#but he always acts like he deserves more than me
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EVEN IF IT TAKES FOREVER
A/N: aaaah im so excited for yall to read this!!! im kinda ashamed to admit this whole idea came from something i heard in an ep of milf manor but lets just move past that lol
WORD COUNT: 9k
WARNING: sexual content, toxic and verbally abusive relationship, cheating (not from Harry or Y/N)
SUMMARY: Harry Styles is used to get any woman he wants, everyone knows that. But when his interest shifts towards you, everything changes and he is ready to wait for you for as long as it takes, even when he finds out you're engaged to your asshole boyfriend. Not even that ring on your finger stops him from pining after you.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
You don’t have to look up from the drink you’re making to know who just walked into the bar. It’s like the atmosphere of the whole place shifts instantly whenever Harry Styles appears, a sixth sense always triggers a siren in your head before your eyes could spot him crossing the space between the entrance and the bar.
You’d be lying if you said you felt no excitement every time he shows up, the way your heart starts hammering in your chest is a great tell that he is anything but neutral to you, but you’ve been trying your absolute best to keep yourself under control. For one, he is known to be a flirt. Every woman in town knows that Harry loves three things, attention, pretty women and the combination of the previous two. You’ve seen him around with different partners every time, but never with the same twice. You heard the stories, the gossips and the whispers, how he shakes every woman’s world and then leaves, never giving the chance for anyone to even try to tie him down. This is not what you want or deserve.
And for two… You’re taken. Engaged, to be precise.
When you spot Harry you instantly hide your hand behind your back, hoping the diamond ring won’t catch his eyes, because you know he would flip.
Apparently, his latest fixation has been none other than you. He came into the bar about two months ago for the first time. He sat by the bar and clearly tried to flirt with you all evening, ignoring all the women who were brave enough to go up to him. He remained focused on you and as the evening carried on he became more and more blunt about his intentions with you.
“So, are you coming home with me?” he asked when you walked out at the end of your shift. He was waiting by the back, leaning against his motorcycle. You were never blind, you saw how attractive he was then and you still see it now, but you just shook your head no.
“I’m taken.”
“You got a boyfriend?” He arched an eyebrow and you nodded. You expected him to give up, but instead, a devilish smirk took over his expression. “It’ll be even sweeter when I win you over, Angel.”
You were taken aback by his confidence and you were surprised when he showed up the next day, but got used to his presence quite fast.
It became a sort of usual, have him walk in not long after your shift starts, he sits by the bar so he can talk to you, he drinks one or two beers and then asks if he could take you home once you’re done. You decline and then it starts all over again.
An unexpected feature of his never dying attempts is that you’ve actually got to know each other during those long hours when he sat by the bar and entertained you while you worked and when he drops the cheeky act he is actually someone not just bearable but rather pleasant. You’d never admit it to him, but you kind of think of him as a friend, you’ve shared some things with him about yourself not many know.
Like how you found out your boyfriend cheated on you.
“You look stunning, as always, Angel,” he greets you as he takes his usual spot and you’re already pouring his drink.
“And you’re being flirty, as always,” you give him a knowing look, but he just smirks. You give him his beer and then move over to another man by the bar.
When you return you notice the change in him and you know he saw the ring. As if you could still hide it from him, you cover it with your other hand, even though you did nothing wrong.
“What’s that?” he asks, though it’s obvious he knows it’s an engagement ring.
“Harry…”
“He proposed to you?” he asks, eyes snapping up to meet your gaze.
“Yes, he did.”
“And you said yes?” He is clearly growing angrier by the second and you worry, because he tends to lose his temper easily. You don’t think he would ever hurt you, but he might take his anger out on something or someone else.
“Yes, that’s why I’m wearing the ring,” you say and try to keep yourself busy, moving the clean glasses in front of you around.
“Y/N what the fuck?! You can’t be fucking serious.”
“I am and it’s none of your business,” you snap at him.
“The guy cheated on you!”
“Would you stop airing my private life for everyone?” you hiss at him, looking around to see if anyone has heard him.
“Then explain to me how you are so stupid that you want to marry a man who doesn’t love you?!”
You’ve had enough. Checking if there is anyone waiting to be served you find no one so you walk out from behind the bar and grab Harry’s wrist, pulling him out through the back door to the empty parking lot behind the building.
“Who do you think you are? You have no right to talk about me or my relationship like that!”
“Y/N, you are making a huge fucking mistake!”
“A mistake would be trusting someone about dating who has never stayed with a woman for longer than a couple of hours! What the fuck do you know about love or marriage when you can’t even stay until the morning when you fuck someone?”
It might be petty, bringing up his reputation against him just to invalidate his words, but he brought the worst out of you.
“Because I don’t fucking lie to women about what I want! Your man lied right into your face and then only admitted to cheating when he was busted. You think he wouldn’t do it again? You think he is not doing it now? Cheaters don’t change, Y/N. He doesn’t fucking deserve you.”
“And you do?” you snap at him as your anger takes over your body. Maybe it’s because he brought up what Jeremy did or maybe it’s because he is lecturing you about something he has no right to stick his nose into. “Let me guess, I should ditch Jeremy and run to you? We fuck, have one great night and then leave me like you leave everyone, is that what I should go for? Is that what I deserve?”
He seems to be at a loss of words and that’s new. He probably wasn’t expecting you to call him out so explicitly, but it’s been building up for a while.
“Do me a favor and stop trying to orchestrate my life. I’m more than capable of making my own decisions. Go and chat up another woman, fuck her so you stop trying to stick your dick inside me.”
You walk past him and straight inside, your rage doesn’t die down for a couple of long minutes. You take a few orders and then slowly get back to the workflow and manage to forget about Harry for a bit. When you glance towards his spot you see that his beer is still there, but he never returned. For a second you get uncertain, have you gone too far?
No. He deserved it and everything you said was valid. It’s not your fault he can’t take the truth.
Two days pass by and you see no trace of Harry. You find yourself looking at his usual seat from time to time and you mistake a few tall brunette guys with him, but he never actually shows up. You tell yourself you should be happy he is out of your hair, but somewhere deep inside you there’s still some disappointment that you try to push down every time it threatens to bubble up.
Sunday comes and it doesn’t start off the best. Jeremy is in a mood all morning and he just practically picks a fight over anything you do. It’s whether what you cook, where you put the scissors or how you forget to lock the backdoor, he overreacts everything and by the time you’re leaving for work you’re a mess from all the fighting you’ve had.
Being away from him is actually a bit of a relief, but your peace only lasts until he starts texting you and somehow you end up fighting again, this time about the outfit you wore to work. A simple black skirt with a white t-shirt, you’ve worn this before and he didn’t even notice, but today it seems like the skirt is too short for his taste and the shirt is too see-through.
JEREMY: Enjoy the attention of every fucking men in the bar.
JEREMY: Congrats on being a slut.
You’re angry at him, but you’re also too tired to run around in circles. When he sets his mind on something nothing can change it, so there’s no use trying to convince him you’re not doing it to get other men’s attention.
You put your phone aside and ignore it for a while, but apparently, that wasn’t the right decision. Because the next time you check it you see a bunch of missed calls from Jeremy and another thread of texts.
JEREMY: Answer the fucking phone Y/N.
JEREMY: Are you fucking someone in the toilet?
JEREMY: If I find out you fucked someone you’re dead I swear.
There’s only twenty minutes left until closing and the bar is almost entirely empty, so you step out to the back and call him.
“Are you done fucking?” That’s what he says when he finally picks up.
“Are you done being an asshole? I’m not fucking anyone!”
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! I know you’re sucking dicks for tips, don’t even try to lie to my fucking face!”
He is vivid, shouting on the other end of the line and it’s making your head throb. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with his unreasonable jealousy right now. All you want to do is go to sleep, but you know if you go home you’ll just continue from here.
“I’m not lying, you’re delusional!”
“Stop with the fucking lies! Don’t fucking come home until you can’t admit the shit you’re doing! I will not have a woman lie into my face!”
“What the hell are you talking about? You can’t tell me not to go home, that’s my place too!”
“I’m sure you can find a place to sleep if you suck another dick.”
And with that the call ends. You’re staring at the screen in disbelief for several moments before the tears start rolling down your face. You lean against the brick wall and slide down as you let the sobs bubble from your throat. You try to call him again, but it doesn’t even ring.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper to yourself as you bury your face in your hands.
You always kept telling yourself Jeremy has a temper and that he doesn’t mean it when he says these nasty things, but every time it happens again it gets harder and harder to believe that you could put up with it. You get that it roots in his jealousy, but he shouldn’t act like this with you, you know it’s not normal and yet… you still haven’t been able to do anything against it.
You’re so buried under your pain that you don’t even notice the motorcycle that rolls into the parking lot and stops just a couple of feet away from you. Harry’s voice is what snaps you out of your spiral.
“Y/N? What are you doin–Hey, what happened?”
He rushes over and kneels in front of you, one hand on your back as the other lifts your head by your chin.
“I’m fine,” you breathe out, as if he couldn’t see your tear soaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
“No, you’re not. What happened? Did someone hurt you?” Seemingly he is trying to find wounds on you, but you shake your head.
“It’s just… I-I don’t…” You can’t get the words out, it’s like your mind is blocked.
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
He helps you up and you don’t protest when his arms curl around you and he keeps you close to his chest as he walks you inside. He pulls you to the stool he usually takes and makes you sit before walking behind the bar and pouring you a glass of water.
“I need to close,” you croak and try to get off the stool, but he stops you.
“I’ll take care of it.”
You faintly hear him making the last few people in the bar leave and then the lock turns on the door before he returns and sits beside you.
“Now tell me what happened.”
“I don’t want to talk,” you breathe out as you close your eyes. When you open them again, Harry is still there looking at you patiently.
Then he stands and walks back behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of tequila from the shelf along with two shot glasses.
“Alright. Then let’s drink the pain away.” He pours the liquor into the glasses and then pushes one over to you, holding up the other one. For a second you just blink at him, a warning going off somewhere in the back of your head, but you’re quick to turn it off.
Drinking the pain away actually sounds nice right now, since you can’t go home until Jeremy is having his episode.
So you finally take the shot and you catch a tiny smile from Harry before you both chug down the alcohol. And soon more follows, at least on your side.
About thirty minutes and three more shots later you’re definitely drunk. But at least you stopped crying and can actually laugh now, practically on anything Harry says.
“Oh my God, stop!” you cackle, slapping your hand onto the bartop.
“No, I swear! I climbed out the window and fell straight into the jacuzzi!”
“Did her father see you?”
“No, I would be dead by now if he did?” he chuckles.
“I can’t believe you were such a playboy even as a teenager!” you keep laughing.
“What, are you surprised?” he cheekily asks.
“Honestly, not that much,” you snort and reach for the tequila bottle, but Harry pulls it away from you. “Hey!”
“Maybe let’s slow down a bit, yeah?” You pout at him, but he just grabs a normal glass from behind the bar, fills it with water and hands it over to you instead.
“What, you’re not up for a bit of fun?” you grin into the glass, but take a few sips anyway. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I do want to have fun with you, Y/N. But I’m also concerned at how fast you downed those shots,” he admits smirking.
“Ah, how sweet of you, as if you don’t just want to take me to bed,” you scoff, but you didn’t mean it in a bitter way this time, like before. “Isn’t it tiring?”
“What is?”
“Ah, don’t make me say it!”
“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about, Angel.”
“Angel!” you groan and then let out a sigh. “Aren’t you tired of running after me? I mean, you’re used to getting your way with women. Honestly, I thought you’d stop by now.”
Harry just stares back at you and it gets intimidating, especially when a smirk curls the corners of his mouth up. Your cheeks already feel quite hot, but now they are burning. You always hated how bothered he could get you despite all your effort to reject him in every possible way.
Just when you think he’d ignore what you said forever, he finally speaks up.
“Would you believe me if I said it’s because you’re different?”
“Oh no, don’t give me this bullshit!” you scoff and then just laugh it off. You change position on the stool and try to cover up just how much his words affect you.
Because it might have been the corniest thing you’ve heard from him, but you’re also just a girl who’s a hopeless romantic and this is exactly the stuff that can turn you into a giggly mess in a heartbeat.
“Why is it your first instinct that I’m just bullshitting you, Y/N?” he asks, but he is not at all accusing, more like curious. You purse your lip, but decide not to say anything, just sip on your water. Harry walks out from behind the bar and takes the stool next to yours. “I think you don’t know your real worth, Y/N.”
“And you do?” you roll your eyes at him teasingly.
“I would love to, but as long as you don’t let me get closer to you, I can only work with what I see. I know you probably think I’m just lying to get into your pants, but if there’s one thing you should know about me is that I’m always telling the truth. I’d been lied to before, many times and I know what it does to you, so I would never do the same to you or anyone.”
“Is this your way of buttering me up?” you smirk, but narrow your eyes at him. Your wording makes him laugh.
“Of course.”
“Ah, you are so smooth, I hate that about you! And I hate how handsome you are.”
Oops. That’s definitely the alcohol talking, you’d have never admitted that to him sober. You catch the surprised smirk on his face and you immediately regret opening your mouth.
“So you think I’m handsome, huh?”
“Oh shut up! I can see your head getting big!” You point at him, but he grabs your hand in the air and tugs at you gently, just enough to make you hop off your stool and fall towards him. He catches you by the waist as you end up between his legs, your hands end up on his chest as you try to find your balance.
“I would love to hear you say how handsome you find me, but just know, that you’re playing with my self restraint.”
Even despite the shots, you can feel the switch, your breathing becomes shallow and you make the mistake of letting your eyes move down to his lips for a moment. His fingers dig into your waist and though you know you should move your hands, you love how you can feel his warmth under your palms.
“Do you want to tell me what happened earlier? Why were you crying?”
“Jeremy,” you say in a whisper.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Just… with his words.”
“That’s still not okay, don’t downplay it. What did he say?”
A small voice in you is telling you not to tell him more, but his undivided attention and care towards you feels so good, it’s something you haven’t experienced in a while. Jeremy is different, he is not the soft type and though you’ve been telling yourself it’s fine, you can’t deny how much you’ve been craving this kind of connection with someone.
“He accused me of cheating, that I… I suck people off for money.”
Harry’s hands stiffen on your waist, but he stays silent and gives you the chance to talk. You can feel your throat closing up again and your instinct is to close up, but you want to take this weight off your chest in any way possible, so you don’t hold yourself back.
“It wasn’t the first time he flipped, sometimes he just… loses his mind and takes his frustration out, often on me.”
“Has he ever hit you?” Harry asks in a somewhat cool tone, but you can tell he is holding a lot back.
“No,” you shake your head. “But his words… He called me a slut tonight.”
Harry exhales sharply and you see his jaw jumping. Your reasonable self is pounding down the door of the room you shut it into, but you blatantly ignore it as you push closer to him. It’s your first time being this close to him physically and you want to hate it, you really do, but truth is you feel yourself being pulled towards him and you’re just too tired and weak to fight it.
When one of his hands moves to cup your cheek you’re ready to give in. You part your lips and give him an unmistakable look and you expect him to take advantage of the moment, but he surprises you by turning his head to the side with a heavy sigh.
“Is it not what you want?” you ask quietly, trying your best to ignore just how rejected you’re feeling all of a sudden.
“You know it is,” he replies, turning back to face you. “I want you more than anything.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
He shakes his head and your stomach sinks. You try to pull away, but he keeps you caged against him.
“Hey, look at me.” His hand captures your chin to make you look at him, but you keep your gaze away from him. “Y/N, look at me,” he pleads again and you give in at last.
His thumb slowly runs across your bottom lip, making it tremble from the intimacy of his touch.
“This is all I’ve wanted since I first saw you and it’s taking everything in me not to take it. But I know you and I know that you would regret it. I would never put you in a situation that could hurt you.”
You hate how right he is, how well he knows you.
“So considerate, respecting the… bro code and everything,” you huff, hoping to break this weird mood that’s lingering around the two of you now. Harry’s head falls back as he laughs. Then he grabs your hand that has your engagement ring on and with a confident move he takes it off, throwing it over his shoulder and you just watch with your mouth hanging open.
“I give zero fucks about the bro code, especially if it’s about that asshole you call your fiancé.”
“Did you just–”
“What I do care about is,” he continues, “you. And how you feel.”
Your mind is racing but also blank at the same time. You just stare back at him, eyes drooping as the alcohol is starting to wear you out.
“So what, you’re just gonna wait around, hoping I will wake up one day and leave Jeremy for you?” you ask jokingly, but his answer comes in a serious manner.
“Exactly.”
There are a couple of seconds when the two of you are just staring back at each other and you swear you can see the universe in his green eyes, the past, the present and a future together and as much as it scares you, it also starts a fire somewhere deep in your chest.
“Can you–um, can you give me a ride to my sister’s place?” Clearing your throat you pull away and this time he lets you.
“Sure.”
You sit on his motorcycle behind him, arms wrapped around his torso tight as you watch the night lights pass by, blinking lazily, his scent filling your nose every time you press your cheek against his back. When he stops in front of your sister’s apartment’s building you almost ask him to just drive for a bit more, but you force yourself to let go of him and climb off the motorcycle.
“Thanks for… everything, I guess,” you awkwardly say while he is still sitting on the bike.
“Take an Advil before you go to bed.”
“Okay, stop babying me,” you laugh and he finally breaks into a smirk. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
It’s a simple question, but the obvious hidden question is right there, out in the open. It’s your way of asking if he’ll be returning to the bar despite the fight you had a few days ago.
“Of course. Keep my seat open.”
Nodding you’re about to turn around and walk inside, but he calls after you.
“Y/N?” You look over your shoulder, waiting for him to continue. He opens his mouth, then closes before actually speaking up. “You don’t have to believe that my interest in you is genuine. I will gladly prove it to you any way possible, but… Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.”
You have no idea what to say so you just nod and then keep walking until you’re inside the building, but you stay leaning against the door until you hear his motorcycle roar up and fade into the night.
You’d love to say that after the night with Harry at the bar everything changed, but that’s not true. The next day you went back home, Jeremy calmed down by then, you had a fight nonetheless, which ended up with some makeup sex, but your head was somewhere else.
Or with somebody else.
Then it all went back to the same usual. Harry was there at the bar the next time you were working and luckily he didn’t bring up anything that happened that night. Not what you said about Jeremy, not that you practically admitted being attracted to him and not that you gave him the green light which he rejected. It’s all locked up in a box and put aside.
However you can feel a slight change in yourself. Harry’s words did stick with you and have been on repeat ever since.
Maybe you should look at Jeremy with the same criticism as well.
You and Jeremy have been together for over three years and moved in together a year ago. You can’t really remember a time you haven’t been with him. You do know that he is not perfect and the shit he pulls sometimes…
You’ve thought of leaving him before. It did occur to you that maybe you’d be better off without him when he flipped in the past and turned crazy out of the blue. But every time it happened, he went back to his sweet old self, the one you fell in love with.
But are you still in love with him?
One day, about a week later Harry waltzes into the bar, but he is not looking his usual, confident self.
“Okay, hear me out before you say no,” he starts as he takes his spot while you’re drying off some glasses. “I know you might find it hard to believe, but I have friends.”
“We are off to a great start,” you chuckle.
“My best mate, Mitch, he lives two hours away so we don’t meet that often, but he is in town this weekend.”
“Good for him,” you smile, curious about what will come out of it.
“And we were talking about what we should do and all that and I made a mistake. He suggested this club we could check out and said we should meet there at nine but I asked him to make it ten thirty, because on thursdays you finish work at ten.”
Your hand stops mid-motion and you put the glass down, giving him a curious look as you tilt your head to the side.
“Obviously he wanted to know who you were and I swear I told him we have nothing going on, but he is just so stubborn, he didn’t let it go until I promised I would ask if you wanted to come with us. So here I am, I asked, you can just ignore it and tell me to fuck off. I know you probably wouldn’t want to spend the night in a random club with me and my friend and his wife, so if you just–”
“I’ll go with you.”
Your reply surprises him the most of course, but yourself as well, though you don’t let it show. You spoke before you could think it through and not that it was said out loud and you can’t take it back… You don’t really mind it at all, to be honest.
“Are you trying to mess with me right now?” he asks, leaning closer, examining you with a narrow-eyed look.
“No. I haven’t gone out in forever actually, so I would love to.”
He stares back at you for a long moment, looking for any sign that might tell him you’re just joking, but when he sees none, he decides it’s better to just accept it.
“Okay. Okay, then… I’ll, umm… I’ll pick you up after work?”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” you say after him, feeling entertained that you could surprise the always so confident Harry Styles. “So tell me about this friend of yours. Is he hotter than you?”
His expression changes in an instant, the cockiness returns and there is the man you know and…
“He wishes,” Harry laughs. “I met him through work.”
The apartment is silent when you arrive home that night. Jeremy is working the night shift so you have the place for yourself until he comes home at around four in the morning. The bed is unmade in the bedroom, the plates he used during the day are in the sink and the hamper is full of his clothes. It’s all waiting for you to get everything done even though you work just as much as he does. It wasn’t always like this, you remember the honeymoon phase when he would cook for you and then clean up after, when he would bring you flowers for no particular reason.
When he would actually act like someone who loves you.
With a heavy sigh you get to work even though you just finished. When the dishes are done and the washing machine is loaded you finally sink into the couch and just sit in silence for a bit. Right until a buzzing sound interrupts your peace. Only then you notice that Jeremy left his phone on the coffee table.
Grabbing it you check the screen and see that one of his buddies is calling. The name flashes and you wait for it to stop. When he does, you just keep holding the phone, staring at your own reflection in the black screen.
Jeremy never lets his phone out of his hands, he takes it with him into the bathroom and he is always on it. Tapping on the screen the device comes to life and asks for a password. He never felt comfortable using face ID or his finger print, so he only uses a password to lock it. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve seen him type it out so many times that you actually figured out what it is.
No, it’s not your name or the date you met. It’s his favorite line of his favorite movie.
I am Ironman.
Before you could think twice, you type it in, no space, capital I in Ironman and then the phone unlocks. A rush of excitement washes over you as you open the messages in an instant and start scrolling through them.
Texts from his dad, from his boss, from his friends and texts from…
Andrea.
And Penelope.
And Bella.
And Riley.
Unmistakable messages, photos and even voice memos. It’s all there and you just keep scrolling and reading and it feels like it never ends. When you get to the end of one thread you find another. It’s not just one woman, but about a dozen. Not even you can turn a blind eye over it this time.
But surprisingly, you don’t feel like you want to scream or cry or punch the wall. Instead, you just put the phone back where it was, walk into the bedroom, grab a bag and start packing some stuff you’ll need for the next few days. When you’re done you walk into the kitchen, grab a paper and leave him a note.
You have two days to move out. Take your shit and move to Andrea or Penelope or Bella or any of your bitches. Goodbye.
Then you take the ring off your finger, place it next to the paper and walk out.
Harry wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he arrived to pick you up after your shift. He thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he has ever seen even when you’re wearing a stained shirt after a long day, so it really doesn’t matter to him what you wear.
But when you step out through the back door in your skin tight black dress that’s top sheer enough to tease him with a peek of your black bra underneath.
“Are you gonna just stand there and stare or are we gonna get going?”
He opens his mouth to say something, but then he just shakes his head with a laugh as you finally reach him by his bike.
“Let’s get going.”
You hit it off with Mitch and his wife Sarah instantly. It’s like you’ve always known each other and you can’t tell if it pisses Harry off or he just likes to be the victim every time the three of you make a joke at his expense.
Even though it’s a Thursday night, the club is pretty busy, but not the kind that makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because someone is always touching you wherever you go. Harry however stays close to you no matter what, like a guard dog, watching your every move.
It’s giving you butterflies. Especially because he is doing all this even though he doesn’t know about your little secret you will share with him, but you’re waiting for the perfect moment.
You start off in a booth, having a few drinks, talking and having fun and when the DJ starts playing songs that are just too irresistible you and Sarah drag the men to the dance floor. They try to protest, but it doesn’t last long. As gruff as Mitch can look, it’s obvious he is whipped for his wife and would do anything Sarah asks him.
And Harry… Well, the moment he sees you moving to the beat he practically glues himself to you. Though dancing is not your biggest strength, you can definitely follow the rhythm and move your body in a way that’s appealing to the male gaze.
You can tell Harry is trying to keep his cool, but the more he holds himself back, the more you push his buttons. Touching him while dancing, moving in a way that obviously makes him struggle, pressing up against him and then you pull out the big guns when you start grinding on him, when you have your backside pushed against his front. His hand on your stomach twitches when your ass meets his crotch in a not-at-all innocent way and you hear his groan even over the loud music.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” he speaks into your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your spine. You turn your head and your lips almost brush against his as you look at him innocently.
“Not having fun, Harry?”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Do you not like it?” You turn around to face him easier, but press your front against his to keep the physical contact on the same level.
“Y/N, you’re… taking it too far,” he warns you, but it just urges you to keep pushing his boundaries. You’re enjoying this way more than you probably should but you are giving yourself the satisfaction this one time. You’re not afraid of asking for his forgiveness later, because you have a feeling he will gladly give it.
“Am I doing something wrong?”
“No, but I might if you don’t stop.”
“Don’t stop what?”
“Acting like… you’re trying to seduce me.”
“I can’t do that? Why?” It finally brings him to the point where you wanted him to be.
“Because you’re engaged and I’m–” he snaps, but you don’t let him finish.
“Except I’m not.”
You both have stopped moving in the middle of the dancing crowd and Harry is staring at you as if he just saw a ghost. Slowly, you raise up your hand and show him your naked fingers. Reaching up he grabs your hand as if he had to physically touch your ring finger to make sure the ring is not there anymore.
“I ended things with Jeremy and he moved out. I’m single.”
His gaze keeps flicking back and forth between your eyes as he just keeps staring at you, it seems like you broke him and he forgot how to function, but then his expression changes and you read it perfectly.
It’s not enough for him that you and Jeremy broke up. He wants you to give him the green light.
You look down at his lips and think of all the times you fantasized about kissing them and the guilt you felt every time, but now it’s nowhere, pure desire took its place and you’re ready to give in.
You move a hand to the back of his neck and push yourself up, making that first move, but Harry is quick to take over from there. He moves fast as his lips crash down on yours, finally kissing you with the heat of his months long pining and never dying persistence.
You’ve had your fair share of passionate moments in your life before, but nothing compares to the way Harry practically devours you, he’s demanding, dominant and rough, but the more he takes from you the more you’re willing to give until he has everything in you. His hands are holding your face firmly, tilting your head in the perfect angle for him to greedily kiss you until your lips are numb and you’re gasping for air. And when you can’t keep up with his hunger his mouth moves down to your neck, kissing, biting and sucking shamelessly as if you weren’t on a dancefloor at a club. He has one hand move from the back of your neck into your hair, giving it a gentle tug while his other hand makes its way down your body, your ribs, your waist and then it stops on your ass, squeezing it without remorse, earning a moan from you that just riles him up even more.
For a split second you’re convinced he is about to fuck you right then and there in front of all those people. But to your surprise he pulls back, his hand wraps around your wrist and he starts pulling you out of the crowd. At the side he finds Mitch and Sarah dancing and he leans close to his ear. You don’t hear what he says, but judging from the smirk and the way Mitch nods, he didn’t try to sugarcoat anything.
You don’t even get to say goodbye properly, Harry lets go of your wrist, but his arm is quick to curl around your waist as he leads you towards the exit. The cool night air feels refreshing after the heat inside the club, but you don’t get to enjoy the change, Harry is eagerly pulling you towards his motorbike and when you reach it he pushes you against it before kissing you hard again. Your ass is pressed against the seat and for a moment you think it’s about to fall over along with you, but it stays steady while Harry is having his way with you. Then he just simply pulls back and helps you up, making sure you’re holding onto him tightly.
“This will be the longest ten minutes of my life,” he says, making you laugh as he starts the motor and moments later you’re speeding down the streets.
It really is an excruciating ten minutes until you arrive at your place, especially because you keep squeezing your thighs against his, giving him a rather hard time and every time you have to stop at a red light, Harry’s hands are quick to find your naked legs, roaming them shamelessly until he has to hold the handles again and focus on the road.
As soon as he parks in front of the building and you get off the bike, he is back to focusing all his attention on you, so it’s a challenge to even make it up to your apartment. His hands are mapping up every inch of your body and he takes every chance to kiss you on the lips, neck or shoulder, making it almost impossible for you to even open the front door, but at last you manage and he is quick to shut the door and then push you up against it.
But he is not kissing you this time, instead he looks at you with such passion and tenderness at the same time, it makes your whole body shiver.
“Tell me no at any point, okay?”
“Okay,” you whisper as a sudden nervousness washes over you. You are not nearly as experienced as he is and sex with Jeremy had been more about his quick relief rather than something you both could enjoy the same amount.
“Hey, we don’t have to do anything tonight. Holding you is more than I even hoped for tonight,” he admits with a chuckle and he gives you a short, soft kiss.
“I want to. I just… I’m afraid I won’t be… good enough.”
You’re nervously fidgeting with the neck of his shirt while his hands are plastered to the door behind you either side of you, keeping you caged in with his body.
“Angel, you had me running after you for two months and the past weeks felt like the longest foreplay of my life,” he chuckles. “I should be the one being nervous about coming in ten seconds.”
You can’t help but crack a smile at his words and he did ease your nerves a bit, but you’re still worried. With one hand he caresses the side of your face so softly, you almost question if he is the same man who was groping your ass not long ago in a packed club.
“I doubt you could ever not be good enough for anyone but especially for me.”
Your inside melts and there are no words that could describe the way he is making you feel. But instead of talking, you push yourself against him and kiss him, urging yourself to overcome your insecurities so he doesn’t regret choosing you.
You manage to hype yourself up so well that when you reach your bedroom you pull away and make him stop at the edge of the bed as you stand just a few feet away from him. His eyes roam up and down your body with such hunger you have never seen from a man before and it gives you that last boost to step your game up.
With slow, teasing movements you start to pull your dress up, revealing more and more from your legs, than your underwear and when the fabric is bunched up around your waist you cross your arms, grab the hem and pull it up and over your head before dropping to the floor, all while Harry is eating you up with his eyes, sitting there with the smuggest smirk on his face as he watches you like he is in a movie theater.
“Fucking perfect. Come here,” he holds a hand out that you take and he pulls you between his legs, placing your hands to his shoulders as his palms slide to the back of your thighs. He places a few open mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts before his hands squeeze your thighs, urging you to move your legs and make you straddle him. As you climb to his lap he captures your lips in a toe curling kiss and he catches you by surprise when he flips the two of you over and throws you into the mattress.
He straightens up but just enough to get rid of his shirt, revealing even more tattoos you haven’t seen and a toned chest with abs you’re already burning to touch, kiss or lick. Or all of these above. He comes back down on top of you, his lips return to yours while his hand easily slides underneath you, unclasping your bra and seconds later he is throwing it across the room before his mouth starts moving down your neck, collarbones and then to your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair as his tongue swirls around your nipple and you gasp when he gently bites and tugs on it, flashing you a cheeky smirk when he looks up at you before he keeps moving down on your body. When he reaches your underwear he takes the elastic between his teeth and tugs on it then lets it go so it snaps back against your skin, making you gasp and give him a protesting look, but it just makes him chuckle.
“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t wear it for me,” he mumbles against the lacy fabric, skimming it with his lips.
“I did, but not to have you play with it,” you breathe out, however you quite like how playful he can get even in such a heated moment. This is a side of him you’ve gotten to get just a glimpse of but you’re getting the full ride now.
“Alright. Next time then,” he shrugs and hooking his fingers into the elastic he tugs it down as you lift your hips up and soon it joins the rest of your clothes on the floor, leaving you fully naked in front of him. But before you could worry about your looks, his mouth is already on your throbbing clit, making you forget about your whole existence.
He turns you into a whiny mess with his lips and tongue in just seconds and when he adds his fingers into the equation all you can do is repeat his name like a prayer to all powers above. You’ve never experienced anything like this, not that anyone you’d been with did it the way Harry is. Before you could even process what’s happening you’re coming on his face and he is licking up every drop of it in every possible sense.
Your body already feels like jelly when he moves back up and he kisses you with your own taste still on his tongue, but he is not even nearly done with you.
He kneels up and unbuttons his pants and then pushes them down along with his boxer briefs so now you’re looking at just how good enough he is finding you. You can’t take your eyes off his erection, it’s big, rock hard and the tip is glistening from the precum. It’s like the sight has turned on something inside you, because before you could have a second thought you’re moving until you’re on your knees as well, hands wrapping on his cock. Harry moans at your touch and a triumphant smile stretches across your lips as you lean down and don’t stop until your lips are wrapped around the head.
He sits back onto his heels, eyes glued to you as you struggle to push further and further down his length every time your head bobs down. You’re far from taking his whole cock, but every time you go down again and again he keeps praising you.
“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.”
“Look at that mouth, taking my cock so well.”
“That’s it Angel, you make me feel so fucking good.”
You don’t stop until your jaw is sore and when you finally come up he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you hard, pushing you back onto the mattress as he lands on top of you again.
Half blindly, you reach towards the nightstand and into the drawer, grabbing a condom and handing it over to him. You’d love to be the one to roll it onto his cock, but your hands are starting to shake from how much you want to feel him inside you already.
Once the condom is on he lowers his hips between your legs and you feel his length wedge between your drenched folds. He moves his hips back and forth a few times, coating his length in your arousal before reaching down between your bodies and grabbing himself by the base.
“As much as I want to take you in every possible pose, I meant that I might not last long,” he chuckles as the head is already teasing your center. “But I won’t stop until you come again. And I’ll have all my fantasies played out next time.”
Next time. These two words make your heart jump, knowing that he is planning to have a next time and you’re still thinking about that when he finally thrusts forward and into you, filling you up inch by inch until his whole length is buried inside you.
He stills for a few seconds, maybe to let you get used to his size or maybe to regulate himself enough to last longer, you don’t know for sure. But then his lips capture yours again and he starts moving. His hips are rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm and when you hook your legs around his waist he picks his pace up and his thrusts become a bit rougher than before, but it’s just what you needed.
Your second orgasm is already building up in the pit of your stomach and you claw at his back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his moans getting muffled by your heated skin. You feel his muscles flex on his back and you can tell he is close, but he is fighting to hold back for you.
He lifts his head and rests his forehead against yours, keeping his rhythm steady and you see the struggle in his eyes.
“I’m close,” you breathe out and he nods with an almost torturous look. “Let it go, Harry, I want to feel you come.”
“Not until you—”
“That’s what I need,” you urge him and he moans before he thrusts forward harder than before, he stays still for a moment, gasping for air as he pulls back and slams into you again, riding out his own orgasm that quickly triggers yours.
Seeing him fall apart because of you is all you needed.
He keeps moving for a while, but his thrusts become sloppier until they come to a halt. His whole weight is pushing against your body as your hands are lazily dancing up and down his sweaty back. You feel his heart hammering against your chest and listen to how his breathing slowly steadies before he rolls off of you. Moving with him you curl up against him, your head resting on his chest.
Then, out of the blue he lets out a soft chuckle. Curiously you lift your head to look at him questioningly.
“I think I need an award for lasting that long,” he comments and you laugh with him until his hand cradles your face and he pulls you up for a soft, lazy kiss.
A siren wakes you up that passes by the bedroom window. You grimace with your eyes still closed as you roll from one side to the other, your hand reaching out, searching for Harry’s body, like you did during the night, but this time all you find is the empty mattress beside you.
It instantly sets off a siren in your head as well.
Sitting up you look at the rumpled sheets on the right side of the bed, but Harry is still not there. Your stomach drops as you crawl out of bed and grab a shirt and a pair of panties to put on quickly before walking out of the bedroom, hoping you might find him in the kitchen making breakfast, but when all you find is your own mess from the day before, panic takes over.
There won’t be next time. That was just an empty promise, he left you just like he left everyone else. How could you even think that you were different?
Tears are dwelling in your eyes as you wrap your arms around you, but then you hear the front door open and you turn around to find Harry walking in, balancing two coffees in one hand and a paper bag in the other.
“Hey, you’re up! I went to get us breakfast, because I didn’t find much in your fridge and—Y/N, are you crying?”
“No,” you shake your head, but then a sob bubbles from your throat. Harry places the cups and the bag to the side table and rushes over to you in panic.
“What happened? Talk to me,” he pleads, but you just shake your head, embarrassed that you instantly assumed the worst of him.
It takes only a couple of seconds for Harry to put the puzzle pieces together as well.
“You thought I left,” he says.
“I got scared for a moment when I didn’t find you.”
He doesn’t try to play it off or play the victim. He pulls you into a tight hug and gently sways until you calm down. When he pulls back and looks you in the eyes all you see in his gaze is determination.
“Remember what I told you the night when I dropped you off at your sister’s place?”
“That I should look at Jeremy with criticism.”
“Before that.” You remain silent because you can’t recall what else was said that night. “I said that I will gladly prove to you that my interest in you is genuine.”
Oh, yeah. You remember that.
“The proving starts now. I will do anything to earn your trust.”
“Even if it takes a long time?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip. He smiles warmly at you.
“Even if it takes forever.”
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut
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lee haechan x fem reader
cw. smut +18 mdni. roomates, fwb!enemies ?, birthday sex, unprotected sex (be smart)
“does this count as my birthday gift?” haechan grins as you sink down onto him, the both of you letting out content sighs at the feeling. your eyes struggle to stay open over his cock stretching you out so deliciously. he holds your hips tight as you clamp around him. he has to stop himself from pushing you all the way down, you’re torturing him with how slow you adjust to his size, but even through his lack of patience he doesn’t want to hurt you.
“thought maybe you’d be less irritating this week if you got laid” you try to keep your composure but its hard, you can never keep up your little mean act once haechan was inside of you. its like all the power you have outside melts away the moment you’re in his bed, and its completely evaporated once you get a feel of him.
“could say the same thing about you and your little attitude problem, princess” he chuckles, his demeanor turning more dominant the moment he can have you to himself. you say you hate him but you keep coming to him whenever you need a good fuck. and he was always going to be there to give it to you even if you didn’t deserve it. you got on his nerves, and he got on yours even more. petty fights in the apartment you two shared started to be filled with more and more tension until the both of you snapped. so now whenever either of you were being more annoying than usual, it always ended with you riding him with no help until you cry, him fucking you absolutely stupid or you overstimulating him and slapping him around for being a dick.
“how unfortunate that you made it through another year”
“it would be unfortunate for you… since you cant seem to get enough of my cock” he has that stupid little smirk on his face as your body starts to go limp, you can barely hold yourself up and you were trying to keep up with the pace you created, the boy under you taking all you gave him. since it’s his birthday it would only make sense for you to do the work and make him feel good, but it’s easy to get lost in pleasure when you’re on top of him. you rut your hips up while you press haechan closer into your chest, letting his lips leave wet hot kisses on the sticky skin of your chest and neck. he talks in your ear and it encourages you to move faster, his moans getting louder while you try to push him to the edge.
when your pace falters slightly, haechan helps you move faster and the way you clit grazes along the skin of his abdomen has the feeling of your orgasm building up faster than you’d like. you clench around haechan uncontrollably and he bites down on your sweaty shoulder, feeling his own orgasm getting closer. he could tell you were close, your breathing was slower like you were holding it in. he always had to remind you to breathe during times like this, but sometimes he liked watching you gasp for air as you cum.
“gonna cum before the birthday boy? how selfish…” you shake your head at his teasing and you try to slow down but haechans grip on you doesn’t loosen. he takes one of his hands to bring it down to your clit and you shudder, so close you could feel it all over your body.
“hae- fuck- haechan, gonna cum” the words barely come out of you coherently, whines and mumbles leaving your mouth as the pressure on your clit deepens.
“me too baby, cum for me” his words tickle your neck and you finally feel the rush of your orgasm, you stop moving as haechan holds you on him, rocking you slowly as you spasm around him, triggering his own orgasm. you both have your heads thrown back in pleasure, you’re milking his cock for every drop of cum and you don’t stop until your body stops shaking and he’s gently lifting you off of him from the overstimulation.
you both watch as a mix of his and your cum leak out of you, it drips down his thighs and you make a note to put these sheets in the wash before you go to bed. you turn over to lay on your back, legs burning from being bent for who knows how long. after a few minutes of recollecting, you can feel haechan shift next to you. he turns you slightly so he can spoon you, fingers grazing the exposed skin of your stomach and thighs as he presses his still hard cock against your bare ass.
“i think since im 24 today, we should fuck 24 times” you can hear the smile in his voice behind you, the way he talks like he came up with the best idea ever. all you can do is roll your eyes before reaching behind you to align his cock with your cunt.
“i really need to find a new roommate”
a/n: a little late but happy birthday haechan <33
#haechan smut#lee haechan smut#nct haechan smut#lee donghyuck smut#haechan x reader#haechan x reader smut#haechan imagines#nct smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#haechan hard hours#haechan hard thoughts#nct hard hours#nct hard thoughts#nct dream hard hours#nct 127 hard hours
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With all my love, pt. 3
Part 3 is finally here and *gasp* lore?!
Do you know how hard it is to escape your top 5 pro-hero ex-boyfriend? His voice plays on my radio during my commute. His image is plastered across the news in the lobby this morning before lunch—he’s acting irrationally again. He’s always been too much of a hothead.
His recent heroic deeds have garnered both admiration and scrutiny. My departure seems to have affected him, causing some of his harsher traits to resurface. I never anticipated that he would notice, let alone react like this.
"I don't care if he's a jerk. Dynamite is one of the best heroes of this generation," I overhear one of the news anchors saying. The radio in the small restaurant makes it hard to miss.
"Dynamite is one bad decision away from killing someone," the woman says, clearly frustrated with her cohost. "I don't even know if it would be on accident."
"He has saved more people this year than Deku. How is that not a hero?" the cohost argues back.
"He's also cost this city thousands of man-hours repairing the damage his blasts created."
I set my tablet down, trying to push their argument out of my head. The familiar chime of bells rings, drawing my gaze to the doorway.
A redhead stands there, his eyes scanning the restaurant until they find mine. His face softens as he makes his way over, pulling out a chair and sitting across from me.
"You look good today," he says warmly. "Changed your hair?"
"No, but I did change my relationship status." I roll my eyes at his attempt at small talk. I know my ex-boyfriend's best friend didn’t just call me up to chat.
He chuckles, a sound out of place given the tension. “Look, I know things have been rough for you.”
“Rough? That’s putting it mildly.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I want to help. He’s worried about you, you know.”
I sigh, glancing at the drawing in front of me. “He wasn’t worried when I was crying myself to sleep.”
“I get it,” he says softly. “But he’s struggling too. The hero life isn’t as glamorous as it seems. You know that better than anyone.” My heart skips a beat at the reminder of my early retirement. “The constant pressure, the expectations... it’s taking a toll on him.”
I look up, meeting his eyes. They hold sincerity, a genuine concern I hadn’t expected. “What do you want from me?” I whisper.
“Talk to him. Just once. Hear him out. You both deserve that closure.”
I lean back, the weight of his words settling over me.
“Fine,” I say after a long pause. “I’ll talk to him. But this doesn’t mean anything beyond that.”
He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s all I’m asking. Thank you.”
He settles back into his chair and picks up the menu. "Why don't we order something?"
I nod, grateful for the change in topic. "Sure. I hear their ramen is amazing."
We browse the menu, tension easing as we focus on the food. The waitress comes by, and we place our orders—spicy miso ramen for me, tonkotsu ramen for him.
As we wait, the restaurant buzzes with lunchtime chatter. Clinking utensils, humming conversations, and occasional laughter create a comforting atmosphere. It feels almost normal, a brief break from the chaos.
“So,” he says, breaking the silence, “how’s work? Still drawing those amazing designs?”
I smile, appreciating his interest. “Yeah, hectic, but I’m managing. Deadlines are killer, though.” He laughs as our waitress places two bowls in front of us.
“I can imagine. But your work is worth it. You’ve got talent, always have.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling more at ease. “How about you? How’s hero life?”
“It’s... a lot,” he admits, mouth full of food. He swallows. “But it’s worth it, knowing we’re making a difference." I hum in agreement, tasting my food. The flavorful broth dances across my tongue, making me do an unconscious happy dance.
"We really do miss you though," Kiri says, his voice trailing off as he scratches his neck. I feel a pang of remembrance. I've never stopped missing being a hero. I hate not being able to work with my best friends.
"I don't get a retirement package as a hero," I reply, forcing a smile to mask my heartache. But it's clear my facade fails as regret fills Kiri's eyes. Apologies spill from his lips, but I don't listen. Instead, I reach out and gently place my hand on his for a brief moment.
"Eijiro, I promise you I've moved on. I don't blame anyone for what happened," I assure him, pushing another smile onto my face. "I got over that a long time ago."
I withdraw my hand and continue to eat, the conversation flowing more easily after a few moments. We reminisce about our days at UA, share laughs about our coworkers, and for a while, it feels like old times.
By the time we finish, I feel lighter, the past weeks’ weight lifting slightly. It’s not a solution, but it’s a start.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he says as we stand to leave. “and for agreeing to talk to him.”
I nod, a sense of anticipation blooming. “We’ll see how it goes.”
As we step out into the city’s noise, I unblock his number from my phone and watch in horror as hundreds of missed messages flood my phone screen.
#my hero academia#my hero academy fanfiction#bak#mha bakugou#mha x reader#bnha#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#kirishima eijirou#mha kirishima#bnha eijiro kirishima#katsuki bakugo x reader#bnha bakugou#mha#bakugo katsuki
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#17 Angsty with Mat Barzal
Prompt: “It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”
Note: writing angst for mat always has me picturing him just being the absolute cockiest asshole on the planet but i love it so much 🫠
“Mat you act like we haven’t been doing this shit for months now! I get wanting to keep some things private for yourself, but it’s like you're ashamed of me or something!”
He sat with his head in his hands as you paced the floor of his apartment. The two of you having just gotten home from an Islanders home game. Though having to drive separate because Mat and you weren’t together, and you couldn’t be seen with one another.
“It’s not that y/n! You know it’s not anything like that!”
He spat back at you before standing up himself, making his way to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge.
“Then what is it? If you’re just looking for a hook up type situation, then I’ll walk out that door right now because I told you from day one that isn’t at all what I wanted. If you’re not interested in me anymore, then fine. But don’t sit here and lie to me when it’s obvious something is going on. You won’t be seen with me. I can’t wear your jersey number, I can’t meet any of the guys or their girlfriends. I’m your secret or something, and I don’t understand why!”
Mat sighed as he saw the tears in your eyes, hating to see you so upset, but he knew this was best. Keeping your relationship like it was. It was better this way, less complicated.
“It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”
He sipped his beer as you shook your head.
“What the fuck does that even mean? Wary of where it might lead? It’s been eight months at this point Mat, not quite sure where else we are headed.”
He knew he should’ve never let things go on as long as they had, but like he said, you had this power over him. He couldn’t commit to you. But he also couldn’t let you go. Despite how much he cared about you and liked you, he knew this couldn’t be anything more. Not now.
“I can’t put a label on this or introduce you to everyone because god forbid this goes south, I can’t go through that. I need to be focused on my game right now, the second I start introducing you to people and the things that come with that, it’s going to be too much pressure. I don’t want to deal with any of that right now, that’s why I like things where they are at. I get it, it’s been months, you want more. You need more. But I can’t give that right now, and I won’t give you that. I know what I want, and that’s not a label. I don’t need a girlfriend, nor do I want one.”
His words cut through you like a knife. The man you’d fallen for turning out to be nothing you ever thought he was. Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you did your best to suck up your emotions. Mat not deserving another one of your tears.
“So, what was the point? You were just keeping me around for fun? For company? To waste my time when you knew what I wanted?”
Mat simply shrugging as he brought his beer back to his lips for another sip. “I care about you, so fucking much. And I told you, you have this power over me where I can’t just walk away and let you go. I, I want to think it will get better. That things will change. But I’m also not going to give in and change things thinking that we are headed that way. So yeah, maybe I’m being selfish for keeping you around rather than ending this knowing it’s not what you want. But, I still want you here. I still want this with you. As long as you can accept where I stand. If you can’t, then that’s fine too.”
You scoffed as you grabbed your keys, “That’s fine too? You know what….you’re right, I do have power over you. And I’m taking that power to walk away from what a piece of shit you are. Go fuck yourself Mathew Barzal.”
#nhl imagine#nhl fics#nhl fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey imagine#nhl blurb#mat barzal fic#mat barzal blurb#mat barzal x reader#mat barzal angst#mat barzal imagine#mat barzal
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AITA for breaking up with a man to immediately date a woman?👩❤️👩
So a couple of years ago I (at the time 25F) identified as bisexual and ace. I had dated before, but it was all long distance relationships, and all men. At this point, I was single, and while in university, I met a guy (Jake, 26M) and he confessed he was into me. I only really thought of Jake as a friend, but I agreed we could date- because I've always confused platonic/romantic feelings, and foolishly thought I could probably "grow into" the relationship, like my previous ones. Jake is smart, friendly, very sweet and supportive, thoughtful, I didn't see why we couldn't date! But of course, as relationships do, suddenly he becomes more physical, more affectionate with me- which duh, we're dating, I should've expected this- but it blindsided me.
I would very frequently communicate to him what I was comfortable/uncomfortable with, and he'd be okay backing off and taking things more slowly, but would occasionally gently push my boundaries. I'd have to remind him that I wasn't comfortable, and he'd back off and would tell me it's okay- but I don't think he meant it. I think he was hoping I would "get over" these uncomfortable feelings and give him what he wants, eventually. It got to a point I was uncomfortable even being alone with him, because I knew he'd start acting this way. I was deeply appreciative of his patience, since I know I was being weird about our relationship.
While this is happening, I was venting to my dear friend Mary (25F) about how I felt terrible, how I felt stuck, and Mary would support me, hear me out, and comfort me. I had also met Mary in university, and Jake and Mary knew each other and were also friends. We were all a part of the same friend group- but I only would talk to Mary about what was going on between me and Jake.
A few months of this passes, and it occurs to me that I had a crush on Mary. A real, actual, true crush. One I'd never felt before in any of my other relationships- I had a connection with her, she and I understood each other. One night, we jokingly both kind of confessed to each other at the same time. It was then that it all clicked for me- I'm not bi… I'm a lesbian. It's why I've felt that I've had to "grow into" my previous relationships with men. I never truly was attracted to them, and just thought that was how all relationships were. Mary was the first person I actually felt like I could be myself.
Anyway- Mary knew about Jake obviously, and I told her up front that I'd need time to break up with him. She understood completely. I broke up with him the next day or so in person, quietly, in private. I didn't tell him about Mary, nor about me realizing that I'm a lesbian. I just said that I didn't think we could work out- that he wants more than I could give, and that I wasn't good for him, he deserved someone better. He understood, but he was very upset. And angry. He threatened me with a "If you date anybody in our group- we won't be friends anymore." and stormed off. I cried, but figured I deserved it. He truly cared about me, and I feel like I lied to him through our whole relationship- even if I didn't realize it.
Mary and I dated in secret shortly after, to prevent Jake from finding out and hating the both of us and causing turmoil in our group. He went around and told all of our male friends to leave me alone and not to touch me, so I'm pretty sure he never suspected Mary. I only found out about this because one of said other male friends approached me and told me what Jake had said- Jake never made this apparent to me.
But me and Mary? I've never been happier. We cuddle, we kiss- we do everything you'd expect in a relationship, and I'm never uncomfortable. And when I AM uncomfortable, Mary leaves it alone. She never pushes my boundaries unless I try something on my own terms or we talk about it first. She's a dream come true, and she's beautiful and I love her.
Cut to years later- me and Mary have been together for 10 years now. We've both graduated university, we live together, and we're soon to be married. We're still very close with our friend group- we regularly meet up for movie nights, dinner outings and dnd sessions. Jake's still one of our best friends, and he knows that we're dating, now. I've never addressed me and Mary to Jake directly, so I've never known how he's felt about us.
This is years after the fact, of course, and Jake is still a wonderful friend and (seemingly) has moved on/doesn't care about me and Mary. But I'm occasionally haunted by this mess that I caused, and I feel like I was terrible to Jake. So, Tumblr, I leave you all to judge me. Was I the asshole?
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phum and peem are truly so funny.
because phum's type is literally a dude who kicks him in the balls. who side eyes him on the regular. who has a default 'angry kitten' face every time he looks at him. who kisses him after he shows appreciation for his time. who doesn't really talk sweet so phum goes out of his way to reiterate that he normally doesn't like sweets anyways. who continues to 'act' annoyed at phum's presence but will let phum kiss him again and again. who has a specific tone reserved just for phum. who babies the shit out of phum, little does he know he's healing phum's inner child. who is so so so forgiving of phum. who is always ready to listen to phum, to hear him out. who is patience with him. who is more than ready to love phum as he is, so unconditionally. who is willing to figure all of this out together with phum.
and peem's type is essentially a guy who pisses him off. who makes him so angry that he's starting to question his type, because why does he find this guy attractive. who is pretty shitty with words and pull assholes moves too. who is quick to recognize his mistakes and immediately apologize for it. who doesn't excuses his wrongdoings but simply admits that he was wrong. who will continue to say sorry simply because he cares a lot about peem's feelings and he'll do it a million times if that is what it take for peem to forgive him. who is a child at heart despite the tough guy act he tries so hard to put on. who cares a lot about other people but doesn't quite know how to show it. who thinks people probably only stick around him because of money so it becomes his first resort to offer to people he cares about. who gets childishly jealous but will never actually admit it. who is quite bold with his words but also immediately gets shy and insecure about them. who retreats back into his shell the moment he lets that insecurity takes over. who goes completely soft for peem under EVERY circumstances. who is willing to put himself out of his elements just so he can spend more time with peem. who always tells peem that he enjoys spending time with him. who keeps repeating to peem that he values peem's times. who fucks up at time but is always willing to learn and to be better. who just wants to be whatever the best version of himself that he can be because peem deserves no less than that.
but also…. both of them would rather jump of a cliff first and maybe chew on glass a few time before they will verbally express their feelings for each other. they’re down to just keep making out tho. and down to maybe probably most definitely cuddle all night in a room full of their friends. because they’re totally and certainly not gay for each other and DEFINITELY aren’t like head over heels in love with each other or anything. pff.
idk. they're just very neat to me. and they're so entirely perfect for each other. and i can't fucking believe a gmmtv romcom is making me feel THIS much about two fictional characters.
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“There is no other love, it's only yours…”
“You're all I want, all I love…” (“You’re all I want” by Cigarettes after Sex)
Yesterday I had a really rough day. It didn’t just feel like one of my regular “PEM-Crash-Days” (PEM = post-exertional malaise = the worsening of symptoms after crossing the boundaries of my condition, due to my disease ME/CFS). The whole day was also coated in a thick layer of sadness and grief…an emotional turmoil, which I could only barely endure. Well…mixing these feelings with another wave of fever and pain, seasoned with the incapacity of tolerating screen time, adding the suffocating sensation of loneliness….et voilà! The perfect recipe for a day in hell was created! 🙄
In order to cope with my emotions, I found myself drowning in my fantasies of teenage Severus and my undeniably self-inserted OC Jules…rewriting one of their short fictional scenes. Again, Severus was tormented by his own insecurities, getting carried away in self-loathing. I don’t know, how many times I’ve already written scenes like these. Jules encourages Severus to stay resilient, praising him for all those traits, which he only identifies as his flaws and weaknesses. But for Jules, there’s so much beauty, so much strength in his imperfections. She’s making his blemishes look like the most loveable attributes of Severus’ personality with her passionate speech.
When I wrote this little scene, I recognised something: I already knew, that I’m identifying myself a lot with Severus…but Jules’ words of encouragement and consolation to her beloved friend Sevy…well, they’re are also things, I would crave to hear for myself (how pathetic, huh?!). But since I’m struggling immensely with the acceptance of my own insecurities and fears, I’m not able to reassure myself of my own worth. It’s just not on the table for me!
So…I’ll just keep on telling Severus in my stories, that he deserves nothing less than the whole world…and that Jules will always try to make him feel loved and cared for. She will never stop to compare his flaws with her own weaknesses by explaining to him, how perfectly they’re matching. Jules will never grow tired to assure Severus, that his cynicism is the perfect complement to her sense of sarcasm. For the Slytherin girl, it's a clear sign for Sevy’s extremely high intellect, which is also something, that she adores about her friend. In Jules’ eyes, his bitterness mirrors a form of hypersensitivity, a characteristic, which she knows so well from herself. That’s why she’s acting so empathetically with Severus, whenever he’s suffering with his life…and Jules is convinced, that sharing those feelings will make them less unbearable! The girl even praises Severus’ stubbornness by telling him, that she’s enjoying every good and intelligent argument with him to clear the air between them. All together, Severus’ imperfections are pure perfection to the hopelessly devoted (and obviously love-struck 😅) girl.
I’m aware of the overdramatic nature and the unnecessary fluffiness of my short stories, but that’s the reason, why I’m writing them for my eyes only. It’s my form of a coping mechanism…the only way of allowing myself some kind of self-assurance and comfort…through Severus!
Some time ago, I found an artist here on tumblr, who made me fall head over heels for her tender style of drawing my beloved dungeon bat. Especially an artwork of her interpretation of the younger Snape made my heart ache with longing for him, so of course, I just had to commission @pssherri for an illustration of Severus and my OC Jules in their teenage years.
Sonja, you did an amazing job with this project and I can’t express, how grateful I am for your kindness and the dedication to your profession! It was a pleasure to cooperate with you on this idea of mine and I hope, you’ll be open to work on more of my requests some day. Thank you for everything, my dear!
🖤Severus & Julia🖤
🖤Sevy & Jules🖤
#Severus x Julia#Sevy x Jules#Severus x OC#fuck me/cfs#commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism#this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom#i love severus#he’s by my side for 21 years now#21 years and still counting#i have a soft spot for young sevy#i have a soft spot for young severus#teen severus snape#severus snape#snape#i love snape#snape love#pro snape#i would protect him with my life#snape content#pro severus snape#severus snape art#snape art#snart#severus fanart#severus art#severus#i’d kill for him#i’d die for him#mecfs#writing is my coping mechanism
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Requested by: @elysiumrealms
Sure! I did think some fleshing out on how the rest of the family acts around them would be cool to write. Sorry this took so long btw, my inbox gets stuffed pretty quickly and it was finals week. Anyway thanks for the ask!
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Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.
Platonic Yandere Malleus
Pt.3
For you, the time before your punishment was nothing but a blurry mess.
Genuinely you don't remember all your horrible habits and manipulative tactics, you just remember acting on your insticts and not really thinking before you acted.
The few things you do remember is the interactions you had with your other family members.
The most memorable were the ones with Grandpa Lilia, when you were younger he loved cuddling you upside-down. Even if his grip was iron-strong it still felt so warm that you didn't want to leave.
When you got older he would allow you to play with some of his video games, he was always so sweet and helpful. Making sure you never got too frustrated at one certain part before taking the controller from you and completing whatever challenge had you stumped.
Lilia just loves babying you in a way he never got to with either of his original children.
He never failed to make you feel like the spoiled little brat you were.
"Ooh! Don't cry Darling, there's no need for that. Here, do you need Grandpa to help you? Okay sweet-pea. Don't worry, grandpa's here for you"
Then there's uncle Silver, who whose probably the most boring person to hang out with out of everyone in the family.
Don't get me wrong, you enjoyed his company but nothing even vaguely interesting happened whenever you hung around him.
He always really apologetic about it though, even going as far to bring you a little toy everytime he was allowed alone time with you. Typically is just a teddy bear, so that at night when you fell asleep you would think of your uncle Silver.
"Sorry we weren't able to play today. Here, have this. It's so when you fall asleep at night, you'll always remember your uncle Silver."
Your uncle sebek on other hand, he was hard to forget.
He was always loud, his voice commanded battalions after all. So a voice like his would definitely need for job like that.
You and him never played together, in his own words "WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD DESERVES A MUCH BETTER PLAYMATE THAN A LOWRANKING OFFICER SUCH AS MYSELF!"
Or whatever that was supposed to mean. You never really understood his way of thinking. While he was screaming his head off about not being good enough for you, you had sit and listen to him whilst daydreaming of all the video games Grandpa Lilia would play with you later.
It was boring, and eventually as you grew older you learned to tune him out.
Though I guess that wasn't the greatest idea, because within a week of learning how tune out his voice he came to you sobbing on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness.
"PLEASE FORGIVE ME WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD! WHATEVER SLIGHT HAVE DONE TO YOU, I BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS AND MERCY! JUST PLEASE STOP IGNORING ME MY LEIGE!"
But I guess that all leads you to where you are now. Stuck in a boring old rickety tower. Stuck studying and doing chores all day. At least Father allowed for your family to visit from time to time.
Their faces and voices make the endless cycle you've been going through day-to-day slightly more bareable. But to be perfectly honest, with every passing moment that you're stuck here; in this damned tower made to be your prison, you lose a small peice of your sanity.
A peice of your mind that can never be returned to it's owner.
Trully a cruel thing to do, especially to your own child. Isolating them from everyone and everything they've ever known to prove a point, when it wasn't even truly their own faults that caused such a mess? Foolish, and downright cruel if anyone asked you.
Ah, but what can you do?
You did do this to yourself after all, might as well own up to your mistakes and pay the price.
#Weewewee!#i finally finished it#I need a standing ovation#twisted wonderland#twst#yandere twst#yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#platonic relationships#platonic yandere#malleus draconia#malleus x reader#diasomnia#twst silver#sebek zigvolt#lilia vanrouge#silver twst#platonic yandere x reader#Yandere Diasomnia#yandere lilia vanrouge#yandere lilia x reader#yandere silver#yandere silver x reader#yandere sebek zigvolt#yandere sebek x reader#yandere malleus#yandere malleus draconia#yandere malleus x reader#Platonic Yandere#Yandere Scenarios
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Come Back To Me
Currently imagining Arthur Morgans reaction to seeing you again after you supposedly died.
Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood/injuries + torture, eventual fluff, no smut (yet), Arthur Morgan x reader, probably out of character, but he just really loves you okay, so he gets emotional
READ MORE UNDER THE CUT
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Let's say when Dutch was going to meet up with Colm, you offered yourself to act as backup instead, not wanting to make Arthur work any harder than he had.
Infact, seeing how exhausted your husband was, you were about to tear Dutch a new one for trying to make him work even more.
But they needed a sniper. And sure, you were tired. You had just gotten back from another solo job, where you scored a pretty penny for the gang. But you knew Arthur deserved a break. And so you said you'd help instead.
But while waiting on that mountain top for Colm to try something, you got distracted. You were tired, and you got sloppy. You weren't expecting his men to come for you. They snuck up behind you and wrangled you to the ground, with it taking four, maybe five men to keep you pinned down before they finally knocked you out.
When Dutch returned without you, Arthur knew something was wrong. Dutch claimed that you were probably out just doing another job, running off like you always did. Your horse was even gone from where you hitched it. And foolishly, Arthur believed him.
Now, it had been 3, maybe, 4 months after your disappearance. One month in Dutch stopped sending out search parties after they found your hat bloodied in an abandoned house, along with a note from Colm, implying you were tortured to death. They searched the area for any trails, but all of them were ruined past the point of tracking.
Charles and Javier arrived back to camp, bearing the bad news, that no trail could be found. Dutch pronounced you dead and had a honorary funeral. Swearing they would all eventually get revenge on Colm for this.
Revenge hadn't come.
It became even more of a common sight to see Arthur come back to camp covered in blood that wasn't his. He obsessively picked off O'Driscolls, killing and torturing every camp he found. Questioning every single one; Where were you? Where was Colm? What had Colm done to you? Were you even still alive?
Even after the camp had sat him down and told him you were probably dead, he had never stopped searching. He drew away from Dutch, isolating himself from the gang. Drinking himself into a stupor, it was the only thing that let him sleep. He stopped talking or eating much. Always working, bringing in cash but never staying for too long.
He stopped sleeping at camp. Your tent reminded him of you. Nobody ever took it over or moved your things because they all knew Arthur would gut whoever did.
Every night he laid awake, blaming himself for your fate.
Why did he let you take his place? Why hadn't he searched for you the second Dutch came home without you? He couldn't do anything right. The same thing that happened to Eliza and Issac had happened to you. And all he did was sit around like a fool and let it happen.
Was this his punishment? For everything he had done? Was this hell? He wasn't religious, but every night where he went to bed without your presence next to his, it sure felt like it.
Why couldn't it have been him? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't he have at least died with you? He would spend an eternity in hell if he could spend his eternity with you.
And now he was riding into Valentine. Alone. Riding into an endless nightmare alone without you.
As he was hitching his horse outside the saloon, he saw your distinct mare hitched right next to his.
For a moment he was happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. As this was proof that maybe, just maybe you were alive. And then, he realized what had actually happened.
Some bastard after killing you had taken your horse. Like some sort of trophy.
He stomped inside the saloon. He bought that horse for you. Saw it at Strawberry while going to free Micah and just knew that you had to have it after your last one died in Blackwater.
The girl was so sweet, and obedient too. He had hunted down a panther in Lemoyne and sold it to the trapper to make a saddle for you. He made sure to fill up the saddle bags with everything you'd need to care for it, along with a couple of other gifts for you sprinkled in. When he shyly brought the whole ensemble to you, you jumped into his arms like you two were young again.
And now some selfish bastard was making a mockery of it. He walked up to the Bartender and slammed his hands on the bar, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. Demanding to know who rode in with that horse.
The bartender nervously said they had rented a room. Were still upstairs as they spoke. He walked upstairs, unholstering his knife. He was gonna make this slow.
He treaded carefully towards the bedroom, turning the handle. It was locked. He backed up and kicked the door open, pointing his gun at whoever was inside, ready to shoot them in the leg if they tried to escape.
And then?
He saw you.
Standing near the bed, bruises and cuts, scars new and old littering your body. Wrapped in bandages soaked in blood. Leaning against a bedpost, barely able to stand, pointing a shaky gun at the intruder.
Time stood still as your eyes met.
He dropped his gun. You lowered yours.
Then, he ran towards you. Wrapping you in a hug, tears streaming down his face. Crying into the crook of your neck like a little boy.
Arthur never really cried. He hadn't cried in so long. He never let himself cry. But you? You were alive.
He dropped to his knees. Still holding onto your body, now just your legs, for dear christ. Like you might fade away if he let go. He wouldn't let you go. Not ever again.
He missed you more than anything.
You slowly bent down, running your fingers through his hair.
Were you real? Was this real?
You got down to his level, kissing him on the forehead and putting your hand on the back of his head. Pushing him into your chest, as he only sobbed louder.
About how he thought he lost you. How the whole gang thought you had died. How he missed you every waking moment. How he would've given anything just to hold you one more time.
You rubbed circles onto the back of his head as you comforted him. Whispering to him that you were fine, that they only tortured you, that you eventually managed to get out. That you're alive. That you're with him. That you're here for him.
The months that he thought you were dead melted away.
You were alive.
You're with him.
You're here.
God.
He was never letting you go again.
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Okay, so should I do a smutty pt2 where he REALLY shows you how much he missed you, or should I do one who he goes fucking yandere esque from the prospect of almost losing you?? Or should I do both??
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#rdr2 x you#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 dutch#rdr2#fluff#rdr2 fluff#arthur morgan fluff#arthur Morgan x you#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#screaming and crying#out of character.#fluff and angst#angst#arthur morgan angst#arthur morgan rdr2
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Same anon! I don't blame you for skipping this video, I only got through half of it. The SC video has a bit of nuance since SC goes over some points people bring up with the defense of Stolas, but he is putting a lot of blame on him amongst all of that. I can see some of his points but I heavily disagree on pushing blame on one side when this is all presenting these two with no bias. That these two both have problems. The comment section also isn't that great & some act like the writers are babying Stolas.
Yeah: the "babying Stolas" part, that's what I was afraid of. Antis love using that as a fault of the writing, and I'm sure SC's video will only fuel that fire.
I think what I'm saying here is biased, coming from a Stolas fan, but I'm not so blind to this owl's faults: he's privileged, doesn't treat most imps with the respect they fully deserve, never stops to think about how he acts can come across as condescending, he can be too emotional for his own good and his tunnel vision is so narrow he can tune out everything else and blind him to how his actions affect others.
But when we Stolas fans bring up his upringing, it's not to excuse him, but to explain WHY he acts like this: growing up sheltered, traumatized, unloved, abused and depressed doesn't leave you with a healthy way to deal with more complex emotions. ESPECIALLY when you fall in love, but never had a frame of reference to act upon it.
Many Stolas fans are AWARE of his faults, but love him regardless because we see how kind, loving and compassionate he grew up to be despite everything: he recognizes his mistakes and works to fix them. It's going to be messy, but he's going against everything to break through his life to be happy with those he loves.
And, can we REALLY talk about "babying Stolas" when the reason he's suffering is because of his own actions? That he didn't know how to handle because he got too impulsive and was too happy to finally experience love that he jumped right in without thinking of the consequences?
Is it "babying" when the show went against the initial idea that Stolas seemed like a snooty, heartless snob and actually revealed that he's much complex than that?
Is it because you thought he shouldn't have cheated with Stella, that she didn't deserve it, that they were happy before, that she never abused him nor showed any cruelty towards him, so she's in the right to want him dead?
Stella has always been awful to begin with, both with Stolas and as a bird/person: his cheating only acerbated that, he did it to finally be free. If you REALLY want to put the blame on him for something, don't do it for Stella, but for Via: him cheating put her in a bad position, and I fear his love for her alone won't be enough. She deserves the truth.
Honestly, I think Stolas antis don't really care about the writing, and will twist the narrative to make sure that it "proves" that their hatred for Stolas is justified.
I'm not angry at SC for the video: I'm angry at bad faith criticism from antis who are flocking to have their "points" validated; it's not about critiquing, with this trend, it's about getting angry and hate a narrative for daring to go against what you wanted. And therefore it's flawed and has to be attacked.
This is what annoys me.
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I hate elaborating myself
I hate having to explain my feelings;
Why I'm feeling them;
Then why they're valid;
Then why Person should care about that;
Then why I don't deserve to have them disrespected and disconsiderated!
I hate that I always have to do that
And that I suck at articulating myself, so I can't tell any of these things from above and end up upset and angry and stressed and--
UGHHHHHHHHHH
#I LOVE communication#of all kinds#but i suck at it#i suck#and i can't elaborate or articulate myself#im pretty good at explaining things like my personal interests#or then some interesting subject#but i really CANT when it comes to my feelings#i can't explain my happyness#my upsetness#my stress#my fear#my difficulties#my sadness#NEVER#and it sucks i have to do it often to have my feelings considered#i hate my brother y'know#i won't say what happened today because i don't want to elaborate it#but he always acts like he deserves more than me#or like his feelings are more valid than mine#idk if it is because he was raised a cis boy#while im afab#or what#but it really hurts me#and i know he is wrong#BUT I MISS THE ABILITY OF EXPLAINING IT TO HIS BIGGOT ASS#vent#feelings#communication#upset
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saw a post on my FYP asking what apheIios's personality is for writing him and honestly I don't know if I can even begin to describe him and he's one of my fav characters
#hwhee talks#also depends on the skin for him since id say heartsteeI is quite a bit different from his runeterra personality#I have talked too much about him before but hes surprisingly gentle and kind#even kind of implied to be. passive#i dont wanna say push over because that has negative connotations but hes more of a Follower than a Leader#very much plays the role of a Weapon and does whats told and expected of him#man saying Dependent sounds like its a bad thing#but you guys get what i mean.#and gentle and compassionate and sympathetic to others and their existence and right to live. hes very respectful#i mean id say his biggest ''flaw'' (wouldn't say its a bad thing) is being emotional#openly weeping for people who want him and his people dead. crying when he has to take a life he doesnt want to#but feels obligated to bc thats his role and duty. the inner turmoil but always surrendering to his role as a Weapon#the usual ''the weapon has Emotions and cant act fully as a tool of death and harm'' trope but#in this case he always does carry out his missions. despite these feelings since he feels theres no other choice#and also battling the invisible battle nobody else sees of just flat out being in pain and agony#but he doesnt see himself worthy enough (human enough? deserving enough??) to complain about his situation#because of his duty and role#and probably also thinks of things like ''my sister has it worse right now so i cant complain'' etc etc#but there is the lighter undertones you can insert like him being a little weird or playful or funny#moments he can smile and take in the beauty of the world or make a really quirky weird joke#or weird gesture like drinking a bottle of vinegar or something#think its in character for him to be out of touch with social cues and socializing and talking to people to know whats Weird and Not Weird#the disconnect can be humorous#idk he strikes me as the type of guy who always surprises you if that makes sense#yeah this is an assassin but he still does something thatll take you off guard#i dont think hes secretive in the usual mysterious sense but he just keeps stuff to himself because his problems have no place in a world#where others have it harder. or when he has a job to do and stuff. theres no time for it#hes really skilled and smart but somehow even knowing that youd probably be shocked i think. do these words make sense. help#i think also having a rare hidden playful side makes him super cute and charming#like his taunt emote is so dang cute and unexpected nfskdbsksbskdh
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there is some symbolism iv never considered in that one episod of pt5 where zenigata rescues fujiko before she kills lupin
#there are many timelines and variations in lupin as a serie so that every ship could work#in my own prefered timeline lupin finally gets the hint that fujiko plays him like a fiddle#to me she does like him but he is an instrument to her#she is cold hearted and calculating and always thinking about relationships in terms of profit#i got some ideas abt her background that justify this. essentially she kills the detective that is after her and with that kills#the soft part of her that she couldnt control before#eventually and despite his affection lupin gives up the objectifications and the desires he projects onto fujiko#whom uses his delusions like a master tbh#thus allowing himself to consider zenigata. he plays with zenigata the way fujiko plays with him#hes just not as calculating. he feels pity and remorse where fujiko doesnt#he finds the thrills and the doubts and the lack of trust and the risk of betrayal in zenigata. the things that he loves the most#he isnt about stability. he thrives in the unknown. he loves that zenigata could backstab him and does so sometimes#and in that lack of stabilty some form of stability builds up. there is familiarity#and most importantly there are rare times when they can put the game aside and just chill#just enough to gather the energy to go back to trying to kill each other#plus zenigata pampers him during those breaks and he loves that#he acts with carelessness but he does care. in that regard he looses to fujiko#at least thats how she sees it. he doesnt see caring as a flaw#and zenigata is so sweet. he really is. and lupin loves to stirr up the crazy in him#fucking loonies the both of them#so in essence zenigata doesnt really 'save' him from fujiko but he becomes lupins new favourite toy to throw around#fujiko is only upset that because of that ugly looser of a detective her grip on lupin is loosening#she does find ways to use that newly developed affection luzeni has to her advantage thou#lupin is still her instrument she just drags zenigata along now#fujiko is such a good and interesting character and deserves so much better honestly#despite my love for TWCFM i wish there was another serie centralized around her where her ruthlessness is examined#and her cunning is studied. and the proper law enforcement she should face the same way lupin does#shes like a million times smarter and more ressourceful than him. steals much more. embezzles. manipulate#lupin is just a small time pickpocket next to her. she isnt about stealing a painting shes about emptying the pockets of the richest men in#the world. her goals are much more ambitious
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rough around the edges, feeling the stony rough exterior you know has been smoothed down. you feel like thats how it used to be. soft, and smooth to the touch. but now its been smoothed over. as if abrasions happened to the rock. enoughto make it sharp around the edges, where one hurts others if they are pricked by the roughness. thats why in some places its smoothed over a bit more.
yes im talling ab diluc plwase leave me alone.
#i like the hc of diluc in his mid thirties being a father figure but like#something about earky to mid 20s diluc ragnvindr alreadh being half of monstadr and cross nations pseudo father guardiam figure uncle has#a way bigger deeper affect on me bc he is jus like me forreal.#young and already quite old#prime of ur life but youve already been smoothed down and settled atleast even the tiniest bit kore than ur peers#i like being appointed as a father/guardian figure by my friends its vv comfortable actually#but knowing ive been subjugsted 2 this bc all my friends parents have never been the best fills me with rage for them#so i do my best to act like a mother to them#always fussing iver them or being an insamely awkward father trying to support his kids interest#bc i cant stand the thought of others not getting the love amd care they should have deserved.#and something that maybe i should have given more to my own older siblings. despite family situations.#its not my responsibility but i would have liked it to be.#this but also i am Sheltered Kid priority number 1 so try 2 imagine how some things go
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Danny, at 17, did not have the best love life. This is partially because two of his must haves in a partner are " Will protect me with their life" and "Will commit unspeakable acts of violence for me" or at least beat someone up for his honor.
Naturally, this doesn't always result in the most stable of partners.
His first girlfriend, Valerie, became an anti-hero and broke up with him for his safety.
He finally got with Sam in sophomore year only for the feds to come into class one day to arrest her. To his surprise, her crimes had nothing to do with ghosts but rather an incident where she went too far and committed a few acts of economic terrorism. Danny and Tucker never really learned the specifics of the crimes, and her parents hushed up as many news outlets as they could, so there wasn't much info to go around. All they knew was that she saved thousands of lives by doing it.
In the end, she was sentenced to eight years, and she broke up with him so that he wouldn't wait around for her to get out.
His third partner was a guy named David who was really sweet. Unfortunately, Danny got kidnapped one day by David's arch nemesis, who was some villain with a corny edge lord name. Yeah. David had become a a super hero after they started dating.
And if you guessed that he freaked out and dumped Danny for his own protection, you'd deserve a cookie.
Danny was noticing a pattern here. One that continued with everyone he dated. They always became some kind of hero before dumping him for his own protection, and it was infuriating. Sure, danny could defend himself, but he was never deep enough into the relationship to reveal his phantom half, and frankly, his hero career was something he left behind when he left Amity and destroyed the portals.
He met Tim at a skatepark after Tim fell off his board cause of some jerk speeding out in front of him on his own board, forcing Tim to stop or else hit the guy. The guy was unrepentant and Tim calmed him down (this did not stop him from melting the guys wheels with an ectoblast when no one was looking).
Tim then asked him to coffee. Danny, noticing how cute Tim was, agreed.
Danny was up front with his parents being mad scientists in Illinois. He always was with all the people he dated. It was better not to hide these kinds of things or worse, wait until you're already attached and afraid of losing them. So he always told potential partners as early as possible. Tim seemed a bit put off by this but was calmer about it than most, and they continued chatting.
Tim didn't seem like the type to turn to heroism or anti heroism so he felt safe on their later dates. It was only after he had known Tim for a while that he put the pieces together.
Tim was always covered in bruises that he hid with his clothes and make up, he had complained about batman over the phone when he thought danny couldn't hear, he was rich, he knew how to fight as revealed by his stances and footwork dispite trying to pretend he didn't, and lastly he held a lot of political power and influence being Bruce Wayne's son. Power he had no reservations using when it suited him or he was just feeling petty (that pettiness was part of why danny was falling for him harder than he thought he could)
No wonder Tim was so okay with his parents being rouges.
Tim was a villain!
At least Tim wouldn't leave him like all his exes. Danny doesn't think he could handle it if he did. Another good thing about this is now he can talk more freely about the more villainous and morally gray ideas and inventions when he was alone with Tim.
Tim didn't see anything wrong with Danny's idea to use something similar to cloning pods to make synthetic meats like rump roasts and steaks as a way to end world hunger and was eager to add to the conversation.
#dpxdc#prompts#fanfiction prompts#brain dead#deadtired#danny phantom#danny fenton#tim drake#red robin#yum#red robin dc#danny: i love my villian boyfriend#imagine when tim finds out#imagine when tims FRIENDS find out they'll never stop teasing him#batman#does danny assume the reast of the waynes are villians too?#danny tells Tim about Phantom after they had been dating for a few months and they've said thier first I Love Yous#sorry ive been gone for like a week ive been having A Time#stressed#some people find cloning immoral even if its just body parts so idk#tim is probably hiding danny from the bats in this lmao#i got a new phone#and it has spell check! can you tell? lmao
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So This Is Love
jason todd x fem!reader
aka you show each other what love is supposed to be like
4 in 1 blurbs
warnings: section 1: close-call panic attack for j, mentions of ptsd for j // section 2: implied sexual activity // section 3: mild angst w comfort // section 4: implied ptsd for j
He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.
The nightmare wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it did feel particularly vivid tonight. It was more of a memory than anything, though. That same one that plays on a loop in his head throughout the night the more he tries to push it away during the day. It was the last thwack of the crowbar that had him jolt awake in bed.
You shift in your spot next to him, opening your eyes to see his rattled state. If he’d been in a clearer frame of mind he would’ve lied to you. He would’ve expertly leveled his breathing and told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.
But instead, he looks over at you with wide eyes, chest heaving and shaking like he might start hyperventilating at any moment.
You shoot up from the bed, instantly on alert. This isn’t the first time he’s had one of these nightmares around you, so it’s not hard for you to guess where this is coming from.
“Jay? What’s—what do you need?” You know better than to try and touch him unprompted right now, you’ve panicked enough yourself to know that sudden contact only makes it worse.
“I—I can’t, I—” Now he really looks like he’s about to lose all control of his breathing.
You sit up further, moving onto your knees. “Here, let me—can I see your hand?” you ask gently, holding your own out.
He extends it to you without question, a tiny act of vulnerability that he couldn’t have dreamed of doing in this state before he met you.
You flip his hand over, palm-up and start tracing lines over it in the moonlight. You’re looking at his hand quite intently like there’s something very important on it. It’s enough to make him question what the hell you’re doing.
“I can read palms.” You tell him, simply.
“What?” His voice almost breaks, like he’s right at the edge of tears.
“Yeah, my friend taught me. I can tell the future and everything.” You look up at him, fingers not stopping their trailing. “Do you wanna hear yours?”
All he can do is nod.
You smile and start to inspect his hand carefully, tracing over calluses and a few tiny scars. You draw your finger across the short, deep line parallel to his fingers.
“This one…see the way it curves upwards right there?” He nods. “That means you’re very resourceful and ambitious. Like a leader.” His breathing starts to slow as he watches you, trying to focus on what you’re showing him in the dim light from the window.
“And this one,” you trace the line that curves downwards in the middle, “This one says that you’re strong and stubborn, which I can confirm,” he huffs out a laugh. It’s little but it’s genuine. “But it also means that you’re resilient. You’re built to overcome things and bounce back even stronger because of them. Which I can also confirm.”
He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He takes in a deep breath, watching you draw patterns across the base of his palm.
The sensation soothes him in a way that he frankly didn’t know he could be soothed. He figures he usually can’t, except when it’s you. He tries to match your breathing, syncing up with you. If anyone else tried to get this close to him when he was on the verge of a panic attack they’d get punched, at best.
But you…you always know how to help him. He’s considered in the past that he did something really right somewhere down the line and you were sent to him as reward. He’d racked his mind for hours of every good thing he’d ever done, trying to find one that could explain your presence in his life. For anything that could explain why he deserved you. He poured and poured over every memory he could dig up but couldn’t find any good he’d ever done that surmounted to a single piece of the good in your heart.
There was a time when he would’ve thought—when he did think that you were only in his life to be taken away as soon as he felt safe. That would certainly be in line with previous experiences. But you showed him quickly that you have this way about you…it makes those loud thoughts in the back of his head shut up and just listen. Listen to your words, your breathing, your footsteps, your laugh…anything he could. Because it turns out, when he listens, he feels safe.
He’s quiet for a long time, contentedly watching you work. He notices that at some point you’d stopped tracing the lines and began drawing designs instead.
He breaks the silence after several minutes, softly commenting, “You don’t know how to read palms.”
“No, I do not.”
But you continued to leave your invisible art on the palm of his hand just the same, both of you taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing and the soothing feeling of each other’s skin.
The radio plays lightly in the background, surrounding your night with soft ambience. You’re working at the cutting board with tomatoes as Jason leans against the counter next to you, having just finished getting the pasta set up on the stove.
His hands find your hips, resting them there as he watches you work over your shoulder.
“Watch your thumb.” He comments when the knife gets a little too close for his liking.
You shrug him off, “I know how to do it.”
He eyes the way the knife stutters as you cut through the tomato, slicing through not very cleanly at all. “Doesn’t look like it.”
You ignore him, elbowing him gently in the abdomen. He’s joking, but he’s not. The skill level you’re displaying is only above Bruce and slightly below Tim, which is not great.
“Will you let me do it?” he asks you when he realizes there’s going to be no improvement.
“Fine.” You relent with faux annoyance.
You switch over to the stovetop, keeping a careful eye on the pasta as it cooks. It’s quiet for a moment as he works, chopping with much more efficiency than you had.
“You didn’t have to stay here tonight, you know.” You say quietly, still intently watching the stove.
In spite of the music, your low volume does nothing to faze him as he continues his actions, “Why wouldn’t I?”
You stir the contents of the saucepan around. “Well, I know Roy wanted you to go out…”
“Not missing much.” He mumbles, opening up the above cabinet to get out plates.
You lull your head to the side, “Come on, he’s your best friend.”
Jason frowns. “He’s not my best friend.”
You turn your head towards him, “No?”
He meets your gaze, frown consistent. “No. You are.” He says it like he’s confused that you don’t know that.
“Oh.” You smile, “You’re my best friend too.”
His eyes soften at that, a light smile gracing his lips. He knew that, and he knew you’d say it, but hearing it out loud just…does something to him.
You flick the stove top off, prompting him to on instinct reach for the Marinara jar and crack it open for you. He hands it to you and you accept with a smile, twisting it open the rest of the way as you turn back to the stove. The jar sputters as you open, spitting out sauce.
“Oh, shit.” You hiss, when the splatter hits your shirt.
He takes one glance at the mess on your shirt and pulls his own shirt off his back. He’s tugging yours off just as fast, replacing it with his. You’ve barely processed what happened as he scans your body, eyes lingering on where his shirt stops at your thighs. “Can you wear this to bed tonight?” He asks, hands running over your waist.
You laugh, “Really?”
He meets your eyes, face serious. “Yes.” He squeezes your hip, “You look good.”
“In your shirt.” You say with a knowing smile.
“In my shirt.” He confirms.
You turn back to the stove to dish out the salsa, his hands skimming around your thighs as you do. He watches you as you work, though rather than watching your hands he’s fixated on the size of his shirt over you and how fucking good you look right now.
“Or…” He sweeps his eyes over your legs before looking back up at you again. “Did’ya turn the stove off?”
You tilt your head at him, “I did…?”
He grins at you, lifting you up by your thighs til you’re a head above him. “Good.” He maneuvers you over to the counter, setting you on top. He brings your wrist up to his mouth to press a delicate kiss before dropping to his knees.
You’ve been laying in bed for at least three hours, bordering on sleep but never quite falling in. You and Jason had a little spat, though nothing insurmountable, it was still the biggest fight you’ve had to date. You’d tried going out (at night) to see your friend that was having a hard time, and yeah, you should’ve told Jason you were going. It was only five blocks, give or take, but in Gotham at eleven o’clock at night, it’s a risk to say the least.
You should’ve told Jason, you know. But he wouldn’t have let you go or would’ve insisted on putting hold on patrolling to accompany you. You always feel bad when he does that—people could be getting hurt somewhere because you needed your boyfriend to walk you down the street. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter in the end because he caught you red handed before you’d even made it a full block away. Of all the nights for him to come home early, it had to be this one.
He dropped down from the rooftop behind you and scared the absolute hell out of you, and you didn’t even have time to be relieved that it was just him because he was on you in a flash.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was hard through the modulator, a rare tone for him to use with you.
“I just—my friend—” he sounded tired and angry, sure signs that he’d really not had a good night so far which was probably all the more reason that you shouldn’t have been out by yourself in the middle of the night.
“What are you—no! Go home. Now.” You would’ve, you really would’ve, but your friend called you crying about her boyfriend cheating on her again and she needed the in person support.
“Ja—” You’d cut yourself off, “It’s down the street, it’s fine—” He dropped his shoulders in a huff and faced you dead-on. You didn’t need him to take his helmet off to know exactly how he was looking at you.
He dropped down and hooked his arm around the back of your legs, lifting you off the ground with no discernible effort. “Wha—”
He started walking before you were even fully planted on his shoulder, arm wrapping around your legs to hold you in place.
“Hood! I am so fucking serious, put me down!” You swatted at his back and struggled in his grip, though in the back of your mind you knew it was a pointless effort. Even if you were a match in size, whatever mood he’d been pushed in was enough to guarantee that you had no chance.
He ignored you, not even pretending that you were giving him any difficulty with your squirming. He marched you back down the block to your apartment, not stopping until you’re outside your door. He set you down in between him and the entrance, digging into his pocket for his key.
He kicked the door shut behind him, finally letting you go. He wordlessly grabbed one of his spare guns and two cartridges of ammo from inside the closet by the door and turned back to you with a firm stance. “Stay here.”
You immediately tried to push past him again, at that point more angry about him dragging you back here than about having to duck out on your friend. He stopped you, holding you by the arms, which led you to respond by raising your voice at him, “Jason!”
But he didn’t waste any time letting you know how it is, “I will lock you in this fucking apartment. Stay. Here.” Him cursing at you like that was very rare and not a particularly good sign, so through your anger you’d made the decision that it was better to relent, for now. Your posture dropped and you frowned at him resentfully, a visible cue that you were giving in without you having to say it.
He stayed true to his word and locked the door on his way out, though knowing you could easily unlock it from the inside. You’d trudged into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.
Now you lay on Jason’s usual side of the bed, partially because you do miss him, partially because the bed feels a little less empty when you can’t see all the empty space. You know he was just trying to keep you safe after what was probably a rough start to the night, so you feel less than great that you’d yelled at him.
Your dwelling over the memory is interrupted by a quiet creak of the bedroom door. You blink up at him blearily, “Jay?” You sit up, furrowing your brow. You didn’t even hear him come home. “What’s wrong?” You figure he must be hurt to come in here—it’s not unknown for him to sleep on the couch if he feels like he did something wrong or upset you.
Your eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, scanning over him for any injuries. He’s out of his armor and in his regular clothes which means he must have showered already. And you know from dozens of nights patching him up that he always tends to his injuries before showering.
This leaves you confused, as you look up at him, waiting for an answer. “I can’t…I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispers, eyes on the floor.
You shuffle back into your usual spot near the wall and hold your hand out to him expectantly. You’re still a bit cross with him, but you miss him too much to care right now.
It takes him a second to move, but he eventually lingers away from the door and makes his way to the bed. He takes your hand as he climbs onto the bed, letting go only when you lay down after him, staring up at the ceiling next to him.
You weren’t entirely expecting him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into his chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d assumed he would lay on his side and you on yours and that would be enough for him to fall asleep with. Instead, he tightens his arms and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You lay there in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking.
“You’re mad.” He mumbles into your shoulder after a while. You know he feels badly about the dispute, you knew it while it was still happening. As hard as he tries, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. Not with you, anyways.
You shrug slightly. “Barely. I’ll get over it. This is more important.”
He picks his head up to look at you, “I love you. You know that?”
You wiggle out of his grip a bit, making him frown. You use the new space to flip over to face him, before placing his arm back around your waist. You peek up at him, looking him in the eyes, “I do. You know I love you. Even when we fight.”
He looks at you like he’s a bit thrown off by your words. “I’m sorry. It was just…it was a rough night…I—I’m sorry.” He tells you dolefully.
You shake your head, frowning. “Don’t be. I should’ve texted you.”
“It—yeah. Please. I just worry about you.” He looks so sad and it makes you feel somehow worse.
“I know,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, not moving away after.
You feel like you can finally relax and your tense body doesn’t take long to slacken in his hold. Soon after, he does the same, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your heart slow and your mind starts to find a space of peace.
Before you crash out, you mumble out, “I’m going to be a little passive aggressive in the morning, though.”
“I’d hope so.”
Jason didn’t get it at first.
Honestly, he didn’t really realize that you noticed things about him that even he didn’t see.
Your neighbor was having their place remodeled and you knew there would be construction going on near your apartment all day.
Jason didn’t really care, planning to bury his head under the pillow and trying to sleep through it. You however, seemed very adamant about getting out of the apartment that day. You’d left hours before the construction crew had even gotten there, telling him it was a nice day out.
It was an alright day, but he let you have your way.
You held his hand as you walked down the street, looking into shop windows and commenting on things you think he’d like.
You led him into a book store excitedly, telling him about how the author he’d been binging had just published something new. He didn’t even know that.
You were browsing the sections, flipping through books as you went. You peered across the shop at a kid holding an absolutely massive pile of books, who was clearly struggling to keep them in his arms.
His mother tried to help him but he shook his head and strided away independently, albeit very slowly. The weight of the books though, did get the best of him, and you could tell by the quivering in his arms that he was going to drop them.
“Loud noise.” You said quickly, seemingly out of the blue. Jason turned to you, confused, before seeing the stack the books splat flat onto the ground. It was indeed a loud noise.
He tilts his head at you, though you’re still busy watching the little boy as he throws his head back in frustration.
“What was that?”
You look at him, “He dropped his books.”
“Yeah, I saw. But why—”
His question gets cut off by the kid bursting into tears, wailing. You turn back to look at him, your gaze getting caught by the new book you’d been telling him about. “Ooh!”
You grab his hand and pull him over with you, smiling widely when you have the book in your hands. The sight of you makes him feel so warm so fast that he forgets about the odd interaction all together.
A couple hours later, you sit outside a cafe and eat lunch together, his back to the road, you sitting diagnal to him.
He’s telling you about the shit Damian got in trouble for at school last week, holding your hand with his right hand and eating with his left.
“He thinks he’s not going to get expelled for pulling shit like that every other week, it’s ridiculous.” He says, tossing his napkin down on the table.
Your smile is wavers as your eyes move past his shoulder looking down the block before widening, “Car—”
The sudden noise startles him enough to make him visibly jump, hand flying to where his holster would be. He looks over at the fender bender, shoulders relaxing.
He turns back to you to find your eyes looking far more worried than they should. You seem to be scanning his face, looking for something and he’s about to ask you what’s wrong when it sinks in.
He does get scared by unexpected loud sounds, doesn’t he? He never really thinks of it until it happens, but his mind is trained to expect gunshots or crowbars making impact.
It doesn’t happen often, but it noticeably takes a little piece out of him when it does.
“You…” he tries, but falters. He’s not even sure he’s processing this right.
He’s never seriously tried to fathom that you love him half as much as he loves you, though love doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. He lives and breathes for you, you’ve become a lifeline he’d been stranded without for most of his life. But now you're here and you’re everything, you’re in his head all the time, in every emotion he feels.
He thinks he’s here for you, that he was brought back from the dead because of you. You can’t possibly understand how much his heart is full of you, he doesn’t understand it himself.
He knows you love him, he’s gotten that through his head. But he can’t get a grasp on the idea that he’s equally matched in the who loves who the most battle.
Do you really care that much about him to go out of your way to keep track of things that might startle him? He knows there’s a million things about you that are in the back of his mind at any given time, but surely you don’t operate that same way with him?
Do you?
There’s this burning in his heart that aches and it only gets stronger when he sees you looking at him like that. So genuine. With care, with love.
He squeezes your hand, “I love you. More than anything.”
The look on your face sinks back into that sweet, adorable look that he’s so used to and it makes him want to scream.
You smile that bright smile and it sends his heart rocketing into oblivion. “I love you.” You squeeze his hand back, “More than everything.”
He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.
#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction
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