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bandsofmarv · 3 days ago

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Shielded heart

After breaking up with you months ago Bucky realises he can’t live without you after seeing you on a date.

Angst, smut.

The knock at your door was sharp and insistent, but this time, it wasn’t just unwelcome—it was infuriating.

You’d barely stepped out of your heels when it came, loud enough to make you jump. You froze, your hand gripping the back of the couch as you stared at the door. Only one person knocked like that.

Your blood boiled as his voice broke through, low and angry. “Y/N, open the damn door.”

You didn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. “Go away, Bucky,” you called out, your voice sharper than usual.

“No.” His reply was immediate and clipped. “We need to talk. Now.”

You stormed to the door, your date still fresh in your mind, the laughter and warmth of the evening now overshadowed by the man standing on the other side of the threshold. You yanked the door open, meeting his stormy blue eyes with a glare.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snapped. “And you don’t get to show up here like this.”

Bucky looked furious, his hair disheveled, his leather jacket unzipped like he’d rushed over. “Like hell there isn’t,” he growled, his eyes narrowing. “Who was he?”

Your stomach twisted, but you refused to let him see how much his question rattled you. “None of your business,” you said coldly, crossing your arms.

“The hell it isn’t,” Bucky snapped, stepping closer. “You think I don’t notice you dressing up? Smiling like that? I saw you, Y/N. With him.”

His words hit you like a slap, the possessiveness in his tone making your anger spike. “You saw me?” you repeated, incredulous. “What, are you stalking me now? You have no right—”

“I have every right,” he interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine.”

“I’m not yours!” you shot back, your voice rising. “You left me, Bucky! You don’t get to walk out of my life and then act like you have a claim to me.”

His jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice strained. “I thought you’d be better off without me.”

“And look how well that turned out,” you said bitterly. “You hurt me, Bucky. You broke me. And now, what? You see me on a date and suddenly you care?”

“That’s not what this is,” he said, his voice softening, but the tension in his frame remained.

“Isn’t it?” you challenged, taking a step closer, your anger boiling over. “You only care now because you’re jealous. Because for once, I wasn’t sitting at home, waiting for you to decide you were ready to come back.”

His expression cracked, guilt flashing across his face. “I know I messed up,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I know I don’t deserve you. But seeing you with him? I couldn’t—I can’t—”

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you interrupted, your voice shaking. “You don’t get to show up here and act like you own me just because you don’t want anyone else to.”

His eyes darkened, and he stepped even closer, the heat between you palpable. “I don’t just want you, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “I need you. And no one—no one—can love you like I can.”

You sucked in a breath, your anger mixing with the undeniable pull you still felt toward him. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“I’m not walking away again,” he said firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You can hate me all you want, but I’m not giving up. That guy you were with? He’ll never know you like I do. Never touch you the way I can.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words pressing against the walls you’d built around your heart. “Bucky—”

“No,” he cut you off, his voice rough and desperate. “I’ve already lost you once. I won’t let it happen again.”

For a moment, you stood frozen, torn between anger and the deep ache you still felt for him. But as much as you wanted to slam the door in his face, a part of you couldn’t. A part of you didn’t want him to leave.

Bucky had made the decision for you before you knew it he was on you, his hands cupping your face as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was desperate and all-consuming, every ounce of frustration, jealousy, and longing poured into it. You should have pushed him away, reminded him of the boundaries you’d just set—but you didn’t.

Instead, you kissed him back with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backed you against the wall. His body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him as his hands roamed down to your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Bucky—” you gasped when he pulled back, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Don’t say anything,” he growled, his voice rough and possessive. “Just let me prove it to you.”

You shivered as his teeth grazed your skin, his metal hand sliding under your shirt to splay across your back, pulling you even closer. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head so he could look into your eyes.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “You think some guy can make you feel like this? Touch you the way I do?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stole the words from your lips. His fingers trailed down your side, tugging your shirt over your head before his lips returned to yours, hot and demanding.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to your thigh and lifting it around his hip. “Did you feel anything when he touched you? Did it even come close to this?”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling as he ground against you, his hardness pressing against your core. “Bucky…”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his tone triumphant. He picked you up with ease, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. His eyes were dark with desire as he stripped you of the rest of your clothes, his hands mapping your body like he needed to remind himself you were his.

“You can pretend to hate me all you want,” he murmured, leaning over you as he stripped off his shirt. “But your body doesn’t lie. You still want me.”

You glared at him, trying to hold onto your anger, but it was hard to think when his lips were on your skin, kissing and biting a trail down your chest. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he settled between them.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “Say it.”

Your breath hitched as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive spot, your hands fisting in the couch cushions. “Bucky—”

“Say it,” he demanded, his metal hand pressing against your stomach to keep you still as he worked you into a frenzy. “Say you’re mine, or I’ll stop.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your head falling back as pleasure built in your core. “I’m yours, Bucky.”

A satisfied growl rumbled in his chest, and he pulled back, his lips glistening as he smirked down at you. “That’s my girl,” he said, shedding the rest of his clothes before aligning himself with you.

The stretch as he filled you was almost too much, but it was everything you needed. He moved slowly at first, his gaze locked on yours as he claimed you in every way possible.

“No one else can have you,” he murmured, his pace quickening. “No one else will ever touch you like this. You’ll never want anyone else, Y/N. You’re mine.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body trembling as you cried out his name. He followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep inside you, his groan of release muffled against your neck.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing. Bucky stayed above you, his weight comforting as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder.

“You’ll never want anyone else,” he whispered again, his voice softer now but no less certain. “Because no one else can love you like I do.”

This time, you didn’t argue.

#marvel #bucky barnes #marvel smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky smut #bucky x yn #angst bucky #marvel fic #jealous bucky x reader #bucky x #bucky x reader #bucky barnes jealous #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic

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nlvrr · 3 days ago

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HIS STYLIST | jude bellingham

summary: jude is hopelessly smitten with his stylist, but no matter how charming or flirty he gets, she remains oblivious to his feelings.

warnings: none!

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

a/n request more people to write about or anything! im on christmas break and want things to write about!

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the studio hummed with the usual sounds, tailors fussing over fabric, the drone of a few lights being adjusted, but to jude, it was all background noise. his focus was entirely on her, the way she moved around him, so careful, so assured. every step she took seemed to amplify the heartbeat that echoed in his chest.

it had been months since they started working together. months of fitting, adjusting, watching her hands smooth over his collar, or adjust his cuff, with professional precision. she was his personal stylist, and from the start, their relationship had been entirely business. but somewhere along the way, it had shifted for jude. each brush of her fingers against his skin, each moment when their eyes would meet for just a second too long, made him feel something deeper than what he had ever intended to feel for someone simply doing their job.

“relax your shoulders, jude,” she said, her tone gentle but steady, her hands reaching for the edges of his suit jacket.

he did as instructed, but it was hard not to stiffen when she got close, when the heat from her body pressed against his in subtle, fleeting moments.

“better,” she murmured as she moved back. her fingers lingered over him for just an instant longer than was necessary.

“always so perfect,” he said with a playful grin, trying again to flirt, hoping she’d notice, hoping maybe, just maybe, she’d let her guard down this time.

she didn’t respond right away, but when she did, her smile was small and polite. “that’s the goal,” she said, as if it were just another part of the job.

he watched her, studying every move, and for a second, he imagined what it would be like if she smiled at him without that professionalism, the mask that never quite cracked. he could tell himself over and over that it was a lost cause, that she was just his stylist, that this thing he felt, this longing, was a silly infatuation that would fade. but it never did.

“you know,” he began, voice smooth but with a quiet edge of vulnerability creeping through, “i feel like i should thank you. you really have a gift, making all of this look effortless.” he gestured to his perfectly tailored suit, smiling a little too brightly. “it’s hard to feel this… good.”

she didn’t seem moved by his words in the way he hoped. instead, she adjusted his cuffs, still cool and collected. “it’s just what i do.” she flicked her gaze up to him, those eyes holding a faintly amused glimmer. “your job’s harder than mine.”

he wanted to say this wasn’t hard. that looking at her, feeling this constant pull toward her, was the hardest thing he’d done in months. but instead, he forced a light chuckle. “maybe you’re right. but it can be difficult to make perfection look effortless.”

the moment stretched. she stepped away, adjusting a few things on his jacket that he was fairly certain didn’t need adjusting. “it’s all about the details.” her voice was soft, easy to brush off as just her doing her work. professional. detached.

jude, however, had spent months thinking about those details. the way she looked at him sometimes. the way she shifted just a little closer when she was measuring his sleeves. the subtle touches that made his heart race and left him wondering if, just maybe, she noticed him the way he noticed her.

but he couldn’t let her continue to be this distant. couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t bother him, couldn’t ignore the way his chest felt tight at how polite and professional she remained—how impossibly detached she seemed to be when it came to him.

“i need to say something,” jude said suddenly, his voice thick with nerves. he hadn’t meant to say anything like this. he wasn’t even sure how the words had gotten this far.

she paused, fingers still on his sleeve, but now there was a shift in her posture—curiosity, but no immediate panic. no expectation that anything could be different.

“what’s up?” she asked, finally turning to face him fully. there was something almost friendly in her gaze now, a flicker of openness he hadn’t expected to see.

jude’s throat tightened as he swallowed. this was it. he knew he couldn’t keep hiding it, not forever. he took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had, and said it before he could second-guess himself.

“i like you. more than just well, more than just professional. and i’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to make it… go away. but it doesn’t. so, i figured if i didn’t tell you, i’d just keep pretending, keeping my distance, but i can’t anymore.”

for a beat, the world seemed to freeze. she stared at him for a moment, her lips parting slightly as though she was processing his words, but not in the way he hoped.

“oh,” she said finally, the shock clear in her tone. for a second, jude’s heart fell, but she quickly recovered with a soft laugh. “well, i didn’t expect that.” she seemed to smile, but it wasn’t exactly the response he’d imagined, not the warm acceptance he’d hoped for. she was still standing a little too far from him.

“yeah, um…” he had to swallow to push the nervous energy down. “i thought maybe you… might feel the same way.”

she blinked, and jude’s heart thudded. “i don’t know,” she said with a light shrug, but there was no edge in her voice—nothing that would outright shut him down. “i mean, i think you’re great and all. i just… didn’t think you saw me that way.”

the tension lifted slightly. her words weren’t a rejection. no, they weren’t exactly a refusal. but they weren’t confirmation either.

“i guess that’s fair,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair in that awkward, sheepish way he always did. his mind reeled at her unexpected reaction.

“but,” she continued, eyes gleaming just a little, “i wouldn’t mind seeing where it could go. i did notice you, you know. you’re not the only one who’s been… thinking about this.” there was that smirk again, playful this time, as though she’d already known all along.

jude’s chest felt lighter, though his heart still pounded. maybe it wasn’t as disastrous as he had imagined.

“you—seriously?” his voice cracked with hope.

“yeah. dinner, maybe. we’ll see,” she said, teasing with that cool, knowing smile.

he let out a relieved breath. maybe she hadn’t been entirely oblivious after all. but for now, the playful banter and guarded interest between them had finally found its space.

and he was willing to take it one step at a time.

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jungwnies · 9 hours ago

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wreckage - charles leclerc

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : after a heated argument with charles, you watch in horror as his car crashes during a race

୨ৎ : genre : angst ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1318

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say life can change in the blink of an eye. One second, everything feels steady, solid, like the ground beneath your feet couldn’t possibly give way. And then it does. Maybe that’s the irony of it all—you never see it coming. Not really. You think you’re prepared, think you’ve braced yourself, but you’re never quite ready for the moment it all falls apart.

You fought this morning. Not just a little spat about something trivial—no, this was one of those fights that echoed louder than it should have. The kind that lingered, thick in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even hours later.

It wasn’t about anything catastrophic, either, but somehow, with Charles, the small things had a way of snowballing. His schedule. Your schedule. The time you didn’t have together. The things he didn’t say and the things you did.

“I’m trying, okay? You think it’s easy for me?” he’d snapped, his accent sharpening the edges of his words. “You know what this life is like.”

“Yeah, Charles, I do. But I also know you don’t get to use it as an excuse every single time something gets hard. I’m here, too, and I’m trying to make this work just as much as you are.”

His jaw had tightened, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

You’d felt the sting of those words, like a slap across the face. But you weren’t one to back down, not even when the weight of his frustration pressed heavy on your chest.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not when I’m the one waiting, worrying, wondering if this is ever going to feel… stable. Do you know how hard it is to love someone who’s never really here?”

The silence that followed was deafening, his features a mix of hurt and anger, like he didn’t know which to lean into more. And then he’d said it.

“Maybe it’s hard because you don’t trust me enough to believe that I’m doing my best.”

You hadn’t answered, and maybe that was the problem. The fight ended there, not because either of you wanted it to but because there was no time to fix it. Not when he had a race to prepare for, and you had to pretend like none of this was tearing you apart from the inside out.

When you arrived at the paddock, it felt impossible to mask the weight of the argument. You greeted a few people with forced smiles, but you could see some of them watching you a little too closely. It didn’t help that Charles seemed just as tense, his jaw set and his usual ease nowhere to be found.

Carlos was the first to pull you aside, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “¿Qué pasa, eh? You look like someone stole your churros, and Charles… well, he looks worse. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Amiga, por favor. I know you, and I know him. Whatever this is, it’s not nothing.”

You sighed, glancing over your shoulder where Charles was talking to his engineers. “We just… had a fight this morning. It’s not a big deal.”

Carlos gave you a skeptical look. “Not a big deal? You’re both walking around like someone cancelled Christmas. If you’re not okay, neither is he. You should talk to him before the race.”

You hesitated, the memory of this morning’s argument still fresh in your mind. “I don’t want to distract him. He needs to focus.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a small smile. “Tch. If you think he’s focusing now, you’re wrong. You being upset is a bigger distraction than anything else. Go.”

Reluctantly, you nodded and made your way toward Charles. He was still in deep conversation with one of his engineers, but when he saw you approaching, his expression softened—just slightly.

“Hey,” you said quietly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lower than usual. There was a pause, the tension between you lingering like a storm cloud.

“Good luck out there,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I mean it. Be safe.”

Charles studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours. Then he nodded. “And… I’m sorry. For earlier.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, someone called for him, signaling it was time to get ready. He gave you one last look, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with words unsaid.

The race began, and for a while, the roar of engines and the blur of cars distracted you. Charles was in good form, holding his position, making clean overtakes. You found yourself exhaling with relief every time his car flashed across the screen.

But then it happened.

It was almost too fast to comprehend. One moment, Charles was rounding a corner, perfectly in control. The next, there was smoke, debris, and the sickening crunch of metal against metal.

Your heart stopped.

The commentators’ voices rose in panic, their words a jumbled mess that barely registered in your mind. “Oh no, that’s Leclerc… that’s a big one.”

Everything else faded—the noise of the crowd, the hum of your thoughts—until all that remained was the image of his car, mangled and still.

“Red flag,” one of them said, and that’s when it hit you. They’d stopped the race. It was bad.

Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

The minutes crawled by like hours, every second another layer of dread settling in your chest. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, desperate for any sign, any update, anything to tell you he was okay.

When they finally cut to the scene, you saw the medics surrounding his car, moving quickly but carefully.

“He’s conscious,” one of the commentators said, and you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, but it wasn’t enough. Not until you saw him. Not until you heard him.

You thought back to the fight, to the last thing he said to you, and it made you sick to your stomach. This couldn’t be the last memory you had of him, the last words you exchanged. It couldn’t.

You were already reaching for your phone, dialing his team, someone, anyone who could give you more than the vague reassurance of the broadcast.

“Please,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Please let him be okay.”

It’s strange, how quickly everything can unravel. You think you’ve got it all figured out, that the argument was just another bump in the road. But in the back of your mind, there’s always that voice whispering, telling you that things might never be the same.

And now, with every second that ticks by, your thoughts spiral, faster and faster, until you can’t breathe. What if this is it? What if those were the last words you ever said to him?

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but all you can see is that image of his car, broken and still. Your pulse races. You told him you loved him today, but did he really hear you? Was he ever truly certain, or was that last moment of tension, the words left unsaid, enough to make him doubt everything?

You hate this. You hate the fear gnawing at you. You hate that you're sitting here, helpless, as he’s out there fighting for his life. That feeling of powerlessness—it’s unbearable.

Please, you think again, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. Please, don’t let this be the end.

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classyhoeeee · 1 day ago

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BEST MAN :: Rafe Cameron

WARNING! :: kissing, oral, unprotected sex, teasing, forbidden love, Dom!Rafe, romance, Rafe Cameron x Reader, soft!rafe, cheating, Topper Thorton x Reader (mentioned), public sex, aftercare, slow dancing.

SUMMARY! :: The reader is marrying Topper Thorton, but Rafe doesn’t care in the slightest. As far as he’s concerned, you were his long before the vows, the dress, and the ring. On your wedding day, he’s determined to make you see it—even if it means crossing every line. Including hurting his best friend, Topper.

A/N:: I know I always say this, but this one is my favorite. It’s the perfect combination of filth and fluff. Please read it.

…………………………………………………………………………………

The air in the bridal suite felt heavy, like even the sunlight streaming through the windows couldn’t cut through the weight pressing down on you. The music outside swelled faintly, the distant laughter of guests drifting in through the open window. It should’ve felt like a fairytale, standing there in your white gown, the lace veil framing your face perfectly, but it didn’t.

You smoothed your hands down the front of your dress, trying to steady your breathing. This was the right thing. Topper was a good man…to some—loyal, patient, safe. He’d been everything you’d needed him to be. But as much as you wanted to believe in the words “happily ever after,” something gnawed at you deep inside, something you didn’t want to name.

A loud knock shattered your thoughts, making you jump.

“Hey, open up.”

You froze, your heart dropping. That voice—low, rough, and unmistakable. Rafe.

“Rafe, go home,” you called out, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You don’t need to be here.”

The door creaked open anyway, and when you turned, he was already inside, closing the door behind him.

“Do you even know how to listen?” you snapped, but it came out more exasperated than anything else.

Rafe just leaned against the door, his arms crossed, looking at you with that familiar mix of cocky and dangerous. His dress shirt was half-buttoned, his sleeves rolled up, his jaw clenched like he was barely holding himself together. His eyes swept over you, slow and deliberate, and the way they lingered made your soft brown skin prickle.

“You’re really doing this?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

You turned back to the mirror, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yes, Rafe. I’m really doing this. So if you’re here to cause a scene, please get the fuck out.”

He laughed, but it was humorless. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment. “Why are you in here? Why today, Rafe? Why now?”

“Because someone’s gotta stop you from fucking up your life,” he said, his voice harsh and unapologetic.

You spun around to face him, your anger bubbling to the surface. “What the hell is wrong with you? This is not your decision to make! You don’t get to just barge in here and act like—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Like I give a fuck about you? Like I’ve been sitting around watching you play house with Top, knowing damn well he’ll never give you what you really need?”

You flinched, his words hitting too close to home. “Don’t do this shit, Rafe. Don’t make this about you.”

“It’s not just about me, and you know it,” he said, stepping closer. His eyes bore into yours, unrelenting. “This? You and him? It’s bullshit, and we both know it. You’re just too scared to admit it.”

“Scared of what?” you shot back, your voice shaking.

“Of me,” he said, his voice dropping. “Of us. Of what you really want.”

You shook your head, backing away until you hit the edge of the vanity. “Stop doing that. Stop acting like you know me. You don’t know what I want, Rafe.”

He closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands bracing on either side of you, trapping you in. “The fuck I don’t,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I don’t see it? The way you look at me when you think no one’s watching? The way you can’t even say his name without hesitating? You don’t love him. Not the way you’re supposed to.”

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, your throat thick with emotion. “You don’t understand,” you whispered. “Topper—he’s good to me. He’s… safe. I can’t hurt him like this. I’m not that girl.”

Rafe’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Safe?” he spat. “That’s what you want? Someone who’s ‘safe’? I think you’re full of shit, and you know it.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why on my wedding day, Rafe? You’re supposed to be his best friend!”

His jaw clenched, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your face. “Because I don’t give a fuck about being his best friend. I don’t give a fuck about anyone when it comes to you. You’re mine.”

Your breath caught, and tears welled in your brown eyes. “You can’t just… You can’t keep saying shit like that and expect me to—”

“To what?” he cut you off, his voice rising again. “To ignore it? To go play house with Topper and pretend like this—us—doesn’t exist?”

You shook your head, the tears spilling over. “You’re gonna ruin everything,” you whispered.

“Good,” he said, his voice harsh. “I’ll ruin it all if it means you don’t marry him.”

“Rafe—”

He didn’t let you finish. His lips crashed into yours, cutting off whatever protest you were about to make. The kiss was rough, desperate, and overwhelming. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him like he was afraid you’d slip away.

For a moment, you froze, your mind screaming at you to stop, to push him away, to think of Topper. But then his lips moved against yours, and something in you broke. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you kissed him back, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you melted into him.

It was like the rest of the world fell away—no wedding, no guests, no consequences. Just you and Rafe, tangled in something you couldn’t deny any longer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. His hands stayed on your waist, holding you in place, and his blue eyes burned into your soft brown ones, searching, waiting.

You stared back at him, your mind racing, your heart pounding.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you moved.

The muffled sound of the wedding music drifted in through the window, a stark reminder of the life waiting for you outside that door. But in that moment, with Rafe’s hands on you and his lips still tingling on yours, you weren’t sure if you could walk away.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

——

Topper tugged at the collar of his perfectly tailored suit, sweat pooling at the base of his neck despite the ocean breeze rolling in over the estate. The music playing softly in the background only added to his growing unease.

"Where the hell are they?" he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his neatly combed hair.

"Relax," Kelce said beside him, nudging him in the ribs. "She's probably just, you know, fixing her hair or some shit. Girls take forever to get ready. It's her wedding day, man. She's gotta look perfect."

"She's already perfect," Topper said with a nervous smile, though his voice betrayed the doubt creeping in. "But where's Rafe? He was supposed to be here by now."

Kelce shrugged. "Probably running late like always. Dude's not exactly known for his punctuality."

Topper nodded, forcing himself to believe it.

He told himself there was no reason to worry.

You'd been so calm this morning, so sure about everything. Rafe was probably off doing... well, whatever Rafe did.

In the front row, Sarah fidgeted with the hem of her light blue dress. She leaned over to Kiara, who sat beside her with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You don't think something happened, do you?" Sarah whispered.

Kiara shot her a look. "I think this whole thing's a disaster waiting to happen," she muttered. "But what do I know?"

Sarah sighed, ignoring Kiara's usual bluntness. She glanced back toward the house, a flicker of worry crossing her face.

If only they knew.

——

Inside the bridal suite, you weren't fixing your veil.

You were on the edge of the vanity, your dress pushed up to your hips, your thighs trembling as Rafe Cameron brought you to the brink of insanity.

"Fuck," Rafe groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you. His lips were slick, his chin wet from his work. His buzzed head pressed between your thighs, and the rough contrast of his stubble against your soft brown skin only added to the fire coursing through your veins. "You taste so fucking good."

Your head fell back against the mirror, your breath ragged as you tried-and failed -to suppress the sounds spilling from your lips.

"Rafe," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made you weak even when you wanted to hate him. "What, baby? You want me to stop?"

"Hell no. Keep going," you shot back, surprising even yourself with the urgency in your voice.

His laugh was low and dangerous, vibrating against your skin. "That's what I thought," he murmured before diving back in, his tongue flicking against you in a way that had you arching off the vanity.

"Oh my God," you whimpered, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles turned white.

Rafe glanced up at you, his blue eyes dark and hungry. "What do you want, huh?" he taunted, his voice thick with desire. "Tell me, baby. I'll give it to you."

You bit down on your lip, every ounce of shame and guilt battling against the heat flooding your body. You shouldn't want this. Shouldn't want him. But when his tongue circled you again, the words spilled out before you could stop them.

"Spit on it."

Rafe froze for half a second, his smirk deepening as a dangerous gleam flickered in his eyes. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding.

You looked down at him, your chest heaving. “Spit on my pussy,” you repeated more vulgarly, your voice trembling.

He let out a low, satisfied chuckle, gripping your thighs tighter as he leaned back. "Atta girl," he muttered before spitting on your clit, his tongue immediately following, his movements slow and deliberate as he worked you over like it was his favorite thing to do.

"Fuck, Rafe," you whimpered, your hands flying to his head. The sensation of his buzzed hair against your palms only heightened the intensity, and when his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in just the right way, your vision blurred.

"Yeah, that's it," he muttered against you, his voice vibrating through your core. "I told you, baby. No one knows this pussy like I do. Not Topper. Not anyone. Just me."

The mention of Topper's name jolted something in you, but it was fleeting, gone the second Rafe slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right. "Oh my god," you choked out, your thighs clenching around his head.

You couldn't reply. Couldn't speak. All you could do was grip his shirt, your nails digging into his shoulders as his thumb pressed harder, sending you hurtling toward the edge.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone commanding as he slowed his pace just enough to drive you insane. "Say it’s mine."

You shook your head weakly, your lips trembling.

"Say it," he repeated, his voice a growl as his fingers pumped into you harder, his free hand gripping your jaw and forcing you to meet his gaze. "Fucking say it."

Your body betrayed you before your mouth did, your climax ripping through you with a force that left you trembling, broken, and utterly at his mercy around his dick.

Rafe didn't let up, his movements slowing only slightly as he worked you through the high. His eyes never left yours, his smirk widening as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

“It’s yours, Rafe.” You finally say it and he groans with a deep chuckle, the sound muffled as he pressed his tongue against you again, his pace quickening until your body was trembling uncontrollably.

"Fuck y/n," he gritted, his voice low and filthy. "Your pussy tastes so fucking good. I’d kill for it."

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the scream that tore from your throat as the pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave until you were nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess.

Rafe pulled back slowly, his lips glistening, his eyes filled with nothing but satisfaction.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with pride as he rose to his feet.

You couldn't move, couldn't speak, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.

He leaned in, his hands braced on either side of you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"You're not walking down that fucking aisle," he murmured, his voice low and deadly. "Not after this. Hell no."

Before you could catch your breath, before you could even think to argue, Rafe's fingers slid inside you again, slow and deliberate, curling just enough to make you gasp. "You hear me?" he continued, his voice thick and dripping with venom. "You think I'm just gonna stand there, watching you let him have what's mine, huh?"

Your lips parted, but nothing came out, your body too overwhelmed to form words.

Rafe smirked at your silence, his other hand gripping your thigh possessively. "That's what I thought. You can't even defend him, can you? Because deep down, you know he's not man enough for you. Not like I am."

"Rafe," you whispered, but it came out shaky, weak, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

"Shut up," he growled, his tone sharp as his fingers pumped into you faster, hitting a spot that had your eyes rolling back. "You don't get to talk. You don't get to tell me I'm wrong—not when you're dripping all over my fingers like this. Not when you're fucking clenching around me like your pussy knows who it belongs to."

A broken moan escaped your lips, your hands gripping the vanity as your thighs tried to close around him. Rafe just pushed them wider, his strength overpowering you easily.

"You think I'd let you marry him?" he hissed, his mouth so close to your ear that his breath sent chills down your spine. "You think I'd just stand there, watching you let that fucking pussy put a ring on your finger? I'd drag you out of there so fast it'd make his head spin. Hell, maybe l'd do it in front of everyone-make sure they all know who you really belong to."

Your chest heaved, your mind spinning, but you couldn't stop the way your body responded to him. Every word, every movement of his hand, every filthy promise he made—it was wrong, it was insane, but it made your legs tremble and your resolve crumble.

"I could eat your pussy every fucking day," he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck as he fucked you with his fingers, his thumb pressing circles against you that had your hips bucking against his hand. "I bet he's never even made you cum, has he? All that talk, all that money, and he's useless when it counts."

You whimpered, shaking your head slightly, but it wasn't a defense of Topper-it was denial of the truth he was dragging out of you.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "That's what I thought," he said. "He's too soft. Too fucking weak. He doesn't know what to do with you, doesn't know how to make you scream, how to make you fucking crave him."

His hand tightened on your thigh, pulling you closer, his fingers curling inside you in a way that had you gasping for air. "But me?" he continued, his voice low and rough. "I could make you cum every goddamn day for the rest of your life, and it still wouldn't be enough. I'd ruin you for anyone else. Shit, I already have.”

Tears pricked your eyes, not from sadness or fear, but from the overwhelming, unbearable mix of emotions flooding your chest. He was insane. He was cruel. And he was right.

"You know what l'd do to him if you walked down that aisle?" Rafe asked, his tone shifting into something even darker, more dangerous. His fingers didn't stop, didn't falter, as he spoke. "I'd beat his fucking face in, right there in front of everyone. I'd make him bleed for even thinking he could have you. And then l'd take you, just like this, while everyone fucking watched."

A strangled gasp tore from your lips, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself as your body threatened to collapse under the weight of his words and the intensity of his touch.

"You think that's crazy?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost mocking. "You think I care? Baby, l've been crazy for you since the day I laid eyes on you. And you love it. Don't fucking lie to me-you love this shit.”

You couldn’t even deny it. He was right. You loved when he got all crazy. You couldn’t help it.

——

The ceremony was falling apart before it had even begun.

Topper stood at the altar, his jaw tight and his hands fidgeting with his cufflinks as the whispers from the crowd grew louder. The once-perfect day was starting to unravel, and he could feel the weight of every set of eyes on him.

"She's probably just running late," Kelce offered, clapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You know how these things go, man. It's all part of the drama."

But even Kelce didn't sound convinced.

Topper's smile was tight, forced, as he glanced toward the house. The bridal suite was quiet, no sign of movement. Still no sign of her. And still no sign of Rafe.

"Where is he?" Topper muttered under his breath, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Sarah stepped forward, her light blue dress fluttering slightly in the breeze as she gave Topper a comforting smile. "She's okay, Topper," she said softly. "Maybe something came up-an issue with her dress or makeup. You know how important this day is to her. She wouldn't just..." She trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

Topper nodded quickly, clinging to her words like a lifeline. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. She just wants everything to be perfect."

Sarah gave him a soft pat on the arm before stepping back toward Kiara, who stood farther away from the crowd, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Something's up," Kiara muttered as soon as Sarah was close enough to hear.

Sarah frowned. "What do you mean?"

Kiara glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention before leaning in closer.

"Where's Rafe?" she asked quietly.

Sarah's face tightened at the mention of her brother, her brows furrowing. "I don't know. He was supposed to be here with Topper. He disappeared like twenty minutes ago."

Kiara huffed, shaking her head. "You don't think..."

"What?" Sarah asked, confused.

Kiara bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as memories flooded back to her. Back when they were all Kooks-her, Sarah, Rafe, and the reader. Back when their group had been a tangled web of drama and tension.

"Rafe always had a thing for her," Kiara said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You remember that, right?"

Sarah's frown deepened. "Yeah, but... Rafe had a thing for everyone, including you. That doesn't mean anything."

Kiara gave her a pointed look. "No, Sarah. It was different with her. He actually wanted her, and it wasn't just some fling to him. I saw it. Hell, I think we all saw it."

Sarah's eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on her, but she shook her head quickly. "No. No way. He wouldn't-"

Kiara cut her off. "Wouldn't he?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The weight of the question hung in the air between them, and Sarah's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

"Where do you think they are, Sarah?" Kiara asked, her voice low and sharp.

——

Out on the balcony, the world seemed to disappear. The ocean stretched endlessly in front of you, the salty breeze cool against your overheated skin. But none of it mattered—not the crashing waves, not the golden glow of the sun setting over Figure 8-because Rafe Cameron had you pinned against the railing, your white dress hiked up around your hips, and his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

His large hands gripped your brown thighs, rough and insistent, the pale contrast against your smooth, glowing skin only making the moment feel more forbidden. His movements were relentless, his hips slamming into yours, the sound of your bodies colliding drowned out by your broken moans.

Your curls that were once perfectly styled in an updo were now cascaded over your shoulders, blowing in the wind as Rafe gave you the most delicious backshots you have ever experienced in your life.

"Harder," you begged, your voice shaky but clear, every ounce of shame long forgotten. "Please, Rafe. Harder."

He groaned at your words, a dark, satisfied sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he muttered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You love this, don't you? Being out here where anyone could see. My dick so deep inside you, you can't even think about anything else."

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping the railing for support as your legs trembled beneath you. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice breathless and desperate.

He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing the back of your neck as he slammed into you harder, deeper. "Stop?" he taunted, his voice low and mocking. "I’m just getting started."

His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he leaned back slightly to watch the way your body moved for him.

"Goddamn," he muttered, his blue eyes locked on the way your skin glistened in the golden hour light. "Look at you. So fucking perfect. Top doesn't deserve to even look at you, let alone touch you."

You whimpered, unable to argue, unable to say anything but his name.

"Yeah," he said, his voice filled with smug satisfaction. "That's right. Say my name, baby. Let the whole fucking world know who's making you feel this good."

"Rafe," you gasped, your head falling back as his pace quickened, each thrust hitting your g-spot so deep you could barely breathe.

"That's my girl," he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. "You hear them down there?" he asked, his tone mocking as he gestured with his chin toward the crowd below. "All those people waiting for you to walk down that aisle like the perfect little bride. But they don't know, do they? They don't know you're up here getting fucked so good you can't even think straight."

Your nails dug into the wood of the railing, your body trembling as you struggled to hold yourself together. But he wasn't done.

"I bet Topper thinks you're just late," he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Bet he's down there sweating, thinking you're still fixing your makeup or some stupid shit. Meanwhile, you're up here, dripping all over my cock, begging me for more."

Your eyes rolled back as he hit a spot so perfect, so devastatingly good, it ripped a broken cry from your throat.

"Yeah," Rafe muttered, his voice rough and raw. "That's it, baby. Let go. Don't think about him. Don't think about anything but me. Just me."

His pink lips pressed against your shoulder, his teeth scraping your soft skin as his hand moved between your thighs, his fingers working you over until your legs threatened to give out.

"Look at this pretty pussy," he growled, his tone almost reverent. "So wet for me. So fucking tight. You think Topper could ever make you feel like this? You think he even knows how?"

You shook your head frantically, your voice a broken whisper. "No. He can't. He doesn't."

Rafe grinned against your skin, his ego swelling at your admission. "That's right," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Only me. Always me."

The pleasure built to an unbearable high, your body clenching around him as his name tore from your lips in a broken scream.

"Fuck," Rafe groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your hips bruising. "You're mine," he said, his voice low and deadly as he kissed the curve of your shoulder. "You've always been mine."

As your body trembled in the aftermath, your head fell forward, your chest heaving. The sound of the ocean filled your ears, but all you could feel was Rafe-his hands on your skin, his breath against your neck, his words still echoing in your mind.

He stayed inside you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck. "You're not walking down that aisle," he murmured, his voice softer now but no less certain. "Not today. Not ever."

And as much as you wanted to argue, to fight, to tell him he was wrong, you couldn't.

Because deep down, you knew he was right.

——

Rafe didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.

The wind whipped around you, carrying the sound of footsteps from below as wedding guests wandered outside, looking for glimpses of the bride they thought was just running late. But you weren't running late— you were pinned against the balcony railing, your dress still hiked up, and Rafe Cameron was fucking you like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment.

Your body trembled as he thrust into you, each movement deliberate, precise, like he knew exactly how to make you lose yourself.

Your moans spilled out uncontrollably, and you desperately tried to muffle them with your hand.

"Uh-uh," Rafe growled, his voice thick and commanding. He grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, pulling them behind your back and pinning them there easily. "Don't you fucking hide from me."

"Rafe," you gasped, your voice breaking as he held you in place, his grip unrelenting.

"Let them hear you," he said, his teeth gritting as he pounded into your pussy harder, deeper. "Let them fucking know who you belong to."

Tears spilled down your cheeks as the pleasure overwhelmed you, your body shaking violently with each thrust. You could feel him everywhere-his hand gripping your wrists, his chest pressed against your back, his cock hitting that perfect spot that had your legs trembling and your mind unraveling.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice raw as his eyes locked on the way your body rippled with every movement. "You're so fucking sexy. You feel that? Feel how perfect you are for me?"

You couldn't respond-not with words. All you could do was push back against him, your body moving instinctively, meeting his every thrust with desperation.

"Yeah," Rafe muttered, his free hand sliding down to grab a handful of your ass. "That's it. Fuck me back, baby. Show me how much you want it."

His palm came down hard on your cheek, the sharp sound of the smack echoing in the air, and you cried out, your head falling forward as the sting radiated through your skin.

"That's my girl," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he rubbed the red mark he'd left. "You take it so fucking good. Better than I ever imagined."

Your knees buckled, but Rafe didn't let you collapse. His hand slid around your waist, holding you up effortlessly as he pounded into you with a rhythm that made your vision blur.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his teeth gritting as his pace quickened. "Topper could never have you weak like this. That little bitch wouldn't even know what to do with you."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, the forbidden thrill of it all making your body tremble uncontrollably. The tears streamed down your cheeks now, not from sadness but from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

"Rafe," you whimpered, your voice breaking as your body clenched around him.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he taunted, his hand tightening on your hip as he angled his thrusts to hit deeper. "Come on. Show me who this pussy belongs to."

Your release hit you like a tidal wave, ripping through you with a force that left you gasping for air. Your legs shook violently, and your cries filled the air, no longer muffled, no longer restrained.

"Fuck, yes," Rafe growled, his hand leaving another stinging smack on your ass as your body convulsed around him. "That's my fucking girl."

He buried himself deep inside you with a final thrust, his body tensing as he came in your pussy, his warmth spilling into you and claiming you in the most primal way possible. His grip on you didn't loosen, even as his movements slowed, his breathing heavy against your neck.

He pulled out slowly, his hand releasing your wrists as he turned you around to face him.

His blue eyes were wild, his lips parted as he stared at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"You're so fucking pretty," he said, his voice low and deadly as he cupped your face in his hands.

His lips crashed against yours in a possessive, hungry kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he pulled you closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Run away with me," he said, his voice soft but firm, his eyes searching yours.

You stared at him, your chest heaving as the reality of what he was asking sank in. "Rafe, I can't," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip on your face tightening slightly. "No one can fuck with you if you're with me. No one. You know that."

"I..." Your voice broke, the weight of it all crashing down on you.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again, softer this time, but no less insistent.

"You're mine," he whispered. "Say yes. Say you'll come with me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, every instinct screaming at you to say no, to run, to do the right thing. But when you looked into his eyes, saw the fire, the conviction, the obsession burning there, you knew there was no going back.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rafe's lips curved into a dangerous, triumphant smirk, and he kissed you again, harder this time, his hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let you go.

"Let's go," he said, pulling you toward the door.

The two of you slipped back inside the house, your heart racing as he led you through the empty halls. You didn't look back, didn't think about the ceremony still waiting, the guests still wondering, the man you'd left at the altar.

Because none of it mattered now.

You weren't the bride anymore.

You were running away from your own wedding with your fiancè’s best man.

——

Your hand was in his, his grip firm and unrelenting as he pulled you away from the estate, away from the ceremony, away from the life you'd just left behind. The sound of your heels clicking against the stone path was drowned out by the pounding of your heart as you glanced back at the estate, at the guests you could no longer face.

"I can't believe I just did that," you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Rafe turned to you, his blue eyes blazing with intensity as he pulled you closer. "You didn't do anything," he said firmly, his hand cupping your cheek. "You made the only choice that matters. You chose me."

Your chest tightened, doubt flickering in your mind despite the heat coursing through your veins. "Rafe, this isn’t right I-"

He cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands framed your face, his touch grounding you as his mouth claimed yours. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the wedding fading into nothing as his kiss silenced your doubts, your fears, your guilt.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his voice was a low whisper. "No one can touch you if you're with me. No one can fucking hurt you. You're okay now."

You stared into his eyes, the truth of his words sinking in as your chest heaved with uneven breaths. And in that moment, the world didn't matter. Nothing mattered except him.

"Let's go," he said, his voice commanding but soft.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around his as he pulled you forward, the two of you breaking into a run. The contrast between you-his pale, tanned skin against your glowing brown complexion-made the moment feel like a painting, a picture of chaos and beauty all at once.

——

Back near the ceremony, Sarah's hand flew to her mouth as she watched you and Rafe disappear down the path. "Oh my God," she whispered. "They're running away."

Kiara stood frozen for a moment before shaking her head and letting out a bitter laugh. "This is insane. What the hell is she thinking?"

Sarah bit her lip, her expression softening. "I mean... it's kind of romantic, don't you think?"

Kiara shot her a sharp look. "Romantic?

Sarah, that's your brother we're talking about. Your psycho brother who ruins everything he touches. And now he's got her."

Sarah's face fell slightly, her eyes flickering back toward the path you'd disappeared down. "You're right," she admitted softly. "I just... I hope he doesn't hurt her."

Kiara sighed, crossing her arms. "Let's just hope she knows what she's doing."

The two of them exchanged a glance before stepping back from the crowd. There was no point in staying anymore-not without you. Without a word, they slipped away from the ceremony, leaving Topper to figure out the truth on his own.

And as they disappeared into the shadows, so did you and Rafe, hand in hand, running toward whatever future waited for you.

——

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you came to a stop, your heels skidding slightly on the stone path. Rafe’s hand remained tightly clasped around yours, his grip firm and possessive, grounding you as both of you struggled to catch your breath. The distant sounds of the Figure 8 estate were gone now, replaced by a serene stillness broken only by the faint bubbling of water.

“Rafe,” you panted, glancing around, trying to make sense of where he’d brought you. “Where are we?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on you as he stepped closer. The golden glow of the setting sun cast a halo around your curls, and the soft veil still draped over your face gave you an ethereal quality that made his breath hitch. The pale ivory of your wedding dress clung to your glowing brown skin, the delicate lace catching the light in a way that was almost otherworldly.

Rafe, in his rumpled white linen shirt and unbuttoned collar, was the perfect foil to your pristine elegance. His sun-kissed skin and sharp blue eyes were wild, untamed, while you looked like a dream—soft, radiant, and untouchable. Together, you were chaos and beauty incarnate, a contrast so stark it was almost painful to look at.

You turned your gaze forward, and your breath caught again—not from the run this time, but from the scene unfolding in front of you.

A rose garden stretched out before you, its blooms a riot of pinks and whites, climbing over trellises and spilling across the stone paths. The scent of roses filled the air, sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the faint notes of a soft melody drifting through the garden. In the center stood a small fountain, its crystal-clear water sparkling as it trickled gently into the basin below.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes swept over the scene.

“I knew you’d like it,” Rafe said softly, his voice lower now, steady despite the lingering adrenaline in his system.

You turned to him, tears brimming in your eyes as your chest tightened. “You planned this,” you said, your voice trembling. “You planned all of this.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing a stray curl from your face. “Of course I did,” he murmured. “You think I’d let you walk down that aisle? Let you choose him?” His hand slid to your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin, a stark contrast between his roughness and your softness. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, baby. Waiting for you to finally see what you were always meant to have.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you shook your head slightly, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “This is crazy, Rafe,” you said, your voice breaking. “I left him. I left everyone. What am I doing?”

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush, his blue eyes burning into yours. “You’re doing exactly what you were always meant to do,” he said, his voice firm, his words cutting through your spiraling thoughts. “You’re choosing yourself. For once in your life, you’re not doing what’s safe or expected. You’re doing what feels right.”

Your lips parted, a fresh wave of tears spilling as the weight of his words sank in. For so long, you’d chased the life everyone thought you should have, choosing stability over passion, security over risk. But now, standing in front of Rafe, his wildness calling to you like a siren’s song, you felt alive in a way you never had before.

The music swelled, wrapping around you like the petals scattered at your feet, and Rafe’s hand slid down to take yours. “Dance with me,” he said softly, his voice low and inviting.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Dance?”

His smirk returned, softer this time, as he pulled you closer. “Yeah. Dance.”

Your protest died in your throat as his arms circled your waist, his grip firm yet gentle, guiding you into a slow sway. The difference between you was striking—his sharp angles and commanding presence against your delicate curves and hesitant grace. His hand rested on the small of your back, steadying you as you let yourself fall into the rhythm of the moment.

As the melody wrapped around you both, Rafe leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and all-consuming, his hand sliding up your back to cradle your head as he deepened it. His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer, as though he could fuse your bodies together if he tried hard enough.

Your hands found his chest, your fingers curling into his shirt as you gave in completely. The heat of him, the weight of his presence, the taste of him—it all melted the doubt from your mind.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “No one can touch you now. No one can take you from me. You’re belong with me.”

Your chest tightened, your tears falling freely now as you whispered, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. “But you don’t have to be. Not with me.”

The music played on, the roses swayed gently in the breeze, and the fountain bubbled softly as the two of you stood there, lost in each other. For the first time, you weren’t running from the fire. You were standing in the heart of it, and it didn’t scare you anymore.

“Rafe…I love you.” You mumbled softly, hoping it’d get lost in the soft music, but it didn’t. He’d heard you.

“I know…” he replies with a smile, resting his head on top of your delicate curls. “I’d kill for you.” The words sent shivers down your spine, but you understood it was his way of him letting you know he loves you too.

The End.

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron x reader #black reader #Spotify

149 notes · View notes

frillydolle · 9 hours ago

Note

need pitfighter vi getting jealous of people eyeing up nice reader at the bar and pulling you into her lap and marking up your neck in front of everyone😇

mean pitfighter vi x sweet female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ vi is touchy , even a little possessive , suggestive near end!

the colour of their names gave me a subtle idea. . .

after a huuge win, vi decided that u two should celebrate with drinks at the last drop. it's not like the two of u would have to wait for such a long time since, by now, everyone knew who vi was. she's gained a.. interesting reputation in the undercity.

and so she's holding ur hand guiding u through the crowd of people, taking u to a slight secluded booth just for the u both but unbeknownst to u, many people were looking at the two of u.

well, more so looking at u.

u were a pretty girl, a happy, bubbly, sweet girl. like u didn't belong in zaun, more like piltover. people couldn't help but look of u, even some of the men within the bar were oogling at u, as ur dress flowed gracefully with each step u took as u followed vi to the booth.

u were completely different to vi, but everyone says that opposites attract, don't they?

and ur at the bar, waiting on the drinks. no one in the place even dared to talk to u, and u know why, it's not like u felt someone's intense gaze om the back of ur head. like a hawk watching its prey. and u didnt mind her gaze too much, in fact, it made u feel all funny inside, like u adored everything moment. vi kept her gaze fixed on u, making sure that no one dared to talk to the pretty girl. her pretty girl.

with that bubbly, sweet smile plastered on ur face as u walked ur way back to vi, placing the two drinks on the table before her hand wrapped around ur waist, pulling u to her lap in one swift motion. and your heart skipped a beat-

“theres my pretty girl, did i make ya proud?” “'course you did, silly! i just worry 'bout you so much, vi..” and a small giggle left ur lips.

soon, she pulled u closer and started kissing ur neck. and u, being the most loveliest girl she's ever meet, moved ur head slightly just so she could gain more access. a stray of giggles following ur actions. and that made her smirk, increasing the kisses that made their path to ur collarbone back up to ur neck.

“vii! what are you- dont put ur hand there! they'll see us!” “..i dont care, i wanna make sure they all know you're mine.”

her hand retraces just from the underside of ur breast, back down to ur sides. her lips trace back up to ur neck before she bite down, just slightly, enough to leave u a bite mark. a lovebite, to be more specific. she wasn't a girl to share specific why would she not let everyone know that ur her girlfriend?

“you're just so pretty, make me want to mark you up in front of everyone here... not like they'd notice.. or care.”

god, her words sent down to ur lower abdomin, the way she talks to u could be so... filthy, knowing her true intentions and yet, u have never complained once!

she gave u another one. and another one, and then another one after that.

“let me take you when we get home, yeah?”

#🎀reqsೀ #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends #league of legends #vi arcane #vi x you #vi x reader #vi x female reader #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #wlw #lesbian #mean lesbian #pit fighter vi

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honey-tongued-devil · 3 days ago

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↠The last drop tour

Alright, alright, I know I’ve already shown you the Last Drop, so here we’re looking at the one from the alternate timeline, as seen in Episode 7. The elements and layout don’t change too much, but there are variations, and since my story is set in this universe, I imagine this version is the most helpful for anyone wanting to explore the universe I write about. The link to the story is HERE, but I hope this can also be useful for anyone writing or reading their own work.

Here we are once again! This tour might be a bit challenging, but don’t worry—your guide has got you covered! This time, we need to start outside.

I know we all recognize the exterior of the bar, which hasn’t changed, but I ask you to take a closer look at the streets. They’re clean and bathed in sunlight. (The Last Drop is in the Entresol, the middle level of Zaun’s three depth levels.) While it may seem almost normal or expected, the smog that used to accumulate made it impossible for light to filter through the thick air, even during the day. As a result, the underground city never got to see this much light. This is the first time.

In Heimerdinger’s sequence where he’s seen playing "Spin the Wheel," we can catch glimpses of glass greenhouses protecting plants, and people in wheelchairs, hinting that the city is now more accessible.

This is the third post where I’ve mentioned this damn ceiling, so I went back just to show it to you, because it was necessary at this point. Let’s start with the fact that the Last Drop has been renovated. The fact that Ekko is wearing a gold earring and is so well-dressed suggests that their profits have increased, and the first thing they did was fix up the place. But enough talk—let’s get to the proof. Now that natural light reaches Zaun, the LED lights on the ceiling aren’t needed anymore. What is needed? Glass, to let the light in.

And so, we move on to another small but significant difference. Scattered throughout the Last Drop, but especially at the bar counter, there are terrariums with plants. Claggor and Mylo are even working on plants capable of converting the dense air of the Sump into clean oxygen. But why do plants have such prominence here? In Season 1, we’re shown that in Zaun, only one place had plants: the Chembarons' meeting room. It was so high up and so clean, thanks to the ventilation on the ceiling, that plants were a privilege of the oligarchy, not something for everyone. But here, even ordinary people in Zaun have plants around, and they thrive.

The bar counter remains the same, the barrels behind Vander are still protected by the same glass partitions as always. The difference now is that everything is adorned with what used to be a symbol of luxury.

Did you recognize these booths? Now, instead of the Chembarons' photos, there are sheets with dart game scores written on them—both for the kids and the three older men. To be honest, the one I’m showing you in the photo from Zaun’s original timeline is actually the first booth on the left from the entrance. Meanwhile, the one shown where the kids are sitting is the second booth, a bit closer to both the bar counter and the narrow hallway that leads to the arcade area and the pool table.

Which ones? These. Actually... this photo was taken in front of the first booth, and we can see Powder's drawings hanging there. Basically, we understand that they’re portraits of all of them together, happy. Maybe some are solo portraits, but they’re definitely very different from how things are now. (the comparison)

I imagine that the basement where Vander and his children used to live is now the place where they store alcohol and reserve drinks, or maybe it has become a boiler room. We don’t have photos of the lower area (which, I remind you, can be accessed by taking the door to the right of the bar counter and going down a long staircase) nor of the upper area, which is reached by climbing the stairs to the left. So, I can’t show you more parts of our beloved bar, but I can tell you that according to what we’re told in episode 7, they now offer both live music and events. So, the Last Drop has continued both Vander’s family-oriented, rustic management and Silco’s vision of a nightlife hub and heart of the city.

As for the rest—how we got to this point, what brought the change, how Silco's eye healed, how they managed to reach such an economic development to renovate the bar in that way—I can only speculate. But, I won’t do that here.

The theme of the universe’s development from episode 7, starting with Vi’s death, is what I talk about in my fanfiction. So, I’ll take a moment to advertise myself during this tour and let you know that if, in addition to the objective facts, you'd like to hear my opinion, I address it HERE (Everytime it rains).

From these three tours, I think you've gathered that I’m someone who pays a lot of attention to details, which is why a superficial analysis of the differences wasn't enough for me. I needed a bigger space to narrate (and analyze) the politics and the domino effect of events. So, I don't know, I hope to see you again at the bar.

Sincerely, your guide, provided by...

-Kiramman's chronocare

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multific · 2 days ago

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Full Again

Dimitri Kraminoff x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Kraven, pregnancy, angst

Summary: You left him, you ran away. But he found you and he needs answers.

“Why? I thought you were different. You left me just like my brother.”

You couldn’t even look into his eyes. Avoiding him at all costs was the plan for the last year.

Well, almost a year, 11 months.

And there he was.

Sitting across from you at the table in his club.

Kidnapping you was exactly what he did. Bringing you here against your will.

And he only had one question.

“Why?”

The pain in his voice hurt.

“I had my reason.”

“I know you still love me. I can see in your eyes. So then what can possibly be your explanation?”

“I can’t-“ his fist met the table. It made you jump and his drink almost spilled.

“Bullshit,” he whispered. “Did you find someone? Someone better? Taller? More muscles?”

“No.” your answer was immediate and straightforward.

"THEN WHY?" he yelled, his eyes filled with tears.

"Because I was scared and pregnant," you said and a huge weight fell from your shoulders. You looked at your feet and blinked back the tears. "I was scared of your father." you looked into his eyes. "It broke me, but I had to leave. Who knows what he would have done if he found out? You know he never liked me."

"So, I have a child?"

"Yes." your voice was shaky yet it held power.

"How could you be so selfish? I have a child and you ran away?"

"I was selfish yes. A selfish mother who put their child before me. Please, you have to understand Dimi." you were crying. "Last year, during your birthday, your father looked at me and he told me that if I dared get pregnant he would personally kill my child and me. He looked into my eyes and told me this."

"Why didn't you tell me he threatened you?"

"You know I couldn't. And so, like a coward, I ran. I'm sorry." you stood up and wanted to leave.

"My father is dead you know. You don't have to be scared anymore. I took over his business. He can no longer hurt you." you looked at Dimitri shocked.

"How did he die?" you turned to look at him.

"Hunting accident. But I know my brother's hand was in it. You don't have to be scared anymore, come back to me. I will keep you safe. Both of you." he stood up and rushed over to you but you put your hands up, his chest met with your hands, but you didn't push him away.

Your eyes searched his for any sign of a lie.

"Is he really?" you whispered and he quickly nodded. "He is home, I can get him for you."

Dimitri looked confused.

"My father? I told you he is buried, in pieces."

"No, our son. I named him Mikhail. I call him Misha. Two months old, I found a kind woman who babysits him while I work." you looked behind yourself at the door. "I can bring him to you. You can meet him." your head snapped back and looked into his eyes as his hands came to his chest and held yours.

"You are so beautiful. I missed you so much."

His voice was so soft, so kind.

"I'm so sorry." tears began to fall again but his hand held you even closer, pulling you in.

His lips met yours.

It was so sweet and it filled your heart with so much love.

How could you leave him?

You love him so much.

"Let's get our son. I want us three to go home."

Home.

"I will get him for you, just give me a driver and a car. I need to... pack his things."

"Okay, I will still go with you."

"You won't be happy with the place I rent."

---

And you were right.

Dimitry looked at the building and froze.

You took this opportunity to go in and get your son from your neighbour.

"I brought you someone," you told Misha as he giggled. "Your father." you smiled as you lifted him and began putting his stuff away.

Dimitry walked into the apartment with a frown.

"Misha, look who it is," you said to your child with a voice only babies get. Misha was still very small.

Being only two months old.

But he looked exactly like Dimitry.

"My son." you handed your son to Dimitry who carefully held and looked at Misha. "I promise you, I will be so much better."

You believed him, you knew he would try his hardest to be the best father possible.

And you know he will be able to achieve his goal.

Once you finished picking up all your stuff, Dimitry guided you to your new home.

Misha quickly fell asleep and you placed him in the guest room, in the middle of the bed.

"We will decorate a room for him, I will buy everything he will ever need."

"Thank you, Dimi."

You two also decided to go to bed shortly after.

"He usually wakes up once per night to eat," you said as you lay down.

The mattress felt like heaven under your tired body.

"I will get up for him."

"And what will you feed him with?" you asked with a yawn as you closed your eyes.

You could imagine the confusion on his face.

You fell asleep not long after that.

Dimitri stayed up and watched you.

He was so happy to have you back. He was able to finally find you.

And now there you slept next to him with his son sleeping in the other room.

Dimitri slowly got up and headed to the room next door.

He walked in and watched his son sleeping, Dimitri knelt on the floor next to the bed and watched his son sleep.

"You look just like me," he whispered and ran a finger down the baby's cheek.

His mind was completely blank all he could do was feel, Misha's cheek was so soft.

"I now completely understand your mother. I would have run away with you too."

Dimitri watched Misha sleep for about an hour before he headed back to his bed where you were.

He moved in under the blanket and pulled you close before he went to sleep.

His heart also felt full.

A/N: The above picture is not mine, credit goes to the owner. (once we have some gifs uploaded to Tumblr, I will be able to use those)

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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sciencebecameouraddiction · 1 day ago

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title: a thursday night outing

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: arcane

rating: pg

genre: romance

pairing: viktor x reader

summary: heading home to get ready for a fun dinner with mel, you find viktor who is blindsided by your impending absence, even though you told him like 3 times that week.

based off this Shorts skit loosely: https://youtube.com/shorts/yRAdhnj2oOc?si=uLdR4bdqTWNlgGIy

“darling?” i ask as i walk into the apartment viktor and i share. “are you home?” my voice echoes through the apartment, as if on auto pilot my hands work the scarf from my neck and place it on the stand near the door, along with my coat. i blink a few times as i slip off my shoes hearing no noise coming from the apartment. viktor should have been home by now and normally would be writing in his journal or making a cup of tea. sighing as my feet guided me to our room, a bit disappointed as i wanted to say hi to him before going out to dinner with mel.

i turn the corner into our room and go to the dresser, as i open the drawer for a change of clothes i don’t hear but more so feel a presence behind me, my body locking as if i was a deer in a bright light. i feel them getting closer and quickly my rational mind recognizes this must be viktor. i have just a few seconds to decide if his little plan was going to pan out the way he thought it would. i gently smiled and continued to grab clothes feeling his arms wrap around me. i hear his sigh and chuckle.

“i can never sneak up on you.” he says, pouting.

“i felt you behind me when you were near the bed, my love.” i smile and roll my eyes as i turn in his arms to finally look at him.

“how was your day?” the words come out as routine but i appreciate them nonetheless.

“it was good. i was just looking forward to tonight.” his brows furrow as i explain.

“tonight….?”

“yes, tonight! don’t tell me you forgot. i’m going to dinner with mel tonight. a little girls night, uninterrupted by council meetings or crazy inventors changing the world. just a night where we can have good food and talk about skincare.” a laugh falls from my lips as he looks mildly affronted and also completely disinterested.

“so, you are going to need to do whatever you normally do when i’m gone.” i laugh seeing the look on his face. “viktor, are you okay?”

“just… i forgot that was tonight so i am feeling a little… ehhh, blindsided, if I’m honest.” i nod as he looks like he’s going through five stages of grief realizing i wouldn’t be at home tonight.

“do you need me to give you some space or do you want a hug?” i ask as i pull back a bit, my hands resting on his forearms. his face falls into partial annoyance and disbelief.

“don’t “gentle parent” me.” i laugh as he still looks pouty and then looks at me. “a hug would be nice.” and as i lean in my heart feels too big for my chest as my arms wrap around him and i hold him close. my head buried into the crook of his neck and his in mine. i make sure that he moves to separate first, his grin content as he looks at me and then his eyes widen as he sees tears in my eyes.

“darling, what’s wrong?” his voice somewhat panicked.

“nothing. nothing.” i smile as a tear runs down my face and i hold his hand resting on my cheek. “i love you so much, that sometimes the… strength of my emotions feels like my body is incapable to hold onto a love this strong. a love this big. it feels like it is so much, but i delight in it because that love is for you.” viktor’s eyes widen and his face goes from worried to relaxed to a gentle smile.

“you know, i wouldn’t have believed that if you had told me that a year ago.” his hands grip my hips bringing me closer.

“i know. how can you accept love when it’s never been given to you freely?” i smile. “but i’m here now. jayce is here. we have so much love to give you that all you have to do is just stand there and accept it.” i kiss his cheek as he looks up, knowing that he was trying to make sure i didn’t see his eyes well up with tears.

“how about while i go to dinner, you and jayce hang out? and then when i get back, you and i can cuddle in bed and i’ll pick up reading that book we were almost finished with last week.” i ask, not wanting him to be alone.

“i can be alone, my love.” he levels me with a glance and i chuckle, it’s like he can read my thoughts.

“you can be, but do you want to be?” i ask.

“i’d like to read and wait for you to come home… alone. jayce would not shut up in the lab today so quiet would be much appreciated.” i chuckled at his exasperated eye roll.

“okay. okay.” i say as i turn to grab a last few garments before i get ready to shower. i hear him hum behind me and then rewrap his arms around my waist.

“you should definitely wear the black lace set.” he murmurs and kisses my neck.

“just for you.” i pull out the set and place it with the rest of my clothes. “do you mind keeping me company in the shower?” i ask, him knowing it’s not just me asking if he minded, i knew he didn’t. it was asking if he could, if he felt up to it and wanted to.

“i’d love to.” i smile at him as i took his hand in my left and grabbed my clothes in my right and we headed off to the bathroom.

“besides…. since i felt so blindsided about your outing tonight, seeing you naked will definitely help me get over it.”

“viktor!”

#arcane x reader #arcane imagines #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor x you #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #viktor nation #viktor imagines #viktor oneshot #arcane oneshot #arcane imagine #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane on netflix

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iid-smile · 12 hours ago

Text

★ — usage

content — nagi seishiro x fem!reader, continuation from this post, hurt no comfort, angst, nagi is a piece of s###, like he's bad, nagi insults the reader quite a bit, some profanity, break up

wc — 1.5k

a/n — this is kinda rushed oopsies 🙈 also these a little surprise at the end !

two hours have passed. two hours of hearing nagi's stupid nintendo 3ds, two hours of hearing those same stupid theme songs over and over, and two hours of dread continuously pouring into your heart.

you've tried sniffling to get his attention. nothing. not even a glance to see if you're crying or not. you've tried getting up and going into another room. the sound of shuffling makes you think he's getting up to check on you, only to realise that he's turned from one side to the other on the bedsheets. call it toxic to fake your emotions, but it's way worse to not care whatsoever about what your partner is feeling.

all you needed to do was talk, right? and then this would be over. you'd get over it, and things would go back to normal.

but what can you say? what could you say without tearing up midway through? you could bring up today, or yesterday, or what's happened months ago, if you really wanted to. there's only been one thing repeating in your mind over and over, and that's what he's said two hours ago.

"sei." no response. "sei." and still. "seishiro." you beg for him to say something. out of frustration, you snatch his 3ds from his hands.

a soft gasp escapes him as he groggily stretches out for his device, his hand just inches away from it —exactly where you wanted him to be. for a moment, his eyes remain fixated on the screen, the sounds of the device ringing in his ears, but gradually, nagi drags his gaze up to find yours. "hey... i was usin' that..." normally, you would relish hearing his sleepy voice on a lazy day, but today... today was something different.

"and i'm trying to talk to you, so will you just—" he shifts his gaze, his eyes drifting elsewhere, leaving an air of unspoken tension between you. determined to bridge the gap, you subtly inch closer to his still figure, your heart racing as you attempt to keep him within your line of sight, hungry for a connection that feels just out of reach. "just listen to me. please?" pathetic, having to ask to be listened to.

"mm..." he mumbles.

"you're not—"

"i am."

with a sigh, your shoulders drop. "okay." that's not okay. you shouldn't allow that to happen. swallowing down the knot bubbling in your throat, you continue to speak. "what did you mean when you said you hated me?"

"i never said that." he's lying right through his teeth. either that, or he's managed to forget, to which you know he's not that stupid.

you brush your teeth over your lower lip, holding back the urge to scream at him — scream whatever words come to mind. your arms are crossed, and your legs too. "then what did you say? be honest with me, because we both know that i heard exactly what you said."

"hm?" he attempts to pull off a clueless expression, but you see right through it. once more, nagi shies away from making eye contact. just when you think the truth might forever remain hidden, a flicker of honesty manages to break through the facade. "i said i used to hate you."

"you said you still maybe do."

"...oh?"

"don't 'oh' me. why did you say it?"

"i didn't mean it like that..."

you are filled with disbelief, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. a deep, simmering anger sizzles beneath the surface, clenching your fists as frustration takes hold, leaving you almost absolutely furious.

"what else could you have possibly meant?"

the only sound that filled the room was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the rapid thumping in your chest. not a word for five minutes.

for those agonizing five minutes, you turned your back on him, not daring to meet his gaze. you were all too familiar with his ways — the charm that masked his manipulative tactics, whether deliberate or not. it was a game he played expertly, and the last thing you wanted was to be drawn into his web of deceit.

yet somehow, he possesses an uncanny ability to captivate you, much like a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame. as you find yourself locked in a gaze with him, his eyes hold an intense yet disarming quality, radiating an expression that seems to shout, 'i’m innocent'.

their depth invites you in, while the softness of his gaze stirs a blend of curiosity and empathy within you, making it hard to look away. will you fall victim to it once again? "don't give me that look..." you mumble.

"baby..." nagi reaches out for you, his head now laid on your lap and his hands around your calves. he always does this, every time he doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness.

"no... sei, please don't." it's hard for you to push him away, caught between wanting to stay and the pain of your own feelings. seeing the frown on his face tugs at your heart's strings in such a way that shouldn't be possible. you can feel the weight of his grip, heavy yet comforting; it pulls at your emotions in a way that’s almost overwhelming. it's so painful to see him so...

...empty?

"seishiro." finally, you manage to position him in a way so that he's somewhat facing you. you take a deep breath in, slowly exhale out, and brush some hairs away from your face out of habit. "i need you to be honest, okay?"

he only nods.

stay calm, stay calm. you can't let him see how you're really feeling. "what do you think about me?"

"honestly?"

"honestly."

"you won't get mad?" uh oh. that seems like a bad sign. still, you push forward, needing the full truth more than anything. maybe you could fix your relationship, or in this case, maybe you could fix yourself.

"i—"

"you're annoying." he abruptly interrupts you, and your eyes widen in surprise. in that instant, it feels as though a dam that has been sealed for years has suddenly burst, unleashing a string of words that flow effortlessly from his lips. each sentence spills out with urgency, as if he can no longer hold back the thoughts that have been swirling inside him. "you talk too much, i hate listening to you talk and you don't know when to shut up."

you sit there and take every word as if you deserve it. you can't even breathe, just staring down at your shaky hands, now starting to become damp with tears.

"stop bothering me right after class, and stop trying to stop trying to hold my hand all the time. it makes me cringe having to tell everyone else you're my girlfriend. and quit calling my name whenever you watch me play. it's embarrassing."

with a trembling breath, your voice falters, cracking like fragile glass as you softly gather the courage to speak. "...don't you have something nice to say?"

"something nice? you're pretty... i guess..."

and that completely broke you.

for all these years, you believed your relationship was filled with trust, never once feeling a hint of doubt about him. you believed wholeheartedly that he liked your endless rambling filling up the silence, or your randomness, or the little quirks that just make you you.

but clearly, that's not the case. it never was.

with tears blurring your vision, you steeled yourself and carefully made your way through his apartment, memories flooding back with each step. you grabbed what little was yours: your phone, charger, and headphones, clinging to these small, faint tokens of familiarity as you prepared to leave. you even abandon the oversized jacket you wore on your way here, which was his.

the red flags, how did you not see them? they were so obvious, and you still chose to ignore them. because he had a pretty face? because he wants to be treated like a fucking baby? you're sure as hell not going to act like his mother, and your sure as hell not going to let him treat you like his other boy toy.

"i'm so done with you." you try to stifle a sniffle, but a couple of tears escape, tracing an unwelcome path down your face. as you fumble with your shoes, your fingers tremble, and you nearly lose your balance more than once, the world around you blurring with each shaky movement. "don't even think about calling me anymore. don't wanna hear your stupid voice anymore..."

not a single hint of protest escaped nagi's lips. he remained perfectly still, his gaze locked onto you as you finally slammed the door shut behind you.

it was embarrassing, having all of his neighbours and him listen to your sobs echo through the hallway as you approach the metal doors, pressing the button multiple times. the wait felt like torture, your body aching to approach his doorstep once more. you enter, your hand on autopilot as you reach for the button right at the bottom.

"why...?" you find yourself whispering to your own reflection in the elevator mirror, dabbing at the tears glistening on your cheeks with your shirt sleeve. "if you didn't like me in the first place, why couldn't you just say so?"

all you did was talk, right? and everything went back to normal. he was no longer in your life, and you weren't in his.

but is that really what you wanted?

yesterday at 16:19

im bored

playyyy

yesterday at 3:27

hey :x

can we talk plz?

today at 13:40

ar u ignoring me?

2 missed voice calls at 13:42

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dearhargrove · 13 hours ago

Text

summary Seeing him that first time, you never could have imagined what life had in store for you.

(short fluffy one shot of their first meeting and then the night after he took her virginity while they're dating, based on a request)

word count 1309

You don't think you'll ever forget meeting him for the first time. How could you, with the impression he left?

—

You're at a fancy restaurant for a work celebration. The ambiance is dark and rich, the people sitting at the tables have that same vibe. Except one group of guys. The one you had noticed as soon as you stepped into this place.

They're sitting in the far back in one of the more private booths, however still in the middle and with a good overview of the whole area.

If you had to guess, the eldest of the three is the father and the twenty something year old guys are his sons. However your attention is drawn to the one sitting on the far right, looking almost on edge as he quietly listens to the other two talk. His muscles are visible through his suit, coffee brown curls tucked behind his ears and there's a necklace that shouldn't fit but just does.

There's something wilder, more strong to him than his two companions. His eyes are strikingly blue, eyebrows pulled into an annoyed frown as he sips his wine. Among that you also note that while the other two have ordered big steaks with barely any sides, he has a salad.

You distractedly continue picking at your dish, stabbing the fork into one of the ingredients for long enough that your colleague looks at you in concern, making you fluster and smile awkwardly.

She grins in amusement and turns to follow your line of sight, looking back to you with an expression that clearly translates into what you've been thinking too ever since first noticing the man; wow.

He's just so – manly. And yet there's still an elegance to him.

You let a strategic few minutes tick by before you look back at the mouthwatering man, only to look right into blue eyes.

You almost flinch, getting flustered immediately and smiling tightly – apologetically? – before hurriedly taking a bite of your dinner to pretend to be minding your own business.

Luckily, no one seems to have noticed your mishap and with a few well timed deep breaths your heartbeat returns to normal and your palms stop sweating.

Nevertheless, you excuse yourself to the ladies room and grab your clutch, not even pretending to know where the hell the toilet even is. You worm your way through the tables to where you guess the restrooms should be, only to almost run into a server coming out of that door who shoots you a confused but kind smile.

“Restrooms are on the other side, dove.”

You tense up, slowly turn around and — oh. It's him. And, dammit, he's even more beautiful up close. He carries a nice scent to him, but not a typical perfume, more of a natural breeze. It's nice, you note. “I noticed... I've never been here before, so–”

He smiles gently and you relax, reciprocating a light but bashful smile. “Don't worry about it. Come on, I'll show you?” he offers. "Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you from your dinner…”

He shakes his head, gives you a calculating look and then softens up a tiny bit, “Trust me, I'm grateful for any excuse to step back from there.” That surprises you a bit but it's none of your business, so you ignore it. You step closer to him and he starts leading the way, obviously walking slower so you could keep up in your heels.

And there's another thing you notice; instead of having to squeeze by the people and servers they part before him like the red sea. The people scoot closer to their tables, the servers bow their heads the tiniest bit and the other customers just smile tightly.

Just who is he? you wonder.

You're more intrigued than before now, momentarily pushing the thoughts aside when you stop in front of two doors; the men's and the ladies room.

“I suppose you'll find your way back to your table?” he kindly but slightly playfully comments. You grin in a mix of embarrassment and amusement, “Sure I will. Thank you, though.”

He shrugs in dismissal, then after a short awkward moment shoots you another smile and leaves.

You take a moment in the – luxurious – bathroom to freshen up, reapply perfume and deodorant, check your phone and do your business. You feel better when you walk back out, already expecting the onslaught of questions from your colleague who had noticed your staring and the man just to then see him lead you through the restaurant.

After paying for your meal (which legitimately made you wince when seeing the actual price because the menu did not have the prices listed) and dodging the questions of your curious coworker, you leave with a small group from your office, engaging in small talk.

You don't even see him when you walk out the door, focused on the story your coworker was telling, but you definitely hear him.

“That's a nice perfume.” His voice is soft but steady, slightly raspy too. You wouldn't mind hearing it more often, you decide.

You halt in your steps and turn around, surprised when you see his cheeky grin. He stops holding the door open, his own jacket slung over his arm and steps the last step down to stand right next to you.

“Thank you–?”

“Sergei.” He introduces himself, nodding his head. “–Sergei.” You repeat with a small smile. He stills for a moment and then blinks, swallowing and nodding. “May I ask the name of this lovely lady?”

You chuckle, slowly continuing your ascend of the stairway, “You may.” And while he asks and you answer with your name he holds out his arm, letting you loop your hand to hold onto his arm for balance.

—

And that's how you ended up here. In his bed, naked except some panties and his way too big t-shirt with his arm snug around your waist and his nose in your hair as he sleeps.

The sun is just rising, the orange and pink hues lighting up the place, forming beautiful shadows and tricks of light.

You turn your head to look at him and take in his beautiful face, bathed in the sunlight. His eyes are still closed, his breathing even and for once his face is relaxed instead of scrunched up from another fight with his father or an upcoming hunt.

However, he also seems to have gotten an extra sense tuned in to you ever since you started dating, so at your stare his eyes open and the blue irises focus on you. It makes you snort a bit and flick the tip of his nose, then turn back to keep watching the sunrise.

His hand moves under the shirt you're wearing to spread out along your skin, calloused hands gentle. “Been awake for long, baby?” The question is soft with a hint of concern and his voice is still husky from sleep.

“Just woke up,” you yawn and stretch a little, he uses the chance and puts his palm in the middle of your torso, tugging you back into his chest. He doesn't say anything further as he tucks into the crook of your neck and grumbles appreciatively when he smells nothing but your natural scent.

Since he told you about his powers you had started to wear less perfume around him (at least when it's just the two of you), as his sensitive sense of smell easily got irritated by the artificial cologne.

It's not long before his nosing turns into nibbling and you can already feel the next few bite marks form, probably meticulously placed to not cover the hickeys he'd left last night.

“Sergei—” he interrupts your upcoming complaint with a grunt and swiftly rolls on top of you, leaned on his forearms as he looks at you like you're his prey. You feel dwarfed under him, his huge biceps and broad shoulders covering you entirely.

At your perplexed expression he chuckles and softly kisses your forehead, “Can't hold back when I remember you're all mine.”

#aaron taylor johnson #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff #kraven x reader #kraven the hunter #aaron taylor johnson x reader #atj #atj x reader

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yeonjunsvape · 22 hours ago

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L.A girl: joshua smut

w/c: 2.3k

pairing: idol!joshua, female!reader

genre: smut

summary: joshua comes back to his hometown and meets with a girl from his past.

svt masterlist

you highfive your teammates when you score a point and glance over at the crowd forming, cheering you guys on.

there was a particular face which sticks out when you go to serve the ball, it was a tall, well dressed, and smug smiled man.

joshua…

your eyes never left his as he slow claps for you, the arrogance was radiating off his body and you drop the ball to the ground. never has your heart beaten so fast by a person who didn’t have to speak a word, joshua only uses his eyes to get his point across.

without saying a word to your friends, you run off the beach and immediately regret looking weak infront of him.

when you walk down the pier of the beach, you didn’t notice someone following you because your mind was clouded, “why did you run?” a familiar voice from behind you semi-shouts due to all the noise happening around you.

even with all the other sounds coming from every direction in your ears, his voice was crystal clear and transparent. “i-i didn’t run…” you stopped in your tracks but didn’t have the strength to turn around.

it was an obvious lie, he saw you laughing and smiling with your friends until your eyes met his. “you didn’t huh?” he retorts with a sly chuckle.

your fingers ball into a fist until your knuckles turn white and finally turn around to face joshua. “okay fine i did, but who are you to judge? don’t you run away from everyone and everything also?” you shout, walking up closer until you’re chest to chest.

“i can’t argue there, i just thought you would’ve got over that by now.” your eyes roll and he smirks, loving the reaction he gets from you anytime he speaks.

you weren’t sure why he has such an emotional effect in your brain, it’s been that way since middle school. he can be on the other side of the world and you still can’t help but look around small crowds for his face.

“i missed you [Y/N], my band is doing some shooting in la, i just wanted to catch up.” joshua seemed innocent by the way he spoke but you can read his thoughts. “i’ve been great… we caught up, have a good summer.” you turn around and continue your journey down the pier, far away from him.

2 days later was the next time you’d see joshua again.

the day was nothing extraordinary, shower, coffee, and work meetings; that is until, you see the handsome yet annoying smug face walking into your office.

your cheeks sink in and you give him a death glare as he walks to your bosses office door, knocking politely. you stand from your chair and sneak over to the room, peaking in through a window your boss uses to surveillance all your colleagues.

there wasn’t any clear words you could hear and you stomp your foot slightly, getting frustrated you didn’t know joshua’s intentions.

when the two men start walking toward the door, you take off back to your desk, falling off your rolling chair in the process but quickly sitting down, and breathing heavy.

they walk behind you and the hair sticks up on the back of your head just by the presence of joshua hong. “mrs. [Y/N]? this is joshua from the korean band seventeen. they are looking for someone around the area to help them with shooting locations.” you turn around in the chair and bite the inside of your cheek hard.

you worked in retail at the largest agency in la and you had no idea what selling houses had to do with finding locations for a boyband to shoot a music video.

“the beach is always a good location, have a nice day.” you turn back around in your chair and your boss clears his throat, “mrs [Y/N]? take his team to every available property along the shore we have.”

you hesitate but stand up from the chair and grab your belongings. “it’ll be my honor, shall we, mr. hong?” you fake a polite voice for your bosses satisfaction and drop your smile when you’re left alone with joshua. “let’s go.”

the elevator ride to the first floor was nothing short of the most tense experience you’ve ever been in and the worst part is you can’t run away this time.

“sooo… is your manager going with us?” you awkwardly ask, trying to stay professional. “yes, also the other boys, they want to have an opinion on where we shoot.” you just nod and look around the small elevator at anywhere but him.

once the two doors were about to open he presses a button to make the doors close again. “what-” was all you said before he pushes you against the elevator wall, both of his hands on either side of your head.

“why do you do this to me [Y/N]? after all these years of no communication, you still make me feel like we’re in high school.” he mutters in your ear, sending shivers down your entire body.

you didn’t dare speak a word to the man who was now hovering over your body and after a few moments of silence he chuckles, pulling away. “i know you like the back of my hand [Y/N], you act innocent and push me away, then can’t handle the tension so you hate fuck me.”

you push him away when the elevator opens again and people crowd inside, then slip out the door skillfully, leaving joshua behind. your heart was beating so fast you thought it was about to explode.

you’re on level 8 when you need to be on the ground floor, so you quickly run to the stairs in case you run into joshua again.

it was silent, dark, and every move you make echoes throughout the walls of the stairs. halfway through the journey you were already panting and waving your hand on your face as a makeshift fan, seeing ‘floor 4’ on the wall infront of you.

a door opened and closed but with the echoing, it could’ve came from anywhere.

you stop to rest and text your boss it was going good, even though you planned on making a break for it when you finally reach level 1.

as soon as you hit send your phone was snatched out of your hand with aggression, you look up to see joshua. “we never finished our conversation.” he blankly stares, holding your phone as ransom.

you cross your arms and hold your hand out, tapping your foot in annoyance. “may i have my phone back?” “you may have your phone back…. once we finish our conversation.” he replies back, holding the phone behind his back.

“if you don’t give me my phone back, i will scream murder and they will take you to jail.” you threat and your foot tapping getting faster. “there’s no one else in here darling, no one would even hear you,” he smirks to himself as if he won, then putting your phone inside his pants.

your face scrunches at his lame moves, knowing from personal experience he could do much better. “how about, you can have my phone, i’ll just get a new one.” you smirk back and he hums, hearing a text message ‘ding’ coming from in his pants. “that might be important, you should come get it.”

you nod your head and reach your hand in his pants as he wished, digging around to find what you were looking for.

“ahhh there it is, it was so small i almost missed it.” you smirk, cupping his semi-hard dick in your hand, rubbing it slowly until you feel it become fully hard.

after you left him speechless, you grab your phone and walk down the stairs again, texting your boss back. “you were right joshua, it was important.” you call out, not caring if he is following or not.

when you reach level 3, you were pushed against the wall for the second time in the span of 30 minutes, you look up at joshuas eyes and bite the inside of your cheeks again. “you did this to me.” he whispers, glancing down at the very obvious outline in his pants. “yeah and now its your problem.” you spit back, huffing at his aggressive gaze.

joshua pushes his hard on against your pussy that has been aching since the elevator, and hums. “it’s our problem [Y/N], i can tell you’re putting on a brave face, but you want me.”

even if his words were true, you needed to stay strong so you don’t end up as the loser in his game.

“look at you, the desperation in wearing that skin tight leather skirt is all i need to know.” joshua smirks, spreading your legs apart with his knee. “how much you wanna bet you’re soaking in those panties? a slut like you loves when a man is basically begging for your pussy.” he whispers in your ear, moving a hand down to lift up your skirt slowly.

“i-i won’t be, you have no effect on my pussy.” you whisper back, clenching your eyes shut when you feel his hand creeping up your thigh. “you sure?” joshua asks with a chuckle, the wetness running down your leg before he could even make it to your panties.

“i love how i can make you dripping just by my words. you’ve always liked being degraded.” he mumbles and finally reaches your core, his hand stopping when he feels no panties. “were you preparing for this moment? you knew i would find a way to get us alone huh? god you’re so slutty and sexy.” joshua smirks and flicks your clit with his fingers, making your entire body jolt.

“it’s true.” you whimper, not caring about winning or losing his game anymore, you just needed his dick.

joshua lifts you by the waist and pins you to the wall so your legs are spread around him. “sorry doll, no time for foreplay, someone can catch us.”

the thought of someone hearing, or seeing joshua fucking you hard against your work walls made you even wetter, the juice dripping on his pants as you wait for him to take his dick out.

once it was free, he lifts your hips so he could get a good grip on you before slamming as hard as he could inside your pussy. you yell but a hand slapped over your mouth, and tears forming in your eyes. it hurt so good, you wanted to feel him slam in you again without any warning.

joshua bounces you up and down on his large cock, smirking at your already tearful eyes. “its not small now, is it whore? it’s not small when its pounding into you tight wet pussy.” he moans out, thrusting his hips as fast as he can.

his name calling made your walls clench around him, it was your biggest turn on. “you’re so obedient doll, i tell you to spread your legs and here you are, being fucked senseless at your work.” he was panting now and you knew it was going to be a quickie, which you didn’t mind, you were already cumming on his dick as he spoke.

joshua reaches a hand up and wraps it around your slim throat, kissing your lips sloppily. he slurps up the saliva that was running down your mouth from pleasure and hums. “so sexy.” he moans, choking you harder.

“go faster.” you choke out, hearing a chuckle come from his mouth. “this isn’t fast enough for my little cum slut?” he retorts and you clench again at the name.

despite the teasing, he does as you ask, and thrusts as fast as his hips could go, “im about to cum baby, i missed your pussy so much.” he lowly moans, hands still around your neck and kisses your mouth.

joshua gives two more hard thrusts before shooting inside of your guts, pushing deeper in and whimpers against your mouth.

“f-fuck.” he groans when he pulls away from the kiss, resting a hand against the wall so he could hold you up on his waist, still deep inside of your now sensitive pussy. “that was the best hate sex we’ve ever had,” you giggle, twitching everytime he moved inside of you.

joshua finally pulls out of you when he catches his breath and zips his pants up. “lets go back to my hotel and do that again.” he smirks, kissing your neck slowly. “what about the house hunting for your music video?” you ask, tilting your head so he could kiss more of your neck.

“oh, we’re shooting at the beach, i had a free day and got bored.” he admits and you scoff. “you’re such a dick.” you cross your arms and start walking off, joshua catching up to you fast, “i just wanted your pussy, but i will tell your boss you are the best employee, and we spent all day looking at beautiful houses. meanwhile, we’re at my hotel fucking and you get a day off.” he negotiates and you think about it for a second, “alright deal.”

he was satisfied with your response and he grabs your hand but you pull away. “we’re better at hate fucking, not lovey dovey.” he nods in agreement and leaves your workplace with you, heading to his hotel.

“you should come back more though shua, you’re much use to me when you’re here.”

a/n: its 5 am and i just finished, im so tired, i started at 12 am 😂 but i really wanted to get this posted bc i have a busy day tomorrow, hope you enjoy!! my requests are open!!

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clarkevision · 3 days ago

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George Clarkey | Flowers of Regret

Summary: George goes on a lads holiday where he is unfaithful...

George Clarkey wasn’t just my boyfriend; he was my best friend, my partner in crime, and the person who could make even the worst days feel bearable. His laugh, the way it lit up his entire face, was something I couldn’t get enough of. From the moment we met, I felt like I’d found someone who truly got me.

Our relationship wasn’t perfect—what relationship is?—but it was ours. We’d spent late nights talking about everything from his YouTube channel to our dreams for the future. He wanted to grow his brand, keep making people laugh, and maybe one day settle down when the time felt right. I loved that about him—how he balanced ambition with warmth, never letting the pressures of his rising fame change who he was.

So when he told me he was going on a lads’ holiday to Ibiza with Arthur TV, Arthur Hill, and Chris, I wanted to be supportive. They’d been planning it for months—a chance to unwind, let loose, and celebrate the success of their channels.

“I’m happy for you,” I said one night as we curled up on the couch.

“You sure?” George asked, looking at me with those big, brown eyes of his. “I know Ibiza’s got a bit of a reputation, but it’s just going to be chill. Beach, drinks, banter. You know how it is.”

I forced a smile. “Of course. You deserve a break. Just... don’t forget to call me sometimes, okay?”

He grinned, pulling me closer. “I’d never forget about you.”

The first few days of the trip seemed harmless enough. George sent me updates—pictures of the boys lounging by the pool with beers in hand, group shots of them at sunset, and videos of their ridiculous antics.

Arthur TV, ever the instigator, seemed to be leading the charge. One video showed him trying to get Arthur Hill to dance in the middle of a crowded club while Chris cheered them on. George was in the background, laughing so hard he was crying.

I smiled at the clips, feeling a little less anxious. This was the George I knew—the George who loved his mates but always made time for me.

“You’re behaving, right?” I teased one evening, sending him a selfie of me in pajamas.

“Always,” he replied with a winking emoji.

But as the days went on, his messages became less frequent. The photos stopped, and our texts turned into brief exchanges that left me feeling more disconnected than ever.

“Having fun?” I asked on the third night, hoping for reassurance.

“Yeah, all good,” he replied hours later. No emoji, no follow-up.

I stared at my phone, the sinking feeling in my stomach growing heavier with each passing day.

When George finally came home, I was relieved but also nervous. He walked through the door looking tanned and relaxed, his hair tousled in that effortless way that always made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Hey, babe,” he said, dropping his bags and pulling me into a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, but something felt different. His hug wasn’t as tight as it usually was, and when I looked up at him, his eyes didn’t meet mine.

“How was it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

“Yeah, it was good,” he said, shrugging. “Just the usual—beach, drinks, a bit of clubbing. Nothing too crazy.”

He kissed me quickly and headed to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, my heart sinking. Normally, George couldn’t stop talking after trips, reenacting every funny moment and showing me the footage he planned to use in his vlogs. This time, he seemed... guarded.

Over the next few days, the distance between us grew. George was quieter than usual, his energy subdued. He spent hours editing footage from the holiday, his headphones on as he stared at his laptop. I tried to give him space, but my unease was impossible to ignore.

One evening, as he sat on the couch, laptop balanced on his knees, I leaned over his shoulder. “Can I see what you’re working on?”

“It’s nothing exciting,” he said quickly, clicking away from a folder.

My heart sank. “You always show me your edits.”

He hesitated, then gave me a weak smile. “It’s just rough stuff. I’ll show you when it’s done.”

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something.

That night, after George fell asleep, I did something I’d never done before—I opened his laptop. I told myself it was nothing, that I’d find the usual clips of him and the boys being idiots. But as I scrolled through the folders, my hands began to shake.

There, tucked away in a folder with the dates of the trip, were photos and videos I wish I’d never seen.

In one video, George was dancing with a group of people in a club. At first, it looked innocent enough—until I noticed one woman in particular. She was gorgeous, her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her smile bright and confident. She and George were pressed close together, her hands resting on his chest as they moved in sync.

Then came the kiss.

My stomach dropped as I watched George lean in, his lips meeting hers in a moment of drunken recklessness.

I slammed the laptop shut, my hands trembling.

The next morning, I confronted him. He was in the kitchen, making coffee, when I placed the laptop on the counter.

“Care to explain this?” I asked, my voice shaking.

George froze, his eyes widening as he saw the screen. “I—”

“You promised me,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “You promised you’d behave. That I had nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t know what happened,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I was drunk, it was stupid—it didn’t mean anything.”

“But it meant something to me,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “You didn’t just hurt me, George. You broke my trust. You broke us.”

He stepped toward me, his eyes filled with tears. “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this right. You’re everything to me.”

I shook my head, backing away. “You made your choice in Ibiza. Now I’m making mine.”

As I packed my things, George sat on the bed, his head in his hands. I wanted to forgive him, to believe that it was just a mistake, but I couldn’t. Some lines couldn’t be uncrossed.

The days after I walked away from George were excruciating. Every corner of my apartment felt heavy with his absence—the cozy nights on the couch, the inside jokes, the sound of his laugh echoing through the rooms. But those memories were tainted now, overshadowed by what he’d done on that lads’ holiday.

My phone vibrated constantly, his name flashing on the screen more times than I could count. I ignored most of the messages, unwilling to face his words when my heart still felt so raw.

“Please talk to me. I’m so sorry.” “I miss you so much. I can’t believe I messed this up.” “You mean everything to me. Please give me a chance to fix this.”

The messages ranged from desperate apologies to quiet admissions of how much he missed me. I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me wanted to believe him, to hold onto the George I thought I knew, but another part of me couldn’t forget the betrayal.

One morning, I opened my door to find a bouquet of flowers waiting on my doorstep—peonies and tulips, a mix of soft pinks and whites. My favorites. Tucked inside was a small card in George’s handwriting.

“I know flowers can’t fix what I’ve done, but I wanted to remind you of how much you mean to me. I miss you more than I can put into words. Love, George.”

I stared at the card for a long time, my fingers tracing the words.

That same day, another message popped up on my phone.

“I left flowers for you. I don’t expect them to change anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you love them. I’m so sorry, and I’ll do anything to make this right.”

I didn’t reply, but I kept the flowers.

The next day, another delivery arrived. This time, it was a small box of my favorite chocolates, along with a handwritten note.

“I saw these and thought of you. Every little thing reminds me of you—every song, every place we used to go. I can’t stop thinking about how much I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for it. You deserve so much better, but I want to prove that I can be better. I love you.”

The messages kept coming, each one a mix of remorse and longing.

“I miss your laugh.” “I miss your smile.” “I miss the way you’d always steal the blanket in the middle of the night and act like it wasn’t you.”

I hated how much his words tugged at my heart, how they reminded me of all the good times we’d shared before everything went wrong.

On the third day, George showed up at my door. He stood there holding another bouquet—this one bigger than the last—and looking utterly defeated. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he had the same messy, unshaven look he always got when he was stressed.

“Please,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “Can we talk?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding, but eventually stepped aside to let him in.

He set the flowers down on the table and turned to face me, his hands trembling slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say, how to make you see how sorry I am, but nothing feels like enough.”

I crossed my arms, keeping my distance. “Words won’t change what you did, George.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I’m saying sorry. But I can’t let this go without trying. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ruined it because I was selfish and stupid. And I hate myself for that.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he continued. “I miss you so much it hurts. I miss waking up next to you, hearing your voice, seeing your smile. I miss us. And I’ll do anything—anything—to earn your trust back, even if it takes the rest of my life.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“You don’t,” he said honestly, his voice breaking. “All I can do is show you that I’ve learned from this, that I’m never going to let myself make such a horrible mistake again. You mean too much to me. I can’t lose you.”

Over the next week, George didn’t let up. He sent more messages—each one heartfelt and raw, never pressuring me, but always reminding me how much he cared.

“I saw a couple walking in the park today and thought of you. Do you remember that time we got caught in the rain and you laughed the whole way home? I miss that laugh.” “I’m not giving up on us. Not because I deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve to know how much I love you.” “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

One evening, as I sat alone in my apartment reading his latest message, something inside me shifted. His words weren’t just empty promises—they were full of vulnerability, of someone who truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

I picked up my phone and typed a single message.

“I’m not saying I can forgive you yet. But maybe we can talk.”

The reply came almost instantly.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

When George showed up the next day, he looked nervous but hopeful. We sat on the couch, the air between us heavy with unspoken feelings.

“I’m not ready to jump back into anything,” I told him honestly. “But I’m willing to see if you can prove yourself.”

George nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I will. I promise you, I will.”

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t a guarantee of a happy ending. But it was a start.

#george clarkey #george clarke fics #george clarkey fic #george clarke fluff #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #arthur frederick #arthur tv #arthur hill #chrismd #british youtubers #chris md #george clarke #arthurtv #angst

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nyx-umbrakinesis · 3 days ago

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(VoxTek prompt of the week)

CW: Severe self depreciation, wishing to not exist (Reader) (unaliving mentions), mental health issues, angst, hurt, comfort.... Read at your own risk

Alastor x Reader

Alastor returns home from work and jovially calls out to you.

Alastor: "Darling, you'll never guess what happened today at the station... Are you there Dear? Is dinner done?"

Alastor walks into the kitchen to see you just standing with your back to him, he tilts his head in mild confusion but passes it off as you playing some sort of game. Seeing the pots and pans still on the stove unused.

Alastor: "Ah, looks like you've been too busy to cook up something delectable for us just yet, hmm?"

He takes off his jacket and tosses it over a chair before sauntering over to stand behind you.

Alastor: "I hope you're not planning on serving us cold leftovers, because I have a ravenous appetite. And I need it to be thoroughly sated, we're both going to require a lot of energy tonight!"

Alastor gently strokes your arms, feeling the softness of your skin beneath the fabric and rests his chin atop your head cheekily.

Alastor frowns when he feels tremors running through your frame, his usual smile dropping as soon as he hears the little sniffles escaping you from behind your hands covering your face.

Now alert to your distress, he rubs your arms, his heart racing utterly... Frightened, his mind racing of what could be wrong, he wasn't gone long, has someone hurt you... Or worse...

Alastor: "Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong? Did I worry you? I didn't mean to overwhelm you, we can have whatever you want for dinner, hell I'll make it myself. Please, little bird, let me see your face, are you okay?"

His gentle, warm hands guide you, you put up no resistance as he turns you around to face him, his expression soft with concern.

Alastor: "Tell me what's bothering you. Did someone harm you? Did I do something? We can work through this together? I'm here for you, no matter what, Dear, please just talk to me."

Alastor leans in closer, his warm breath caressing your cheek making it easy for your comfort if you would struggle with volume given that your sniffling and tears started to increase, his stomach dropping, eyes darting side to side as his face pales.

You: "I don't want to be here anymore... I wish I'd never been born..."

The whisper is deafening to Alastor, tears flooding down your face and your trembling increases exponentially, legs going so weak they buckle below you and you close your eyes, expecting the unforgiving pain of the hard floor meeting your already pained bones.

Alastor's heart clenches at the utter despair in your voice. His strong arms wrapping around you swiftly as he notices you wavering, pulling you close against his chest, stricken with fear and panic at what to do, how to help, he buried his nose in your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of you, counting to five in his head and just feeling your soft body in his arms, your warmth, his heart breaking. How could you be feeling this way, that you'd want to leave him like that, is he not good enough? Is he so awful, you hate life so much you'd wish for the empty void of non existence?

Alastor: "Oh, Dove, please don't say that. You are so precious to me, and I can't imagine life without you."

Tears betray his own eyes for one of the few times in memory. He rocks you gently, stroking your hair as he tries to soothe your anguish, wanting to fix this, to get to the bottom of it, to rip out his own fucking guts that you don't feel like life is worth living with him.

Alastor: "We all have dark moments, but they pass. You're stronger than you realize. Just hold on to me, and let's get through this together."

Gazing down at your tear-streaked face, he tenderly tries to wipe away your tears with his thumb, his own eyes shimmering with his own agony, confusion and empathy. Desperate to fix things he can't stop talking.

Alastor: "I know things are tough right now, but please believe me when I say that I love you, flaws and all. Every part of you is perfect in my eyes. You're beautiful, inside and out." Kissing the top of your head.

Alastor: "Come on, let's sit down and talk about this. I'm here to listen and help however I can. We'll figure things out, I promise, I'm not going anywhere, you're not alone and never will be, Darling."

You: "I'm useless and pathetic..." Is all you manage to mumble out, lost in a whirlwind of your own self hatred, thoughts centering around memories of failure, regret and defeat.

Alastor's expression hardens slightly at your self-deprecating words, a flicker of outrage sparking within him.

Alastor: "Useless and pathetic? How dare you speak about yourself that way! How dare you insult the most amazing being I've ever laid eyes on, the one I love with all my soul."

His voice is low and intense, grip tensing around you, he practically growls in your ear.

Alastor: "You listen to me, little bird. You are so much more than those vile thoughts. You are kind, compassionate, and incredibly resilient. The fact that you're struggling with your emotions only proves how deeply you feel, and that is a rare and precious quality. One I find even I cannot match, but I can certainly admire and appreciate how lucky I am to have someone as wonderful as you in my life."

Alastor cups your face in his hands, forcing your to meet his gaze.

Alastor: "You are loved, cherished, and valued beyond measure. By me, certainly, but also by anyone who knows you, the real you, anyone worth anything would be able to see how wonderful you are. So cut out this self-loathing nonsense right now, you're mine and I would never choose someone who wasn't utter perfection!"

Leaning in, he captures your lips in a powerful kiss, pouring all his affection, fear and adoration into the embrace.

Alastor: "You are not worthless, my Darling. You are extraordinary, and don't you ever forget it."

Stubborn as ever however, even panting and with flushed cheeks you allow your thoughts to win out...

You: "I'm lazy... Bone idle, so fat it's just going to all get worse. I make excuses and lie to people I am afraid of, I don't do anything I'm supposed to do and it hurts the people around me who deserve better I'm a piece of shit, a bad person, I can't do anything right... Anything I'm supposed to... I-"

Alastor's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he listens to your litany of self-beratement. Before you finish, he pulls back slightly, his grip on your face gentle but firm.

Alastor: "Enough. That is enough of this toxic self-talk, Dearest. It's time someone told you the truth - you are not lazy, you're exhausted from carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You are NOT bone idle, you're overwhelmed and burnt out."

He takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully, holding you firm.

Alastor: "Your size does not define your worth, nor does it dictate your abilities. You are capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for and even if you struggle we can do it together. And those excuses and lies? They're just coping mechanisms born from fear and insecurity, a lifetime of mistreatment."

Tilting your chin up, he searches your gaze intently, warm brown eyes piercing your soul.

Alastor: "You are not a piece of shit, my love. You're a complex, multifaceted individual struggling with demons most people can't even fathom. And you know what? That makes you brave, not flawed."

Leaning in once more, he presses a soft, reassuring kiss to your forehead. Wiping more and more tears from the whimpering mess in his arms.

Alastor: "You are not a bad person, and you don't need to do everything right. All you need to do is be true to yourself and keep moving forward, one step at a time. I'll be right here beside you, supporting you every inch of the way, you are still here and that's what I need, and I'm selfish so you aren't going anywhere without me."

An unexpected bubble of laughter escapes your throat taking you by surprise and Alastor's smile returns to his face, fondly brushing your hair away from your eyes. His expression pleading as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding.

Alastor: "My little Doe, you're not alone in this fight. I'm here to help you, to support you, to love you unconditionally. No matter what challenges you face, know that you always have a safe haven in me."

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin.

Alastor: "We'll take things one day at a time, okay? There's no pressure, no expectations. Just focus on getting through each moment, and leave the rest to me."

Smiling encouragingly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers.

Alastor: "You're strong. Stronger than you realize. And with me by your side, well of course you can overcome anything that comes your way, haha!"

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, he leans in to whisper in your ear, shivers running through your frame. Hot breath caressing the shell.

Alastor: "Now, why don't we order some takeout? I'm starving, and I think we both could use an indulgence. Oh and Darling do get presentable again, you look utterly obscene and if you don't put that smile back on your face, I'll find another way to do so myself."

As he tightens his hold on you to hold you together, his shirt utterly ruined by your tears and snot, you can't help but be filled with so much love for the man who you feel you never deserved... But won't let you balance the check so to speak, your own arms finally wrap around him in return.

Alastor: "You're mine, no refunds!"

A/N the presentable quip was a direct reference to his 'You're never fully dressed without a smile' quote, not a comment on how you look when crying.

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