#and it’s like sometimes I get a flash of…everything

[itneverendshere]

omg omg i’m completely inlove with bartender reader and rafe!! what if the reader saves up her money to get rafe something special as a just because gift, something to show that shes grateful for him or maybe handmade some gift for him

it hits different 'cause it's you - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 2.5k

thank you so much for loving them and for you request 🫂

Between the country club, side gigs, and saving every extra penny, you’d finally done it. You had something for Rafe.

You turned the little bracelet over in your hands, the silver chain glinting in the dim light of your bedroom. It felt kind of ridiculous at first—getting him a gift. Rafe could buy whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But that wasn’t the point. This was your first birthday together, and you wanted to give him something that came from you.

Something that showed him you were grateful for everything he’d done. Because even though you’d heard all the stories about how terrible he could be—and you’d seen flashes of it sometimes—he’d always been different with you. Softer, quieter, like everything around him softened when it was just the two of you. You didn’t need the flashy gifts or the five-star dinners, though he insisted on both.

You needed him. The Rafe you knew when it was just the two of you sitting in his truck by the beach, laughing over nothing.

A handmade bracelet, not flashy but personal. You’d saved up for the silver chain, a simple one but still nice. But the charms? Those were the important part. Tiny reminders of things you’d shared: a little compass for those late-night drives home where you’d just get lost on purpose, a wave for the time he dragged you out surfing (even though you had no idea what you were doing), and a tiny heart because, well, obvious reasons. 

You didn’t care if he thought it was dumb.

You’d spent weeks working on it between shifts, sneaking away to the little craft store on the mainland to find the perfect pieces. It wasn’t expensive, but it had you in it—your time, your memories, your effort. And you hoped that was enough.

You’d been nervous all day, counting down the minutes until you could finally give it to him. Rafe had picked you up after work, his grin lighting up the parking lot, and now the two of you were sitting on the hood of his truck, the ocean breeze cool against your skin. His birthday dinner had been perfect, of course—he'd made sure of that.

He’d insisted on this little restaurant by the beach, his favorite, and the sunset view had been unreal, like something out of a movie. But you’d been quiet.

He nudged you with his shoulder. “What’s up? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

You fumbled with the zipper of your purse, pulling out the small, wrapped box. “I… I got you something.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “For me?”

“No, for the other guy I’m sitting on a truck with,” you teased, nerves bubbling up. “Yeah, for you.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

Rafe carefully unwrapped the box, pulling out the bracelet. He held it up, the charms catching the light. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and your heart sank, wondering if he thought it was cheap or lame compared to everything he was used to.

But then he looked at you, his blue eyes soft and serious in a way that made your chest tighten. “You made this?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, twisting your hands in your lap. “It’s nothing crazy. Just, uh, little things that remind me of us.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just turned the bracelet over in his fingers, tracing the charms. Then, without a word, he slipped it onto his wrist, the silver chain looking a little out of place next to his expensive watch. 

“You can wear as a keychain if you want— or, I dunno, maybe keep it somewhere. You don’t have to wear it,” you added quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush before you could stop them.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn’t going to wear it, not with all his designer clothes and luxury watches.

But Rafe didn’t even flinch. He glanced down at his wrist, then back at you, “I want to wear it.”

You blinked. “You don’t have to just because I gave it to you.”

“Course I do.”

Your cheeks felt warm, and you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, not sure what to say next.

Rafe just grinned, like he could read your mind or something.

“What?” he asked, nudging you again with his shoulder. “You think I wouldn’t like it?”

“I mean…You wear designer everything. This is… it’s kinda cheap compared to that.”

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head. “Cheap doesn’t mean it’s not special. You made it, and that’s what I care about.” He paused, then added softly, “It’s from you. That’s what matters.”

Your heart did this little flip in your chest, and you had to bite back the stupid smile spreading across your face. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. This is us.” He held up his wrist, the bracelet catching the fading light from the sunset. “Every charm means something, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, suddenly feeling shy. “I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I couldn’t give you something better.”

He turned fully toward you, his hands gently cupping your face.

“Better? Baby, no. This is perfect. No one’s ever given me something like this before.” He kissed your forehead, and you felt yourself melt a little bit. “I don’t need ‘better’ or more expensive shit. I’ve got enough of that. I need this.”

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your cheek. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that someone like Rafe—who could literally have anything—wanted something as simple as a handmade bracelet. But he did. And it made your heart ache in the best way.

“I’m glad you like it,” you whispered, resting your hand on his chest.

“I don’t just like it. I love it,” he said, his voice soft. Then, as if he could feel how much this moment meant to you, he added, “And I love you.”

That did it. 

Your stomach fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile, that big, stupid, giddy smile you only got when you were with him. “I love you too,” you whispered, like you were saying it for the first time all over again.

Rafe kissed you, slow and sweet, and it felt like time had stopped for a moment—just you, him, and the sound of the ocean in the background.

When he pulled back, he glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist again and smiled. “I’m never takin’ this off, you know.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, let’s not get crazy.”

But he just smirked and kissed the top of your head. “No, I mean it. This? It’s a part of us now.”

“Not even when you shower?”

You could feel his shit-eating grin against your temple, “You thinkin’ about me showering?”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks burned as you tried to keep a straight face. "Shut up," you muttered.

“That’s not what you were sayin’—”

“Okayyyy,” You interrupted pushing his chest away, “We get it.”

You turned your face away, hiding your grin as he laughed, that deep, rumbling sound that always made your heart skip a beat. Being with Rafe was like that—playful and intense all at once, always keeping you on your toes but making you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to sound exasperated, though the smile on your face gave you away.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you tighter. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, the waves crashing softly in the background, the air cool but not cold. Everything felt easy in moments like this. Just you and him.

“I’m serious though,” Rafe said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “No one’s ever done anythin’ like this for me before. You don’t even know how much it means.”

His fingers absentmindedly traced the bracelet again, like he still couldn’t believe it was his.

Your heart swelled a little, knowing that something as simple as a handmade gift could mean so much to someone like him. Rafe had everything—money, cars, houses. But maybe, in some weird way, he needed something that couldn’t be bought. Something that came from you.

“I’m glad,” you whispered, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “I just… I wanted you to know that I see you, you know? Not just all the surface stuff.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his hand finding yours and giving it a squeeze. “You do. You really do.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. And in that moment, it hit you how much he’d become a part of your life, how much he’d broken down those walls you didn’t even know you’d put up.

“I’m not taking it off,” he repeated, more serious this time, like he needed you to believe it.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay, Rafe. Whatever you say.”

The bracelet, the moment, this night—it was more than just a gift.

“You’re still givin’ me birthday sex, right?”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, “Seriously? I pour my heart out, and this is where you go?”

He grinned that mischievous, cocky grin of his—the one that made your stomach flip even when you pretended to be annoyed.

“What? I’m just saying, it is my birthday, after all.” His voice dropped, teasing, playful, the way it always got when he was trying to push your buttons.

You shoved his shoulder, pretending to be all serious, but he just caught your wrist, pulling you closer until your forehead rested against his.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours, “But you love me anyway.”

You smiled, your heart doing that stupid flutter thing again. “Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?” he raised an eyebrow, looking all mock offended, but there was that softness in his eyes again—the one he only ever let you see.

You kissed him before he could say anything else, slow and sweet, letting the teasing fall away for just a second.

And when you pulled back, you whispered, “Of course I love you. Birthday sex or not.”

Rafe chuckled, his hands slipping down to your ass, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You tried to glare, but the way his thumb was tracing circles on your lower back made it hard to keep up the act. “I don’t have to admit anything.” You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear. “But maybe... if you’re lucky..”

Rafe’s breath hitched just a little, and it sent a thrill down your spine. You loved this—having him wrapped around your finger. He always lost it when you played the game right back.

"Now who's teasing’?" he murmured, his lips grazing your neck, leaving little kisses that made it hard to keep your thoughts straight.

"You started it," you whispered back, your fingers finding the edge of his collar, tugging him closer until there was barely any space left between you.

Your legs ended up draped over his, and you could feel his hands on your thighs, warm and familiar, as you settled deeper into his lap. His lips traced your jaw, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of this, and your head tilted back instinctively, giving him more room.

God, he knew exactly how to make you melt without even trying.

Rafe’s hands slid down to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He always knew how to make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. “You’re gonna drive me insane,” he muttered, his lips brushing yours but not quite kissing you yet. 

You leaned into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest as he finally kissed you. His hand came up to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in that gentle way that made you flutter. He tilted his head slightly, angling the kiss, like he was savoring every second he had you this close. You kissed him back just as slowly, letting yourself get lost in it. 

The kiss was deliberate, slow, like he wanted to memorize the way your lips moved against his, the taste of you, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, deepening the kiss as his other hand traced gentle circles along your thigh.

“Y’know I’m crazy about you, right?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, your heart doing that annoying thing again. “Yeah. Happy birthday, baby.”

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his fingers still tracing lazy circles on your leg.

Then, in the same casual tone he used when asking about what to eat for dinner, he said, “You know, you should make the same bracelets for our kids when we have them.”

Your brain screeched to a stop.

Wait, what?

You blinked up at him, your heart skipping a beat for a completely different reason now. “I’m sorry, what?”

He grinned like he didn’t just casually drop the most insane statement ever. “I’m serious. Like, one day when we have kids—you should make them little bracelets like this. It'll be a thing.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around what he just said. “Rafe, we’ve been together, what… less than a year? And you’re already talking about kids?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed by the shock on your face. “Yeah, why not? I can see it, y’know? You, me, little mini-us running around—driving us crazy. It’d be fun.”

You blinked again, your mind still catching up.

Kids? Your kids? Together? You tried to picture it for a second—little versions of Rafe, with his mischievous ways and messy hair, running around. 

“Wait, hold up—you want kids with me?”

 “Yeah.”

“Plural?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah. A few. Maybe more.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “A few? Oh my God, you’re insane.”

He smirked, looking way too pleased with himself.

“What, you can’t picture it? I bet they’d have your eyes. Or my attitude. Definitely my attitude.”

“Great, that’s exactly what the world needs.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer, “Not, like, tomorrow. But one day. You’d be a great mom, don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Okay, maybe once. Can we just get through your birthday first?”

“Fine, fine. But just so you know, when the time comes, you’re making all of them little bracelets.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I’ll consider it... if they don’t take after you too much.”

“Oh, they will. And you’re gonna love every second of it.”

[connorsui]

Rafayel x wife! Reader || Imagine

"Sunset Love and Baby Kisses"

"I carried you for nine whole months... nine whole months," you teased, holding your baby gently across your chest. Your tone was playfully dramatic as you admired them, their small, round face looking up at you with wide, curious eyes. “And you dare come out looking exactly like your daddy?”

Your baby girl responded with a laugh, her little hands reaching up in a wobbly attempt to grab your face. You couldn’t help but laugh too, your heart filling with a warmth so deep it nearly overwhelmed you.

“Not even a single ounce of me anywhere... no, you just had to come out with blue eyes and all,” you said, shaking your head in mock disappointment as she continued her giggly attempts to capture a strand of your hair. You let out a soft sigh, watching her with an expression somewhere between amusement and awe.

“Gods, you’re even bratty? Did you get anything from me at all? At least show me you got something out of me, will you?”

Your baby answered with an enthusiastic smile, her little hands gripping onto your shirt before leaning forward. Suddenly, she pressed her mouth against your cheek, showering you with slobbery "kisses." You burst into laughter, unable to contain the joy bubbling inside you.

“Okay, okay, maybe you got my love instead,” you said between giggles, wiping the drool from your cheek.

As the laughter faded, you took a moment to breathe in the world around you. The beach stretched out in all directions, the sand soft and warm beneath your feet. The sunset had turned the sky into a brilliant display of color—golden hues melting into pinks, purples, and deep oranges. The waves rolled in lazily, their gentle rhythm lapping against the shore, a soft hum against the peaceful evening. A light breeze carried the scent of saltwater, filling the air with freshness as it brushed against your skin.

You held your baby a little closer, feeling her heartbeat thrum softly against your chest. The sun, low on the horizon, cast a soft glow over everything, painting the scene with an almost dreamlike quality. It was a perfect evening, one of those rare moments where everything felt right—just you, your babygirl, and the endless beauty of the world around you.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the tranquil sound of the waves.

“Well, speak of the man himself.”

You turned and saw Rafayel walking towards you, the sunset casting a golden light over his features. His messy hair caught the breeze, and his grin—the same grin you’d seen a million times—was filled with that playful, cocky confidence you loved and sometimes pretended to be annoyed by. His eyes, however, softened the moment they landed on you and the baby, a tenderness lingering there that he reserved just for you.

Rafayel knelt down beside you, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His thumb lingered on your cheek as he looked down at the baby with a smirk.

"What’s this I’m hearing about you being jealous of me?” he teased, his voice low and warm.

You raised an eyebrow, flashing him a mock glare as you adjusted your hold on the baby. “Please. I was just explaining how our child came out looking exactly like you. Nine months of carrying them, and what do I get? Nothing but your child like brattiness and your blue eyes in return."

Rafayel chuckled, a sound that blended into the soft crash of the waves. He leaned down to kiss the top of your baby’s head before glancing up at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“And? Is that really so bad?” he said, his tone playful but filled with affection.

You rolled your eyes but smiled as the baby reached for his hand, their tiny fingers gripping his with the same tenacity they had moments ago when grabbing your hair. Rafayel’s gaze softened even further as he admired them, the pride and love in his eyes unmistakable.

“I guess you’re right about that,” you said, your smile widening as you watched the two of them together. “But just know, if she grows up with your attitude, you can deal with it.”

Rafayel laughed, the sound rich and lighthearted as he leaned closer, his arm sliding around your shoulders. The three of you sat together as the sun continued its descent, bathing everything in the soft, fading light of the evening.

And in that perfect moment, with the breeze, the sunset, and the gentle rhythm of the waves, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be. Your little family, wrapped in warmth and love, was all you needed.

[knivestothroats]

In The Woods Somewhere + Professional//Victim Crossover AU

@victimeyez and I like to play with our OCs together like dolls. We came up with a number of ways Tommy ends up with Fletcher but this is a "my mom sold me to one direction" type AU where Fletcher buys Tommy to basically replace Buck.

CW: long term captivity/human trafficking, withholding food (in past), physical violence, burning, dubious consent sort of, guns in places they shouldn't be

read In The Woods Somewhere here || read Professional//Victim here

Scene 1

Tommy hadn’t experienced a thunderstorm in years.

It rained sometimes when he was on his way to a client, but having lived in a basement for the last five years, he had forgotten their intensity. How loud the incessant, arrhythmic rainfall echoed down from the roof. How lightning could suddenly illuminate the whole room in a flash. How he could feel the house shake with the roar of thunder. Or maybe it was just him shaking. He felt like a dog on the fourth of July. 

It was stupid, after everything he’d been through, to be afraid of the weather.

A bright flash through the window again, followed shortly by a crack of thunder that he could feel in his chest. They were getting closer together. 

There’s no way Tommy could sleep. He was sitting up in his bed in his new home, knees to his chest with his arms wrapped around. 

As much as he loathed Caius, he did provide comfort at times. It was twisted, but it was something. Fletcher… he wasn’t sure about. They had been more reserved so far, treating him with a sort of casual amiability. But Tommy was well aware how Fletcher reveled in inflicting pain. He just hadn’t figured out yet when and why they shed the wool to become the wolf.

Another flash. Tommy tried to brace himself, but he still jumped at the thunder.

Tommy swung his legs off the bed. He stared at the door for a second before going through into the hallway. It was still strange to not be locked in.

He walked gently down the dark hallway. He knew where Fletcher’s room was - they had pointed it out on his first day with a strict do not enter.

Tommy stood outside Fletcher’s bedroom door. He rubbed his hands over his arms. 

This was ridiculous. Going to Fletcher for comfort? Like a child waking up their parents after having a bad dream? During a thunderstorm of all things. He should just go back to - 

Flash. Crack.

Tommy knocked on Fletcher’s door. He tried to listen for movement over the sound of the rain. They probably hadn’t even heard him over the din. Maybe he should knock again, or maybe he should go back - 

Fletcher opened the door, wearing just a t-shirt, gym shorts, and bed head. They squinted at him in the dark.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of Tommy’s mouth. “I, um. I can’t sleep and, um…”

Fletcher was silhouetted as their room lit up. The thunder followed so quickly behind, rumbling through the house, that Tommy didn’t have time to count. 

Fletcher saw Tommy flinch hard, drawing his shoulders up by his ears.

“You’re scared of thunder?”

Tommy felt his face redden, in spite of himself. He should be incapable of embarrassment at this point, after all the humiliation he was put through, but he just felt childish.

“Alright, come in,” Fletcher said with a yawn, moving aside to make way. “Don’t try to kill me in my sleep.”

“Really?” Tommy asked, perking up. He took a hesitant step into the room. “Can I, um, do you mind if I share the bed?”

“Yeah I assumed that was what you were asking,” Fletcher grumbled, shutting the door behind him.

Fletcher took their side first, and Tommy took the other. He laid stiff in the bed, making sure they had a gap between them. Tommy had wondered if sharing the bed would come with a cost, putting himself in a vulnerable position within Fletcher’s grasp. But Fletcher had turned their back to him, sleeping on their side.

He was still on edge. Was sleeping beside Fletcher really better than being alone?

There was a flicker of lightning, followed by a grumble of thunder. Not as loud this time, but enough to make Tommy nervous. 

Tommy turned on his side as well and carefully scooted over until his back was brushing against Fletcher’s. He held his breath, but they didn’t react. 

Tommy could feel their warmth seep into him. He let out a slow breath. It was definitely better than being alone.

~

Fletcher had managed to tune out the storm into white noise, but they were a light sleeper, forever on edge. They opened their eyes in the darkness, listening to Tommy murmur and shift in his sleep.

Fletcher rolled over and draped their arm over Tommy’s middle.

“Shhh,” they hushed gently.

Tommy’s shirt had ridden up, and he whimpered when Fletcher made contact with his skin.

Fletcher tensed up at the noise. Tommy was definitely asleep, but that whimper was perfect. They wondered if he practiced it for his clients. It was difficult to resist the urge to wrap their arm tight around him and squeeze, trying to elicit the sound again. 

Fletcher moved their hand over Tommy’s bare torso. They could feel his ribs too distinctly beneath his skin. Caius and the others probably had him skipping meals. Whether to keep up his waifish victim aesthetic, to keep him weak, to punish him, or just from neglect.  Fletcher figured he would put on weight quickly here. He was going to need to, if he was going to keep up with the work Fletcher had for him to do around the lodge. 

~

“Get up.”

Tommy gasped awake as a hand jostled him from his sleep. He looked around quickly, getting his bearings, and saw Fletcher leaning over him.

“I’m getting up, you can’t stay in my room alone,” Fletcher said.

“Oh,” Tommy rubbed his eyes. “Right. Okay. Thank you… for letting me sleep here.”

“Uh huh,” Fletcher said. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Do you want me to help?”

“Mm, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay… do you want me to make your bed?” Tommy offered, trying to show his gratitude.

“No,” Fletcher said flatly. They gestured to the door. 

“Right, sorry.” Tommy hurried out of the room. “Um, would it be alright if I took a shower? Or do you want me to wait?”

“All yours, bud,” Fletcher said, closing the door shut behind them. “Just don’t take too long. You want to get the breakfast while it’s hot.”

~

Tommy turned the water up as hot as he could stand. It staved off the chill that seemed to linger in the lodge. He allowed himself a few moments to just stand under the stream after he had washed, but Fletcher had told him not to take long, and he didn’t want to push it.

Tommy dried and dressed quickly, scrunching his hair with the shirt he had slept in and finger-combing it out of his face. He made his way to the kitchen, which was already calling his name with rich, savory smells.

Fletcher was standing at the stove, stirring one pan with a spatula while another sizzled away next to them. 

“What smells so good?” Tommy asked, trying to peer into the pans.

“Onions and bacon, mostly,” Fletcher said.

“Do you need any help?” Tommy offered.

There was a pop, pop as a pair of bagels sprung up from a two-sided toaster.

“Yeah, grab those bagels for me and add butter and cream cheese. There’s plates in that cabinet, silverware in that drawer.”

Tommy moved swiftly to do as he was told. 

When he had plated them, Fletcher carried over the first pan.

“Okay, get out of my way.” 

It was said lightheartedly, but Tommy still leapt back.

“Just take a seat,” Fletcher nodded to the kitchen table. “It’s ready.”

Tommy sat down and watched as Fletcher assembled the plates, but their body was blocking his view. It wasn’t until they set his breakfast down in front of him that he was able to take it in. 

Scrambled eggs with multicolor peppers, strips of bacon, a sausage, and the bagel he had prepared.

He couldn’t believe how much his mouth was watering.

“It’s veggie sausage,” Fletcher said. “I only had a couple left. Oh - you want coffee?”

Tommy looked up at them wide eyed. Fletcher had told him on the first day that he could help himself to food in the kitchen, but he had been too afraid to touch their coffee maker. Even when there was a pot already made, he had been too anxious that he wasn’t supposed to take any.

“Yes, please.”

“How do you take it?” Fletcher asked, getting a mug from the shelf. It was designed to look like a can of Campbell’s tomato soup. 

“A lot of sugar and cream,” Tommy said. “Please. If you don’t mind.”

Fletcher heaped two spoonfuls of sugar into the mug and then looked in the fridge. 

“Mm, I just have oat milk right now.”

“Okay, that’s fine, thank you,” Tommy said, even though he had never tried it before.

Fletcher splashed some into the mug before pouring the steaming coffee on top. They gave it a stir and set it down in front of Tommy.

Tommy hadn’t touched his food. He stared at the spread before him, not quite believing it was really for him.

Fletcher settled down across the table with their matching meal and began to eat.

“I don’t know where to start,” Tommy said in a small voice.

“Eggs,” Fletcher provided.

Tommy scooped up a forkful of the scrambled eggs and took his first bite. 

It wasn’t just peppers, there were onions and cheese mixed in as well. The texture was perfect - they weren't dry or runny. 

“Wow,” Tommy said. He followed it with a long sip of coffee. It wasn’t as sweetened as he would have made it for himself once upon a time, but it was hot and rich and maybe the best cup he’d ever had.

He might actually start crying. 

“The secret is cream cheese,” Fletcher said, gesturing to his eggs with their fork. “And to scramble it in the pan. How’s the coffee?”

“So good,” Tommy said. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Fletcher started to pile their eggs and bacon onto the bagel. “How often were you being fed before?”

“Um, twice a day, usually,” Tommy said. “Sometimes… less.”

Fletcher nodded. “Figured. You need to start increasing your caloric intake. I need you to do work around here and I don’t want you passing out after an hour in the garden.”

Tommy took a bite of the bagel. The layer of butter under the cream cheese felt so indulgent. 

“If it means I get to eat like this every day, I am more than happy to oblige,” Tommy said.

“Well, I’m not cooking every meal for you,” Fletcher said. “But I want you to eat.”

I want you to eat.

Even if it was to work him like a dog, it was so much better than being worked like a dog on an empty stomach. Despite Fletcher’s generally cold aloofness and passing threats, despite having been the victim of their bloodlust in the past, Tommy felt oddly cared for.

He took another bite of the eggs and hoped he could get Fletcher to teach him how to cook like this.

Scene 2

Fletcher had their sleeves rolled tightly up above their elbows. On their hands they wore black disposable gloves. Tommy watched as those hands deftly sectioned the chickens into pieces, their well-sharpened knife effortlessly cutting through the flesh. 

Tommy had to let his eyes drift away. He watched Fletcher’s arms instead. They tended to hide their form under layers, but every time they rolled up their sleeves, it revealed their muscle tone. Tommy wondered why they didn’t show it off - most people would. He noticed as well, as he watched, that Fletcher had some lighter lines on their skin - old scars haphazardly slashed into their arms. He imagined them getting into knife fights. He imagined them holding someone down by the throat with both hands, arms tensed, as their victim clawed at their skin to no avail.

Fletcher moved the chicken pieces into a bowl of marinade. Spice bottles were cluttering the counter around it. 

Fletcher covered the bowl and set it aside. They cleaned up, discarding their gloves and disinfecting their work space. 

Tommy had been tasked with washing the potatoes he and Fletcher had harvested from the garden. Fletcher had asked him to take his time, making sure each one was free of dirt in the divots, as they wouldn’t be peeling them. He was worried, when Fletcher turned to him, that they would be angry he hadn’t gotten through the whole crop, but they merely began to take from the clean pile and start cutting them into chunks. 

“When you’re done with that can you go through the green beans and just make sure to snap all the stems off?” Fletcher asked.

Tommy nodded. “Sure.”

They had picked the beans together as well. It felt nice to be doing something actually productive for a change. 

When they were done, Fletcher dumped the potatoes into a big pot of water but didn’t light the stove. They sighed, looking at the clock and chewed their lip a moment.

“I should’ve started this earlier. I’m already starting to get hungry,” Fletcher said. “I just want everything to be done at the same time.”

Fletcher shook their head like they were hoping the thoughts would fall into place. They took a baking sheet and returned to the chicken, laying the pieces out.

“I’m done,” Tommy said from his spot at the table with his bowl of beans. He swept the stem pieces into his hand and got up to dump them in the trash.

“Ah-ah!” Fletcher waved their hand at him, causing Tommy to stop abruptly. “Compost.”

“Right, sorry.” Tommy ducked his head.

“Just give the beans a rinse and then you’re done for now,” Fletcher said. “I’ll call you back when it’s ready.”

It was a while later when Fletcher called Tommy back into the kitchen. He was sitting out on the back deck, just feeling the sun on his skin and listening to the birds, when Fletcher opened the door and leaned out.

“I need your help,” they said.

Tommy jumped up and followed them in.

“I forgot to make fucking gravy,” Fletcher growled. “I just need you to mash the potatoes for me while I whip this up. And just shake the pan with the green beans occasionally to move them around.”

The kitchen was hot now, and Tommy quickly shrugged off his sweatshirt before taking over the potatoes. Fletcher was mixing ingredients when there was a thud above them, followed by an indiscernible shout, followed by, “Fletcherrrrr!”

“Jesus Christ,” Fletcher rolled their eyes. “Okay in like two minutes you need to take the chicken out of the oven and check it. 165. Don’t forget to shake the pan.” They rattled off instructions as they marched out of the kitchen. 

Tommy kept an eye on the clock, rolling the beans in their saute oil. They looked kind of brown? He looked closer, not wanting Fletcher to come back and find them burned. Hm, no, he was pretty sure it was whatever they were being cooked in. Balsamic maybe? There were chopped onions in with it as well, and those similarly looked a little brown but not burnt. 

He checked the clock again. Okay, two minutes. Tommy looked around the counter, seeing the thermometer but no oven mitts. There was one pot holder laying out, and he folded the towel hanging off the oven door to go with it.

The tray was heavily laden with the chicken, heavier than Tommy expected it to be. He tried to adjust his grip so it didn’t tip backwards, but his adjustments shifted his fingertips off the towel. 

Tommy quickly pulled his hand away from the heat. Now holding the tray with one hand, it began to go sideways. Instinctively he tried to catch it, only serving to touch the hot metal again. This time, his brain - desperate to keep him from making the same mistake a third time - drew back his hands completely and the tray clattered to the floor, scattering the chicken. 

Tommy’s heart leapt to his throat. He dropped to his hands and knees and picked up a piece of chicken, dropping it immediately.

It’s hot, it’s all fucking hot, he berated himself. He started using the towel to scoop up the chicken. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he piled it back onto the tray. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears he didn’t hear Fletcher’s footsteps. It wasn’t until he saw their boots that he looked up.

As if they had materialized before him, summoned by his fuck up, Fletcher stood glowering down at him. They held a bloody rag in their hand from whatever they had been dealing with upstairs.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said. “I’ll… I’ll…” Fix it? How was he going to fix it?

Fletcher closed their eyes and dug the heel of their palm into their temple. 

“Do you have any idea the amount of effort that went into this dinner?”

“I know, I’m sorry-” Tommy started again.

Fletcher cut him off. “You don’t know. I had to drive an hour and a half just to get these chickens. Every time I have to leave the lodge it’s a fucking ordeal. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but there’s not much around here. I can’t run to the grocery store without making a day of it. I can’t order fucking take out to fix this. You do know how long this took me today to put together.”

“I do, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

Fletcher reached down and slammed Tommy’s head against the cabinets. 

“Stop fucking saying you’re sorry! I know you’re fucking sorry! What happened?”

Tommy held his head, trying to blink his vision back after it whited out.

Fletcher crouched down on their haunches and grabbed Tommy by the front of his shirt, giving him a quick shake. 

“Hey! What the fuck happened?”

“I, uh, I burned my hand…” Tommy said, keeping his eyes low. He held back another “sorry.”

“You burned your hand?” Fletcher repeated unsympathetically. “Where?”

Tommy glanced up at them and hesitantly opened up his hand to them. Fletcher grabbed his wrist with more force than necessary.

“You think this is a burn?” They snarled. “I’ll show you a fucking burn.”

Fletcher took Tommy’s hand and pressed it down against the still hot metal pan.

Tommy screamed and Fletcher allowed him to jerk his arm away. He cradled his hand to his chest, tears escaping from his eyes.

Fletcher stood again, looking down on him.

“Don’t bother getting up. You’re going to be scrubbing the floor.”

Fletcher turned around to storm off, only to see the three trainees leaning around the doorway to observe.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Fletcher snapped.

One held up their hands and made themself scarce.

“Does this mean there’s no dinner?” Another asked.

“There’s potatoes,” Fletcher grumbled. Then they suddenly turned back and dashed to the pan of green beans, taking it off the heat. They inspected the vegetables, ignoring Tommy sniffling on the ground, trying to scoop up the chicken with one hand. “Yeah, these are fine. There’s also green beans.”

Scene 3

Tommy had experienced more types of pain than he could count, but burning was usually off the table to clients. Too much deep tissue damage. It was scary to think that his hand may never be the same. And if it was to recover, it was going to do so at the slow, agonizing crawl of natural healing. 

Tommy did his best not to flinch as Fletcher applied the cream to his burns. He just had to suck air between his teeth and not complain. 

“How’s it feel?” Fletcher asked once they had finished wrapping the gauze. 

“It stings,” Tommy said pitifully. “It feels like I’m still being burned. Do you think… do you think it’s going to be okay? Eventually?”

“Well, if you want to give me the information of that doctor you used to see, I’m sure he can give you a magic healing potion or whatever the fuck. Once I decide you’ve suffered enough.”

Tommy’s stomach flopped. He would take a burn any day of the week if it meant he never had to see Sam again.

“Please don’t take me back to him,” Tommy begged softly. 

Fletcher raised an eyebrow, but said no more on the subject. They peeled off their gloves.

“Then here’s how it will go. It’ll hurt, and then it will blister, and then the blisters will pop. You have to keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected. If you find yourself unable to do simple tasks because you can’t use one of your hands, you can come find me…” Fletcher took his chin in their hand. “And beg for my help.”

~

Tommy slept with his hand cradled against his chest. There was a brief moment of peace when he awoke before he began to feel the throb of the burns. 

He kept his arm close to his torso as he walked to the kitchen, trying to think of what he could make for himself. Surely he could manage a bowl of cereal with one hand.

The box was easy enough. Tommy got the milk from the fridge. Oh yeah - oat milk. He held the container between his arm and his side, twisting the cap off with his good hand. Looked like milk.

He thought about pouring some into a glass to try, when Fletcher walked in, carrying dirty dishes to the sink.

They glanced in Tommy’s direction, then away, saying nothing. 

“I can-” it came out quiet and hoarse. Tommy cleared his throat and tried again. “I can wash those.”

“Can you?” Fletcher asked without looking back at him. 

“Um, I can, well, I can try…” Tommy offered. 

Fletcher turned to face him now, leaning back on the counter. “If you drop something, and it breaks,” they said, “I am not going to be happy.”

Tommy paled. “Is there - is there something else you would like me to do?”

“Not really,” Fletcher said. They walked out of the room. 

Tommy wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. They hadn’t told him not to do the dishes, just not to break them. And if he misinterpreted their response as a no, and they came back to find that he hadn’t washed them, they might be angry.

His strategy for washing dishes with one hand was to lay them in the sink, scrub them there with one hand as best he could, and then move them into the stream of water.

It took longer, and was more awkward - they kept sliding around - but he was able to do it.

When Tommy found Fletcher next, they were out behind the lodge chopping wood. He watched them raise the axe over their shoulder and swing down on the log, cleaving it easily in two. 

“Do you want any help?” Tommy called out, keeping his distance.

“No,” Fletcher called back, setting up the log again.

Tommy hesitated. “Is there anything you would like me to-“

“What the fuck did I just say?”

Chop.

Tommy left them alone the rest of the day. He kept to his room, trying to give Fletcher space now that they had made it clear they didn’t want him around. For a while he tried to read, but he struggled to find a comfortable way to both hold the book and flip the pages. He ended up pacing the floor, filled with anxious nerves that urged him to do something.

He had been having such a… if not good, unquestionably better time here than he’d had with Caius and the rest. This was a bad turn. It didn’t have to be like this. He just had to make it up to Fletcher somehow; get back in their good graces

He had tried to make himself useful around the house without much success. It was true that what he could do would be limited while his hand was injured. Which meant he had to rely on other skills to make himself useful.

~

Everyone else had gone to bed. It was just Fletcher sitting on the couch, illuminated only by the fluctuating light of the TV screen. They had a beer in one hand, resting on the arm of the couch.

Tommy approached slowly, tugging on the hem of his shirt with anxiousness. Fletcher didn’t acknowledge him, even when he was standing in front of the couch. He kept to the side enough not to block their view.

It was only when Tommy lowered himself to his knees that Fletcher said, “What?” without taking their eyes off the screen.

“I’m really sorry about the dinner,” Tommy said. His stomach rippled with anxiety.

“I know,” Fletcher said flatly. “You’ve said.”

Tommy swallowed. He hesitantly leaned in and nuzzled his cheek against Fletcher’s leg.

Fletcher finally looked down at him.

“I would like to make it up to you.”

“How’s that?”

Fletcher said it flatly. Disinterested, still annoyed. There was no flirtation nor cruel amusement in their voice. 

Tommy swallowed. Was this a bad idea? Or was he not making it obvious enough? Most people would jump on him at the mere suggestion. 

Tommy put a hand on Fletcher’s knee and ran in gently up their thigh. Not far, not overstepping. Just trying to give them the right idea. He looked up at them with his best wet dog expression.

“Okay,” Fletcher said. 

They set their beer down on the end table and shifted their pose, spreading their legs a little more. Tommy dutifully shuffled in between.

Nothing you haven’t done before, he told himself. It’ll be better afterwards. 

“Close your eyes.” Fletcher said. And once he had, “Open your mouth.”

Tommy opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out a little. He waited, listening to Fletcher shift on the couch. Probably opening their pants. A click, that must’ve been their belt buckle. 

What entered his mouth was too big, too hard, too metallic. 

Tommy’s eyes flew open as the barrel of the gun forced his jaw wider. He tried to pull back, but Fletcher snatched a fistful of his hair and held him in place. 

Tommy whimpered that beautiful whimper, but it was more rounded, more frantic.

“Breathe through your nose,” Fletcher said.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and followed the order. He tried to breathe deep and slow through his nose. He tried to keep his tongue down as far as he could, to not gag and to not taste the oiled metal.

“I want you to look at me now.”

Tommy slowly opened his eyes. Fletcher was staring down at him impassively.

“Don’t try this shit with me again.”

Tommy couldn’t nod, so he did his best to make an “Uh huh” noise. 

Fletcher withdrew the gun. Tommy doubled forward and hacked. His mouth was left with an awful taste.

“Don’t spit on the floor,” Fletcher said. They picked up a magazine from the cushion beside them and slid it back into the gun. “Go.”

Tommy clamored to his feet and ran off. He managed to get to his room and close the door before fully breaking down into sobs, sliding down to the floor.

He had just been trying to make things better.

~

Tommy cried himself to sleep. Nothing new. He had just hoped to break the habit. 

He shuffled into the kitchen in the morning, and froze when he saw Fletcher sitting at the table, nursing a mug of coffee.

Tommy dropped his gaze quickly. He tried to decide quickly whether he should leave now, or grab some food and then leave. 

“Hey,” Fletcher said. It was softer than Tommy expected. “Sit.”

No running now. Tommy drew out the chair across from them and sat down, still avoiding their gaze.

“I recognize… that I have been harsh,” Fletcher said.

Tommy slowly lifted his eyes towards them, trying to read their expression. Was this a trick? Was he supposed to tell them he deserved it all? Was he supposed to believe them, and be lulled into a false sense of security?

“I didn’t give you a concussion, but, you know, the head can be tricky. And your hand…” They looked for the words. “I try to - I want to keep you in working condition. Nothing that’s going to really put you out of commission for a while. So that probably won’t happen again. Not to your hands. And the gun…” Fletcher ran a hand over their face. “The gun was a lot. That was uncool of me because, you know, gun safety rules.”

Tommy’s mouth was hanging slightly ajar. Was this an apology? At least, as close as Fletcher could get to one? He had expected something closer to, I recognize I’ve been harsh, but if you behaved I wouldn’t have to do these things.

“I know how it feels to have a gun on you,” Fletcher continued. They were the one to look away now. “And I… forget, I guess. That most people aren’t used to it. Can’t shake it off.

“Look, I’m not… not gonna say it will never happen again, but it probably won’t be this bad most of the time. Plenty of days will go by without incident, I’m sure. But I am… a violent person. I have violent tendencies, and I get angry. And I’m not trying to curb these tendencies because I enjoy indulging in them. So…” They tapped their knuckles on the table and shrugged. “That’s the situation. We’re square, for now. So you don’t need to be skulking around anymore. And… nevermind, I was going to say something mean.”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably. “About last night?”

“Yeah.”

“What, I’m not your type?”

Fletcher chuckled. “I was going to say when I want to take sexual advantage of you, I’ll let you know; you don’t have to initiate.”

“Right,” Tommy muttered, looking down again.

“I’m joking,” Fletcher said. “You can tell from my lighthearted expression.” They pointed at their face, purposely putting on a grumpy look. “Anyway, I’m planning my lesson for today. Might have to throw you around a bit for the demo. Nothing personal.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Okay, um…”

Fletcher was already up, carrying their coffee out of the room. “Get some breakfast,” they reminded him. “Three meals a day.”

~~~

hm i kind of thought our taglists would overlap more. good luck everyone.

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slighlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @aqua-blogging  @utopian819 @whumpinggoodtime @pretty-face-breaker

[muldermuse]

What about reader discreetly wearing her collar from Butcher out in public and flashing him to see if he gets flustered🫠

EEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I think he’d fucking love it, i imagine it’s like borderline impossible to fluster butcher but sometimes you definitely get him. like OK IMAGINE, you’re trying on different outfits in a store and butcher is boredddddddd which is exactly what you wanted

he’s sitting on a uncomfortable shitty chair, listening to the awful top 40 and recycling the same compliments to you about every thing you’ve picked out (to him, you look amazing in everything and he’d much rather you just buy the clothes and give him a more private fashion show at home)

you pull back the curtain to show the next outfit which shows your collar- up until now, he had no idea it had left your drawer. it’s a tight, low cut black dress- you look unreal. it’s hugging you in all the right places and butcher can already imagine you on your knees wearing it whilst he holds your leash. your eyes are innocent but he knows you better than that and he suddenly he understands- this is exactly what your plan was, to be a brat and to get punished when you’re home

his eyes don’t give anything away but the way his hands tense into fists tell you everything you need to know. it’s basically a face off like from an old western lmao

your voice is a lilt higher than usual, “it looks good, right daddy?”. GOD

HE WANTS TO BACK YOU INTO THE CORNER OF THAT DINGY CHANGING ROOM AND BOUNCE YOU ON HIS COCK

Instead he just nods and tells you to get changed because it’s time to go home- he buys the dress and basically drags you back to the car

whispering in your ear the whole time about what you’re in for when you get home 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

[reina-tries-2-write]

The Space Between Sounds

Chapter 3: Echoes of Frustration

SYNOPSIS: Your first week at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech isn't going how you imagined it would. You are struggling to keep up with your classmates and understand what anyone is trying to teach you. What are you going to do?

WC: 2K

PREV - MASTERLIST - NEXT

You had breakfast by yourself today but ran into Tired Guy in the hallway on your way to the classroom. He gave you a smile and a wave before gesturing for you to walk with him. He didn’t say anything to you the whole time, but his quiet company was nice.

You figured he was just being polite out of pity, like all the other strangers who were nice to you.

Blond Guy caught up with the two of you in the hallway and you all walked into the classroom together.

The girl and panda are already there when you arrive and you see three empty desks between them.

Blond Guy automatically walks over to the one right next to Panda and the two begin chatting. You look over at Tired Guy, not wanting to take the spot he usually sits in, but he smiles and gestures for you to pick. Hesitantly sitting down in the middle desk, you flash him a look that asks if it’s okay that you’re sitting where you are. He replies with a wide smile to reassure you it is, and you relax into the wooden chair.

****************************************************

I ended up sat next to Y/N in the classroom today and flashed her an encouraging smile. She looked extremely nervous, and I couldn’t exactly blame her. The curriculum could be intense sometimes and not being able to hear Gojo’s lecturing was definitely going to be a challenge for her.

I made sure to take extra detailed notes just in case she needed them at any point and decided to spend the next couple of days revising my notes from the past month that she had missed. I didn’t want her to be even more behind than she already was and hoped I could help when and if she needed it.

She looked pretty confused the couple times I peeked over at her during the lecture which only reinforced my assumption that she wasn’t picking up on everything Gojo was saying.

I heard her fingers tapping on the keys of her laptop rapidly as she clearly struggled to keep up and I noticed she had a lot of blank spaces and question marks where I had notes.

I was definitely going to help if she asked.

****************************************************

Gojo comes in a few minutes later and begins to lecture. The classwork is nothing like you expected and is a lot faster paced than you would have liked. You really struggle to keep up with his speaking, particularly because he has a tendency to turn his back to you while continuing to talk.

You almost raised you hand a couple times, having written your question on a stray piece of paper but by the time you were ready to ask, Gojo had clearly moved on from the topic. The pace of the class was fast, and you were barely keeping up.

There were tons of question marks and blank spaces in your notes by the time the lecture ended, and you realized you were only getting about sixty percent of the information after peeking over at Blond Guy’s notebook. He had a lot more written down.

The five of you were dismissed for your lunch break before training. Everyone went off to the cafeteria style area that served meals for anyone who lived on the campus, and you trailed behind, not really knowing how to interact with anyone and feeling particularly meek and left out.

After picking up your tray of delicious smelling food, you found a place to sit in the corner by yourself. The food tasted just as good as it smelled, and you were pleasantly surprised by the quality. You observed the others from afar as you ate, watching their interactions and feeling quite left out due to how much fun they were seemingly having. But you knew you would just slow down the conversation and become a social burden if they invited you anyway.

Y/N sat by herself at lunch today and I decided to leave her be for now. She was clearly overwhelmed by class and a social interaction, which was obviously difficult for her, would only contribute to that.

I felt bad for letting her sit alone but Yuta and Panda came to the same conclusion which helped me feel better about it.

“Do you wanna invite her over?” Panda asks after looking over his shoulder at Y/N.

“I think she just needs some space. Class was a lot for me today so I imagine it was a lot for her.” Yuta answers, empathetic as always.

I nod my head in agreement along with Maki who wasn’t really contributing to any conversation about Y/N. I know it wasn’t anything personal, Maki is just wary around new people.

I looked over Maki’s shoulder quite often as we ate, quietly observing Y/N. She looked really defeated and would clearly zone out a little bit here and there, her utensil frozen in midair or eyes a bit glassy.

I wished more than anything I could just tell her I understood how she felt. But I can’t exactly talk, and she can’t exactly hear. So where did that leave us?

****************************************************

You went back to the dorms to change into some workout clothes because the next thing on the schedule was training which you were particularly nervous about. Despite working with Edo for six years, he never taught you how to spar or wield a weapon. Some of training was student led when Gojo wasn’t teaching and today, the girl was instructing.

You struggled to keep up with her instructions with the bow staff and you ended up fumbling around like an idiot with the wooden pole. You were so bad in fact, that you managed to hit yourself in the back of the head with the damn thing.

Naturally, your loud noise of pain and surprise caught everyone’s attention which was exactly what you needed in that moment— everyone staring at you with the pole on the ground and you rubbing the pained area.

After you hit yourself a couple more times, making a knot on the back of your head, she clearly tried to slow down for you but everyone else knew what they were doing so she couldn’t walk you through it step by step like you actually needed. She called a break, but you knew it was specifically for you to take a breather. You were getting really frustrated and upset with yourself.

Why can’t you do something so simple? I didn’t look that hard and there weren’t very many steps, but you just couldn’t figure it out to save your life.

You put the bow staff aside and tightened the laces on your shoes before stretching a bit in preparation for a run around the track. You were good at running and it gave you time to think and process your emotions.

You pushed yourself as fast as you could keep pace, the vibrations from your feet drumming on the red track drowned out the buzzing and humming of the cursed energy around you, helping you clear your mind. At least here, running around the track, you were finally in control of something. Your body would listen and could do what you asked.

Ugh, why couldn’t Edo have taught you at least a little bit on how to fight? Sure your technique was out of control for a long time but still. Even a couple lessons would have helped you not look like an incompetent idiot. That was totally helping your whole fitting in thing. They don’t know how to communicate with you and clearly aren’t trying. Or are too scared to. Why couldn’t Mari and Kai be here with you? They’d interpret for you— advocate for you. But here you were, alone in your world of almost silence, completely out of your element.

Three laps in, the girl flags you down and you slow your pace as you approach.

“You ready to get back at it?” She asks as you get close enough to read her thin lips.

You simply shake your head and pick up your pace again as you pass her. You really couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the stupid staff right now.

She gave you an odd and almost disapproving look before she continued teaching the others while you ran the track.

Great. She’s mad.

You ended up spending the rest of the allotted training period running, doing countless lap and pushing your body to its limits.

You did your best to repeat Edo’s encouraging words in your head. That your deafness wasn’t a limitation, just something you needed to find adaptations to. That you were stronger than you thought you were. That you were more than capable. That you could do it. But his words just didn’t seem to help as much as when you would see them signed on his rough, calloused hands.

This was going to be a lot harder than you imagined it would. But you were going to do your best.

****************************************************

Y/N’s struggles didn’t end in the classroom and unfortunately it looked like she had next to no experience with any weapon. Maki was teaching today and was surprisingly empathetic toward Y/N, slowing down a lot more than she normally would have and calling a break after Y/N hit herself in the head with the staff.

After an understandable huff of frustration, Y/N tossed the staff aside and began to do laps around the track. I watched her make a full lap as we took our break and she was a lot faster than I expected. She had seemingly set a good pace and was making good time around the track. I was fast but I might struggle to keep up with her.

“What’s all that about?” Maki asks, crossing her arms after gesturing to Y/N on the track.

“She’s frustrated.” Panda answers, a small frown on his face.

“Well sure but she doesn’t have to sulk.” Maki counters, brow raised.

“I think you’re forgetting she can’t hear anything you’re telling her, slow or not.” Yuta pipes up a bit timidly but saying what I would have.

I can’t exactly blame her for taking a break. Staffs are hard and I’ve gotten frustrated even listening to Maki’s instructions.

I wonder what’s going on in her head.

Five or six laps in, after declining Maki’s offer to resume training, I watched her face scrunch up in pain. Emotional or physical, I couldn’t tell. Probably a mix of both. To my surprise, she ran the rest of the allotted training time, which was quite a while. She clearly needed to vent her feelings and I really couldn’t blame her.

I’d be frustrated enough to run laps if I wasn’t able to keep up in class, but she was struggling with training on top of that too. I couldn’t imagine how she was feeling right now.

****************************************************

Unfortunately for you, your struggles didn’t end on the first day and the rest of your week was extremely difficult. You would spend hours in the library in the evenings, trying to catch up on the material you missed, desperate to catch up.

Training was arguably worse and you ended up getting frustrated and having to walk away a lot. You would do laps around the track or go into the gym to run on the treadmill when you were particularly frustrated so no one would see the tears slipping down your face. You were barely keeping up and were exhausted at your efforts to try and stay on top of things.

You knew you couldn’t ask questions since you’d only slow down the lecture or training session for everyone else and you didn’t want to be a burden to everyone.

Outside of class and training, you kept to yourself, mostly busy with trying to keep up, but even in your free time, you didn’t really interact with anyone.

You did finally start to catch onto the classwork to your relief, but you still had to work to catch up.

You were exhausted and discouraged at you experience here so far. But you trudged on, motivated by your memory of Edo and all the time he’d spent preparing you for this.

You were gonna do it for him.

[cavinginhisfvce]

Hidden Moments | Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley

a fic i started a long ass time ago, and posted a bit of on a different account, but now i want to actually finish it so!! here’s part one lmao

It started as simple ribbing, Jey had just wanted to get under Dominik's skin. He wanted to send a message that the offer to join The Judgement Day had never been more than a joke to him. The memes, the fanart. It was all meant to play into Jey not joining their merry band of emo wrestlers. He had no real feelings towards Rhea, he had no intentions of pursuing her, or taking her away from Dominik. It started as a joke, and it was meant to remain one.

That was weeks and weeks ago, Jey still wouldn't join The Judgement Day, he wanted nothing to do with the four of them. Especially Dom and Rhea.

Yet…Jey had let Rhea into his hotel room when she came knocking.

Just as he had two nights before, and almost a dozen more before that.

He knows he shouldn't have, he knows that the first time it happened could've been a mistake if it hadn't continued to happen.

Rhea doesn't give him the chance to deny her, not that he would. She's on him the moment the door clicks shut, and all thoughts of Dom are gone.

Her lips are soft, and she tastes like a tropical drink, that Jey knows the source of is the gum she chews. The flavor she started chewing when she found out it was his favorite. 

He briefly wonders if Dominik has noticed she switched from minty gum, to fruity. 

Rhea senses his distraction, and she isn't at all shy to deepen the kiss, or guide tattooed arms around her waist to ultimately be drawn in closer by.

Jey follows her lead, as he often does when they're in this situation, or ones similar. He loses himself in the kiss, hands trailing from Rhea's waist. Lower, and lower. 

She hums her approval, though the sound is muffled by the sudden shrill of a phone. Her displeasure at being interrupted is obvious in the way she sucks her teeth and fishes for her phone with only one hand.

Once she has the device, the face of Dominik Mysterio flashes on the screen. Rhea tenses, but the hand in Jey's hair, the hand he has no recollection of how it got there, scratches gently at his scalp.

Clearing her throat, Rhea answers, her tone gives nothing away, even if she sounds slightly breathless, 

"I'm a little busy, Dom-Dom. Is everything okay?"

Jey can't hear Dominik's reply, but Rhea frowns at whatever he says, nodding despite not being seen by the younger. 

"I'll be back downstairs in a bit, can't it wait?" 

Their eyes lock, and Rhea smiles at him.

It's a warm smile. Inviting. Unlike the smirks she wears on TV, this is a thing reserved for only a few. Jey knows as much, because he's seen her smile at Dominik, Damian and Finn similarly.

"We can come down now then, Dom. I wanted to actually ask him before dragging him with me, but if you're so eager…"

Jey's ears start ringing with the uncertainty that courses through him at her words. 

His confusion must show on his face, because Rhea is cupping his cheek and nodding lightly. 

What she's nodding at, he doesn't know. All he knows is he feels slightly sick, and like the earth was just upended in front of him.

Before long, Rhea is hanging up the phone and drawing his attention back to her.

"I'll be straightforward, because you look like you're about to throw up, baby."

"Don' call me that right now…" He curses himself for how weak his voice comes out.

Logically, Jey knew this thing with Rhea was merely sex, even if she looked at him like she could truly love him. Like she could want him in a way that was more than blowing off steam.

Sometimes they'd embrace after everything was done, and she'd tell him about her day, mindlessly tracing his tattoos and leaving kisses along his bare skin.

Those intimate moments usually went unbroken for hours before Rhea would have to sneak away once more.

It never dawned on him just how much his time with her meant to him, or how much he'd grown to rely on her presence. He hadn't realized he'd caught feelings for her.

Not that any of it would ever matter.

"Hey, come back to me, Sweet Face. I can explain, just let me, yeah?"

Her accent is thicker than usual, her bare face giving away the emotions she tries so hard to mask in the public. 

Jey nods his head, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he does.

"I've wanted to tell you for a bit, but Dom is getting suspicious about us…he thinks I’m working to get you to join us." She pauses, pursing her lips.

"He had no idea what’s happening with us, and I’d prefer it to stay that way. For now at least.”

She holds his gaze, her makeup free eyes somehow more intense.

"Dominik will only drop his suspicions if…” She trails off, her fingers toying with the ends of her hair.

Jey is holding his breath at this point, his brain effectively overloaded with information, and his heart with unidentifiable emotions.

"You join us, for just a few days. Nothing official, nothing with a paper trail. He just wants to spend actual time with you, he wants you to become friends. And I know that sounds weird, but it's what he wants."

Breathing out a soft sigh, he shakes his head, his lips curling into a small snarl.

“Is that what this has all been about, Rhea? You wanted to manipulate me into joining y’all’s merry little band of misfits?”

Almost immediately Rhea is denying the accusation, her eyes squinting as she glances at the man she’s grown more than fond of these past few weeks. 

“Baby…Jey, that isn’t the truth at all! I’d be happy to remain in our bubble like this, without the rest of them interfering, but Dom won’t drop his concerns, I’ve tried for weeks.”

Jey is silent for a beat, it’s almost deafening to Rhea, it makes her stomach churn with discomfort. It feels too real. It being the chance she could lose Jey, and lose his beautiful personality. His smile, the one reserved for moments between him and her. It’s suffocating in a way she never could have imagined, and each passing moment, it seems like Jey may truly cut ties with her. Leave her. It shouldn’t hurt her feelings as much as it does, but…she can feel the tears stinging at her waterline, her breathing hitching.

Before the first tear can slip down milky skin, Jey is reaching up and cupping her cheek, and despite her worries, she leans into the warmth of his touch; sighing lightly.

“Okay.” 

Her eyes are widening at the simple word, her fingers loosely curling around his wrist. 

“Wait, really?”

Jey, holding her gaze, nods his head once, his determination evident.

“Yeah, really. This ain’t long term though, Rhea. I’m doing this to be with you. Not for anyone or anything else.”

It makes her cheeks flush red, to hear him admit that so freely. She can’t help but to pull him into a deep kiss, hoping the press of lips can convey everything her words fail to.

They stay entwined for a moment longer, before Jey is reluctantly pulling away, his hands though, is wrapped firmly around hers. 

“Ight, let’s get this over with, Mamas.”

Rhea and him share one final, meaningful glance, before they’re making their way to The Judgement Day’s shared hotel room. 

It was now or never.

[mihrsuri]

Do you ever just realise that maybe it wasn’t you being lazy and you aren’t just ‘a perpetual needy victim who can see nothing good in her life and does nothing but whine’ or are you not me.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[insertsomthinawesome]

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!! Okay so honestly I have been very very inconsistent over the years with just disappearing for periods of time due to various things 😂 So it probably seemed pretty normal to most people.

But it felt different on my side, so I'm excited to be back in business. I took a month long hiatus! 31 days of not drawing digital art. Its not something I talk about on here? But I've been suffering from some serious long term Art Burnout for.... a really really long time. Long enough that I should've taken a break probably years ago. It finally got so bad that I could barely draw. I was scared to do it (cause it always looked "bad" in my eyes [i'll come back to that]) and doing it was exhausting and disheartening.

I talked it over with somebody and realized that the fear and anger and frustration I felt towards my own artwork was uh. Not Normal or Healthy. And I finally committed to taking a real break for once.

I still drew a little bit by hand? Traditional art has always felt like it has lower stakes for me (i don't often share it online, and sometimes I don't even share it with friends) so I did some of that when I felt like it. But Digital art was completely off the table.

I had put such an immense pressure on myself to make my digital art perfect, to make as much of it as quickly as possible to satisfy something. It wasn't fun anymore. I'm proud of what i've made over the years! But for a long time now the stuff I've been making was made while hating every second of making it. With some rare exceptions.

I hated my art! It was a combination of Perfectionism, taking in too many external expectations, and the burnout. If you hate doing something its kinda hard to love it even when you want too lol. It wasn't "Bad" in the sense that the quality was low and it was ugly! It was "Bad" in the sense that it was unhealthy for me to keep doing it at that point in time.

I'm glad to report though, that with my hiatus officially over as of Wednesday last week: I am once again. In Love. With doing art, and being an artist :)

I put off taking a break for years cause I was scared that taking a break would mean that I would never achieve all the things I wanted to do with art. I was scared it was a stupid and lazy thing to do that would mean I'd never achieve my dreams. And Also even though I kinda hated drawing, I also loved making art. Its a weird duality that I can't even really explain??? I hated it but I also loved it. I wanted it but I also wanted to run from it. It wasn't until I was more mature and had more clarity and insight (and unfortunately also until the problems got worse) that I was finally able to let go of those fears and just do it.

And I'm really really glad I did. It was everything I needed. And I hope to strike a better balance in the future with art. Taking more breaks when I need them, or just when other things have my attention like reading or Video games (Some star rail got played during this time xD)

From the outside things probably aren't going to be that different?? At this point I don't really have any sure plans to post anything I've been drawing since my Hiatus ended. I might or I might not xD I'm still a hobbyist artist taking things at her own pace, but I hope that it shows how much happier I am :)

Whumptober 2023 is being officially put to rest by this post btw! I was in major burnout when that event started, and I'm ready to just, move on from all the past expectations I'd shoved on my shoulders. If I feel like filling any of the prompts or going back to any of the ideas I'd come up for it I will! But I'm not going to worry about doing it unless the desire sets in. Thanks to everybody who's been so kind to me throughout my time on here as an artist! Ya'lls tags and screaming and kind words, the fanfic, the asks and the responses? Its been fantastic :) You guys have made me laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy. I hope from here that things only get better and sweeter! And if I have bad days again, that's okay too.

Here's to 2024 and whatever it may bring ya'll :D 🎉🎉✨✨🧡💜

[xcziel]

feeling nostalgic and watching utube reactors discover classic songs and then feeling both old and incredulous

[fagdykebassboy]

i say i have very little/no dysphoria then my period starts and i literally wanna kill myself :/

[leatherbookmark]

somewhat pleased to announce that in case someone wanted to know, and i really don't see why they wouldn't, the cameras that atz use in the cawaii men photoshoots are

fujifilm simple ace p&s camera (for taking photos), and

most probably? pentax spotmatic (the one hj, sh and jh pose with)

[dutybcrne]

v; faded memories; new beginnings (human!guizhong)

At her death in the Archon War, Guizhong used the last of her strength to allow her part of her soul to cleave from its whole and be granted the chance for reincarnation. As much as she'd tried to make it seem as though she had made peace with her demise, in truth, she was not yet ready to leave her precious people and friends behind. This was the best, most desperate way she could ensure herself a little more time with them even if she had been unsure if it would work.

Even if it did mean forfeiting her memories. But hey, if that's what it took to have this second chance, by all means. Perhaps she may be lucky enough to meet and love them all again one day.

Her life began in the outskirts of Qingce village.

At least, that's what she could remember most clearly, her first true vivid memory as a young child wandering the area.

Named Guiying, the elderly couple who ultimately found her raised her among the other children in the village. She possessed an exceptional talent in mechanics and invention, notable even early on in her life. Thus, it became what she took up doing when she was old enough to seek work and help the others in the village with whatever fixes they needed. She spent a lot of her time at home in the workshop built for her, tinkering away and making new creations to sell or gift her fellow villagers.

Other than that, she would also make trips to the Wangshu Inn to properly sell her creations and services there ( and sometimes along the way if she happened to be lucky enough ), though never straying further than that place. When asked why, she would simply smile and say she didn't want to go too far from home.

In truth, while she genuinely did feel uneasy at the thought of parting from her family, it was mostly because the few times she dared venture into the Guili Plains, she would be plagued by visions ( or were they memories? ) and horrid headaches brought on by the ensuing surge of them. Though, admittedly, the same would sometimes happen at the Wangshu Inn, particularly at night when she would stay longer to complete repairs or finish up selling her creations and network with the merchants that showed up there. She has no idea why this happens, but for the longest time could not bear to brave it all and seek to head out for Liyue Harbor, even when she could no doubt find better opportunities there. Even when she herself felt such longing to go there, after catching glimpses of the city through paintings brought by merchants.

Eventually, after confiding the truth to them, her family would encourage her to try, anyways. That perhaps this is a sort of test she must face, perhaps due to her past life, and in enduring it, would find all the more success after surpassing it all. The thought had her growing determined to do just that, determined to brave those visions and reach the place her heart so yearned for.

Still, as Guiying had thought, the journey to Liyue Harbor was arduous, and she was indeed plagued by vision after vision along the way through the Guili plains. Of people, perhaps friends, and longing, of battles and chaos, it varied greatly whenever they struck. The merchant she tagged along with to make things easier even wound up abandoning her along the way, right near what was once the Guili Assembly. He had thought her cursed by the gods, and after she'd had a particularly harrowing glimpse at what appeared to be her own demise, even Guiying found that notion hard to deny. But even with no travel companion and protection, Guiying would continue forwards, determination to see her journey through in spite of pain what every day would bring her, in body and mind alike.

In encountering hilichurls and Treasure Hoarders along the way, in sometimes being lead astray by the visions filling her head ( why did they keep leading her back to the ruins of the Guili Assembly? ), but she strove her best to keep moving. She wasn't too much of a fighter, save what experience she'd gotten in previous journeys, but with her strategies and swiftness, she would manage. She would manage, in stealing potions and a crossbow from Treasure Hoarders, and arrows off her defeated enemies for her own benefit. Sometimes things went off without a hitch, sometimes she wound up taking a bit of a beating before having to retreat, and sometimes what visions she saw would even begin ease to things she could merely stop and let go on before continuing, rather than chase after or run from. But in any case, she would continue to survive and press onward, growing more and more eager to reach her destination.

Eventually though, even determination and her clever plans would not be enough to see her through alone. Her body would end up giving out just before reaching a village along the way, passing out as a result of many a sleepless night and everything she'd been dealt along the way. Luckily for her, the Millelith who'd seen her there were kind enough to bring her there and let the people care for her, even leaving with her all the possessions she'd managed to keep along the way, too.

Once recovered and she'd given the last of her Mora to repay the kind man who'd looked after her, Guiying would set off once more for Liyue Harbor, now closer than ever and without any dangers to slow her travels. And without the odd flashes of those visions to hinder her, as well, to her relief.

At long last, she was finally here, and she couldn't be happier. While saddened some of the things she'd brought had been taken by the merchant when he'd cast her away or had gotten lost along the way, Guiying was still determined to do her best to find success here. To live up to her family's hope and wish for her. She'd already faced her toughest trial in getting here, right? No doubt, everything would be smooth sailing for her, from here on out.

Especially with the gleaming Geo Vision she now possessed.

As for where her path may go from there...perhaps for now, she may pester the blacksmith for some work while she got her bearings in the city. A man of brawn like that could use some good, fresh ideas and she could use a guy who had the strength to help out with certain projects in mind her own couldn't handle alone. Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

Somehow, the idea seems almost wonderfully familiar to her.

[jedi-bird]

Not sure if the program I use for writing just crashed or if it was my laptop, but I swear if everything I've done today doesn't get saved yet again I'm going to be pissed.

[simpjaes]

NIGHT-SHIFT (p.sh)

Sunghoon, a keen and professional man between the hours of 8 AM to 5 PM. ServiceKing, a faceless and proud man between the hours of 9 PM to 12 AM. Sunghoon’s secret night-life has nothing to do with the faces he sees day after day...until it does. or the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT― 4.5k

WARNINGS―  dub-con since reader doesn’t know it’s him. 

CONTENT― office setting, sunghoon is a service top/soft-dom/whatever his clients need lol

 NOTE ― this was supposed to be a drabble, but i just....it needed a little more plot sorry. it's not very good, like fr this is not up to par with what I wanted... but i wrote it so im gonna post it.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― dubious consent, cam sex/virtual sex, dirty talk, masturbation instructions, umm…finger fucking, jerking off, fantasies, role-play type stuff

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What are the chances? Honestly, what are the fucking chances?

Sunghoon sits up quickly from his relaxed position upon hearing a voice far too familiar on the other end of this call. He’s lucky he doesn’t have his camera on just yet, you’d have seen the embarrassing reaction to…well…hearing you of all people.

He knows the world can be small sometimes, but this is too small for comfort as he hears your muttered voice through the microphone again.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” You say. 

“Ah, uh–” Sunghoon pauses. There’s no way it’s actually you. Can you not recognize his voice too? “What type of call did you request again?” 

“Full service.” You remind him. 

Oh. You’re into this kind of thing? That pretty, well-mannered employee of his? The one who sips coffee quietly at her desk while actually responding to her emails? The one who never shows up to co-ed parties? The one who always dresses appropriately and addresses him in a timid way?

You…just paid a cam-boy to get you off in full? Not just any cam-boy either, you paid him?

God, his cheeks are so heated at the arousing thought. Never once has he ever imagined you in any scenario that doesn’t involve excel spreadsheets and finances. Arguably, you’ve probably never thought of him all spread out fucking his fist either but…you’ve blatantly seen him do it already.

He wonders how long you’ve been seeing this part of him, how long you’ve been getting yourself off all alone while he puts on a show for hundreds, and sometimes, thousands of people. 

As detrimental as this is, it’s his job to do this. You paid him to do it, just like how he pays you to do your job. He can’t be letting this hold him back. No, in fact, he needs to get this hour long session over with as quickly as fucking possible. 

“Right,” Sunghoon lends a chuckle, nervous sounding on his end but to you it just sounds cheeky. “Can I get your name, babe?” 

You’re quiet at first, never having done this before and absolutely not wanting this random horny guy to know who you are. Honestly, you already requested that only he turns his camera on during this call as well. As if you’d give out your real name. You give him a name that rhymes with your own instead, and there’s another chuckle after. 

He knows you’re lying. Out of all the employees that are under him, you’re the one he has to correspond with the most. After all, you’ve been up for the promotion to being his assistant for the past three months. He knows that isn’t your name. 

 Smart girl, just like he knew you were. 

“Is that so?” He tilts his head at his blank screen in amusement, watching the microphones light up with each breath. “Alright, and you’ll do everything I say, yes?” 

You nod to no one, realizing he can’t see you and instead giving him a hum and gentle words of “of course.”

His image flashes across your screen just moments later. The same as his usual streams. Face out of frame, hand strong and willing, his cock out and on display– only half hard. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” Sunghoon calls out now, as if to show you that it’s time to begin, your almost-name falling from his lips shortly after. “Don’t hold your breath, you paid good money for this, and I want to hear you.”

Oh man, this is embarrassing for you to be doing this. But truly, anything at this point is better than another night all alone. 

And he does hear you. Relishing in that voice he hears day to day reciting memos and budgets, only this time, you’re calling out pleasurable reactions to how he tells you to fuck yourself. 

He’s good at it too. You can’t help but listen to every word, touching and massaging when he instructs you to, stopping just short of orgasm for him to ask, “That feels good, doesn’t it? Wish you had me doing it for you, isn’t that right?” 

Always using the fake name. Giving you full-service by the end of the call. 

Safe to say, you’re feeling refreshed by the next morning as you ready yourself for work, wanting very much to book the infamous ServiceKing again. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Fuck, he can’t even look at you. Not after the way he got off last night. 

Not after hearing you moan out the way you did while he simultaneously imagined you all spread out on his desk for him. Not after hearing the fucking wet between your legs as you frantically tried to cum when he told you to. 

Not after you did cum for him. 

“Mr. Park–” You chime through his door, not quite noticing the way he stiffens in his seat. 

God, if you had called him that last night…

“Hm?” He composes himself by acting bored and uninterested in whatever papers you have held tightly against your chest. “What is it?”

“I got the statements back from our parent company, I think–”

“Great. Just set them down on my desk.” He cuts you off, patting his desk before hoping you get the fuck out of his office before he ends up breaking office rule number one.

What is office rule number one, you might ask? Never fuck a co-worker. What’s worse is that you’re not his fucking co worker. You’re his employee.

You raise a brow at his demeanor this morning. The usual not-so-up-tight Sunghoon appearing far too distracted today compared to usual. Most mornings, he’ll at least give you a smile and a “thank you.” 

“Mr. Park, is there anything I can get for you?” You ask with concern in your voice.

Sunghoon pauses every thought in his head as he looks at you. Narrowing his eyes and wondering if maybe he’s just overreacting. Maybe he's mistaken and that girl from last night isn’t you at all. After all, there’s plenty of people with the same pitch in their voice. She didn’t even turn on her camera, and she gave him a different name anyway. 

Maybe he just wishes it was you. 

“No, I’m fine–” He says, mistakenly calling out the fake name rather than your actual name. 

You miss the way his eyes widen for a split second before correcting himself to your real name. 

“Ah, my apologies. Got a little tongue tied.” 

You stand there in shock. No way in hell he just called you by the name you spoofed to a cam-boy last night. Coincidences can be so weird, and being called that hits you a little too close to home. 

It feels awkward in the room now and both of you play it off as a genuine mistake. Though, to you, it has to be a genuine tongue-tied version of your name. Sunghoon couldn’t possibly know about that. Besides, he appears to be more tired than usual anyway, so…you choose to believe it’s a crazy coincidence. 

You give him a nervous chuckle as you wave yourself off and out of the room with a small “It’s okay, you know where I am if you need anything.”

What he needs is to watch his fucking mouth. What he needs is to stop thinking about how you just reacted to being called that. What he needs is to pretend that none of this is happening and do his goddamn work. 

And he tries. He really does. Unfortunately, his eyes go from blurs of numbers and words on spreadsheets to the window of his office. Just outside of it. You.

How is he supposed to focus after kind of, accidentally, practically fucking you? Sure, he never touched you but…it really was you. The way you reacted to that name was so telling, and he can’t help but actually check you out now. 

You, with that body. You got off to him, with those legs of your spread out while staring into a screen. All alone, listening to his voice, moaning for him…and now you’re just sitting there in your business casual outfit like he’s not unintentionally getting hard. 

So, he avoids you. At all fucking costs, he avoids you. 

You get up from your desk? So does he, making sure that if you start coming his way, he’s walking out and in the opposite direction. You send him an email? Out of office, despite clearly sitting at his desk. You call his phone to ask a question? He forwards you to his current assistant. 

And this happens for days. To the point you know that promotion is slipping from your fingers. 

Naturally, you’re frustrated with the office-dynamic. After all, you’ve heard rumors of picking favorites. You thought you were one of them, but it appears that Sunghoon may just decide to try and beg his current assistant to stay with bribes of double pay. 

You’re more frustrated as the days go by. Leaving work yet again with no good-byes from the boss who used to show appreciation for how hard you worked. He’s colder than usual, he’s stiffer than usual, he’s– a fucking asshole these days.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ping! 

Sunghoon stares at his secret email in disbelief. 

NEW REQUEST FROM: [your email/username]

$500 PENDING. 

FULL SERVICE.

Requester note: work has been hard lately, will you help me de-stress for a little while? 

[ACCEPT REQUEST]   [DECLINE REQUEST]

Sunghoon hovers over the decline button for a solid thirty seconds as he burns a hole through his screen. Work has been hard for you lately, huh? Has it now? Try being him. 

He shifts his mouse to the accept button, wondering if he even needs that extra five hundred dollars. Those funds just to suffer more at work? Just to suddenly have the need randomly throughout his day to make you moan for him? Just to have the sounds of your pretty voice echoing in his head more and more the longer he ignores you? 

His finger clicks, hitting the accept button as he lets out an exasperated sigh. 

Why did he just do that?

Wait. 

Maybe this will help him get through the work weeks. Fucking you through words alone in secret, never telling you who he is, always letting you use him even if it’s just through audio and visual stimulation. 

After all, if you found out who ServiceKing is, you very well may quit. Hell, you might get him fired. Fuck.

This is dangerous. 

Yet, he feels the excitement in his gut before it even hits his cock as the clock ticks. He gets to hear you again soon, you get to watch him cum again soon, he–oh, he’s so turned on right now just thinking about it.

And the time comes too slowly for his liking. He feels as if he’s been edged by the time the two of you enter the call and he’s immediately turning his camera on. 

“Ah, look who it is,” Sunghoon starts, already positioning himself with a raging hard cock on the screen. “Had me wondering if you’d come back to me.”

You don’t know why your cheeks heat up, but the feeling in your gut is miles better than the frustration and anxiety that you felt throughout the day. 

“I was wondering the same thing,” You speak into the mic meekly, hiding your face despite knowing he can’t see it. “I just need to get my mind off of stuff for a little while.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sunghoon chuckles into the mic, his face perfectly hidden. “Wanna give me some context? Maybe I can use some of the information for–”

“God.” You immediately start, shutting the man up on the other side of the screen in an accidental frustration-dump. This is not what you paid him for, but you still appreciate the space to release your brain before, well, your cum. “My fucking boss.”

Sunghoon’s ears perk up, lazily stroking himself as you continue with a frantic voice. 

“I swear he just flipped on me. I thought I was doing so good, I thought I was gonna get that new position, but now he’s just ignoring me and treating me like some temp or something.” 

Sunghoon hums lowly, listening intently to the way you bring him into conversation to a man that…unfortunately, is that very same boss.

“Hmm, that’s interesting.” Sunghoon continues palming himself as he soothes you through your frustrations. “Your boss isn’t praising you.” 

You pause, feeling a ping in your gut. 

“If I were him, I’d praise you every day–” Sunghoon softens his voice. “Every night.”

“Oh…” You listen to his words, feeling your frustration melt out of you in an instant as you now focus on the way his cock twitches through the screen. 

“Wouldn’t let you go a second without thinking of how good I am to you.” He continues, both hyping himself and degrading his day-time self. “If I were your boss–”

You interrupt his words with a very quiet groan, he fucking heard it.

“Mm, you like that?” He smiles to himself, gripping the base of his cock and thrusting up to show the full size to you. “The thought of your boss liking you a little too much?”

You hum. Not that you’ve ever thought about it too deeply, but now that he’s said it, praising you, putting down your actual boss, telling you what he’d do if he were him? 

You guess, for tonight anyway, you’re into it. 

“What’s his name, babe?” Sunghoon asks, wondering if you’ll actually out his name to a stranger. 

“Park Sunghoon.” You expose him instantly, full name and all, even with a bit of bite in your voice. 

Damn.

“Oh, yeah?” Sunghoon draws back, jerking his hand up once. “I’d fuck you better than Park Sunghoon.” 

You smile at the thought, imagining yourself with more power than Sunghoon has. Like you’re his boss, you’re the one dangling a promotion just out of reach before giving it to someone else. 

“See this?” The man on the screen grunts out to you, fucking tight thrusts into his fist. “Watch me, baby, get a good look.”

And you do watch. Intensely, you stare at his big cock, the head of it darkened and leaking with each pass of his hand. You’re not even touching yourself at this point, but it’s like you can feel the force of it.

“Now, I need you to open those legs for me.” He instructs you. 

You do as he says much like before, letting your legs fall open but not yet letting yourself touch. You still sigh at the movement, your panties alone shifting were enough to make you want to hump your hips up. 

“Now, turn on your camera.”

Silence. Your ears ring momentarily at the words as you immediately close your legs.

“What?” You ask in a higher-pitched tone than usual. “I requested for no c-”

“No.” Sunghoon mutters, shifting his position to lean towards the microphone and whispering now. “You do as I say.” 

He hears you huff at his words, but he hears the shifting around on your end. 

“I want to see that pussy open for me.” He continues in that same low-rumbled voice. “I want to see what Park Sunghoon is missing out on.”

You don’t know what it is about this situation that turns your discomfort into pure, rushing arousal. Never in your life have you ever considered fucking yourself on camera, especially after paying someone else to do it for you, yet– 

“Do I have to show you my face?” You ask quietly, already trying to find a lower-face-mask just to be safe in case you lose your composure and accidentally reveal yourself. 

“No,” Sunghoon assures you through a deep breath. “I already told you what I want to see.”

More silence save for the shuffling he still hears on your end. 

“Open your legs and turn it on.” He encourages you now, keeping his hand still on himself as he waits to see if you’ll actually do it.

And…

Oh fuck.

“There she is.” Sunghoon hums, trying to keep his composure at the way you give him access. Honestly, he didn’t think you would, but you do, and all he can do is lay himself back again, staring straight at the image of you. 

Your face is out of frame much like he is but this is the first time he’s ever seen you with so little clothing on. No bra, thin tank top, no shorts or pants, just panties. It takes everything in him not to moan out at the image. 

After all, it’s confirmed to be you. 

Fuck, that’s you right there. 

“Already so wet too?” Sunghoon groans now, focusing on that spot between your legs, probably so slippery and warm. 

You’re very shy though, not moving much better yet speaking as this faceless man takes in your image. You feel awkward, but still turned on despite squeezing your legs together and hiding that spot from him. 

“Oh, baby–” Sunghoon coos out in a way that makes it seem as though he was endeared by that. “That’s not going to work.”

You’re more focused on your embarrassment than you are on the way his cock leaks and pours pre-cum at the image he’s witnessing. 

“How am I supposed to show you how much better I’d take care of you?” He continues, reverting back to the same role play from before. “I bet that boss of yours wouldn’t want to bury his tongue in you like I would.”

Your legs fall open at the words, and he can see the way you thrust up just slightly. 

“That’s it, you need someone to touch you, don’t you?” He continues, watching you intensely. “Need someone to lick that pretty pussy?”

You nod, once again forgetting that he can’t see you do it before you finally speak.

“Please.”

His moan after hearing you seems far more intense than the first time you did this with him. In fact, he appears entirely focused on you. Role playing in some way but somehow acting more real than last time too. 

“You deserve some love for all that hard work.” He says to you, encouraging you to keep talking for him. “Play with yourself, go on. You need it.”

You follow his instructions on instinct, as if your body truly does need the release. 

“Feel it– not too hard, just graze over your panties.”

Ah, still you listen, holding your breath at each feather-light touch you give to yourself per his request. 

And he watches. Hyper-focused on the way that darkened spot on your panties grows bigger and bigger. So wet for him doing exactly what he wishes he could do for you come tomorrow morning. 

“Your other hand babe, slowly, lift your shirt and–”

He doesn’t even have to keep instructing you. You do exactly as he wanted, lifting your shirt gently before playing with your own nipples, still lightly grazing your fingers over your swollen clit that’s restricted by your panties. 

You moan quietly at the feeling, wishing so much that it doesn’t have to be your hands doing this. 

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Sunghoon hums, now working his palm against his own length, gentle, barely grazing it. “Now, look at me.”

You draw your eyes forward, the image of him already arousing from before, but now? Why is he so much hotter now? As if the screen is nothing but a window into his bedroom. 

“You see how hard I am right now?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you continue to work yourself up to near-sensitivity. “Never been this hard for anyone else.”

Oh, that’s bullshit. He does this as a job. He’s just sweet talking to you for sure. 

“Been thinking about you since the first time you booked me.” He continues, keeping the touches light and making sure you don’t press on yourself too hard either. “Was hard all week for you.”

Okay, yeah, maybe you are a little too into praise. Lie or not, it’s exactly what you need to hear right now. 

“You're gonna be just as good for me tonight too?” Sunghoon hums, tightening his grip. “You’re going to push your panties to the side and show me that you missed me too, right?” 

Yes. The light touching has been nothing but torture at this point, wanting so badly to be told to do more. For yourself, for him. 

You barely recognize how your embarrassment leaves your body when you stretch your panties to the side, letting him see how they stuck to you only to unfold in a glistening mess for him. 

“Messy, messy, messy.” Sunghoon moans, struggling so hard by now not to fuck his fist straight to orgasm. But no, he can’t ruin this moment. 

That’s your pussy, looking so wet and tight, so needy. 

“Gently still, open up for me.” Sunghoon groans lowly, watching so closely the way you spread open your lips for him, the hole pulsing and dribbling so much slick. 

Never in his life has he ever wanted to bury his tongue into someone this badly. Goddamn, he’s nearly obsessed with you at this moment. He loses composure.

“Fuck–” He seethes, feeling his cock twitch wildly against his hand. “I want you so bad.”

Those words feel more real to you than anything else. Virtual sex is one thing but to have a man blatantly moan those words to you as if he means them? As if he has never let it slip for any of his other scheduled calls?

“What’s the name of your boss again?” Sunghoon asks, pretending as if he forgot, just to hear you say it. 

He notes the way your pussy clenches through his words too, as if he can see the confusion not through your expression, but through your arousal alone. Asking you that turned you off.

“What’s his name, baby?” Sunghoon presses, offering an excuse. “I wanna know who it is that gave me this tonight.”

Alluding to the fact that the only reason you’re paying him is because your boss made you feel like you need release in some way. 

“Park-” You start, not wanting to deny his demands. “Sunghoon.”

“Ah, yeah.” Sunghoon holds his breath, closing his eyes briefly just to let that breathy voice sit in his mind before focusing back on you. “Two fingers babe, slide them in.”

God, you listen just as well as you do at work. He should have given you that promotion the day he saw your application. Even without seeing you do as you're told in this situation, he already knew you were going to be getting that interview next week.

He listens to the way your cunt swallows up your fingers, so wet and needy. Swollen around the two digits as you slide them in with a breathy sigh. 

“Spread your fingers, open up.” 

You do, presenting your opened core to him without any shame at this point. Allowing him to look, wanting him to look.

“Now, say–” Sunghoon swallows around a lump in his throat. “Thank you Sunghoon.”

Your pussy pulses around your fingers, recoiling again at the name. 

“Say, Thank you Sunghoon, for all of this stress.” 

He continues, trying to encourage, adding another lie of an excuse just to get you to break. 

“Because, if it weren't for him, I wouldn’t be needing to take care of you like this, now would I?”

In your horny brain, it makes sense.

“Thank you, Sunghoon.” You moan, plunging your fingers into yourself without being told to do so, moaning out for the faceless man on the screen at your break in composure. 

And, well, Sunghoon himself is on fire. After all, you’ve only ever referred to him as Mr.Park, and hearing you practically moan his name in such an intimate way? It does nothing to keep him from spiraling into an even more selfish mindset. 

“Again.” He instructs you, watching the way your legs shake through saying his name. 

“Thank you Sunghoon.” You continue, as if the words are natural despite feeling intense irritation for the man. “Thank you.”

And, well, that very name you’re moaning is now also moaning. That little fake name you gave to him falls from his lips after you say it each time, fucking into his fist and hoping you’re watching, nearly unable to ask you to stick another finger into yourself.

Not needing to ask at all, apparently, because you do it yourself. You even bump your clit up against your wrist too. 

Shit. 

He needs you.

“Thank him for what?” Sunghoon starts to ask, feeling an orgasm approach far too quickly. 

“For making me come to you!” You answer him as if you’re frustrated, hips bouncing up against your hand just to dig your fingers in deeper. 

“What else?” He asks now, forgetting what it is he should not be doing. 

“Hmm?” You answer in a drawn-out moan.

“Thank him for what else?” He repeats first, only to follow up with his own answer. “For giving you a reason to cum.”

“Yes!” You groan, now grinding your hips up and against your palm without relaxing back against the bed. Intentionally chasing as your eyes remain on him, watching him pull and tug so roughly. 

“So fucking pretty” Sunghoon praises as he snaps his hips in time with his moving palm, eyes so tuned into you that– “Fuck–” He moans your name. “So pretty.”

And he didn’t realize it. Half expecting you to moan back for him, he’s still moaning as he watches you halt what you’re doing and cover yourself entirely.

“What did you just call me?” You ask in an out of breath voice. 

Sunghoon repeats your fake name to you, feeling the energy shift in an instant.

“No. You just called me–” You repeat your real name to him. 

“Ah, sorry babe, must’ve gotten tongue tied.”

There’s a rush of anxiety within you as you stare at the screen. There’s….no fucking way. 

Given, you’ve never seen him outside of a suit. The voice you hear doesn’t click in your head as Sunghoon’s either, considering he’s never a man of very many words. 

Instantly, you’re covering your camera with your hand, watching how the man on the screen spreads his legs out and drops his cock. Like he’s waiting, like he’s listening, wondering. Are you making a fool of yourself right now?

Are you misreading? 

He seems calm, and if it really is Sunghoon…surely he’d be disconnecting right now, right?

Why would he even be fucking himself on camera anyway? The guy makes bank! You’re the one who sees his paychecks, after all. Still, there’s a twisting in your gut as you ignore the way you still drip against your sheets. 

Very quietly, just to see, you work up the courage.

“Mr.Park?”

It’s silent for a few seconds as the man on the screen shifts, a blur of movement forcing you into a state of motion-sickness. 

You almost thought he was going to chuckle at you and ask if you were thinking about your boss rather than him. You almost thought he would use that to his advantage. 

You almost thought you were wrong, but– he disconnects. 

A few moments later, you receive an email with a refund of your five hundred dollars. 

And two hours later? Lying in your bed with anxiety in your gut, you get a text from none other than Park Sunghoon.

Mr.Park: Can we talk?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

― part two here!

[queenofwands89]

The Storm Within Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Summary: What dramatic turn of events unfolds when Y/N storms off after an argument with Tyler, only to face the fury of a tornado that strikes their town and leaves Y/N injured?

Warnings: Tornado (duh lol), angst, arguing, mention of injuries, description of injuries, sad.

Notes: I wrote this because I am a whore for Tyler, and I love angst and pain. Enjoy byeeee

You feel the tension build in the air long before Tyler raises his voice. It's the kind of unease that clings to the back of your mind, an ineffable sense that something is about to go terribly wrong. You stand in the spacious, cluttered garage that serves as the command center for Tyler's storm-chasing crew. The storm models flashing on the multiple screens show bleak promises of another monstrous storm front moving across Oklahoma.

It starts as a simple disagreement. Tyler is passionate—almost recklessly so—about chasing a particular storm cell that evening. You object, voicing your concerns about the jeopardy it poses not only to Tyler but also to the entire crew.

"You never listen, Tyler!" Your voice quavers, your frustration edging too close to the surface. Your heart hammers in your chest. "You treat this like it's some adventure, but it’s dangerous!"

Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair, his expression a mix of determination and exasperation. "It's because it is dangerous," he shoots back. "But we do this because it saves lives, Y/N. If we can predict these storms better, we can give people the time they need to get to safety."

"And what about us? What about the people who love you? Are we just collateral damage in your crusade?"

Boone, who has been editing footage on his laptop nearby, looks up, his usually cheerful face clouded with concern. Lilly and Dexter exchange worried glances, while Dani silently tinkers with a drone, her stoic demeanor betrayed by the slightest furrow of her brow.

"I can’t sit by and do nothing while you risk everything, Tyler!" Your eyes well up with tears that you fiercely try to blink away. "One day, you might not come back."

Tyler sighs heavily. He takes a step towards you, but you instinctively recoil, the hurt in your eyes deepening the chasm between you. "Y/N, you know I love you, but this—this is what I do. It’s who I am."

"Well, I can't do this right now," you say, your voice cracking. "I need to clear my head."

Without another word, you grab your coat and storm out of the garage, slamming the door behind you. The echo of the slam lingers, punctuating the silence that envelops the room.

Tyler turns back to his crew, realizing that the argument has sapped the collective energy and morale. Boone breaks the silence with his usual attempt at lightening the mood.

"She'll cool off, man. Just give her some time," he offers, though his eyes betray the uncertainty he feels.

Lilly nods, her calm demeanor trying to instill a sense of reassurance. "Tyler, she just needs space. She loves you; that much is clear. Just let her process this."

Dexter, wiser and ever the emotional compass, adds softly, "Sometimes the best way to show love is to step back and let them come to terms with their fears on their own."

Tyler nods, although doubt gnaws at him. There is a sort of irony in chasing something as unpredictable as a tornado and yet being completely at a loss when it comes to matters of the heart.

You storm off down the gravel road, away from the storm-chasing headquarters. The expanses of Oklahoma stretch around you, vast and indifferent. You walk quickly, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl that rivals the storm brewing on the horizon.

Before long, a low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance. Your instincts tell you to seek shelter, but you are too consumed by your emotions to heed the warnings. Your phone buzzes, probably Jake checking in with you, but you ignore it.

As minutes turn to an hour, the sky darkens ominously, the oppressive weight of the storm hanging palpably in the air. You look up just as the first sharp gust of wind howls past you, sending a chill down your spine.

Your phone rings again. This time, you pick it up. It is Tyler.

"Y/N, you need to get back here. Now! There's an strom projected to hit our area. It's not safe out there!"

Before you can respond, the roar of the wind drowns out his voice. In the distance, a wall of debris begins to rise—terrifying in its beauty and formidable in its power. You feel a jolt of fear as you realize the windstorm is bearing down on you.

Panic-stricken, you try to find cover, but there is nowhere to go. The winds intensify, whipping your hair across your face and pulling at your clothes. In a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything, you grab onto a nearby fence post as the monstrous tornado descends upon the town.

Back at the garage, the team is glued to their screens, tracking the terrifying path of the cyclone. Tyler's eyes are wide with dread, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"We need to go find her!" he shouts, his voice breaking with worry as he lunges toward the door.

Dexter and Boone spring into action, their grips tight on his arms, holding him back with all their strength. "Tyler, we will find her," Dexter insists, his voice steady yet intense. "But rushing headfirst into this will only get us all killed. We need a plan."

Tyler struggles against their hold, desperation etched into every line of his face. "You don't understand! She’s out there, and every second counts!"

Lilly's eyes mirror his fear but she nods in agreement with Dexter. "He's right, Tyler. We have to be smart about this."

Dani is already at the armored storm-chasing vehicle, her fingers flying over the controls as she starts the engine. "Let's go," she commands, her voice a beacon of resolve amidst the chaos.

The ride out is like plunging into a nightmare. The town around them is unrecognizable—a hellscape of uprooted trees, shattered windows, and debris swirling in the violent wind. The roar of the storm is deafening, a monstrous wall of sound that seems intent on swallowing them whole.

Every turn is fraught with danger, every street a potential deathtrap. The armored vehicle groans under the force of the gale, but it presses onward, cutting a determined path through the destruction.

Tyler's eyes scan the devastation, his heart pounding, every fiber of his being focused on one thing: finding you. The storm's fury lashes at them, but their resolve is unbreakable. They are driven by a singular, desperate hope—to bring you back alive.

As the harrowing storm begins to relent, the world around you is a landscape of devastation. The monstrous tornado has passed, leaving behind a chaotic aftermath. The team ventures deeper into the wreckage, eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of you.

Then they see you. Crumpled on the ground, clutching a fence post as though it’s the only thing tethering you to life, you lie unconscious, battered by the storm’s fury. Debris is scattered all around, a haunting testament to the storm's wrath. Tyler's heart wrenches at the sight.

Without a second thought, he leaps out of the vehicle, ignoring the stinging wind and flying debris that tug at his clothes and batter his body. "No, no, no," he mutters under his breath, sprinting towards you with a singular focus.

"Y/N!" he cries out, his voice breaking as he nears you. The sound barely cuts through the howl of the wind. He kneels beside you, wrapping his arms around your frail form, shielding you from the remnants of the storm. "Please, Y/N. Wake up."

Boone, sitting in the driver’s seat, immediately jumps out of the vehicle as well. He turns to Lilly and Dexter, his expression serious and determined. "Lilly, grab the emergency blankets. Dexter, I need you to help get Y/N into the truck, now!"

Boone rushes over to Tyler, his mouth set in a grim line. "Tyler, move aside. We need to get her stabilized." He swiftly yet carefully checks your pulse and breathing. "She's still with us. We have to move quickly."

“Be careful!” Tyler shouts over the wind to the crew, his voice tinged with panic. “She’s hurt!”

They work with meticulous care, gently extricating you from the wreckage. Tyler's hands shake as he helps lift you, his mind a whirlwind of desperate prayers and fear.

Dani, standing nearby, fights back tears, her voice breaking as she says, "Hang in there, Y/N. We’re not losing you."

They rush you back to the relative safety of the vehicle, urgency in every step. The vehicle starts moving, navigating through the storm’s terrible wake with a singular mission: to get you to medical attention.

Tyler sits beside you, cradling your hand in his, his eyes never leaving your face. “Hang in there, Y/N,” he whispers, as though sheer willpower could keep you tethered to life. “We’re almost there. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The crew speeds through the chaotic aftermath, dodging fallen branches and uprooted signs. Dexter keeps a vigilant eye on the road, never slowing down. Lilly's hands shake as she dabs at your wounds with a cloth from the medical kit, trying to do whatever she can to help.

All the while, Tyler stays with you, his heart breaking and yet holding onto hope, as the vehicle barrels towards the hospital, each mile bringing you closer to safety. Tyler holds you tightly, his voice trembling and tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks as he whispers, "I'm so sorry. I love you. Please, hold on. Just hold on a little longer, baby."