist.

"I'm really sorry about this," he told you, shaking his head and grinning. "If I end up throwing up all night, I'll make it up to you later, okay Sugar?"

You kissed his lips and laced your fingers through his. "I'll take care of you, Beer Boy." You thought it was kind of nice that his fraternity brothers wanted him involved.

Tyson deferred to Bradley and Dev after five shots, so you watched Bradley climb onto the coffee table and down six of the shots on Tyson's behalf. You sipped your beer and tried not to laugh as Dev only made it through three.

Bradley smiled and winked at you as he handed his shot glass back to Tyson and jumped back down. You watched a bunch of girls grabbing at him as he made his way back to you, never stopping until he was at your side.

He kissed you, and the taste of vodka permeated your mouth. "Beer pong?" he asked, and you led him toward the table.

When Bradley started to spend more time with his hands on your hips than off them, insisting he was helping you get squared up to the table, you knew he was pretty drunk.

After he drank a few beers, somehow he got even better at beer pong, so you kept on playing with him. He was standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you, chin on your shoulder as he said, "I'm glad you're not dating Jeff."

You turned your head and kissed him as the other team threw their balls. "How could I have been interested in Jeff for one more minute after I met you?"

He smiled and spoke right next to your ear. "You liked me right away?"

You pressed your lips together and let him kiss your neck. "Of course I did."

"I liked you right away, too. Wanted you to stay in my room, Sugar."

"That's not a hard sell now," you told him shrugging out of his grasp with a grin when it was your turn.

After you lost that round, Bradley was all over you in a very sweet way for someone who was drunk. "You let me know when you want to go upstairs and we can cuddle," he said, running his fingers along your cheek. "And I can sing the Grateful Dead to you until you fall asleep."

You laughed as he hiccuped, but you let him pull you against him as the party raged around you. It was getting so hot in the house, and you wanted another beer, but you thought you'd better stop now. Somebody was definitely going to need some sort of assistance tonight. And you were afraid it was going to be one of the Beta boys.

Now you saw Jeff up on the coffee table, chugging what was left of the bottle of vodka. Eventually a bottle of tequila got passed from Tyson to Bradley, and you watched him drink some before he tried to pass it to you.

"No thanks!" you shouted over the music, passing the bottle right along to Dev. You danced with Bradley for a while, bumping into seemingly everyone else in the room in the process. You watched him fade out more and more, and at one point, you took a beer out of his hand and stashed it behind the couch; you'd come back for it tomorrow when you helped him clean up.

"Bradley! Let's go to the kitchen!"

He followed you there like a puppy on a leash, scooping you up and setting you on the counter.

"Beer Boy," you whispered as he kissed your neck, and then he was pushing you back, guiding you down along the counter and jumping up to join you.

He was untying the knot in the Grateful Dead tee and pushing his hands up to your bare breasts. "I knew there was nothing under here," he said against your lips before dipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you. His fingers stroked your tattoo softly and you moaned for him; he always seemed to be able to find that spot without looking.

He slid the shirt up to your neck and lowered his mouth to your right breast.

"Bradley," you whined, turning toward the door. Someone could walk in here at any time, but the last thing you wanted him to do was stop.

He was sloppy drunk, his lips and tongue a little rough as he licked and sucked, but you liked it. He was palming you through your shorts, encouraging you to rub yourself against his hand. "Sugar," he whispered against your tattoo. His voice was deep and raspy.

You let your fingers lace through his hair as he teased your left nipple into an almost painful peak. You felt desperate, the pressure building each time you hit the heel of his hand through your shorts.

"You gonna get off like this?" Bradley asked you as you turned toward the kitchen door again. It was dark in here, and you wanted to.

"Bradley."

"Just like the library, Sugar. I'll rub you until you cum for me."

"Bradley!"

Your hips were moving faster as he kissed your chest, and the kitchen door slammed open. Janessa stumbled in giggling and heading for the refrigerator.

You sat up, quickly trying to cover your breasts, bumping Bradley's face in the process. "It's okay, let's keep going," he told you, pushing your thighs further apart as Janessa turned toward you.

"Damn, you're a lucky bitch!" she whined. "Tyson is so drunk, there's no way he'll be able to get a boner!"

"Bradley, stop," you said, trying to get his hands out from under your shirt. But he was trying to get his mouth on you again, and Janessa was just staring.

"Feel like sharing?" she asked, erupting into giggles. Bradley had his lips around your nipple again, but he popped you out of his mouth when you finally managed to push him off.

"Come on, Sugar," he said with a crooked grin, reaching for the zipper of your shorts. "I'll make you feel good." He didn't seem to notice that you had company.

Janessa squeaked. "Bradley, what do you think?" she asked, and he finally turned toward her.

"Janessa. What's up?" he asked, still trying to unzip your shorts like it was no big deal.

"You two are so bad!" Janessa said, erupting into more giggles. "I wish Tyson would do me in the kitchen." Now she was pouting and swaying on her feet a little bit.

"You want me to do you in the kitchen again?" Bradley asked you, reaching up your shirt and teasing you some more.

The need you felt for him was ridiculous, but Janessa was still looking at him like he was a four course meal.

"Upstairs, Beer Boy." You wiggled your way out of his grasp and jumped down from the counter, and he followed you, unsteady on his feet. "I'll tell Tyson when he's sober to do you in the kitchen," you told your roommate when you led Bradley past her.

"Where are we going?" he asked, reaching for your waist. "Getting more to drink?"

"You do not need another drink! And it's late! Let's go upstairs," you said, walking backwards to the stairs so he would follow you.

"Are we cuddling or fucking?" he asked, and you started laughing.

"You have no filter right now, and it's kind of funny." You walked slowly up the steps, practically pulling him with you.

"Listen, I'm drunk, but I could fuck you if you want, Sugar. And I can't guarantee I won't have a hangover tomorrow morning."

You managed to prop him up next to his bedroom door and kissed him once. "I'm going to run back down and get you some water and something for the headache that will definitely be starting up soon. Go wait for me."

-------------------------

Bradley was wasted. He was seeing two of you now, but both of you were telling him to go into his room.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, reaching for you as you started to head back to the steps. "I want Sugar."

You had that cute, reluctant smile on your face. Well, whenever your face was in focus you did. "And I want Beer Boy," you told him, kissing him hard again. You pushed him up against the wall, and Bradley swore nothing had ever felt as good as your hands on him. "I'm just going to run back to the kitchen. I'll be right back."

Then you were gone, and he was turning toward his door. He pulled the key down from the top of the door frame and tried to work it into the keyhole.

"Shit," he murmured, because the door was already unlocked. He fumbled for a second, finally getting the key back up where he kept it. His room was cool and quiet, and he tore off his sweaty shirt and started working on his shoes. He clicked on his desk lamp and braced a hand against his desk so the room would stop spinning.

He was hammered, and he knew it. But his dick was still half hard from the kitchen. If you wanted him, he was going to suggest you decide now. Otherwise he was going to pass out with his arms wrapped around you for at least eight hours.

A muffled, "Bradley," came from the bed as he unzipped his jeans and took them off.

"That was quick," he said with a laugh, walking toward his bed. Before he even touched you where you were all bundled up in his comforter, hands reached out to the front of his underwear.

But your strokes felt unfamiliar once you had pulled his dick from his boxers. Your hands didn't feel right as he eyes closed. He couldn't open them to try to figure out what was wrong. He supposed it still felt good though.

"I knew you missed me." That wasn't even your voice. "I knew you'd come back like you always do. I'll bet that little bitch sent me the photo, not you."

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked, cracking his eyes open. Phoebe was hanging off the side of his bed. She was in her underwear with his cock in her hands.

"Come on. I'll suck you off."

"No," Bradley said, trying to get her hands off him. "I don't want you. I want Sugar."

He felt like he was going to throw up or pass out. Phoebe was licking her lips and smiling at him. "No, you don't, Bradley."

"I want my girlfriend."

Phoebe was clicking her tongue now. "Ugh, you're getting soft. How much did you drink?" she asked, but Bradley was peeling her fingers off him the best he could.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" That was your voice. Coming from his doorway. Coming from his door. The door he had painted. He painted it because he needed you.

"Sugar."

----------------------------

Was he so drunk that he was actually talking to himself? The idea of it made you laugh as you carried some Advil and water bottles toward his room.

"I don't want you. I want Sugar. I want my girlfriend."

Was he talking to someone? It sounded like another muffled voice was mixing with his. You tossed his door open wider and found Phoebe in his bed. She was grabbing his dick and trying to lick him. You could see the precum on his tip, and Bradley was scrambling to get himself free of her hands.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you asked, and Phoebe met your gaze with her malicious eyes.

"Please, Phoebe. Please! You're gonna ruin it." Bradley was panicking now, you could tell.

You closed the distance to them and grabbed Phoebe by her wrists and yanked her body away from him.

"You need to leave!" you told her flinging her hands away from you so hard, that she almost fell off of the bed. "Get out of his bed and go!"

Phoebe stood up and started to reach for her bra clasp. "Why should I? He invited me here."

"Didn't," Bradley mumbled, pulling his underwear back up. "Wouldn't do that. I want Sugar." He tripped back into his desk chair.

"Get out." Your voice sounded crazed to your own ears. "He doesn't want you."

Phoebe was laughing now. "Why are you so desperate for him? He's not going to change."

"I'm desperate? Did you or did you not break into his bedroom?"

She just rolled her eyes and leaned down toward Bradley. "Do you want me to leave Bradley?" she asked in the most saccharine sweet voice that made you sick.

"I want Sugar." It seemed to be the only thing he could say at this point, and he was starting to look a little clammy.

You'd had enough for one night. For one lifetime. "Just get out," you shouted, wrapping your hand up in Phoebe's hair and pulling hard. "Leave him alone!"

You pulled her, kicking and screaming toward his bedroom door and launched her into the hallway. Then you went back for her dress and shoes where they were strewn on the floor, and threw them at her face before slamming and locking the door.

"Are you okay?" you asked Bradley, pushing your fingers through his hair until his head was tipped back and he was looking up at you.

He just nodded and reached for you. "Don't get mad at me."

You eased yourself onto his lap and let him wrap his arms around you. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just upset in general. And I'm pissed at Phoebe." You felt hot tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, and you buried your face in his hair before he could notice. He probably wouldn't anyway, but you just wanted to cry in private.

After a few minutes, he started shaking his head. He launched out of his seat, nearly knocking you to the floor, and raced across the room and out into the hallway. You were momentarily terrified that he was going after Phoebe, but he lunged into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before he started throwing up.

You looked up and down the hallway, but Phoebe was thankfully gone. So you closed his bedroom door and went into the bathroom to make sure he was okay. He looked up at you with pitiful, watery eyes once he had flushed the toilet. "I'm sorry. I wish I was a better boyfriend."

You sighed deeply and really looked at him. His hair was a wavy, brown mess. He had the beginnings of some stubble on his chin and above his lips. His eyes were red and glassy, and he was in just his underwear. But he was good. Really good.

"Do you want me to help you take a shower and brush your teeth?" you asked softly, and when he nodded, you locked the door and got undressed.

You washed his hair and body for him, running your hands softly over his skin as he melted into you. You got his toothbrush ready and then used his spare one that had become yours. After he took his Advil and drank some water, he climbed into his bed and pulled you in with him. When you clicked off his desk lamp and snuggled up against him, he said, "I don't deserve someone as sweet as you."

"Beer Boy...you deserve the whole world and the sky and everything you want."

--------------------------

Bradley woke up to the sounds of pouring rain. His head hurt so badly he could barely open his eyes. He was reaching for you in the bed, wondering if you had a hangover too, but then he started to remember the previous night. He'd had a ton to drink. He drank liquor, because he was with you, and he felt safe when you were around him. But he had definitely overdone it.

"Phoebe," he gasped, forcing his eyes open. Phoebe had been in his room, and then you had been here too. You had helped him get a shower, and he was pretty sure you went to sleep in bed with him. But you were gone now.

He fought back the urge to throw up again as he climbed out of bed and pulled on some underwear. He needed to find you.

The bathroom was empty, and the house was pretty quiet. He had no idea what time it was. Then he heard your soft laughter downstairs. He nearly tripped in his haste to get to you.

"I can't believe what a mess this room is!" you said, your back to him. Bradley smiled at you in his shirt and gym shorts. "I hope Tyson is okay." You were helping Dev pick up the front room.

"Sugar," he rasped, and you spun to face him.

"Beer Boy," you said with a smile before you wrapped your arms around him. "How are you feeling?"

"Shitty."

You and Dev both laughed.

"You don't need to clean up," Bradley told you. "I'll do it."

You just shook your head. "I don't mind. Plus I wanted to get the bottle I hid behind the couch before it got broken. Are you hungry?" You were gently rubbing your hand against Bradley's midsection and smiling up at him. He felt like crying, he was so relieved.

"You're not mad at me?" he asked so softly.

When you shook your head and smiled sadly at him, he squeezed you tight. "I thought we could watch some of that concert DVD and hang out," you whispered.

Bradley scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the kitchen. He held you while you grabbed a box of cereal and a carton of orange juice. Then he carted you back upstairs while you protested that he should put you down because you were too heavy. You weren't too heavy, and he wasn't going to put you down.

-------------------------

You sat side by side in bed with Bradley, eating Lucky Charms and drinking orange juice. He looked pale, and he hadn't said much, but every time you moved, he reached for you. "Just turning the volume up," you informed him. "I actually like this," you said with a laugh as you raised the volume on the Grateful Dead concert.

"I knew you would, Sugar."

Eventually you settled in with his arms wrapped around you, and he sang along.

"You don't know how easy it is. You don't know how easy it is to love you."

His voice was beautiful, and you let it wash over you.

But you knew that no matter how hard he tried and how much both of you wanted it, you wouldn't be able to have this feeling with him forever. Last night proved that, and graduation was right around the corner.

--------------------------

Woooooow, that was a lot. Good thing Sugar wasn't too far away. Thanks to @mak-32 as always for helping so much for this fic.

PART 16

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x female reader

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physalian · 1 month

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Take A Risk and Don’t Write a Chosen One

This trope stands the test of time for some very good reasons: Audience wish-fulfillment as they live vicariously through the hero, automatic plot-induced agency for your protagonist, and automatic legitimate reasons for your protagonist to join the whirlwind adventure of the day.

I like chosen ones. We all have our favorite famous chosen ones and I’m not here to say the concept of a chosen one is bad at all.

However.

Those “automatic” windfalls that come pre-packaged with the trope can lead to the author taking shortcuts, or not thinking they have to put in more effort to write a compelling character, because they’re the “chosen one,” what more do you need?

Not writing your protagonist as commanded by the powers that be to participate in the plot forces you to get creative with why they’re here, what they want, and how they entrench themselves in the story. And most importantly, if the gods haven’t chosen them to act, they must now choose themselves to act.

—

I have never read Harry Potter and after its author-who-shan’t-be-named flushed her reputation down the toilet, I never will. I’ve seen the movies, they’re ok. I have no nostalgia-driven love for this franchise, and most of that comes from watching Harry be an incredibly boring protagonist.

Book readers correct me, but Harry is the poster child of “only exists so the audience can live vicariously” with generic heroic traits and nonexistent or at least unimportant side quirks and distinguishing hobbies, interests, or personality tics. He’s “brave” and “courageous” and “determined”... as most child protagonists of children’s books should be. He has zero flaws that come back to bite him in the ass. He acts the way he’s supposed to, not the way he should want to, as an independent being.

He’s the least interesting character in this entire cast, and I can’t stand Movie Ron. Ron, Hermione, Neville, or Draco would have made much more compelling protagonists and so much of this relies on the “Harry is important because the plot demands it” crutch.

Why is he the chosen one? Because his birthday happened at the right time of year? What is the story trying to say about the dichotomy between him and Voldemort? What about his personality, his wizard-societal stances on the many faux pas in this series, or the choices he makes, that makes him the chosen one? Why should I care?

You know who’s a great chosen one? Percy Jackson. Why? Because he understands the screwed up world he lives in on page 1. Being a demigod isn’t everything he ever dreamed and despite what Disney + wants you to believe, he’s got a crap bio dad who’s as disappointing in book one as Percy expects him to be.

He’s not even the chosen one by the end of the original series, and what a fantastic twist that was.

An infamously self-chosen protagonist has her own iconic hero quote: "I volunteer as tribute". Katniss is a nobody. She's not the evil president's daughter, she's not the child of a famously martyred revolutionary, she's just a girl who refuses to bow down to the reaping, refuses to let her sister get slaughtered, and volunteers for a death match that historically sees anyone living to survive another year cowering in relief. Yeah, she has some convenient skills in her archery and survival knowledge, but those matter because her district is starving, she learned through necessity.

Every second of her story, Katniss is fighting for her right to exist, and she only becomes a "chosen one" dragged around by the powers that be when she becomes marketable to the grand scheming of the actual revolutionaries, when, before, she didn't care about politics, she just wanted to save her sister. She matters because she chose compassion in a world where survival demands only serving yourself.

—

It’s so, so easy to start planning your book and make your cool fantasy world and figure out how your protagonist fits into it. So easy to say “well they’re the long-lost princess and the only heir to the throne” or “this magic amulet from her great great aunt is the key to saving the world” or “she’s the villain’s secret love child and the only one who can stop him because blood magic” or “this vague prophecy picked this little desert slave boy to bring balance to the Force”.

None of these stories are at fault for writing chosen ones.

But push yourself to let go of that crutch and come up with other reasons for why your hero is the hero. Usually this character has been isekai'd into magical-fantasy-land or magical-hidden-fantasy-urban-underbelly and you can still write that character.

Refusing to make them the chosen one demands one thing first and foremost: How is this outsider going to fight for their place to exist here? What do they bring to the table with their hobbies or interests or unique skillset that happens to be mighty applicable and useful in this new world? What is it about their personality that draws these strangers in? What do they want from this new world, and what are they willing to do to get it?

This choice demands you give your hero agency (though whether you give into those demands is up to you).

More importantly: I think it gives your audience agency, as they still live vicariously through their hero. Sure, lots of kids have lost their parents and live in horrid conditions like a cupboard under the stairs, but none of us will ever be “chosen” by omniscient wizard prophets. Harry would have immediately been a more compelling protagonist to me if he’d stumbled upon magical shenaniganry and fought for his place as some forgotten nobody mudblood.

Harry would have shown us his courage, instead of the story insisting he has it, we promise, just don’t think too hard about it.

Stop giving me characters who accept their destiny because God said so. Give me characters who fight tooth and nail for a destiny they discover on their own and I’ll root for them to succeed even more than someone compelled by force. Not everyone can be a chosen one, but everyone *can* choose themselves and decide to act.

—

With that said, I have an announcement! I have a new book in the works bereft of a prophecy-ordained hero. It’s time I put all my sagely writing wisdom to the test in a shiny published paperback myself. If you’ve learned anything from my blog in your writing journey, please subscribe for updates on the upcoming novel!

#chosen ones #character design #writing advice #character development #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fantasy #urban fantasy #scifi #harry potter #percy jackson #katniss everdeen #the hunger games

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kittysarchive · 15 days

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Pervy, Enhypen

Heeseung

Step brother

Owning the trope as the step brother, he shows no shame 'borrowing your underwear'. Smelling and cuming into your panties, he'll give them right back, even with the stains. Having his mum divorce was bad enough....however moving on your father brought back his hope, being so, he was able to see you Everday....

Jay

Older brother best friend

Is this not him? Having sleep overs, he always 'accidently' walked in on you changing, in the bathroom, in the toilet or even with your boyfriend....Jay always finds a way to sneak looks and photos of you, even if it means ruining his relationship with you brother.

Jake

Childhood friend

You may not be close anymore by that doesn't stop Jake from trying to get close to you. Close enough to smell your perform, get a glimpse of your bra....or even your panties as you walk away from him. You can't say no to him, and that's what he loves.

Sunghoon

Roommate

He see's everything. Either being your only roommate or not, he tries his best to grow a relationship....and a close one. Sleeping in the same bed will become normal for you, in the same bathroom while your shower will become normal....having a show to 'save water' will become normal.

Sunoo

Family friend

With your parents being friends, you were bound to have sleepovers and what not with him. But as he grew, Sunoo would insist you sleep in his bed instead of the floor, insist you go on the small spa instead of the large heated pool, insist you wear his boxers....

Jungwon

Classmate

Being seat partners was a dream come Jungwon. Having his hands on your thighs not on purpose of course....dropping pencil to get a view of your upskirt...not on purpose of course, spilling water on your white shirt....not on purpose of course. And you can't call him out, with him being class president, he can't do anything wrong.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen headcanons #perv enhypen #pervy enhypen #enhypen imagines

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rookthorne · 1 month

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

An unexpected turn in the club’s luck leaves you questioning whether or not you belonged. It’s safe to say that a certain biker was not going to let those thoughts destroy what you both had created.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 1.6k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Fluff, light angst (insecurity), clubhouse shenanigans

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✰ I did not mean to bring the tiny bit of angst into this one, oops — I made up for it with poor Peter and Steve being the duo that they are. ✰ Prompt by @promptplanetblr. ✰ This is a repost of my old fic.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ Lana’s Birthday Celebration — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Whoops and hollers echoed through the clubhouse as the woman on the pole flipped upside down, her long blonde hair almost touching the bill strewn stage. It had been a ‘small’ get together, a party, Bucky reluctantly admitted later, to celebrate that a partnership had proven to be very successful. And profitable.

It wasn’t often that they came across an opportunity to earn clean money — mostly free from blood that would otherwise soak through their consciences and bleed into the chambers of their guns or over their cracked and calloused hands.

The luxury of being truly clean in this way of life was a long lost foolish dream.

Peter was standing beside you at the bar while he nursed the glass of scotch Steve had pushed into his hands at the start of the night, the devious Vice President had ignored all of Peter’s stuttered refusals and pleas to take it back, but to no avail.

“You know, Pete,” Peter turned his head and looked at you, a bitter grimace plastered on his face as he felt the burn of the alcohol. “You’re a member now. You can tell them to go fuck themselves.”

Peter let out a harsh laugh and grinned at you, his boyish charm shining through. “And be stuck with cleaning the toilet and bathroom for the rest of my life? Or worse?” He shook his head and took another sip of the amber liquid. “No thanks.”

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence as the wailing of the guitar over the speakers hit its solo when suddenly, Peter’s eyes flashed over your shoulder and widened, his shoulders becoming a hard line as he waited to be given orders from the figure approaching. Even after being fully patched in, it’s a mindset that never truly left him.

“At ease, Parker,” Steve said as you turned slightly and felt your shoulder hit his chest. “You better finish that scotch in the next half hour or you’ll be stuck scrubbing the bar.”

“Stevie!” You laughed, slapping his shoulder and feeling the cold leather of his kutte. “You leave him alone.” Steve chuckled and looked down at you with a slight smile of which you returned. “What’s up?”

“Buck wants you in church.”

You froze. Church? Non-members weren’t allowed in, even partners, and there was no doubt it added to the mystique and ominous feel of the heavy wooden and leather doors and what lay beyond. There had only been one occasion that only saw a slither as the door closed behind Sam, it revealed nothing but wooden walls and plaques.

“Why?” You questioned, your eyes searching Steve’s face only to come up with nothing. Curse his stoicness.

Steve only reached past you and clapped Peter on the shoulder that almost sent him crashing to the floor. He strode away towards Natasha who was standing with Sam and Thor, all three of them laughing heartily at the antics of the men in the front row of seats facing the stage.

You’d think that those men hadn’t seen a pair of tits in their life, the way they carried on.

“You all right?” Peter’s quiet voice came from beside you, the soft gesture of his hand on your shoulder abating your nerves, if only a little. “It’s not so scary in there, I promise.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“It’s not like he can order me to clean the bathroom after a patch over, Pete.”

Peter groaned and dropped his hand from your shoulder, the following solid thump of his forehead meeting the bar made you laugh at his misery — that memory being brought to the surface, again, was a harsh but deserved blow.

“I’ll be back.” He threw a thumbs up to your retreating form and you weaved your way through the rowdy crowd towards the heavy doors.

They loomed over you as you approached, the cherry wood streaked with ebony between the leather only added to the foreboding feel. You wouldn’t go as far to call it a waterfall of blood and oil, but you knew what Bucky had done in this life — knew exactly what kind of a man he was.

We all had demons, after all.

“Come in.” Bucky’s muffled voice came from within after you knocked, and you pushed the left door open. It was darker than the bar and it took a moment to adjust.

“Bucky?” You whispered, almost afraid to disturb the brooding peace. The sound of creaking wood and rustling leather came from the other side of the room.

Bucky was sat at his seat at the head of the table, his face shadowed but his hands were folded on the table. His silver and black rings over his tattooed fingers glinted under the harsh light and you couldn’t help but feel nervous.

But for what, exactly, you didn’t know.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky said as he leant forward, his face finally coming out of the shadows. He didn’t look mad, or solemn. He looked… happy? “C’mere.” He pushed his chair out and pulled out the chair to his right. Steve’s seat.

You smiled nervously and took Steve’s seat and Bucky sat back in his own.

“Why aren’t you out there?” You quizzed, careful to watch his expression but yet again, came up with nothing to reveal what he was thinking. Damn them both, you thought humorously, damn him and damn Steve.

“Well, I wanted a few moments of peace with my queen first,” Bucky smiled and grabbed your hands to hold in his own. “I didn’t want those idiots out there,” he pointed his head towards the doors, “interruptin’ me.”

It lapsed into comfortable silence between the two of you for a few moments as he ran his thumb over your knuckles and over your palm. You couldn’t help but feel that something was amiss, though.

“Bucky,” he looked up from your hands and into your face, his expression still blank but there was a glint of something in his eyes. “What’s going on? You called me in here, and I can’t help but feel a bit nervous. What’s wrong?” You rambled — the seal now broken on just how on edge you felt, the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move.

Bucky held eye contact with you for what felt like eternity, when in reality it was only a moment. The sudden movement of his head as he looked down at your intertwined hands made your stomach drop through the floor. Something was wrong.

“Baby, what is it?” You whispered as you gripped his hand tighter in your own. “Talk to me, please.”

Bucky looked up and his eyes widened slightly upon seeing your expression. “Oh, no, doll,” he said quickly with a slight wince — as though the thought of you being afraid pained him. “Nothin’ is wrong, it’s just–” he hesitated.

Bucky never hesitated.

“That isn’t helping.” You said quickly.

Bucky chuckled and shifted in his seat so his elbows rested on the wood, his right hand now cradling your jaw.

“This new partnership,” Bucky started and you nodded slightly, urging him to spit out just what the fuck was going on. “Means I’m not gonna be home as often and long as I want to, doll. At least for the first few weeks.”

It had been a constant thought in the back of your mind that with a new partnership comes a period of foundation laying; Bucky couldn’t build the trust a partnership needed if he hid himself away in his hometown and away in church, or if he sent someone else, but what you hadn’t known was whether that meant you’d be left behind and waiting for the day he would stay home.

Every single time he left through that door and rode away on his beloved bike was another opportunity for a bullet to take him from you. It was never easy to be apart, and with the knowledge that he would be out that damn door and on that damn bike building a questionable relationship was terrifying.

But it was reality.

Bucky’s club was his family — he had to make sure it was provided for, and in one piece. That was his job as long as he sat at the head of the table and held that gavel.

As though he could see the turmoil swimming in your eyes while he stared into them, Bucky scooted his chair closer to yours so your knees were touching and he brought his other hand up to the other side of your jaw — anchoring to you the present, and to what was in front of you.

“Sweetheart, I’m not leavin’ you behind. You are my queen and you rule this gang of misfits with me,” Bucky said quietly and the dam barely holding back the mix of relief and fear broke from the foundations up. He leant forward and kissed the tears trailing down your cheeks away and smiled softly. “You’re stuck with me.”

The realisation that he was yours, and you were his, hit you in the chest like a semi colliding with a wall. You knew, of course, that it had and always will be the case, but your own demons had blurred the lines of truth and vicious rumour.

You needed that reassurance just as much as Bucky needed to feel the rumble of his four stroke Indian.

“You’re such an idiot, Bucky.” You whispered as a smile broke free and shined on your face.

Bucky laughed and stared back into your eyes with a knowing glint. “Now that’s my girl,” he breathed, his deadly smirk creeping back onto his face and it made your heart stutter in its rhythm. “But I’m your idiot.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works

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foreverdolly · 2 years

Text

tattooed heart | biker!austin butler x reader

summary: austin is the club president of a local outlaw biker gang- a one percenter. he lies, he kills and he doesn't apologize for it. he was one weakness- you. when he gets a distressed late night call from you he's quick to come to your rescue. the only problem? your own father was in the same motorcycle club that austin now runs, and after his death you cut all contact. when you two see each other again emotions run high and things get. . . a little out of control.

pairings: biker!austin butler x reader

word count: 12,074

warnings/notes: SMUT! violence, brief mention of dv (your ex), cursing, spitting, choking, blood play, unprotected sex, creampie, austin is obsessed with you, but what’s new? this one is wild and i might have to make it a series if ya'll like it enough, so feedback would be awesome.

masterlist

“That’s why you’re the treasurer, Marcus. You don’t run jack shit around here. You crunch the numbers, give them to me, and that’s what I go off of. That’s the definition of your job around here.” Austin sat up a little straighter in his leather work chair, jabbing his finger into the desk hard enough to rattle it as he spoke. “I don’t need you getting all high and mighty, trying to take charge of things. Xavier let all of you fuckers do whatever the hell you wanted while I was locked up, but I’m back now, so things are going back to the way they were.” All Austin wanted to do was go home and shower. It was nearly one in the morning, and he had barely gotten a wink of sleep over the last three days. The blonde had expected the Vice President to keep up with all of the prospects, club funds, and the general upkeep of the building as well as it’s members. It wasn’t too much to ask, right? Not when you were getting paid handsomely for it. Austin continued to run the more illegal practices himself while he rotted away in prison for two years, not trusting anyone else to do it. This- the mess on his desk- was the exact reason why he didn’t trust anyone.

Marcus swallowed thickly, watching his boss nervously, as though he was a ticking time-bomb just waiting to go off. And maybe Austin was. He felt like it was only a matter of time before he absolutely flipped shit and destroyed either something or someone. No one had been keeping up with anything while he was gone. Austin had continued flowing money into this place, while all they did with it was buy booze, women, and lord knows what else. The building was an absolute wreck. There were holes in the walls, half of the toilets in the entire building no longer worked, and to make matters worse an enemy Club had broken into their garage two months ago and had stolen three of Austin’s classic bikes while he was still away. No one had the balls to call him up and tell him.

What a nice fucking welcome home present.

“If I come back here tomorrow and these papers aren’t dated and filed when I get back? I’ll have your fucking head,” He stood up roughly, leaning forward so that he could get right in Marcus’s face. “Are we clear?” His voice was eerily calm, using the same tone that he would when speaking to a child. The middle aged bald man hurriedly nodded, fumbling forward so that he could start scooping up the mass of papers. Austin kicked the leather chair he had just stood up from, hearing it clatter into the wall roughly behind him. “And fucking fix whatever the hell I just broke.” He muttered before walking out his office door. A few members were still hanging around, laughing amongst themselves as they sat around a poker table talking. The dumb assholes had the audacity to have their feet kicked up on the table, drinking Jack Daniel’s and shooting the shit as though they hadn’t absolutely destroyed the place. Austin’s eye twitched as he walked behind the bar, grabbing a fresh pack of Marlboros before sauntering over towards them. “What’s so funny guys?” They froze as they heard their President’s voice, all looking up at him with fearful, glassy eyes. “No, don’t quiet down now. I want to know what’s so fucking funny.” Austin had been out of prison for all of three days. The first two days he had tried to readjust to normal life, and today he was expecting to come back to the club, maybe fix a few things that were out of place, and then go about business as usual.

He could barely sleep in his bed, now completely unused to a regular mattress, which had made it nearly impossible to keep his already ridiculous anger issues under control. Not only that, but he no longer had a bitch-boy bunkie to boss around and wannabe gangsters to treat as punching bags whenever he needed to let off some steam. Then he comes back to this? He was shaking, his sharp jawline ticking as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. He could barely resist the urge to bash the new member’s face into the table until the fuck stopped twitching.

“You know what. . .” Austin grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He began wagging pointer finger at the group, all of them already shifting in their seats as they waited for the shit show that was bound to start any second. “I think I know what’s funny.” Austin grabbed an empty bottle of whiskey, lazily dragging it across the table before gripping it in his large hand. He stared down at the label for a few seconds, taking a steadying breath in through his nose before he finally looked back at the table. They flinched away from his heated gaze, the older member’s beginning to cower as they recognized the murderous intent in his eyes. “It’s how fucking disgusting this place is!” He reared back and tossed the glass against the wall behind them, the thing hitting the wooden surface so hard that it practically turned to dust. They all covered their heads, pushing their way out of their seats in an attempt to get away. “If you boys want to stay here and drink for the rest of the night, then by all means. Do it. But clean this place up first!” He stalked across the club, slamming the front door closed so hard that it shook the hinges, before straddling his Harley.

The long drive home did wonders for his mood, but riding always did that for him. The cold air forced his hair off of his forehead and felt good against his hot face. Austin used the time that it took him to get from the club to his house to think.

He never used to be the type of person to overthink. If something upset him, he’d try his damndest to push it from his mind completely. If the unwanted thought ever bubbled back up to the surface, he’d punch something and move on with his day. He didn’t like wasting time worrying about things that were out of his control.

But he liked to worry about you.

In the thirty minutes that it had taken for him to get home, somehow his mind had landed on the subject of. . . well. . . you. He wondered where you were, how you were doing, and for a second he worried about whether or not you had learned to hate him over time. Austin knew that he wasn’t a very well liked person, and for good reason. People either feared him or were taught to. It was how he had functioned his entire life. How he had been raised. Lying, stealing, and killing were just a way of life for him. A means to an end, really. He had learned it from his father, and his father had learned it from his.

Austin came from a long line of outlaws. They did whatever the fuck they wanted and never apologized for it. You join the Club knowing that there is a possibility that you might not make it out alive. Only the strong survive, and Austin had been bred to be mean because of it. Your father had been the same way. The two of your parents had grown up together, and had both been the leaders of the very same Club that Austin now ran.

You had been raised up right alongside him, and to say that he didn’t have a soft spot for you would be a damn lie. Austin had one weakness, and that was you. He hated feeling vulnerable. He absolutely couldn’t stand it, but he never could shake you, no matter how hard he had tried growing up. You had hollowed out his bones, and sunk deep deep deep into his marrow. You were just as much a part of him as his own flesh and blood.

You weren’t cut out for the life that you had been born into though. All that senseless killing always got to you. It got to you bad. This wasn’t what you would have chosen for yourself- The One Percenters. You were tired of keeping your distance from people on the outside, too afraid to get them caught up in all the wrong things. You wanted a normal life. You had wanted to get out. Once you're in the club though, even if you’re born into it, it’s hard to leave. Your father had been the Vice President, meaning you had heard just about all of the comings and goings of the Clubs activities. Having you out of sight was a liability. Austin didn’t know what it meant to live a normal life, but he could understand the attachment you had to the idea. He could imagine that sort of life for himself too, but only if you were involved. There was no point if you weren’t.

Loving you was the only good thing Austin had ever done in his life.

Whenever your father died, he knew what would happen. He knew that the door to your cage had been busted wide open, and it was only natural for you to want to fly out. He didn’t harbor any anger towards you for it. It was the way that you had chosen to go about it that upset him so much.

He wished you would have at least left a note.

If you were going to disappear, then that meant that you had to disappear for good. That meant that Austin, who was next in line to take his father’s place, had to go. No call, no text, and no warning. He hadn’t even gotten a proper goodbye. One second he was holding your sobbing form at the funeral, and the next second you were gone. It was almost like your old life meant nothing to you at all. Like Austin meant nothing at all. It had crushed him. Totally and utterly devastated him. It was the kind of hurt that you never got over, no matter how many years passed. Time didn’t heal all wounds. You had taken a big piece of him with you, and it was a part of him that couldn’t heal over; couldn’t be replaced.

Weeks went by. Then months. Then years. He didn’t know if you had moved out of state. He didn’t even know if you were alive. That was the part that kept him thinking. Kept him worried. The thought of you being hurt haunted his nightmares, and caused him to wake up the next morning teary eyed and shaky. He couldn’t protect you if he didn’t know where you were. He couldn’t keep you safe like he had when you were younger. Austin had spent nearly every day with you for twenty- two years. Trying to live without you was like learning how to walk again after losing a leg. It just. . . it was never the same. A day didn’t go by that he didn’t think about you. Austin stayed true to your wishes though, even in his own grief. He didn’t look for you, and if anyone asked him if he knew where you were he’d merely say that you were off studying abroad. He’d lied about having tabs on you.

So here he was five years later, still thinking about a girl that couldn’t care less about him. Austin didn’t have the ability to open up his heart anymore than he already had. It just wasn’t big enough. Every fiber- every inch: you owned it. You had him in the palm of your hand, and that’s where he’s always stayed.

Becoming the Club President was the only thing he really could do, unless he wanted to incur his father’s wrath. So he maimed and he killed and he schemed his way to the top.

But Icarus had flown to the sun on wax wings, and even he had eventually fallen.

The murders continued to pile up, and no matter how careful he had been with everything, eventually he too had fallen from grace. Prison wasn’t too bad, not when you had seen and done the things that Austin had throughout his entire life. The first thing he had done was pick a fight with the biggest fucker in the place, and no one had messed with him after he had been sent back from The Hole. Sure, some of the men locked up in there were bigger than Austin was, but he didn’t need a shank to be tough. Austin was a mean motherfucker, and he wasn’t opposed to killing with his bare hands. He wasn’t afraid to get messy. He had spent two years like that, holed up in his room with people avoiding him like he was the plague. People who knew who he was began to talk, and the word quickly got out. He didn’t need to click up. Nobody approached him.

He thought about you a lot while he was locked up. There was no way to escape those thoughts or numb the pain that they brought with them. No, instead he took the brunt of it all. He thought about all of the things he had said to you over the years that he had come to regret. The worst part were the things that he never did get the nerve to actually tell you. He wished that he had told you that he loved you, even just once. Even if you didn’t return the sentiment, then he could have at least gotten the chance to say that he had tried. He thought about what his life could have been like if he hadn’t followed his father’s lead. If you had stayed and had given him a reason to change, maybe then he wouldn’t be in these fucked up situations.

Because the shittiest part is that Austin would have liked the opportunity to have lived a normal life with you. A life where he didn’t have to kill just to survive. A life that he could have actually been proud of. Sure, the money was great, but it wasn’t worth it. He would have been happy living in a boring suburban neighborhood in a boring little town, and driving a boring family car. He would have found a way to make it all work out. He could have given that all to you. He should have given that all to you.

But life never turns out the way that you want it to. So he stewed in all that regret while he rotted away in prison. He had been told that he could very well spend the rest of his life there. People from enemy Clubs had heard about him being locked up, and took it as an opportunity to snitch. They rattled off name after name of people that had gone “missing”, stating that he was to blame.

And he was.

His lawyer had called him on a Thursday morning and told him that some mistakes had been made with his booking papers, and a lot of the witnesses were suddenly taking back their statements. The trial didn’t have a leg to stand on after that. Austin, after only two years, was a free man.

But he didn’t feel free. Not really, at least.

So when he got back to his house after the shit show with the Club, he had stalked right up the stairs and shut himself away in his room. The shower that he took was quick, purely habit as he scrubbed his body as quickly as he could. He barely even took the time to dry himself off, tossing his towel onto the floor next to the clothes hamper, and climbing straight into bed. Austin had rolled himself up in his old duvet and melted into his pillows, and for the first night in almost a week he actually fell asleep. He was a light sleeper though, so the second his phone started ringing he was up, wide eyed and reaching for the gun that he kept tucked in his bed frame. After his heart had stopped pounding from the initial panic, he picked up. “Hello?” He grumbled, rubbing his sleepy eyes roughly with the palm of his hand while he tried desperately to wake himself up. His members knew better than to wake him up this early over something that wasn’t an emergency. “This better be good. What fuckin’ time is it?” He squinted his eyes as he turned his head to look at the bedside table, trying hard to get the blurriness out of his vision as he focused on the digital numbers of his clock: 3:24. He hadn’t even been asleep for two hours. His lips parted, ready to lay into the person on the other line. Then he heard it.

“Aus?”

Your voice. It was your voice.

The second that the sound of it reached his ears, he nearly doubled over. Austin had heard once before that a person’s voice is the first thing that you forget about a person as time goes on. For the first year he had been terrified that he might forget the gorgeous, unrestrained sound of your laughter or the lilting, melodic pitch to your voice. He had replayed memories over again and again in his head, hoping to hang on to the exact way you sounded, but over time he must have gotten it wrong. Your voice was far more beautiful than he remembered.

He sat up in bed, quick to push the comforter off of himself so that he could get up. He couldn’t think of a single good reason why would be calling him after five years, and so late into the night. No matter how beautiful your voice was, he could hear the panic in your tone. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. His heart had flown into his throat, and he found it hard to walk as he stumbled around his room in the dark, trying to find a pair of pants. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had to get to you right away. Everything would be alright if he could just see you. Touch you. He could hear you sniffling softly, tears in your voice as you softly said his name again, almost too quiet for him to hear. It felt like he was breaking. His hands shook as he struggled to pull his shirt over his head, quickly pressing the phone back up to his ear when he heard something loud echoing on the other end. “Talk to me, baby.” He murmured, opening the door to his bedroom so that he could take the stairs two at a time, rushing to grab his motorcycle boots that he had by the front door. “I need you to come get me.” You were whispering into the phone, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

So you must not be alone. He held the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he tied his boots up, rushing to double knot them before grabbing his keys and wallet. “I-It’s bad.” That was too vague, and he was beginning to spiral into a panic. He was used to making sure that things went smoothly. Austin was an insanely capable person- but he felt helpless. “What’s bad?” He locked the door behind himself before jogging to the back of his house so that he could grab his bike out of the garage. He could hear your distress. “Y/n, please.” He begged after the sound of your sniffles began to get too much for him. His heart couldn’t take it. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t breathe now that he knew you were in possible danger. You didn’t answer him, and for a second he was afraid that you had hung up. He pulled the phone away from his cheek, letting out a breath of relief when he saw that the call was still active. “Alright, tell me where you are at least. I’m coming, okay?” You whispered an unfamiliar address to him, and he was quick to type it into his GPS.

He nearly died when he saw the estimated arrival time. Nearly bent over and puked all over his beat up old boots. You had been right under his nose the entire time. Twenty seven minutes. He had been twenty seven minutes from you this entire goddamn time. “Stay where you are, alright? I’m coming to get you.” He didn’t hang up the phone, merely shoved it into his back pocket. He had a feeling that if he hung the phone up, he might never hear from you again. He had already lost you one time, he couldn’t do it again. Not after hearing the fear in your voice.

Austin couldn’t remember a time that he had ever driven that fast before. If a cop had seen him, they didn’t even bother turning their lights on and trying to pursue. He was like a bullet being shot into the dark. Gone in a flash. He almost felt bad for your neighbors when he pulled into your driveway. He was quick to move his foot against the kickstand, swinging his long leg over the bike so that he could slowly begin approaching the house. All the blinds seemed to be closed, so he couldn’t see if there were any lights on inside. He dug into his back pocket, pressing the phone against his ear. “I think I’m here,” His eyebrow raised as he heard some rustling in the background, but nearly dropped his phone when you screamed. The man had wondered why he had been the one that you called tonight. You must have known the way that he had turned out. He was everything that you supposedly hated, and yet here he was. People didn’t call Austin for help unless they wanted their bike worked on or they needed someone dead.

Seeing as he didn’t see a motorcycle in the driveway, he was guessing it was the latter.

Somebody was in there with you, and you were scared, hurt, dying- fuck, he had no clue what was going on. All he did know was that the front door was locked and he had to get to you. The One Percenters were moraless creatures who usually didn’t give a damn about anybody but their own families. The rules were simple, yet usually easy to work your way around. There was one thing that was sacred though. Never lay your hand on a woman. This was worse though. This was twenty times worse, because whether you knew it or not, you were Austin’s woman. This - whatever was happening in there - warranted death, and if anyone in the Club found out that Austin didn’t kill whatever cock sucker was inside of that house, they’d start to question who he was as a man.

He didn’t remember kicking the door in. He didn’t hear the wood splintering or glass breaking. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the blood rushing in his ears. “Who the fuck is downstairs, Y/n? Huh? Who the fuck did you call?” Austin jogged up the stairs, and the second that he turned the corner he saw the fucker staring right at him. The blonde was quick to try and look around the other man’s shoulders, desperate to find you. He needed to make sure that you were alright first, and then he would decide what he would do. He had just gotten out of prison, and he didn’t want to go back any time soon. Killing the fucker was out of the question. Half of the neighborhood must have heard him break down the door, and he was sure that he had a time limit. The cops would pull up any second.

“Who the fuck are you?” Austin liked it when people tried to act tough. Your boyfriend must have thought that he actually stood some sort of a chance.

Austin didn’t answer at first, just squared off his shoulders as he waited for you to come out of the room. He could see you in the shadows, trying to walk up to the door, but the other man was quick to hold out his arm, using his body to keep you trapped. That didn’t sit well with Austin. “Hey!” He screamed, blue eyes narrowed on the other man. “She’s coming with me.” For a second the other guy just stood there, his arm pressed against your chest as he kept you trapped in the room.

“Are you fucking stupid? I’m not letting her go anywhere with you.” Austin had only gotten a quick glance of your face, what with the house being so dark, but he could see a bruise on your cheek. Whether it was fresh or old, he didn’t know. All he knew was that you had been hit. In the blink of an eye Austin had lunged forward, grabbing the man by the front of the shirt and ripping him out of the doorway. He used the man’s weight against him, tossing him onto the floor like a ragdoll before climbing over the fucker. He began bringing his tattooed fist down, connecting it with the other man’s face again and again. Your boyfriend must have hit his head during the fall, because he was too stunned to move for a few moments. Too stunned to fight back. He tried to buck Austin off of him, but the blonde was like a rabid animal. His eyes were wild, his breathing was erratic, and he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this sort of thing in front of you though. He had to stop for your sake. Austin grabbed the man by the front of his shirt again, hearing the stitches beginning to pop with the strength of his hold as he yanked him up, wanting them to be face to face to get his point across. “If she wasn’t here right now I would fucking gut you. Do you understand?” Austin had popped blood vessels in both of the man’s eyes, and he could tell that he was having a hard time focusing on anything else other than the immense pain in his face. The President was used to vocal answers at his orders. “Speak!” Austin screamed right into the man’s back, watching him flinch back. “Y-Yes.” Your boyfriend’s voice was quiet, but it was something. Ever so slowly the blonde stood up and off of the man’s chest, stepping around him so that he could get to you.

You had been crying at some point, but had stopped right around the time that you had heard Austin arrive. He made sure that his grip was light on your wrist as he reached out to grab you, bringing you into his chest so that he could wrap his arm around you. He had you, and you were safe. He kept repeating that to himself, trying desperately to contain his anger. Austin started to walk you down the hall, but stopped as he noticed the man on the ground, watching you closely as you walked past.

“Don’t fucking look at her.” Austin let go of you, motioning for you to make your way down the stairs. For a few seconds it looked like you weren’t going to obey him, almost like you were worried for the other man’s safety. The look in Austin’s eyes pushed you forward though. Made you want to get the hell out of that house and away from that horrible, horrible man. Austin looked at you like you mattered. You were safe with him, you knew it. Once you were down the stairs and out of sight, Austin reared his foot back, aiming for his upper chest. It didn’t take too many pounds of pressure to break someone’s clavicle, and he could tell by the satisfying wet popping noise that he had done just that.

“God, I’ve barely even touched you and you’re screaming like a little bitch.” Austin crouched down, resting his elbows against his thighs as he took in the sight of him. He wanted to make sure that he memorized the fuckers face, because if he ever saw him out in public. . .

“If you so much as breathe her name again and I find out? I will hunt you down like the dog that you are and skin you alive. I’ll rip every tooth out of your goddamn head and burn you down until you’re nothing but ash and I’ll make sure you’re still alive for all of it.” And with that Austin calmly stood up and made his way down the stairs, feeling around in his back pocket for his keys and phone. You were standing outside beside his bike, your arms wrapped around yourself tightly. “Hey,” He called out to you, reaching out to rub your shoulders up and down. “You’re going to be okay.” You melted into his soothing touch, because it was Austin.

Leaving Austin behind had been one of the hardest decisions that you ever had to make, but you had done it in the hopes of being able to actually live. Now that he stood in front of you, his blonde hair wind mussed and eyes wide, it really hit you just how much you had missed him. The way that he was looking at you now, you also realized that he was still very much your Austin. Just. . . with a lot more tattoos. “I want to make sure that you’re alright, but we have to get out of here. The cops will be here any minute, and the last thing I want is to be charged with breaking and entering along with assault and battery.” He was quick to hop onto his bike, turning his body to gently pat the leather seat behind him. “Come on. You remember how to do this, right?” He teased softly, trying to lighten the mood. It was becoming hard not to stare at you. Even bruised and tearstained, you were still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

He thought that he might go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of your face. You wiped at your cheeks roughly with the back of your hand before flashing him a shaky smile, climbing on back and wrapping your arms around him. He tried not to allow himself to get too excited as he felt your cheek press against his shoulder. He tried not to allow himself to hope.

Unbeknownst to Austin, you were currently feeling the exact same way. You didn’t want to allow yourself to get sucked back into the Outlaw lifestyle, but if you thought that it was hard to say goodbye to Austin back then, now it would be soul crushing. No one had ever cared as much about you as Austin did, and seeing the way that he had protected you tonight? It put thoughts in your head. It made you doubt whether or not the life that you had been trying to live was really for you or not. You had tried your hand at being the dotting, innocent girlfriend in the hopes of getting everything you had ever thought that you wanted. A white picket fence, a stable future, and a loving partner that you could settle down with. You wanted to get married and have a family.

You weren’t shocked by how far out into the wildness Austin lived. He was up on a mountain, the roads long and winding. Anybody that didn’t know the twists and turns like the back of their hand would get lost. The biker had always felt most comfortable in nature, and it made sense that he would want to be away from the hustle and bustle of their overpopulated city. Not only that, but it would make it near impossible for anyone that Austin didn’t want to know where he lived to find out.

His house was a humble two story wood cabin with a large porch and dark green shutters. Time and weather had caused the paint to begin to chip off, and the grass and weeds in the front yard were overgrown. The place was still beautiful, but in need of some basic repairs and upkeep. “I’ve been gone for a little while, so it doesn’t look the best.” He mumbled, sticking his house key into the knob before opening the door wide for you. You could feel his eyes on you the entire way up the porch steps. It made your skin heat up and the hair raise on the back of your neck. After being tightly pressed against his back for nearly thirty minutes, you were finding it hard to look at him. You hadn’t allowed yourself to really stare at him since that first time you saw him walking up the stairs to you, because what you had seen, even in the dark, had knocked the breath out of your lungs. He had always been gorgeous, what with his sandy blonde locks and bright blue eyes. His lazy smile had always lit a fire inside of you, and the nervous habit that he had of biting his lips always left them plush and oh so pink.

So as you brushed past him you couldn’t help but look up. You let your eyes soak up the sight of him.

And you instantly regretted it.

Never in all of your life had you ever seen a more beautiful man. His eyes were still that same antique bottle-blue that you loved so much, framed by thick, heavy lashes. Under the light of the porch his hair looked like liquid gold, now wavy and wild from the wind. His gorgeous, boarding on effeminate facial features were a stark contrast to the rest of him. He had filled out over time, his shoulders broad and strong. You could see his muscles even through the black shirt that he wore. His arms looked more than capable, the veins visible after the physical strain of the fight- and they were completely tattooed. There wasn’t an inch of skin that was visible to you that wasn’t covered- aside from his neck and face. Even his knuckles were tattooed, albeit badly bloodied, and suddenly you were overcome with the urge to grab his hands and examine them. You wanted to trace the line of all of his tattoos. Ask him what each one meant to him.

You knew that you were being obvious with your staring, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down. He was wearing light wash jeans on his long legs, the hem of his pants tucked over his bulky black boots. You had wondered what that rattling sound was that you heard when he jumped up onto the porch earlier, but you could now see that he was wearing a chain wallet. After a second he cleared his throat, closing the door behind you. “You’re probably exhausted. Uh. . . Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” He nodded almost to himself, his throat working as he thickly swallowed. “Let me just take a shower, and then I’ll move down to the couch.” He grabbed the banister as he walked up the stairs, his boots thumping loudly against the wood.

The spell hadn’t been broken, but you took a second now that he was out of sight to look around the living room. He had a leather couch, a dark brown blanket tossed over the black of it haphazardly. The coffee table had a few beer bottles on it, but other than that the house looked clean. He had always taken good care of his things. Austin was a man of pride, and he liked to keep the things in his life orderly. The cabin was warm and cozy, the polar opposite of the home that he had been raised in. Austin was what some would consider Outlaw royalty, and with the kind of jobs that they took, the money poured in quickly. His childhood home had been a gaudy palace; extravagant walls had been built sky high to help hide the skeletons that had been stuffed into every closet.

This house felt lived in though. This felt less like just a place for him to sleep, and more so a safe haven for him to crawl back to after a long day at work. It made you feel more comfortable as you slowly made your way up the stairs behind him, following him into his bedroom. This room was also clean, aside from the overflowing clothes hamper. His furniture was black and minimalistic, and directly to the side of his king size bed were french doors that led out to a small balcony that overlooked his backyard. “You have a nice house. . . It’s very you.” You complimented, moving over to the bed so that you could awkwardly sit down. He was in the bathroom, riffling around in one of his cabinets before he found what it was that he wanted. He moved back into his bedroom, showing you a small washcloth that he had wet with cold water. “Let me clean you up a little bit.” He mumbled, sitting down next to you on the bed so that he could run the cloth over your cheek. You hissed, flinching back and out of his touch. Your bruised cheek was starting to get more and more sore as the seconds passed, the initial adrenaline finally working it’s way out of your system. He apologized under his breath, reaching out to grab the back of your head so that he could keep you in place. He was gentler this time as he ran the cloth over your face. “That’s going to be a nasty bruise tomorrow, but other than that you look-” He stopped himself for a second, as if he just realized how close he was to you. For a few seconds the two of you just stared at each other, taking in the small changes that time had made to each other’s features. “Aren’t you going to go take a shower?” Your voice sounded small. Unsure. The trauma of the night was beginning to sink in, and even though you wanted to ask him a hundred questions, you knew that a few moments alone in the room would do you some good. You needed to breathe, and maybe cry a little bit. You didn’t want him there for that. You wanted to be able to fall apart in private.

He seemed to get the hint. Austin nodded his head, wordlessly standing up and tossing the wet cloth into the laundry basket. He started to close the bathroom door behind him, but you were quick to call out to him. “Wait!” He paused, whipping his head back as he stared at you expectantly. He was eager to hear what you wanted to say, almost like he was waiting for something in particular. “Can you leave the door open?” You weren’t sure why, but the room almost felt too big, like it might swallow you up if you were left alone. You at least wanted to know that he was just another room away. He looked a little confused for a second, but nodded anyway. He understood that there were things that had happened before he had gotten there. Things that had been said to you that were beginning to weigh heavy. Your bones felt too brittle to carry the burden of them. “Of course.” He left the door open a crack, and you politely turned your head, letting him get undressed without your watchful eyes.

You could hear his clothing hit the floor, one garment at a time. First it was the loud thudding of his boots hitting the checkered tiles, then the soft fluttering of his t-shirt. Ever so slowly you leaned back against the bed, letting your feet dangle uselessly over the side. Your heart began to pound as you heard the zipper of his pants, then the soft jingling of his wallet as he placed it down on the sink counter. “Are you alright?” He finally spoke up. You turned your head then, looking through the doorway of the bathroom. You caught his reflection in the mirror, and he held your gaze. It wasn’t just his arms and hands that were tattooed. Your suspicions had been correct- he was absolutely covered. He let you stare at him, watching you patiently as your eyes moved from one tattoo to the next. He seemed to be a fan of the old american style, all thick black and red lines. He had always been perfect, but now? Your eyes felt like they would start to burn if you stared at him for too long. The sight of him was almost too much.

He felt the same way about you though. He watched the way your hair was spread out around your head, your lips glossy and parted slightly as you thought about how to answer that question. He could feel his pulse in his throat, and the sight of you laid out on his bed? He had to take a step away from the mirror, turning on the showerhead to hide himself away. “I will be. I’m just glad you got there when you did.” Because you were sure that it would have gotten worse. Your ex boyfriend had always been self conscious, and he liked to take it out on you. When you were home just a few minutes late from work, he thought that you were cheating. If you turned your phone over after texting a friend, then you must be talking shit. It was a never ending pattern of pointing fingers, accusations, and brutal screaming matches. You were raised to stand up for yourself though. You refused to allow yourself to be spoken down to or made to feel like a fool. Tonight. . . tonight was the straw that broke the camel's back. You always knew that he could be ruthless with his words, but you never suspected that he would ever hit you. The One Percenters were horrible people, but you’d never seen your father raise a hand to your mother. There’d be occasional bickering and drunken screaming matches, but the next day they would be attached at the hip like nothing ever happened. You just expected that was how things were supposed to be.

This new life that you had insisted on living wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe you had screamed too loud, or maybe you had pushed your boyfriend too far. . . but he hadn’t pulled his punch either. You absentmindedly pressed your finger against your cheek, feeling how hot the bruise was under your touch. You were sure that tomorrow it would be swollen and purple, but for now it was just an angry red.

“Did he do that a lot?” Austin closed the shower curtain behind him as he spoke, ducking his tall frame under the shower head. He closed his eyes tightly, letting the water soak through his hair and warm his face. “Hit you, I mean.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, because it might make him want to turn right back around and finish the job. “No. . . tonight was the first time.” A beat. “And the last.” He nodded his head softly, placing his shoulder against the cool tile. The stark differences in temperature made his skin raise with goosebumps. He knew that tonight wasn’t the night to question you. You had been through enough, but he wanted answers.

He wanted to know why you had to shut him out so completely. There were things that you wanted to know about him too. Things you had been wondering over the years but were never able to ask.

“So you’re the new boss, huh?” He scrubbed at the crusted blood on his hands, chewing on his lower lip as he hesitated. “Yeah.” You filled your cheeks with air, closing your eyes tightly before releasing it with a loud sigh. “Is the Club doing well?” Austin wasn’t sure if you really cared about how they were all doing. You hated it enough to leave, but you were trying to make small talk, so he humored you. “It’s a wreck. I nearly broke Marcus’s neck this afternoon when I saw the state of things.” You hummed, remembering the older man’s laziness. Your father had hated him. “So I guess you’re not doing too hot as the president then.” He let out a quick laugh, the sound echoing in the bathroom. Your lip twitched up into a small smile at the sound of it. It was the first time you had heard him laugh in years. It was a nice sound.

“I was locked up for two years. They know to act right when I’m around. They took advantage of the fact that I wasn’t there to watch over them.” You sat up quickly, looking into the bathroom. The mirror was beginning to fog up, and the shower curtain was drawn shut. “Prison?” You questioned. “Yeah, prison. I set fire to one of Howard’s buildings. Burned up at least a million dollars worth of product. It was originally arsen, but then some of his men started snitching. A couple of other charges were pinned against me. They got dropped though, don’t worry.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a small huff. This was exactly what you didn’t want for him. He was too good for all of this bullshit. Too smart. “Well I’m glad you’re out then.” You weren’t sure what else to say. He could tell by your tone of voice that you weren’t pleased, and he didn’t take too kindly to feeling judged. He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking as he tried to stop himself from saying something. He never did have a filter though.

“You still had my number saved in your phone.” He finally spoke up, his voice huskier than it was just a second ago. You swallowed, licking your lips nervously. This was one of the questions that you didn’t want to answer. You knew exactly where this conversation would go, and you didn’t have the energy for it. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why though?” You heard him suck in a small breath. “No call. No text. Five years is an awfully long time.” You took a second to breathe, taking in the smell of the soap that he was using. It was wafting out from the bathroom, mixing in with the natural pine scent of his home. “I didn’t want to confuse you.” You regretted phrasing it that way. You even went as far as to bite your tongue the second that the words left your lips. It was true though. You didn’t want to confuse him or yourself. You set boundaries. Hard boundaries, and it was painful for the both of you. He let out a humorless laugh, the callous sound making you flinch. You wanted to cover your ears and curl up into a small ball. You hated how cold you were suddenly coming off. This wasn’t how you guys used to act around each other. You were both walking on eggshells. The two of you were acting like strangers, and it physically hurt. Your words tugged at Austin’s heart. Kinda made him want to cry.

“Yeah. . . Yeah. You definitely wouldn’t want to confuse me. You’re right.” He spat the words out like they were poison, pulling the showercurtain to the side so that he could lean his head out. He stared at your blurry reflection in the mirror. “That’s such a half assed response, and you know it. Bull-fucking-shit. You wanted to live some perfect little life, and I didn’t fit the bill, right? I wasn’t good enough, so you cut me out like I never existed at all.” Your jaw dropped and you were quick to stand up and off of the bed. Your heart was beginning to pound again, your adrenaline kicking back up as he raised his voice at you. “I’m not going to accept that response, so you better come up with a better one, Y/n. We grew up together. You tossed me to the side like I was garbage and then only called me when you wanted me to knock a few of your ex’s teeth out.” He pulled the showercurtain shut roughly, the fabric rustling.

You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t want to play into this. You took a few steadying breaths, picking at the skin of your nail with your thumb before speaking up. “I don’t want to do this with you, Austin. Not tonight.” Even though he couldn’t see you, you still threw your hands up in the air. Austin had a temper. You should have known saying something like that would have gotten him riled up.

“No, I’ve waited five years for this conversation. Five. So no, this can’t wait until tomorrow.” You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to keep your own anger under control. “Can’t you be a little bit more sensitive to the situation? Jesus christ, Aus. Tonight isn’t the night. Leave it!” He laughed then. Loud, uncontrolled laughter. The kind with absolutely no humor behind it. All emotions. “You’re crazy. . .” You mumbled under your breath, taking a step closer to the bathroom.

“Yes! Yes I am.” He was quick to snap back, supposedly hearing you even over the running water. “Crazy for thinking that you actually cared about me. I gave you the space that you so desperately wanted. . . but god dammit- I would have taken anything you had given me. You could have texted me. Emailed me. You could have called me from a payphone. Send me a mother fucking smoke signal! Scraps. You’ve got me begging for scraps, Y/n.” He was acting as though the two of you had been something more than just childhood friends. Nonetheless, your stomach still churned with guilt. You were beginning to feel like a wounded animal being backed into a corner. You were in the wrong. You knew that you were, but you weren’t going to be made to feel like an asshole twice in one night.

“Well fuck me for wanting a fresh start, Austin. Fuck me for wanting to feel safe for once in my god damn life! I knew what would happen eventually. I didn’t want to get myself mixed up in this fucked up lifestyle any more than I already was.”Could he really not see where you were coming from? He was talking about setting fire to a drug lord’s storage building like it was nothing. How could he not see how messed up this all was? “You knew what would happen? Meaning. . . you knew how I would turn out. Am I getting that right? You just knew I’d turn out like my father, so instead of mentioning it to me and giving me the chance to talk to you, you just disappeared. Yeah, cause that’s a normal response.” Your jaw dropped. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Are you really trying to tell me what a normal response is? Seriously?” He scoffed, but you continued. “You kill people, Austin. Kill them.”

He didn’t respond, but you kept going. “What you just said? It's a moot point. You turned out just like your father.” He was the one that had brought it up, so he didn’t really have a reason to be so angry. He still ripped the shower curtain back open though, sticking his whole torso out so that he could stare at you through the crack in the door. “Don’t you dare fucking say that shit to me. Don’t even try it.” His voice shook as he tried to keep himself from shouting. “You have no idea what plans I had for my life. You know I didn’t want to do this shit. You knew I wanted to try and get out too. It might have been easy for you, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have been that way for me.” Austin had always talked a big game while growing up, but he never acted on it. Was it so wrong that you never took him seriously?

“I thought that you were just blowing smoke up my ass.” You were torn. Seeing him again was nice. . . too nice. It made you want to stay and suffer through whatever aggression he had saved up for you. This was getting to be too much though. You didn’t have a way of escaping, and your boyfriend had broken your phone after he saw that you were talking to Austin. You ran a shaky hand through your hair, feeling your eyes well up with unshed tears. “I fucked up, okay? I did you wrong, I know. Can you not see why I did all of it though? Can you not see where I’m coming from, even just a little bit?” You kept your voice quiet and even, and it seemed to work. You could hear Austin taking steadying breaths. You knew that he cared about you- maybe even in a romantic way- but you had no idea that it was to this extent. You loved Austin. You had ever since you were kids, but you saw what kind of a person his father was. You didn’t want to put yourself in that situation. You didn’t want to end up like your mother, yet here you were, standing in his bathroom with a bruised cheek and an even more damaged ego.

“I would have gotten out with you. I would have found some way to hide the both of us. Burner phones, hideaway houses- anything. Fuck. . . anything.” He had probably stopped bathing a while ago. He was using the shower as an excuse to hide himself away from you. If he looked at you he was sure that he would break down. Get too vulnerable. The anger was steadily burning away, like alcohol to a flame, and all that was left was a crippling sadness. He leaned his forehead against the tile, closing his eyes tightly. You both knew where this was going, and neither of you were ready for it. It had to be said though. It couldn’t wait anymore.

You had to lean against the bathroom doorway, your legs feeling too shaky and unstable underneath you. “But now you’re in too deep.” Your voice was thick with unshed tears, the realization of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Because Austin loved you. And you loved Austin. He was caught in a trap, and there was no getting out. “I’m branded for life. I-I’ve done so much shit, Y/n.” He was trying hard not to cry. He hated crying more than anything, even if it was you that he was doing it in front of. He refused to appear weak.

You didn’t want to know how many people he had hurt over the years. How many people he had killed. “There’s no way you would have meant it, Austin. You would have eventually regretted it. I did what I had to-” “I loved you. I really fucking loved you.”

The words hung in the air for a second. Echoed around the bathroom and reverberated in your chest. There it was. The words the two of you had never had to say out loud because it had been crystal clear your whole lives. No matter who the two of you dated, it was always there. It was the reason why nothing ever worked out. Nothing ever stuck, and feelings never evolved. Because he was always there with that wide childlike smile and those big blue eyes. Austin was always there to save the day, always there to help you out when you needed him the most. He had never complained either. Not even once. No one could ever replace him. He had always been the love of your life, and for him it was the same. “I wouldn’t have left you. Not ever. I wanted a life with you. . . were you really that blind? Was I not as obvious as I always thought that I was? Do you need me to spell it out for you now?” You stumbled away from the door and into the bathroom, reaching out for the showercurtain and gripping it hard in your hand. “I would have risked my life trying to get the both of us-” You ripped the showercurtain back in one swift move, staring at him wide eyed.

He didn’t shy away from your gaze either. He turned to face you, his sandy hair clinging to his cheeks and neck as he looked at you. Despite all of the anger and all of the sadness that was settling into the pit of his stomach, his eyes still softened when he looked at you. It was almost as though you two were seeing each other for the first time that night. Really seeing each other. Austin looked at you like you were the only thing that really mattered. Like you’d hung the fucking moon. No one except for Austin had ever looked at you with eyes so sad and yet so lovely. You didn’t just hear the words that he had said, but you had felt them too. It sent your heart into overdrive.

You stepped into the shower, clothes and all, and wrapped your arms around him tight. You had done twenty seven years of waiting.

No more.

You pressed your lips against Austin’s, and the second that you did he had you pinned up against the tile wall, the cold ceramic pressing hard against your back while the water relentlessly streamed down your front. You were soaked within seconds, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of his warm, naked body pressed up against you. Your lips moved against one another’s in a furious display of passion- all teeth and tongues. The two of you kissed as though you had been doing it for years- everything fell right into place. His soft lips moved in sync with yours, warm water pouring into your open mouths, but you swallowed it all. You wanted to take everything that he was willing to give you. His strong hands grabbed at your hips, fingers pulling against your wet clothes that were acting like a second skin. He pressed even harder against you, breathing you in.

You took the opportunity to move your hands down his strong shoulders, to the muscles of his back, fingertips dragging against his skin as he softly took your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. The noise you made spurred him on. He wondered how he could have survived so long without having you this way.

He felt that if you ever stopped kissing him that he might die. He needed you like he needed air. Your hands explored his exposed skin, fingertips pressing against every ridge and sharp edge of his muscle. They made their way down until they were pinned in between your chests, slowly inching inching inching- “Please.” He gasped into your open mouth, blue eyes opening to look into your own. He wasn’t above begging you. Wasn’t above falling to his knees if it meant that he could have you. Your fingers brushed against his length, thumb sliding along his head. It felt like the air had been punched out of him. The feeling of your small hand wrapped around his cock was almost too much. Because it was you.

You were touching him. You were touching him.

You pumped your hand a few times, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He melted against you, leaning his shoulder against the wall as he pressed his forehead into the top of your head, nuzzling his nose into your wet hair. “Let me fuck you. God, let me fuck you.” His muscles shook as he tried to hold himself back. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard that he saw stars behind his eyelids. He wasn’t used to steering off his own urges. He was used to acting out on his anger. Acting out on all that hate that had turned him surly over the years. He felt you nod, and in a second he was fumbling to turn the water off. In the blink of an eye he had your legs wrapped around his waist, the two of you dripping water. He didn’t care. Not at all, because he had you laid back against the bed before you could even object. His eager hands were ripping at your wet clothes, peeling them off of you as quickly as his shaky hands would let him. His chest was already rising and falling at a rapid pace, eyes half lidded, lips a bright pink from your constant lip-locking. You let your eyes dip down, and god you nearly came just at the sight of him. You pushed your wet hair out of your eyes, arching your back as you tried to help him remove your pants. His eyes were darting across your body, trying to look everywhere- memorize every inch of you. “You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful.” He assured you as he slipped your pants down your legs, tossing them into a soggy heap on the floor.

You wanted to tell him to just go ahead and take you. You needed his cock inside of you.

You didn’t care about the foreplay. You just needed to feel him. You couldn’t think of anything else aside from him. Your mind was like a broken record. Because the sheer size of him alone was bringing you to near tears, but it was the desperation in his eyes that was your undoing. It was the way his strong, large hands shook as they danced over your body. They grabbed your hips, ran across your heaving stomach as you gulped back deep breaths, and squeezed your breasts tight. You couldn’t find the words to tell him that you wanted him to go ahead and make love to you. Couldn’t shape the syllables. Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth, and your throat felt like it was closing up.

He gave your lips a warm kiss, trailing them down your chin and along the front of your throat. He paused there, feeling your pounding pulse against his mouth, letting his tongue lap against the wet skin. The sensation of his lips against you had you tilting your head back, your thighs pressing against his length. The both of you moaned at the same, his deep voice vibrating against your throat. His hands moved down your body, sliding easily along your soaked skin. He stopped once he found what he was looking for- and good god you thought your heart was going to stop. Austin pressed his fingers against your folds, feeling your slick, feeling everything. “Ah, fuck.”

Everything about you was beautiful. Your body, your expressions, and the little noises he seemed to be effortlessly pulling out of you. The feel of you wasn’t enough though- he couldn’t survive off of that alone. He needed to taste you. He slid down your body removing his hands so that he could place them at your thighs, pulling them apart so that he could get a good look at you. You raised up on your elbows, watching him with half lidded eyes as he just laid there on his stomach and stared. If this had been anyone else you would have been self conscious, but you saw the look in his eyes. Saw the way his tongue darted out and licked his lips. “This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” He was in complete awe of you. He knew that if he ever got lucky enough to see you laid bare in front of him like this, that you would be beautiful, but this? It was too much. You were too much. Even if this was just a one time thing for you, there couldn’t be anyone again for him. Not after this. You had ruined him. Completely.

You had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart, and he was alright with that.

He separated your folds with his fingers, really drinking you all in before he finally pressed his lips against you. You were quick to cry out, back arching up and off of the bed as your hand flew down, gripping at his wet hair. He set a devastating pace, his tongue flattening out as he licked along your clit, two fingers moving up to slip inside of your entrance. His fingers immediately curled inside of you, pressing against all of the right places. You were glad that he didn’t have any neighbors, because you screamed. How long had it been since someone had taken the time to pleasure you? Too long. Your thighs tried to close, the pleasure becoming too much. It was building too quickly- and you didn’t want to cum yet.

“Stop. Stop- please.” He didn’t stop though. His eyes flew open, watching you as he felt your walls begin to flutter. He wanted to watch you come undone. “I want to cum on your cock- please.” That made him pause. You tightened around his fingers as he slowly pulled his face away from your core, his needy eyes pinning you down. “You asked so nicely,” He slowly pulled his fingers out, crawling back over you like a wild animal. His gaze was too heated. You had to turn your head to the side and shut your eyes tight. “Please, Austin.” He purred. Purred.

“Such a good girl,” He pressed his fingers against your lips- the ones that had been inside of you- and you opened your mouth. He pressed his fingers against your tongue, watching you hungrily as you sucked them clean. “So perfect.” He mumbled. You couldn’t take it. You’d never felt so needy in your life. Your quivering thighs moved to wrap around his middle, positioning him at your entrance yourself. That was the final push that he needed.

“Fuck! Austin!” You screamed as he thrust into you. Every. Inch. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel anything else but him. He was the only thing that existed. Your eyes shut tight, but the hand that wasn’t holding himself up quickly moved to your face, grabbing your chin in his hand tightly. “Eyes open.” And you obeyed. You hated authority. You always fought against it, but there was just something about him. You couldn’t deny him.

His hips snapped against you at a pace that you didn’t think was possible. He fucked you like he was hoping your bones would meld. Like he could somehow absorb into your body. He was inside inside inside. Pressing against every part of you. He continued to hold your face in his hand, his grip tightening as he let out a growl of pleasure. His eyes fluttered, mouth dropping open as he pressed you into the bed. It had been years since he had been with a woman, and even if he hadn’t the pleasure would still have been too much for him. Because you were his woman.

His one.

He raised up on his knees, reaching down to grab your hip so that he could take you with him. The angle. The angle. He was fucking you so deep that it hurt. Brought tears to your eyes. But it was good. Too good. His other hand reached out, grabbing the headboard for leverage, his torso leaning over you as his hips continued their near impossible pace. “Oh fuck.” He wished he could have taken a picture of your face, but he settled with storing it deep into his memory. He wanted to relive this moment. Again and again. His cock twitched inside of you, you bliss stricken expression almost too much. He didn’t want to cum. He wasn’t done yet. His hold on the bed frame tightened, and you let out a yelp as you heard the wood crack behind you. He hissed, clenching his teeth in pain as he felt the splintered wood dig into his palm.

You turned your head just in time to see a few drops of blood soak into the sheets, dripping off of his hand. Your eyes widened, and you were quick to turn your head. You were going to ask him if he was okay, but the second you saw the look on his face you knew that he was more than okay. The pain kept his orgasm at bay- snapped him out of it. He tightened his hold on the splintered wood, the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. After a second he put all of his wait on his knees, fucking up into you so that he could remove his hand. He took a second to look down at the deep gashes, licking his lips before his eyes found you again. He could have needed stitches- he didn’t care. He dropped his injured palm down to your neck, wrapping his fingers around your throat. You could feel the hot blood smear against your skin, and you weren’t sure why- but never in your life had you ever experienced anything quite so sensual. So personal.

Because he was marking you.

He added pressure to his hold on your throat, cutting off airflow. You reached up, clawing at his arms and his chest, mouth opening as you let out a strangled cry. You were cumming. You could feel it.

He could too. It pushed him to fuck into you harder, his large palm still pressed against your throat, two of his fingers moving up to pull at your bottom lip. He hooked his fingers into your mouth, pulling it open for him- and then he spit. Spit.

You swallowed it too.

Then you came undone. Eyes rolled back, head pressed hard against the mattress, and thighs quivering. He pulled an orgasm out of you so earth shattering that you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to breathe, even if he wasn’t still choking you. Your walls clamped down around him, and that was all it took to have him following close behind. He came with your name on his lips. Again and again he said it, driving his cum deep deep deep inside of you. He loosened his hold on your throat, and you sucked in a breath, choking on it. Your chest heaved as you tried to regulate your heart, and he was in a sad state as well. He was gulping down air, blue eyes wide, his arms shaking as he loosened his hold on you.

Slowly he pulled out, looking down as he watched with grave interest as his cum began leaking out of your entrance. He moved his hand down, using his fingers to gather it up. Pushing it back in. For a few seconds the two of you just stayed there, staring at each other, trying hard to calm yourselves down. “L-Let me get a towel.” He could barely speak. His mouth felt numb and his eyes felt wet. “No,” You shook your head, licking your dry lips. You shut your eyes for a second, listening to the pounding of your heart and his panting breaths. “Leave it.”

“Okay. . .” He trailed off, and you opened your eyes just in time to see the realization dawn on him. “Okay.” His eyes softened, his lips twitching up into a small smile. You wanted him. All of him. It was acceptance, no matter how vague. You wanted this. You loved him. You loved him so much it felt like you might burst, your ribs aching under the pressure of it all. You were fucked. This life- no matter how messed up you thought it was- you could make it work. You would make it work, because it was Austin.

Your Austin.

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