you make your acting debut ! … (in the fellas podcast trailer)
cw: established relationship , sexual innuendos , this is written as if it’s the final product of what you’d see in the trailer (no bts)
you were wearing a tiny, light grey pencil skirt that just about covered your bottom, and a matching cropped jacket. your heels were uncomfortable, but you were only wearing them for a couple hours and then you would never have to worry again.
“oi, reader!” greg shouted for you.
you poked your head into the door, a lollipop stick sticking out of your mouth , “hello?”
“fuckin’ hell, who’s this little rocket?” alfie grinned at the sight of you, leaning back and man spreading further.
“my assistant. she’s good at selling these places.” greg pointed down to the images of rentable spaces.
“… so she does your job for you?” chip frowned.
“watch your little buddy here.” he scoffed, gesturing to alfie, who’s eyes were zoned in on you, “reader, come sit on my desk while i talk to these boys.”
you tottered over, perching on the edge the desk while maintaining eye contact with alfie and swirling your tongue around the hard, red, ball in your mouth.
“this place, super nice inside, outside is ugly.” greg explained.
“super nice.” you hummed.
“no? not a fan?” he saw chips unamused expression and held up the next images, “play, what about this one? high ceiling, lots of space.”
“so much space for fun activities.” you grinned, reaching out your foot and sticking the tip of your heel up the leg of alfie’s trousers.
he’d said nothing for the entire time, practically in a trance as he gave you heart-eyes (he didn’t need a script to tell him to do that).
“what’s with the adlibs from this one?” chip commented.
“do you come with the gaff?” alfie finally broke his streak of silence.
“oi, that’s my assistant.” greg snapped. “show her some respect.”
you giggled, pointing your lollipop at alfie, “i’ll come wherever you want me to.”
“fuckin’ hell, bro.” chip sighed disappointedly as he watched alfie grin like a cheshire cat.
greg whistled then, catching your attention as you peered over your shoulder at him.
“show these lot the coordinates to my wood.”
“… your mums garden?” you hummed.
he nodded sharply.
“okey dokey.” you hopped down from the desk and grabbed alfie’s hand, “come on, pretty boy.”
chip blinked cluelessly as he was left alone in the room with greg, “am i going as well, or …?”
in the next scene, chip was arriving at the garden set whilst you and alfie clambered out of the caravan, him doing his jeans back up and you adjusting your skirt.
“cheers girl, definitely buying this place now.”
“any time.” you giggled before skipping out of shot.
comments:
userone i never expected reader and alfie shagging as part of the fellas trailer but it makes so much sense
usertwo sabina and reader 😍😍😍 the real stars of the show
userthree bro if i worked in an office with reader as my assistant i’d come to work everyday
abvloggin chill out that’s my mrs
userfour this was everything
userfive reader the shoes 😩😩 please tell me you kept them!!
yourusername nooo they were so uncomfy :(( kept the rest of the outfit tho! xx
usersix caravan shot dropping when?
fellasloaded next week 8pm on the fellas loaded app
abvloggin ???
yourusername stan stop.
fellasloaded its engagement
userseven ok now we’ve had reader and sabina in the trailer, when do they get their own episode?
usereight omg imagine just sabina and reader, no boys
usernine ok but then it’s not the fellas is it?
userseven man discovers that girls can joke for the first time
userten AB can’t handle allat toly hits bro
abvloggin i fucking can. fuck off
userten say fuck one more time you nearly sound hard
abvloggin fuck you
yourusername alfie stop
usereleven reader drop the youtube channel???
usertwelve i fucking love sabina, chip, AB and reader as a group like omg
userthirteen it’s like uncle and auntie with neph and niece
usertwelve bro i don’t think AB and his mrs are siblings tho
userthirteen you never know
usertwelve ???
userfourteen does reader need a dog? i can bark and sleep and shit outside holy fuck
userfifteen the shot of window kid on the office chair and reader sat on the table😭😭 they look like professional older brother and annoying little sister who follows him around everywhere
summary : your relationship with alfie through the lens of social media
content : established relationship , sexual innuendos , swearing
notes : so pissed all my old work is gone i can’t even believe it. just have to lock in and restart ig
@wherethezoes-at @iamemiliatv @luvbuttlestv @lreadss @luvr4miya @golden-hoax @loveheart-123 @iheartsophie @theoreticallythe @ocea1cperl @an0nym0nst3r
༊*·˚
You’re not in all of his vlogs, as he said he hates when singular youtube channels gradually merge into couples youtube channels, but because you live with him, it’s kinda hard to keep you out of them. When you are in them, it’s very briefly. For example in one vlog he went to a nature spot, he took you with him for that part of the video. In another, he dropped some food round to your house and stayed for a little while.
He doesn’t like having you in the vlogs 24/7 just because he’d rather keep you to himself, but sometimes it’s necessary, and the title becomes ‘AB and reader’ (cough, camper shaggon vlogs, cough).
“Boys — and girls — I am so fucking bored!” Alfie complained, laying on the bed in the back of the van, staring at the ceiling.
The clip cut and he was on the phone, “Hello?”
“Hi, Alfie.”
“Yoooo, what you sayin’ darlin’? Wanna come to mans ends ‘n’ that?” He put on his roadman voice.
“… Talk to me properly.”
He stared at the camera before looking back at the phone, “Hello, my beautiful angel wife. Would you like to come on a camping date with me in my van?”
“Is this a trafficking scheme? I’m scared.” You muttered down the phone.
“Nah, seriously. I’m filming a vlog in the van I got from the Sidemen. Do you wanna join me? Please? I’m so bored.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Really?! Okay, well, I can’t come and get you because this van is actually washed, like, it doesn’t drive properly.”
“I can probably get my dad to drop me. He’s feeling nice. Send me your location.”
In the next clip, you were standing outside the van, Alfie holding the camera right in your face.
“Can you let me in? I’m cold.” You giggled as he put the camera to your forehead, “Stop! Not from that angle!”
༊*·˚
He posts you on his Instagram all the time. Not on his TikTok but definitely his Instagram. He has a highlight with your initial where he posts pictures of you two and just you. Also puts at least one picture of you in his posts, even if it has nothing to do with you.
alfiebuttle
liked by yourusername , the burntchip , italianbach and 76k more
some form of sexy tart and mr ADHD on the last slides
comments :
yourusername exsqueeze me???
alfiebuttle beautiful, sexy angel girl*
yourusername thank you x
yourusername guy on the fifth slide is so fit omg what’s his ig
alfiebuttle … hi lol
yourusername that view on slide six is so fire
alfiebuttle you da real view
theburntchip 🔥🔥🔥
arthurtv ‘you’re my best view’ ahh
livvydimartino bro is punching so hard
alfiebuttle shut up
italianbach don’t talk to my queen like that PEASANT🐺🐺
yourusername i love you liv😘😘
theburntchip bro acts so tough but he gets a cheek kiss and starts calling his mrs ‘mommy’
alfiebuttle what the fuck are you talking about this has literally never happened
theburntchip idk you’re getting a bit defensive there neph
yourusername i wish :((
alfiebuttle ???
༊*·˚
He posts you most on his snapchat. If he ever gets a crazy dm from a girl saying they wanna fuck him, he always makes sure to put your face in the replying snap so you’re both giving them some sort of judgemental look.
He posts ‘mugs’ of you on his snap story all the time. You think they’re mugs, but in reality they’re just pictures of you doing mundane things but having not posed. If you really don’t like the way it’s turned out, he won’t post it, but it’s always playful. He never posts any bad pictures to make you look bad.
If he ever sends video stories, he makes sure you’re not in the back of them — or if you are, that you’re decently dressed. He knows what some people are like and doesn’t want you subjected to them. It’s never in a controlling way, it’s always polite like, “I’m filming a quick but for my snapchat story, d’you wanna leave the room or put some joggers on?”
༊*·˚
Talks about you a LOT on the podcast. Whether it’s little things like mentioning something you did or going into a full on rant with the boys about their respective partners, he always manages to bring you up at least three times per episode.
“Nah, and you know what, I got a right bollocking from my mrs the other day.”
“Bro, same!” Chip exclaimed.
“Really? What for?”
“I left the dishes out.” Chip answered, “Like, right before she started making dinner, so there was nowhere to put anything. So got proper mad at me.”
“Yikes, bro.”
“Nah, mine was baddd.” Alfie chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.
“Really? Your mrs don’t seem like the kind to shout at you.”
“No, she doesn’t. And that’s worse. I’d rather she shouted at me to be honest. Instead she just mutters under her breath and gets upset. Makes me feel so bad. But, nah, this time she raised her voice. Kinda scared me actually, and turned me on. Bit of a mind boggler.”
Chip and Cal laughed simultaneously.
“It’s alright. I made it up to her.” Alfie winked at the camera.
“You gave her a Buttle-ing?” Chip smirked behind his hand.
Cal physically recoiled away from him after that and Alfie pulled a face.
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Yknow, a nice little round before bed.”
“Yeah but why’d you call it that?” Alfie laughed.
“‘Coz your last name’s Buttle. So you gave her a bit of your piece.”
“Aight, we need to move on, bro. What the fuck…” Cal gave Chip a look.
——————
“AB, you and your mrs are crazy different, yknow. I thought you would’ve gone for someone that’s exactly like you, but…”
“Yeah, nah, I know. She’s, like, the complete opposite of me. It’s quite funny when you see our clothes next to each other in the wardrobe because she’s all, like, pinks and whites and browns and greens and i’m just … black and white with a few fuckin’ pairs of blue jeans.”
“Gonna have to cause a scene, watch what you’re saying.”
Chip was chuckling too, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Wait, genuinely, are you actually like that when you two go out. Like, any guy that tries it on with her—“
“Do I spin their jaw? Yeah, bro.” Alfie snorted, “No, not really. She’s very … reserved. Like when we go out if she’s not got her friends, she will not leave my side. Like, at all. Sometimes, if she’s had a few drinks she’ll go off. But … right, the thing is … I don’t know to word this. She’s very … I don’t wanna say petite ‘coz it makes me sound like a fuckin’ nonce.” Alfie turned to the camera, “She’s 5’3 and a half. She’s average height, alright?”
Cal and Chip leaned into each other while laughing.
“She’s very … I don’t know! She’s just the opposite of me. Like, I’m quite ‘lads, lads, lads’ but not in a toxic, fuckin’ knobhead way. And she’s very … ‘eughhh’.” Alfie whined.
“Bro, what?!”
“I don’t know, leave me alone! I haven’t seen her in three days, I’m having withdrawals!”
“What, ‘cause she’s still up on your little fuckin’ fairy cottage?”
“Yeah— oi, don’t diss the Grotto. It’s only a fairy cottafe because she decorated, so don’t let her head you saying that. But, yeah … she don’t like London.”
“Really?! What about the move bro? Is she coming with?”
“Yeah— what, you think I’m leaving her up there? I’d die without her and she’d die without me. No fucking chance. She’s not thrilled about moving to London, but she appreciates that it’s for me. And I said we can keep the grotto so she’s happy.”
“None of that toxic masculinity shit, bro. Your girl doesn’t need you.” Chip tutted sarcastically.
“Mate, I didn’t mean it like that. She’s got this thing — I dunno — she don’t like being at home by herself. Gets proper paranoid. She’s staying with her dad right now.”
“You should get her on the pod.” Cal suggested.
“She’d kill herself.”
༊*·˚
Whenever hate comes up, Alfie gets very protective over you. He has no care in the world if people talk about him, but when people slag you off, he’s inclined to start World War Three. It tends to be on stream where the most of it comes in, causing him to lose his temper on camera quite a bit.
“AB, your girl’s punching—uh, shut the fuck up.” His eyes scanned the chat, “You’re fit— cheers, got a mrs though.”
He continued playing his game and streaming when you knocked on the door, peeking your head in, just wearing one of his shirt that fell to your mid-thigh. He turned around in his chair.
“Y’alright?”
“Did you finish the jaffa cakes that were in the cupboard?” You asked quietly.
“Nah, got some here.” He grabbed the box on his desk and held them out to you.
You shuffled forwards, taking them, “Thank you.”
“Wanna say hi?”
You smiled shyly and waved, “Hi, chat.”
The chat filled with comments, people buzzing and getting excited over you.
“Alright, see you in a bit, girl.” Alfie smiled, patting your bottom as you walked out.
“AB grabbing at bones with that— Mate, honestly, go fuck yourself.” Alfie scoffed, not joking around. “I can understand a bit of a joke here and there, but don’t fucking take the piss out of reader.”
“AB your girlfriend is beautiful— I know— See, can we get more of that please? Mods just kick anyone who thinks they’re funny by taking the piss … ‘Clip farming’— I’m not fuckin’ clip farming, I just don’t appreciate when people body shame my girlfriend, like, is that too woke for you lot?”
༊*·˚
He’s usually the first to like, comment and repost your tiktoks, so it’s become a thing where if any of your fans are first, they comment ‘here before AB’. Your tiktoks range from grwm, to outfit checks, to daily vlogs or just lip syncing videos.
One time, you posted the Tears transition trend, and everyone went crazy because it goes against how you’re portrayed online. All the girls reposted it and commented fifty times. Becky even put it on her Instagram story with the caption ‘i love my girlfriend’. Alfie saw it, liked it, reposted it and added it to every story on every social media account he has. His comment was ‘god i think i just nut in my youngLA boxers ffs🤦🏻♂️’. some of the comments from his fans were weird (as expected) but you just ignored them. they would comment things like ‘cant believe AB gets this view every night’ or ‘drop the tape with AB we know you’ve got one’.
He may or may not have gone on a rant about them on stream calling them weird and gross and insulting every little thing about them.
He would genuinely rather be cancelled for defending you than sit in silence and let people objectify and sexualise you.
All in all, he’d go to the ends of the world for you, and everyone knows it.
˗ˏˋ Content ˎˊ˗ softness, domestic intimacy, Jason being gentle, back scratches
| navi. | dc mlist. |
The apartment is quiet in that late-night way—no traffic, no sirens, just the low hum of the city trying to sleep.
You’re curled up on the couch with one of Jason’s books resting open in your lap. It’s something thick and a little beat-up, the spine cracked like it’s been loved too hard. You’re not even sure you’re fully processing the words anymore. Mostly, you’re waiting.
The sound of the window sliding open makes you glance up.
Jason steps inside like he always does—careful, controlled, already scanning the room even though he knows you’re safe. The Red Hood comes off first, set gently on the counter like it’s fragile. Then the jacket, the gloves, the boots. Each piece of armor shed like he’s slowly remembering how to be human again.
“Hey,” he murmurs when he finally looks at you.
“Hey,” you smile back, softer.
His shoulders drop at the sight of you curled up on the couch. Like something in his chest finally unclenches.
He crosses the room, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head that smells faintly like rain and gun oil and him. You hum quietly, leaning into it, and that’s all it takes.
Jason sinks down beside you, tugging you gently into his chest. One arm wraps around you instinctively, pulling you closer until your side fits perfectly against his. Like you were made to go there.
“You steal my book again?” he asks, amused.
“You never finish them anyway.”
“Rude,” he scoffs—but he reaches for it anyway, carefully sliding it out of your hands. He adjusts until your head rests against his shoulder, your cheek pressed to the worn fabric of his shirt.
He starts reading out loud, voice low and steady, the kind that settles deep in your bones. You barely register the words. Mostly, you focus on the way his chest rises beneath you, the rhythm of his breathing grounding you.
His other hand starts moving without him even thinking about it.
Slow. Gentle.
Fingertips tracing lazy patterns along your back. Up and down. Circles. The faint scratch of his nails just enough to make your skin buzz.
You melt.
Your grip on his shirt loosens. Your breaths get heavier. Slower.
Jason notices immediately.
He glances down, lowering his voice, adjusting the book so it doesn’t dig into you. His hand keeps moving, more deliberate now, like he’s guiding you into sleep.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
Your eyes flutter shut.
Jason stops reading altogether once he realizes you’re gone. He sets the book aside carefully, like it might wake you if it makes too much noise.
He doesn’t move after that.
Just stays there with you tucked into his arms, scratching your back in slow, steady motions—protective, patient. Like he’s guarding something precious.
Because he is.
He presses a soft kiss to your temple, resting his cheek against your hair.
₊˚⊹⋆ don’t let me talk to you like that ft. rafe cameron
── .✦ lovebug!reader x frat!rafe cameron
💭this was based off a request, hope u like it :)
| navi. | masterlist. |
The kitchen smells like garlic and butter and something sweet you can’t quite place—probably the honey you drizzled over the carrots because Rafe likes when they’re “a little fancy.”
You’re standing barefoot on the cool tile, oversized Cameron fraternity hoodie slipping off one shoulder, hair pulled into a messy bun. The apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the faint thump of music from the neighbour’s place.
Rafe’s in the living room, phone in hand, recording one of those stupid Snapchat stories he’s always posting. You can hear his voice drifting over the counter.
“Yeah, bro, I’m telling you, she’s got me domesticated,” he laughs. “Like—bitch, what’s for dinner?”
You freeze.
The wooden spoon stops mid-stir. The word hangs in the air like smoke. You know he’s joking. He always jokes. You’ve heard his frat boy humour, the sarcasm, the teasing. But something about the word—sharp, ugly—hits you wrong.
You swallow and keep stirring, quieter now. “Um,” you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear, “roast beef. And, uh, carrots.”
There’s a pause. Then footsteps.
You feel him before you see him. He moves fast, phone lowering, grin gone, brows knitting together like he’s trying to rewind the moment in his head.
“Hey,” he says softly.
You glance over your shoulder. “What?”
He’s just… staring at you. Like you said something that cracked him open. His jaw flexes, eyes flicking to the pot, then back to you.
“Did that bother you?” he asks.
You hesitate. You hate confrontation. You hate making people feel bad. So you shrug, small. “It’s fine. I know you were kidding.”
He steps closer, leaning against the counter beside you. He smells like his cologne and beer and the outside air. He doesn’t look drunk—just thoughtful, like his brain caught up with his mouth a second too late.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he mutters.
You try to smile. “Rafe, it’s okay.”
He shakes his head immediately. “No. It’s not.”
You turn off the stove and set the spoon down, finally facing him fully. He’s serious in that way that makes your chest tighten—the way he gets when he’s trying to fix something before it breaks.
“You better not ever let me talk to you like that,” he says, voice low. “You hear me?”
Your fingers curl into the sleeves of his hoodie. “Rafe—”
“I’m serious.” He steps closer, hands on the counter on either side of you, but not trapping you—just grounding himself. “You should smack the shit outta me if I ever call you that. Or talk to you like that. I don’t care if I’m joking.”
You blink. “I’m not gonna hit you.”
“Yeah, you are,” he insists, eyes intense. “Or you’re gonna call me out. Or walk away. Something. Don’t just stand there and take it.”
You didn’t realize how quiet you’d gone until he says it. You’ve always been quiet. Soft-spoken. The girl who apologizes too much, who lets people joke a little too far because you don’t want to be dramatic.
He watches you like he’s scared you’ll disappear into yourself if he blinks.
“Do you understand?” he asks.
Your throat feels tight. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t believe you. “Say it again.”
You meet his eyes, really meet them this time. “Yeah. I understand.”
He exhales, shoulders dropping like he’s been holding something in. Then his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.
“I would never want you to think that’s how I see you,” he murmurs. “You’re… you’re everything to me. You’re too soft for that shit. And I’m too fucking lucky.”
Your chest aches in that warm, tender way. “You’re not that bad,” you whisper.
He scoffs lightly, but his eyes stay soft. “Yeah, I am. That’s why I need you to keep me in check. Don’t ever let me get comfortable disrespecting you. Promise me.”
You nod, lips trembling into a small smile. “I promise.”
He leans in and presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you into him gently, like he’s afraid you’re made of glass.
“Dinner smells good,” he whispers.
You laugh quietly. “You just emotionally traumatized yourself and now you’re hungry?”
He kisses your temple. “I can do both.”
You relax into his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the weight of him against you. Frat parties, loud friends, stupid jokes—that’s part of Rafe. But so is this: the boy who hates the idea of hurting you more than anything.
“Next time,” you murmur, “I’m charging you for emotional damage.”
hii girlie i’m not sure if you watched people we meet on vacation but there’s the one angry love confession scene in the rain that I was wondering if you could do for ex!rafe and reader?? tbh you don’t even need to watch the movie but i’m a sucker for a rain confession (i imagine iris by the goo goo dolls playing all the time) so any would do. thank you!!
₊˚⊹⋆ when the storm finally breaks ft. rafe cameron
── .✦ ex!rafe cameron x reader
💭hope this is okay, i haven’t actually watch it yetttt, but i might soon. (i’ve got so many things on my watchlist)
! not proof-read
| navi. | masterlist. |
It’s raining like the sky is personally offended.
The kind of rain that soaks through clothes in seconds, that slicks the pavement and blurs the world into something smaller, sharper. You’re halfway across the parking lot when you hear your name.
Not called.
Shouted.
You stop anyway. You always do.
“Don’t walk away from me.”
You turn slowly, heart already in your throat. Rafe stands a few feet back, hair plastered to his forehead, shirt darkened and clinging like he hasn’t even noticed the weather. His jaw is tight, eyes wild in that familiar way that used to mean everything.
You swallow. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“That’s bullshit,” he snaps, taking a step closer. “You always know when I’m around.”
The rain drums between you, loud enough to feel like it’s filling the space where words should go. You fold your arms, not for warmth — for armor.
“I’m not doing this with you,” you say. “Not again.”
Rafe laughs, sharp and humorless. “Funny. You were always doing this with me. That was the problem.”
That hits. It always does.
“You left,” you say, voice trembling despite your best effort. “You don’t get to show up months later and act like—”
“Like what?” he cuts in. “Like I didn’t think about you every damn day?”
He’s closer now. Too close. You can smell the rain, the salt in the air, him. Your chest tightens.
“Rafe—”
“No.” His voice cracks, just barely. “No, you don’t get to shut this down. You walked out when I was falling apart and you wanna know the sickest part?”
Your breath catches.
“I let you,” he continues, rain dripping off his lashes. “I watched you go because I thought… I thought if I loved you enough, I’d stop ruining you.”
That stops you cold.
“I wasn’t ruining you,” you whisper.
“You were loving me,” he says fiercely. “And I didn’t know how to hold that without breaking it.”
Silence crashes heavier than the rain.
You laugh weakly, tears mixing with water on your cheeks. “So what, this is your big realization? You show up soaked and angry and suddenly you’ve figured it out?”
Rafe steps right into your space now. “I’ve always known,” he says, voice low and raw. “I just didn’t think I deserved you knowing it too.”
Your chest aches. “You hurt me.”
“I know.” His eyes shine. “And it kills me.”
The rain pours harder, relentless. Your hands curl at your sides, fighting the urge to reach for him — the urge you’ve been fighting since the day you left.
“I loved you,” you say softly. “I loved you when it was hard. When it was ugly.”
“I still do,” he blurts, like it’s been clawing its way out of him. “I love you so much it makes me angry. I hate that you’re still the first person I want when everything goes wrong.”
Your breath stutters.
“I tried to move on,” he continues, words tumbling now. “Tried to forget the way you laugh, the way you used to hold my face like I was something worth saving. I can’t. I never stopped being yours.”
The rain feels like it’s pressing in on you, the world narrowing to just the two of you.
“You broke my heart,” you whisper.
“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “But I’m standing here anyway. In the rain. Like an idiot. Because if I don’t tell you now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
He hesitates, then reaches out — stopping just short of touching you. Giving you the choice.
“I don’t need forgiveness,” Rafe says quietly. “I just need you to know… leaving you was the worst mistake I ever made.”
Your resolve shatters.
You grab his shirt, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric as a sob tears out of you. Rafe exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months and pulls you into him, arms wrapping tight, desperate.
“I’m so mad at you,” you cry into his chest.
“I know,” he murmurs, forehead pressing to yours. “Be mad. Just don’t walk away.”
The kiss happens like it’s inevitable — angry, messy, rain-soaked. It tastes like tears and unfinished sentences, like I never stopped loving you finally said out loud.
When you pull back, breathless, Rafe rests his forehead against yours.
“I’ll fight for you,” he promises. “Every day. If you’ll let me.”
You close your eyes, rain sliding down your lashes.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you whisper.
He smiles — small, real, terrified. “Never again.”
bodyguard!dick grayson x pop/rockstar reader…. like he thinks shes obnoxious at first and is annoyed bruce tasked him to watch her for a mission. but he ends up continuing to check up on her well after the missions over “just because” 🙈🙈
₊˚⊹⋆ still watching you ft. dick grayson
── .✦ bodyguard!dick grayson x rockstar!reader
| navi. | dc masterlist. |
Dick Grayson didn’t hate you.
That was the lie he told himself during the first week.
You were just—
Too loud. Too bright. Too unpredictable.
Your laugh echoed through hallways that were supposed to be cleared and controlled. You spoke to everyone like they mattered. You wore ripped fishnets and glitter eyeliner to security briefings like it was a personal challenge.
“You can’t crowd surf,” Dick said for the fourth time that night, headset buzzing as the venue lights dimmed.
You glanced over your shoulder mid-warmup, grinning. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m not here to be fun,” he snapped.
“Yeah,” you said easily. “That’s obvious.”
He rolled his eyes, jaw tight. Bruce had framed this as a simple assignment. Keep an eye on the rockstar. Make sure no one gets close enough to hurt her. Get in, get out.
But you weren’t a static target. You were motion. Emotion. Chaos wrapped in leather and sound.
And worst of all—
You looked at him like you trusted him.
It was subtle at first. The way your eyes flicked to him before stepping onto a stage. The way you waited for his nod before meeting fans. The way your shoulders relaxed when you spotted him in the wings.
He told himself it was professional pride.
Until it wasn’t.
⸻
The first crack happened after a show in Berlin.
You came offstage shaking—not from adrenaline, but something heavier. Your smile faded the second the dressing room door closed, hands trembling as you dropped into a chair.
Dick noticed immediately.
“Hey,” he said quietly, crouching in front of you without thinking. “What happened?”
You swallowed. “Someone grabbed me. Security missed it.”
His chest went tight. Hot.
“Where.”
You pointed. He stood too fast, anger coiling sharp and dangerous—but your hand caught his wrist.
“Don’t,” you whispered. “Please. I just… sit with me?”
He froze.
Then, slowly, he sat beside you on the floor, back against the wall, close enough that your knees brushed.
You leaned into him. Just slightly.
And Dick—trained, controlled, unshakeable Dick Grayson—felt something in his chest shift.
From that night on, he stopped pretending this was just a mission.
⸻
He learned the meanings behind your tattoos because he asked.
The lyrics on your ribs that you wrote after losing someone.
The tiny star behind your ear that reminded you where you came from.
The messy heart on your wrist that you got drunk at nineteen because “I wanted something permanent that proved I survived.”
“You ever regret any of them?” he asked one night, hotel curtains open to a sleeping city.
You shook your head. “They remind me I’m still here.”
He looked at you for a long moment before saying, “Yeah. I get that.”
And you did something that wrecked him completely.
You reached out and squeezed his hand.
⸻
The mission ended quietly.
Too quietly.
Bruce told him it was done. Threat neutralized. No further protection required.
Dick nodded. Said “understood.” Did what he always did.
But when he watched you walk away at the airport, guitar case slung over your shoulder, he felt like someone had taken something vital out of his chest and left him breathing anyway.
He didn’t text you that night.
Or the next.
He lasted six days.
Dick:
You good?
You replied instantly.
You:
Was wondering how long you’d last.
He stared at the screen, heart pounding.
Dick:
Just checking in.
You:
Sure you are, bodyguard.
But you kept talking. About shows. About bad coffee. About nights where the stage felt too big and the hotel rooms felt too empty.
And Dick stayed.
He stayed because he wanted to.
Because he cared.
Because somewhere along the line, you’d stopped feeling like a responsibility and started feeling like home.
⸻
When you came back to Gotham for the charity concert, you didn’t ask if he’d be there.
You just hoped.
And when you spotted him near the barricade, arms folded, eyes locked on you like the world narrowed when you were in it—you almost forgot the lyrics.
After rehearsal, you found him on the rooftop, city wind tugging at his hair.
“You didn’t have to come,” you said softly.
He didn’t look at you. “I know.”
Silence stretched.
“Dick,” you said. “Why are you still here?”
He exhaled sharply, finally turning to face you. “Because I don’t know how to stop.”
Your heart stuttered.
“I tell myself I’m checking for threats. That I’m being careful. But the truth is—” His voice cracked, barely. “I think about you all the time.”
You stepped closer.
“You don’t have to protect me anymore.”
“I know,” he whispered. “And that’s what scares me.”
You reached up, cupping his face, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw.
“I don’t want you because you’re watching my back,” you said. “I want you because you see me.”
His forehead rested against yours.
“I’ve been in love with you since Berlin,” he admitted quietly. “And I didn’t know how to say it without ruining everything.”
Your lips curved, eyes shining. “You didn’t.”
Then you kissed him.
Slow. Gentle. Like something fragile you both wanted to keep.
He kissed you back like he’d been holding his breath for months—and finally let himself breathe.
When you pulled away, he smiled, soft and real.
“So,” you murmured. “Still watching me?”
“Always,” he said. “Just not from the shadows anymore.”
Wellllll if you want requests 😋 anything with more tattoo artist!Jason would be heavily appreciated, like smth cute where shes getting more ink and hes asking about the meanings behind her tattoos 😋😋😋😋😋😋😋
₊˚⊹⋆ inked in meaning ft. jason todd
── .✦ tattoo!artist jason todd x reader
| navi. | dc masterlist. |
💭i didn’t actually come up with tattoo artist jason todd originally it was @bloomcissa so credit to them but i do really love the character so hope you enjoy x
Jason’s gloves snap softly against his wrist as he pulls them on, the sound familiar enough that it settles you instantly. You’re already stretched out on the chair, sleeve of your hoodie pushed up, skin prepped and waiting.
“You comfortable?” he asks, voice low, gentle—so different from the gruff way he talks to walk-ins.
You nod. “Always am with you.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, eyes flicking up to meet yours before focusing back on your arm. Jason’s studio smells faintly of antiseptic and coffee, the walls cluttered with flash art and half-finished sketches. It’s his space—him—and you love being here more than you’ll ever admit.
As he positions your arm just right, his thumb brushes over the tattoo already inked near your wrist. A small constellation. He pauses.
“You never told me what this one meant,” he says casually, like he hasn’t been wondering for weeks.
You tilt your head, smiling. “You ask that every time.”
“Yeah,” he admits, glancing up again. “One day you’re gonna answer.”
The machine buzzes to life, steady and familiar. Jason’s focus locks in immediately, shoulders relaxed, movements precise. You watch him work, the way his brows furrow slightly in concentration, the way he wipes excess ink with practiced care.
After a moment, you sigh. “Okay. The stars?”
“Mhm.”
“They’re the night my life started feeling… mine,” you say softly. “Not perfect. Just—better. Like I could breathe again.”
Jason’s hand stills for half a second before continuing. His jaw tightens, but his voice stays even. “That tracks.”
You glance down at him. “You gonna psychoanalyze the rest too?”
“Absolutely,” he says. “Occupational hazard.”
You laugh, the vibration of it grounding you as the needle continues its work. Your skin stings, but it’s the good kind of pain—the kind you chose.
His eyes drift to another tattoo higher up your arm: delicate script looping just beneath your elbow.
“And this one,” he murmurs. “I know it’s not just for aesthetics.”
You swallow. “It’s my mum’s handwriting.”
Jason exhales slowly through his nose. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Thought so.”
You watch his grip soften, the way his touch somehow becomes gentler without losing precision. He doesn’t say I’m sorry. He never does—not when he knows it doesn’t help. Instead, his thumb presses reassuringly against your skin when he wipes away the ink.
Minutes pass in comfortable silence until he nods toward the new stencil waiting just below your shoulder.
“Wanna tell me about this one before I permanently brand you?” he asks.
You smile at the word brand. “It’s a reminder.”
“Of?”
“Of choosing myself,” you say. “Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
Jason hums thoughtfully. “Damn. You’re gonna make me emotional while I’m holding a needle. That’s dangerous.”
You grin. “You love it.”
“Yeah,” he admits. “I do.”
When the session ends, he leans back, pulling his gloves off and inspecting his work. The new ink is perfect—clean lines, soft shading, exactly what you pictured.
He meets your eyes. “You good?”
“Yeah,” you say, voice warm. “You always make it feel safe.”
Something flickers in his expression—something tender and unguarded. Jason presses a kiss to the side of your arm, right beside the fresh tattoo, careful not to touch the ink.
“Every piece you get,” he says quietly, “it’s like I get to know you a little more.”
You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “Guess I’ll just have to keep coming back.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Funny,” he says. “Was hoping you’d say that.”
I just read ur new fic “He Can Hear a Heartbreak” AND OMG!!! I honestly forgot I made the request and this was a lovely surprise, it was everything and moreeeeeeee🩷🩷😭
ahhh i’m so glad you loved it!! sorry i took me so long to get around to doing it😔