#i had a real hard time getting the eyes right
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andersonfilms · 3 days ago
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KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH
❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞
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pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader
warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.
KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.
wc. 7k+
rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.
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Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless. 
Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to. 
Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait. 
She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk. 
She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment. 
No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself. 
Maybe she is just an asshole. 
“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.” 
As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it. 
“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?” 
“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.” 
Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought. 
Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead. 
This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford. 
It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side. 
Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her. 
But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why. 
“Why are you doing this?” 
“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.” 
“I’m not—” 
You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you. 
“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds. 
It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum. 
It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you. 
Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival. 
But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her? 
“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly. 
Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome. 
It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen. 
There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech. 
“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—” 
“Kind?” 
“Yeah, something like that.” 
This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes. 
“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.” 
With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it. 
Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it. 
It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night. 
Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is. 
But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing. 
“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?” 
“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.” 
“Keeps the nightmares away.” 
All Vi does is nod. 
“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.” 
“What about yours?” 
“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere. 
“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.” 
Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story. 
You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?” 
You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?” 
You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them. 
You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway. 
“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?” 
“Is it true?” 
You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous. 
Hope. 
A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself. 
The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty. 
Vi likes you. 
“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.” 
Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit. 
So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.” 
“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it. 
“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.” 
You chuckle at the pet name. 
“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.” 
“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.” 
— 
It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining. 
As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders. 
It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come. 
“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through  as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t. 
Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her. 
There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers. 
Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth. 
“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.” 
As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle. 
“I’m just a little—” 
“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.  
It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give. 
Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer. 
“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.” 
“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.” 
Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom. 
All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment. 
Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.” 
The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before. 
“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone. 
“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control. 
“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.” 
All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl. 
“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.” 
“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.” 
Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely. 
Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward. 
With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life. 
In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her. 
Oil and water. 
Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.
All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t. 
But this? It feels easy. 
She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it. 
Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now. 
When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human. 
A sinner always craves more. 
She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place. 
The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches. 
“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing. 
You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 
Fuck, Vi is making this difficult. 
“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?” 
You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat. 
“What is it?” 
“Was it your first time? The first night?” 
Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know. 
“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.” 
“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her. 
“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 
“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?” 
“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck. 
“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?” 
It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked. 
If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her. 
Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will. 
She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake. 
Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means. 
One night. 
Then two. 
Now three. 
In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride. 
“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones. 
“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.” 
“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.” 
It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed. 
Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did. 
“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue. 
The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets. 
“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.” 
You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it. 
“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for. 
“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.” 
She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start. 
Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you. 
“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 
“I promise.” 
Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt. 
She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her. 
“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate. 
She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light. 
“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy. 
She’s still shy. 
Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her. 
“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?” 
“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror. 
“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror. 
You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you. 
“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?” 
In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you. 
Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use. 
But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore. 
“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right. 
“Mommy, please.” 
Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give. 
Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself  but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?
“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?” 
Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for. 
“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you. 
It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss. 
The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more. 
When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue. 
Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now. 
“I could go again.” 
You chuckle. Of course she could. 
“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.” 
It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait. 
With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?” 
933 notes · View notes
angelltheninth · 2 days ago
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Corrupted!Jayce + Reunion Sex
Pairing: Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, reunited and it feels so good, hair-pulling (for Jayce), size difference, cunnilingus, injured!Jayce, feral!Jayce
Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters
A/N: This is all your fault @multi-fandom-imagine, I love you.
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He collapsed against you the moment you hugged him, his hands clinging to your clothes, his body failing him but he kept pushing himself to get home to you
Even though his lips are cracked and shaking he still kisses you with everything he's got
With a groan he carries you to the bed, your smaller body bouncing off the bed before he stills you with strong hands
There's no time to tell you where he's been, he knows he doesn't have much time to spare as is so he will make the most if it
Something is different about him, he seems different from the Jayce you knew, he was the same yet not
Not even the way he touched you was the same
It was very rushed, desperate, needy, full of lust as his hands pealed off your clothes, his hands mapping your body like he hadn't had you for years
"I can't explain. There's no time. But... I need you... I need you right now and I... I feel like I'm losing my mind. But you're here, you're real, I can feel you. I need to feel all of you, babe."
Jayce almost starts crying when he sees you naked
His cock was hard before that even happened
Before he didn't have the time or energy to pleasure himself, it was the farthest thing from his mind, all he thought of was how to survive, how to get back
Now all he wants is to feel your pussy around his cock again
He almost starts drooling when he sees how wet you are
As his hands cup your ass cheeks he raises your pussy to his mouth, kissing, lapping, fast, sloppy movements with his tongue and lips
There is none of that slow build up or teasing you're used to from him
"How can I wait? I've waited for so long. Missed your taste, your moans, your body, your perfect little cunt. So desperate for me to fill it. I know beautiful, I know. I want you too. Just let me have this for a while longer."
As he licks into you your hands go to his hair, pushing the messy locks, noting how much longer his hair is now
His moan travels from your clit up your spine and to your brain
You feel his beard scratching your inner thighs while Jayce tries to get you closer, impossibly closer
Doesn't let you get away from him until he feels your thighs clamp down around his head and fall over his shoulders
He doesn't wipe your pussy juices off his face, he's frantically lining his cock up with your hole and thrusting the full length into you
You moan in unison as he stretches your hole open, you should be used to that feeling by now but it always makes your eyes roll back, the thickness of him so much better than your fingers
Jayce growls and huffs as he grabs your hips and ruts into you, not holding back, the pace almost painful, you can't even understand what he's saying anymore, he's already getting pussydrunk on the feeling of your inner walls squeezing his cock
"That's it, that's my girl, that's the cunt I remember. Feeling so good. Ah, I love you, please know that, no matter what I do, no matter what I've done, I love you! I want... I always wanted a family with you. I couldn't say it before but now I want you to know. Can I... can I come inside of you? Just... want you be mine, want to get you pregnant, want to... I'll do it... fuck a gods damn baby into you!"
Even as he was rambling, his eyes staring into yours, tears all but spilling down his face he still held you close
It was true that you never talked about having a family
But it was clear that what ever he experianced put some things into perspective for Jayce
His hips smacked into yours with raw lust, his balls full and desperate to be emptied, his cock twitching every time your pussy squeezed around it
Jayce hisses as he bends his injured leg to fuck you harder, ramming his cock so deep into your pussy
The flash of pain is quickly followed by pleasure as he finishes, his cock pushed all the way inside of you, his hands leaving marks on your hips as you're filled up with warm seed
He doesn't stop, as he feels your cunt spasming around him and your nails scratching down his back he gets going again, his warm breath coming out fast and ragged
There's nothing in his head except the need, the thought of making sure you're thoroughly breed before he leaves the room
652 notes · View notes
penascigarette · 2 days ago
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Smooth Operator Ch 1. A New Client ➴ Joel Miller x f!phone sex operator
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➴wc: 6.7k | summary: You unexpectedly find yourself drawn to a new client during a late-night call, who ignites a surprising wave of desire within you. As you engage in a steamy conversation, you realize this encounter is unlike any you've had before, leaving you eager for more and questioning the boundaries of your professional life.
➴warnings: mdni, phone sex, mxm phone sex, fxm phone sex, m&f masterbation lots of dirty talking, use of princess, shitty moodboard
➴an: hi! i hope you enjoy the first chapter of the first fic I have ever posted. if I have missed any warnings please let me know. feedback is super appreciated! now I will go run and hide lol. and a big tysm to @saradika-graphics for making such lovely dividers!
masterlist | series masterlist
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You love sleeping, and just as passionately, you love your bed. Whenever you wake up in the morning, you spend at least ten minutes wrapped up in your duvet, savoring the warmth and comfort as you tease yourself with the idea of a nap.
This morning is no different. The sun shines outside, making your dark purple curtains look lighter than they actually are. If you open your eyes, you know you'll see dust particles floating through the air.
You take a deep breath through your nose and immediately wish you'd opened your windows to let in some fresh air. But you never do, even though you think about it every morning. It's too risky. Open windows are an open invitation to your worst fear—spiders.
Just the thought of their tiny, hairy bodies and long, wiggly legs sends a shiver down your spine. You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, practically imagining the creepy crawlies on your skin.
And of course, that's when your roommate, Elliot, decides it’s the perfect time to tickle your ear with one of his long, pink, kinky feathers—used for who-knows-what.
You scream, jump, and scramble off the bed like it’s suddenly caught fire. Your eyes—probably bloodshot with dark bags underneath—narrow at the grinning culprit, who is currently doubled over in a fit of laughter on the right side of your king-sized bed.
“What the fuck,” you huff, too tired to find any humor in this. You were so warm and cozy, and now that feeling is ruined for the next twenty-four hours. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”
 “Y-your face!” he chokes out between giggles. He looks far too fresh-faced for someone who’s just rolled out of bed. Still in his pajamas, his messy hair—short on the sides with a wave on top—looks like it hasn’t seen a brush this morning.
“It's not funny!” you argue, your voice rising over the sound of his laughter. You’re this close to stomping your foot at him. “I thought you were a spider!” Standing there in nothing but pink pajama bottoms and a black strap top, your skin prickles with goosebumps. Yet again, you curse him for ruining your warm, safe burrito.
That only makes him laugh harder. It’s hard to believe this man-child is twenty-eight years old when he acts less than half his age most of the time.
At the sound of his snort, you feel your lips twitch against your will. No, you’re pissed at him—there’s no way he’s going to make you laugh. But very quickly, you’re losing the battle. Have you ever tried not laughing with someone who has an impossibly contagious laugh? It’s damn near impossible.
“Whatever!” you say, rolling your eyes as a reluctant smile finally breaks across your face. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to look stern, but Elliot knows he’s won this round
“It’s getting late,” he says, still chuckling. His green eyes are watery from laughing, making them sparkle as he grins at you. Rolling onto his left side, he props his head up with one hand—the one holding the feather—while his other hand runs through his sandy-brown hair, slicking it back. “And you slept through your alarms again, so I thought I’d help you out.”
Damn, have you really? It wouldn’t be the first time. Waking you is like trying to wake the dead.
“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Fair enough, he had to wake you, but—“Did you have to use your kinky, sex feather...thing?” You shiver in disgust. “Who knows where that’s been.”
He shrugs innocently, twirling the offending object between his fingers. “Nowhere gross...” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles once more. “Only up Danny’s ass.”
Your eyes widen, and you splutter. “What? Oh, my god—Jesus, that’s just—” You gag in the back of your throat. “You said it hadn’t been anywhere gross!”
He laughs again, sitting up. “I was telling the truth. Danny’s ass was far from gross.�� A faraway look crosses his face. “It was heaven,” he muses wistfully before frowning. “God, I miss him.”
“Oh, honey,” you soften immediately, making your way to the bed and crawling toward Elliot to offer some comfort.
You know Danny and Elliot’s breakup was hard on him. He’d been completely in love with that man and was about to ask him to move in—with you both—when Danny decided to end the year-and-a-half relationship. It just wasn’t working was his excuse, but Elliot later found out the truth when Danny updated his Facebook page: he’d left Elliot for someone else.
“He didn’t deserve you,” you say, trying to make him feel better as you drape an arm around his shoulders. Sitting back on your heels, you add, “He was a dick for what he did. You shouldn’t be sad. He’s the one who lost someone who loved him. The only thing you lost was—”
“A twat-waffle who didn’t deserve me, I know,” he cuts you off, reciting your usual line before you can finish. You’ve said it enough times in the past three months since the breakup that he knows it by heart. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but...doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
“I know,” you respond quietly, your thoughts drifting to your own breakup. It’s been over a year now, but the pain still lingers. Your ex had been your first boyfriend—hell, your first everything. You’d met when you were seventeen, and you moved in with him before your next birthday. Everything happened so fast, and you didn’t see the cracks until it was too late. “But we have each other, right?” you say, giving Elliot a little shake.
He glances at you, his expression vulnerable. Big eyes, plucked thin eyebrows, a slight bump on his nose from when a bully broke it in his teens, full lips, high cheekbones, and when he smiles, dimples form on his cheeks.
“Yeah?” he replies, hopeful. “Even if I wake you up with a feather that’s been up my ex’s ass?”
You roll your eyes, pulling away to thump him on the arm. “Fucker,” you mutter as he starts giggling all over again. “Remind me why I love you?”
Grinning, he reaches into the pocket of his pajama shorts and pulls out his phone. "Because I'm adorable," he answers distractedly as he stares at the screen. "Oh, my first caller of the day! And it's Simon," he whispers the last part to you as if Simon could hear. "He sounds like a whale when he comes, but boy, does he have a gorgeous sex voice," he informs you. You snort as he accepts the call. "Why hello there, lover."
While Elliot makes himself comfortable against your pillows, you climb off the bed and head toward your wardrobe. You already have your outfit in mind—a pair of leggings and a plain white shirt.
"Mmm, that sounds so sexy, baby," you hear Elliot purr in the background, and you smile, shaking your head. You can’t imagine what people would think about you being in the same room as your guy roommate while he talks dirty to one of your clients, meanwhile, you're getting changed in the corner.
It’s a strange situation, to say the least.
As you remove your shirt with your back turned to Elliot, you can’t help but listen in to the conversation.
"I'd love to touch your nipples," Elliot hums behind you, getting into character. You know how much he loves talking dirty to guys. It’s a turn-on for him. Unlike you, who only really enjoys sex if it’s with someone you love. Elliot is way more adventurous and has had more one-night stands than you can count. "I'd love to stroke them, caress them, lick them. . .”
"Suck them," you add when you hear Elliot hesitate. You pull the straps of your bra up your arms and hook it at the back. 
“Oh, and suck them," Elliot says as you pull your top on.
Since Elliot is still fairly new to this, he needs help sometimes. His situation had been very similar to yours—a broken-up relationship, no job, and forced to move back in with his mum until someone came along and gave him hope. For Elliot, that person was you. For you, that person was your boss, Jane.
Elliot's voice lowers as he talks to his client. "Your body is so pretty, honey. I can't wait to trace my tongue up and down your belly, and then start going lower and lower until I reach your—”
You cough quietly to yourself, trying to hide your smile as you change into your leggings and slip on a pair of fluffy pink socks. You’ve heard Elliot talk dirty loads of times, and he’s heard you talk dirty just as many. Part of training him was him having to listen in on your conversations, and then you monitoring his. Neither of you gets embarrassed around it anymore. It’s more amusing, to be completely honest.
Deciding to leave Elliot to it, you grab your phone off your bedside cabinet and quietly tiptoe to the door. Before you leave, you look over to Elliot and mouth, Coffee?
He nods enthusiastically at you and mouths back, Yes, please!
You’re halfway down the steps when you rub your eye and feel the crumbly sensation of mascara under your fingertip. You’ve forgotten to take your makeup off the night before. You curse to yourself before heading back upstairs to fetch a makeup wipe.
When you reach your room once more, Elliot looks at you questioningly before he notices your face. His lips curl into his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. You roll your eyes and put your middle finger up at him before heading over to your dresser, which sits directly opposite your bed. You open the top drawer and feel through the ridiculous amount of makeup and beauty products you’ve collected over time. As your fingers search, your eyes stare forward at your flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. You can see Elliot's reflection.
"God, you feel so tight around me," Elliot is telling his customer, and you bite your lip in an attempt not to laugh. Finally, your fingers grip the packet of wipes, and you pull them free. "I'm gonna come inside of your ass so damn hard—," Elliot is cut off by a muffled roar, and you turn to look at him questioningly.
He is still sitting on your bed, back against the pillows with one hand holding the phone far away from his ear. He has an uncomfortable look on his face, and it’s then you realize the noise has come from the phone. Or, more accurately, the noise is the loud, animal-like groans of a man coming hard.
Oh my god," you whisper to him quietly, now understanding what Elliot had meant by Simon sounding like a whale when he came.
Elliot uses his other hand to cover the bottom half of the phone, preventing Simon from hearing you speak. "Every. Damn. Time," he replies just as quietly, looking so serious it makes you giggle. He cracks his own smile before bringing the phone back to his ear. "Oh, that sounded like a good one, baby."
You’re glad Simon isn’t one of your callers because you’re not sure you’d be able to stay professional with that sound in your ear. You take care of your makeup before finally getting started on coffee.
Your living room and kitchen are all in one room. The only thing separating the rooms is the counter you eat at. Silver stools with black padded seats sit underneath, four of them for when you have guests over.
You walk past the L-shaped sofa and the counter. Once the coffee is on, you get started on breakfast. You decide on some cheesy, ham-scrambled eggs. Just as you start mixing the ingredients, your phone vibrates where you’ve placed it on the counter. You lean over far enough to see the screen. When no name appears, only a number, you figure it must be a new client since you save existing clients in your phone book.
You accept the call and bring it to your ear. "Hey there," you purr in your sexy voice. You never thought you had one until Elliot pointed it out to you. According to him, it’s a hot one too. "Tell me, gorgeous, what’s your name?"
"Josh." He’s breathing heavily, sounding as if he’s already started the party without you. "I-I'm new to all this…phone stuff," he informs you.
"That's fine, Josh," you say with a slight smile. "My name's Angel, and I’m going to take care of you, all right?" Your name isn’t Angel, but for safety reasons, you’re Angel as far as your customers know. And yes, you’re well aware of how clichéd it is.
"Yes," he tells you, his voice rougher than before. He’s probably getting more excited. Now, all you need to do is find out what he likes.
"Tell me, honey, you like it hard or soft, hm?" you question just as Elliot’s footsteps sound on the stairs.
"God. Hard. I like it hard," Josh answers. "I like it when you take control, with a little pain. Yeah, I like that a lot." In the background, you can hear the sound of his hand working his dick. At least you know he’s enjoying himself.
"Okay, Josh," you nod to yourself, knowing exactly where to go from here. Elliot appears in front of you, his lips forming an 'o' shape when he sees you’re with a client. You nod your head toward the food you’ve been preparing, signaling him to take over as you move away from the counter and toward the living area. Elliot passes you on the way, his hand patting you on the shoulder.
You flop over the arm of the chair and onto the sofa, landing with a bounce on your back. "The first thing I want you to do is to strip for me, now," you order him, reaching toward the coffee table when you spot a magazine there. You bring it over to you and open it. "Are you naked yet?"
"Almost," he practically gasps to you. You can hear some more shuffling, and then he's telling you, "Yes, mistress, I'm naked."
Mistress? You sigh internally. You seriously can't believe how many men are into the whole dominatrix kink. In the beginning, it was kind of fun, but by now, it’s getting pretty old.
Mentally awakening your inner dom, you relax further into the sofa and flip through the magazine. "Good boy," you coo, finding a 20 Sex Tips for Women article. Huh, how fitting. "Now, here's what I want you to do, and you better listen closely, pet."
The call ends up lasting 2 minutes and 28 seconds. Not bad for a newbie.
________
“I might have a date this weekend," Elliot mentions casually, making you glance over the top of your book at him, eyebrows raised.
A few hours have passed since breakfast, and you've had at least seven phone calls since. The two of you are relaxing in the living room, you on one side of your L-shaped sofa and Elliot on the other.
"And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" you respond, feeling rather hurt. You tell each other everything. You know the penis size of every boyfriend he's had. How can he share that information so easily yet let something like a date stay secret?
He cringes, and you just know you're not going to like what's coming next. "Because..." he hesitates, takes a deep breath, and rushes out, "BecauseitswithDanny." He says it so fast it almost doesn't register, but the name Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.
"What!?" you exclaim, book falling forgotten onto the floor as you sit up. You're completely shocked, and you imagine your expression says everything before you even open your mouth. "How can you—why would you want to after what he did?" You can't understand what's going through Elliot's head, but you seriously want to knock some sense into him.
"I tried hinting to you this morning!" Elliot tells you, sitting up. The magazine he'd been reading earlier falls onto his lap, his attention now completely on you. "I told you I missed him!"
You scoff at that. "A hint is, 'Oh, by the way, I'm thinking of going on a date with my ex.' Not, 'I'm going to tickle you with Danny's ass-feather, complain about missing him, and hope that you get the hint that I'm going out with him this weekend despite the fact he broke my heart!'" You take a deep breath, oxygen running low after that rant. "Look, I know it's none of my business—"
"Of course it's your business. You're my best friend."
"—I just don't want you to get hurt," you continue as you both stare at each other with similar expressions. You're both desperate for the other to understand how you're feeling without wanting to cause any upset. "I love you, honey...and it destroyed you when he left."
"He said he's sorry," Elliot tells you quietly, making you realize just how much they've been talking. A pang of hurt goes through your heart, knowing that Elliot felt like he couldn't talk to you about this. "He said it was a mistake, one he wouldn't make again. But I don't want to jump back into things so...I told him we'll start slow."
"Well," you nod slightly. "That's something, I guess." It comforts you to know that he isn't rushing into the relationship again. Maybe, if they start from scratch, it could work this time. Unfortunately, your gut tells you different. "I'm going to be honest with you, okay?"
Elliot gives you a lopsided smile, causing a single dimple to form on his cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
You smile back for a moment before turning serious again. "I think...you're thinking with your heart and not with your head," you tell him softly. "I think you're in love with him, and you miss him, and you're not thinking rationally about this. Which I totally understand, honey. You love him; I know you can't help that. I just worry that Danny knows how you feel about him, and he's going to use it to his advantage." You watch Elliot's expression closely; he's nodding, letting you know he's listening.
You give your lip a quick nibble before continuing. "But if this is something you feel like you need to do, then I'll support you, you know that."
"Thanks, babe," he responds sincerely, but his eyes are sad. "You're right. I know you're right, but...my heart wants this so damn badly."
"What's your gut telling you to do?" you ask him curiously. You’ve always believed in following your instincts.
"Run," he answers with a painful laugh. "Run and don't look back because he's only doing this as a rebound."
You frown at the information. "Rebound?"
Elliot nods, tears filling his eyes. He crosses his legs underneath him, which surprises you given how skinny his jeans are. One arm goes to the back of the sofa while the other runs through his slick-backed hair. He pulls his lips into his mouth for a moment, a habit of his, before telling you, "Him and Voldemort broke up. Danny says he broke it off because he misses me, but I checked Voldemort's page, and it looks like he's gone and gotten himself a new guy."
You hold back a snort at his nickname for Gary. Voldemort. It suits him. From Elliot's information, you're guessing that Danny is only after a rebound, but Elliot doesn't want to admit it because he still wants to be with Danny.
"Honey..." you sigh, scooting across the sofa so you can give Elliot a cuddle. He immediately returns the gesture but stays seated, whereas you lean up on your knees, making you higher than him. You rest your head on top of his, your arms around his neck. You know you don't need to say anything. Elliot knows he's burying his head in the sand. You think he just needs to find out the hard way; otherwise, he'd always regret not trying.
"I'm here for you," you assure him. This is something he needs to do, and you can't protect him from it, no matter how much you want to.
"Thank you," he tells you tearfully. You can hear how upset he is, but he's trying to hold it back. You squeeze him tighter, wishing you could take away all his pain. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."
Your lips curve at that. "I know," you joke because really, you're not that big-headed. "Now," you say as you pull away but keep your arms around his neck. "What do you say we turn our phones off for a while, get a Chinese, and watch some crappy chick flicks?"
His eyes are bloodshot and wet with tears, but the smile he gives you is genuine happiness. And that you completely understand because food makes you feel the same way. "I love you so much."
--
The film you end up watching is beyond cheesy, but the humor is awesome, and you find yourself giggling along. Your Chinese food is now in your overly-stuffed belly, and the only things left are the containers sitting on the coffee table in front of you.
You sit side-by-side with Elliot, shoulders touching, a leopard-print blanket draped over your laps. Both of you ordered a beer with the takeaway. It isn’t enough to get you drunk, but that wasn’t the plan since you need to turn your phones back on for work later.
By the time the film ends, Elliot seems to be in a much better mood. Hopefully, he’ll stay that way for the next few hours.
“Gosh,” Elliot starts, reaching behind the sofa to the side table where a lamp sits. He switches it on, making you both blink against the sudden brightness. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”
“Same,” you say, squinting as your eyes adjust. Your muscles feel cramped, so you throw off the blanket and stretch. As you straighten your body, you begin to slide off the sofa but don’t bother stopping it. You let yourself slip onto the floor.
With the coffee table in the way, you have to arrange yourself so you’re lying between the sofa and the table. The wooden flooring is cold against your right arm, while the left side of your body enjoys the comfort of the fur rug.
“Weirdo,” Elliot snorts from above.
“Don’t judge,” you respond, letting out a yawn. Watching films always makes you tired. Maybe it strains your eyes. The floor is oddly tempting right now—so cozy—or maybe Elliot is right, and you’re just a weirdo.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Elliot speaks again, his foot nudging your side. “Can’t sleep now. We’ve got horny customers waiting.”
It’s only then you realize you’ve closed your eyes. “I’m up,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit upright. The smell of Chinese food still lingers in the air. It was absolutely delicious, but your stomach protests now, begging you not to even inhale another whiff of it. You pat your belly proudly, knowing it did a good job handling the feast.
“Good,” Elliot says. “We gotta get to work.”
Neither of you moves.
“For fuck’s sake,” Elliot sighs after a moment, making you crack a smile. “It’s so much effort. I hate... effort,” he says, spitting the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
You tilt your head to look at him better. “Just think about all those handsome, horny men stroking their dicks, waiting for you to—”
“I’m up!” Elliot exclaims, jumping to his feet. His hands dive into his pockets as you laugh loudly. “Christ, where’s my phone? My customers need me!” He’s being overly dramatic on purpose, and it makes you giggle even harder.
“It’s not funny!” he tells you, though he’s trying his hardest not to smile. “Who’s going to give those guys their orgasms? This is a serious situation!”
You giggle again, but then you try to put on a straight face. “You’re right. There could be a riot!” you gasp dramatically. “I’ll get on the phone to the prime minister right away!”
“And the president!” Elliot chimes in, but then you make eye contact, and the two of you burst into laughter. Sure, you can act pretty silly sometimes, but it’s healthy. At this age, you feel more mature than most people your age, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be childish once in a while.
Once you both calm down, you know playtime is over. It’s really time to get to work. Sighing, you take Elliot’s hand when he offers it to you, and he easily pulls you up from the floor.
“Thanks, kid,” you tell him, standing on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. You know he hates when you do that.
He lets out a high-pitched squeak and backs away. “You know my rules!”
“No one touches the hair,” you recite dutifully.
“Yes!” he says, rolling his eyes. “And yet you always forget. And what do you mean ‘kid’? I’m older than you!”
“Yes, well, mentally you’re the age of ten, so…”
“Bitch,” he says, lightly punching your arm, and you laugh.
“Is that all you’ve got?” you tease.
He plants his hands on his hips, cocking a hip at you and raising an eyebrow. “Honey, you can’t handle what I’ve got.”
“I’m heading upstairs. Gonna talk dirty to some dudes, grab a shower, change into my pajamas, get some more horny people off, read a book, then go to bed.”
Elliot takes the phone and nods. “Sounds like a damn good plan,” he says, holding up his hand.
You smile and give him a high-five.
--
One of the hardest parts of your job is keeping things fresh and coming up with new ideas. That’s why you love working with Elliot. He’s a guy; he knows what men like, so whenever you feel like you need something different, he’s your go-to.
New customers are always the easiest to please. No matter what you say, it’s fresh to them. Exciting. It’s your recurring customers who require more effort. There are only so many ways to describe a blowjob before it starts feeling repetitive. When you get that feeling of déjà vu, you worry your client does too.
Oh, and trying to figure out what a guy likes? That’s another challenge. Sometimes, it feels like a seriously fucked-up game of I-Spy.
“I spy with my little eye…” Imaginary-you says in a hopeful voice. “A foot fetish? No? Fuck.” You’re rocking back and forth now, losing hope. “I spy with my little—oh, I know! Voyeurism?” you practically beg, thinking about pulling your brains out with a spoon if this doesn’t work. “…Golden showers?”
Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. It’s frustrating, especially when the client is shy and doesn’t know what they like themselves.
Deciding you’re getting cranky—probably because you’re tired—you decide to finish half an hour early tonight. You shouldn’t, especially after already losing a few hours of work earlier, but you’ve made enough money to cover your half of rent and bills this month. You’ve still got a week to earn more for food and anything else you need.
So yeah, you’ll finish early.
Yawning, you pull the covers out from underneath your ass before throwing them over yourself. You’re already in your pajamas—a loose pair of pink shorts and a white strap top—and your book sits next to you, waiting to be read.
But just as you pick up your phone, ready to turn it off, a new number flashes on the screen. You stare at it for a moment, wondering if it’s worth leaving. The problem is, with it being a new customer, leaving a bad impression could mean they wouldn’t come back.
“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, knowing the professional businesswoman in you can’t risk losing what might end up being a recurring customer. As far as you know, this phone call could change your career. You snort at that. Highly unlikely, but it’s going to bring in extra money, which is a good enough reason. “Just this last one, then I’m going to bed,” you tell yourself.
You place the earphones back into your ears and press the green button on your touchscreen. “Hey there, handsome.” There’s a pause, and you briefly wonder if they’ve decided to hang up when he finally speaks.
“Hey,” he responds simply, sounding kind of awkward.
“You caught me just in time,��� you say naughtily.
“Oh?” he sounds intrigued, though the awkwardness remains. He’s probably just shy or clueless about what to do. “Why is that?”
For a moment, you’re taken aback by how much you’re attracted to his voice. That’s never happened to you before, and he’s barely said five words. Masculine, educated, and gruff. Swoon.
“Um...” You try to get back into character while scolding yourself. The conversation has only just started; you can’t screw it up already. Get your head in the game, girl. “Because I’m wet and needing a man to help me out.” Internally, you wince. That’s pretty weak considering how good you usually are at this.
He doesn’t seem to think so because he releases a sexy, “Shit. I—” He’s breathing heavily, and you wait for him to finish, sensing he has something else he wants to say. “I don’t know if this was a good idea,” he admits after a moment.
Fuck, you’re losing him, and you’re losing him fast. You need to think quickly if you want to keep him on the line. You don’t want to admit it, but your interest in this man goes beyond the money you’re earning from him. He’s ignited something in you. “Wait! Please,” you breathe. “I—I’m so horny. I need you. Please? Just stroke your dick for me. I need it.” There you go; you knew you could do better.
“Damn it,” he hisses, and then there’s the sound of a belt buckle, and you know you’ve got him. “What’d you need, sweetie? Tell me,” he demands, and for the first time since doing this job, you feel a wave of lust hit you.
Swallowing in an attempt to bring moisture back to your dry mouth—it all seems to have headed south, if you know what you mean—you respond truthfully, “You.” Jesus, you shouldn’t be doing this, but before you can stop yourself, your left hand is slipping underneath your strap top and finding your breasts. “I need you, please—” You pause for a second. You don’t know if it will work, but if you’re right about him, this is going to go down a treat. For both him and for you. “—sir.”
And you’re right because he lets out a loud groan, making you squeeze your thighs together in response. Jesus, you haven’t wanted someone this badly in what feels like forever.
“Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
You’re already nodding before he finishes his sentence. “Yes, god, yes.” You move your right hand so it’s also caressing your breasts. In this moment, you completely love your headset, which allows you to talk and touch at the same time.
“Mm, you’re so obedient, baby,” he tells you, approval evident in his husky voice. “Tell me, Princess, tell me are your nipples hard?”
Your pussy clenches almost painfully, and you try to remind it to calm down because it’s only just started. “They’re hard. So hard they’re showing through my shirt.”
You’re getting so hazy with lust you’re not sure what to do with yourself, so you pinch your nipples roughly and almost cry out in frustration, knowing it would be so much better if he were doing it for you.
“Damn, that’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you, and your belly does a funny flip. “You touchin’ them? Want you to roll them between your fingers. Not too hard, just enough pressure to leave you needing more.”
It’s not easy to admit, but you think he’s better at this than you are, and it crosses your mind that you should probably be paying him. “I already am,” you confess with a guilty laugh. “Your voice... it’s, uh, fucking hot.” You hesitate because you’re not sure if you can say that to him. It’s not very professional, but then you remind yourself that you’re only second-guessing it because you’re actually getting off on it.
"You that eager for me, princess?" he sounds pretty damn pleased with himself. "Tell me how it feels. You know, I'm stroking my dick to this. Getting hard over the noises you're making, and the pretty picture you're giving me."
The image of this man, who you are undoubtedly attracted to, stroking his hard cock over the thought of you pleasuring yourself drives you crazy. He seems so generous, something rare nowadays.
"It feels..." you breathe, trying to find the right words. "Like it's not enough. I need more. Christ." You throw your head back against your pillows, frustrated with yourself and the way you're acting. Completely unprofessional.
"Shh," he coos softly. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you. Okay, princess?" He's so freaking good at this. You're practically shivering in anticipation of what he might say next. "I want you to get naked for me. And tell me, baby, you got any toys?"
"Um," you think about his question as you pull your strap top over your head. It gets caught on the earphone wire. "Wait a second." You quickly untangle yourself before placing the earphones back into your ears. Moving on to your shorts, you push them eagerly down your legs. "Yes, I have one of those little bullet vibrators."
"Good. I want you to get it for me, princess."
You bite your lip for a moment, feeling extremely dirty about what you're about to do. "Yes, sir..." you say before reaching toward your side cabinet and opening the bottom drawer. In an old, tiny, purple purse with a single zip sits the bullet. You take it out before getting comfortable on the bed once more. "I've got it."
He hums in approval. "Now, I'm more than happy to go slow, make this last, but I'm sensing that my girl wants to come hard and fast, am I right?"
You suck in an unsteady breath. Being called his girl really shouldn't make you feel as giddy as it does. Why and how does a complete stranger have such an effect on you? You're never one of those girls who fall for a man's charm easily. Yet here you are, swooning over a guy because he's good at talking dirty and has a sexy voice.
Apparently you were easier to seduce than you originally thought.
"Yes," you choke out, wondering if you'd wake up if you pinched yourself hard enough. You wouldn't try it, though, just in case you were dreaming. You really aren't ready for it to end. "God, yes."
"All right then," he chuckles, the sound warm. "I'll do what you want this time. Next time, what I say goes, okay, princess?"
Before you have a chance to respond, he's giving you more orders, and in no way are you complaining.
"I want you to spread your pretty little thighs for me, baby." His voice, and the way he's breathing, gives you the impression that he's getting just as excited as you are.
"Okay," you squeak rather embarrassingly. Cool air hits your most sensitive area as you do what he orders, your hands resting against the inside of your thighs, fingers clutching your vibrator as you wait impatiently for his instructions.
You have yet to turn the bullet on, but it already feels like your insides are vibrating.
"Now, take your hand and spread your pussy lips for me."
And there you go, once again speechless—and breathless—because of this man and his words. Seriously, he could do this job better than you. You have to admit, you're storing parts of this conversation away for both personal and professional use later on.
Your hands automatically do as he says, your body desperate for some kind of release. You feel overwhelmed and don't know where to start or what to do in order to relieve it. Thank God you have him to guide you; otherwise, you might combust. Then again, if he wasn't here, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place.
"Okay," you breathe, feeling more and more like a client than a sex line operator. But taking control is obviously something he enjoys, so who are you to put a stop to this? What’s the saying? ‘Customers are always right?’ Well, you absolutely, completely, one hundred percent agree!
"Stretch yourself out," he continues, his voice starting to strain. "Force your sexy little clit out of its hood. I don't want it hiding when you start fucking yourself. All right, princess?"
Fuckkk. Just when you think he can't possibly get any hotter, he goes and says that. Your pussy feels like it’s on fire; your clit is so swollen it hurts. You wouldn't be surprised if you came the second you put any pressure on your nub.
"Now," he continues. "Turn your bullet on and press it to your clit. You're not allowed to stop until your legs are shaking and you're calling out my name. Got it?" You can hear how hard he's pumping his dick now. For a moment, you feel guilty. Are you neglecting him? But then you remind yourself again that this is what he wants.
You know you're not going to last long. You're too excited. Not to mention, it’s been a while since you've spent some time with your right hand. You twist the top of your bullet, putting it on the highest speed. You know you're worked up enough to take it; usually, you start on low and build your way up because you're overly sensitive. Right now, you know it won’t be an issue.
The bullet starts to shake violently, but the noise is low, like a quiet buzzing. Your left hand holds yourself open, fingers forming a 'V' and spreading your lips as far as you can, just as he instructed.
You don’t need to tell him what you’re doing; the moment you press the bullet to yourself, a half-gasp, half-moan escapes your lips. You’re right—you definitely won’t last long. The vibrations are intense, and you draw small circles on yourself, pushing yourself even closer to the edge.
“Damnit,” he hisses. You’re quickly learning it’s one of his favorite words. “You sound fucking sexy. Wish I could see you. Watch you,” he inhales sharply. He’s just as close as you are.
“What’s—” you attempt to speak but end up gasping instead. Wetness gathers below, soaking your entrance and trailing toward your clit. The added lubrication lets the bullet slide more freely around your nub, the sensation unbelievable. “What’s—”
“Princess?” he chokes, likely having the same problem as you.
So close now. So fucking close. You just need a little more. The rhythm is perfect, and you can hear him breathing in your ear, letting out the occasional groan. It’s too damn much, but you can’t let yourself go—not without— “What’s your name?”
"Joel."
"Fuck - Joel!"
You see stars, as cliché as it sounds. Your whole body breaks into spasms, your left hand falling to the sheets and gripping the fabric desperately. Your right hand forces the bullet between your slippery lips, and your thighs clamp around your hand. Incoherent words tumble from your mouth: “Oh god,” “Fuck,” and Joel’s name.
As you come back down to earth, you can hear that Joel barely followed two seconds behind.
“Damn it, Princess. You’re so fucking good. Sound so pretty. Done so well,” the words spill from his mouth like sweet wine. He probably isn’t even aware of them. The sound of him fisting his dick is irregular and off-beat. “Fuck. Damn. You’re such a good girl.”
You remove the bullet from yourself—if you leave it there any longer, it’s going to become painful—and let out a giggle. Your cheeks are flushed, your body buzzing with pleasure. Lightheaded and giddy, you think to yourself that this guy must be amazing in bed. “That was fucking amazing.”
“Yeah,” he laughs breathlessly. “You can say that again. I can’t believe I almost hung up.”
“That would have been bad,” you reply, wondering if your heart will slow down anytime soon. “Very, very bad.”
“Oh yeah,” he agrees, then pauses before adding, “Let me ask you something.”
“Go ahead.” You hesitate for only a moment. It’s unusual for clients to stick around afterward, but you’ve quickly realized this guy isn’t a normal caller.
“What’s your real name?” he asks. “No way is it ‘Angel.’” He snorts, finding your alias hilarious.
Is Angel that bad of a name? You think it’s kind of cool. The company is called Angels and Demons, with you being the Angel. Elliot’s alias is Daemon because it’s close to “demon” but sounds way better. When a customer calls, they get an automated voice instructing them to press the number for their chosen operator, complete with a brief description.
You’re losing your train of thought; you can’t give him your real name, can you? It’s against the rules. If Jane found out, she’d be pissed. She wouldn’t fire you, but her anger is almost as bad. With the image of facing her wrath in mind, you tell Joel, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Your tone is regretful because you’d really like to tell him. “My boss would…it’s against the rules.”
“Ah,” he responds, masking the disappointment. “It’s all right. I understand.”
“Sorry,” you apologize again, hating the idea of letting him down, especially after how amazing he just made you feel.
"Seriously, Princess, it’s fine,” he reassures you, easing the guilt. “I had a really good time tonight. You can bet I’ll be expecting a repeat tomorrow.” You just know that if you could see him right now, his eyes would sparkle with mischief.
Your pussy throbs again just thinking about it. God, he makes you insatiable. “I’m really, really looking forward to it,” you tell him honestly.
“Me too.” There’s a brief pause, then, “Goodnight, Princess.”
“Goodnight, Joel.” Hanging up the phone, you place it against your lips, letting everything sink in. Alone with your thoughts, you can’t believe you just had full-blown phone sex with a client. It’s so unlike you. It’s more like something Elliot would do. Speaking of…
“Elliot, you won’t believe what just happened!” you shout at the top of your lungs.
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xinganhao · 2 days ago
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🔄 svt x reverse tropes.
✩ reversal of popular tropes, most of which are based on this post! established relationships, breakups, angst [if you squint], crack -ish, fluff, cussing. drabbles under the cut.
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🔄 uno reverse card .ᐟ
seungcheol & mafia boss kidnaps you accidentally kidnapping the mafia boss.
seungcheol isn't really sure how he ended up in this situation. the cool metal of the chains feel foreign on his ankles, and he briefly considers trying to break through them himself. what kind of 'kidnapper' lost the key to their cuffs? he can only watch, exasperated, as you google how to pick a lock with a hairpin. you're sweating buckets. he finds it just a teensy bit amusing. "don't worry. i'll spare your life," he drawls as he leans back to watch you fret. "but only if you get me out in fifteen minutes. otherwise… well. that's debatable."
jeonghan & fake relationship breakup.
what was supposed to be an april fool's prank has ended the relationship that jeonghan never thought he'd be without. that isn't to say he hated you. god, no. if anything, he's convinced he'll love you to his grave. it's just— a different kind of love, he concedes, as the two of you hold hands underneath the table. mingyu jeers something about the breakup being a joke, and jeonghan shakes his head. "it's as real as they come," he announces. the two of you glance at each other when nobody's looking. it'll be your little secret, it seems.
joshua & marriage divorce of convenience.
it's a question of assets and inheritance, the whole reason why you and joshua have to 'divorce' in the first place. he's been incredibly vocal about his distaste— the thought of being away for you for ever a moment is ludicrous— but he'll grin and bear it, if it means the two of you can live a cushy life when you retire. still, he frowns as you sign off on the papers. he focuses on the promise of a second wedding. "i want a hundred guests." he wraps his arms around you from behind. "and a chocolate fondue. please."
junhui & there's only one bed there's too many beds.
how the hell did jun miss the fact that the listing said 7 beds, not 1? he'd tried so hard to orchestrate a little forced proximity moment with you, only to fail spectacularly. he lays on the top bunk of the double deck, staring at the ceiling, as he contemplates his life choices. you're still giggling in the bunk below him. "oh, shut up," he grumbles, though there's a hint of a fond grin on his face. maybe tomorrow night, he thinks, he'll recommend a horror movie. that way, you might ignore all the other beds and crawl into his.
soonyoung & miscommunication too much communication.
it's a little too hard to keep up with the string of confessions bursting out of soonyoung. the whiplash is dizzying, how he's going from talking about the way he felt when he first saw you, the crush that's been festering for weeks, the dream he had of you last night— and, oh, now he's on his knees. "soonyoung, please get up," you urge, horrified, but he stays on the ground. "isn't honesty the best policy?" he asks, eyes blown wide with overwhelming sincerity as he looks up at you. "c'mon, give me a shot! please, please, please!"
wonwoo & 'academic' rivals (except you're both teachers).
there's no way that you're the top class of the month. wonwoo has half a mind to march up to the principal's office and demand a recount. his eyes narrow in response to your smug smile— one that he'll wipe off your face if his life depends on it. "don't get cocky," he warns you below his breath. in his mind, he's already envisioning how he and his students can knock you off the leader board. this was not going to stand. "i'll get you next time," he says, and it sounds more like a threat than a challenge.
jihoon & fake dating everyone is convinced we're not dating.
this will definitely prove it, jihoon thinks to himself as he leans in to kiss you in lieu of a greeting. you let out a surprised hum against his lips but you melt right against him, your hand resting over his chest. for a moment, a stunned sort of silence befalls the room. jihoon pulls away with a dazed, almost smug sort of grin, only for his smile to falter when soonyoung loudly says, "wow. you guys are, like, dedicated to this bit, huh?" jihoon is convinced he's going to throw himself out of a window if this keeps happening.
seokmin & mean guy who's only nice to you nice guy who's only mean to you.
seokmin doesn't know how to explain it, but you bring out the worst in him. everything about your existence seems to just vex him, from your pretty smile to your bright laugh. he's generous in doling out grins and pulling out the charm for everyone else; when you're around, though, it takes a tremendous amount of effort to be normal. you're feet away from him, interacting with someone else, and it's grinds on his nerves. in the corner of his eye, he sees you giggle; something crawls underneath his skin. so annoying, he thinks. laughing with someone that isn't me.
mingyu & cuddling for warmth too warm to cuddle.
it's been four days, twelve hours, and twenty-six minutes since mingyu last cuddled with you. the two of you are sweating right into your sheets, the infertile summer heat made doubly unbearable with the fact the air conditioner is busted. "can't we just cuddle for a little bit?" mingyu begs, his sleeveless shirt clinging to his skin with every small move. he shifts on the bed to glance at you, a pout firmly set on his handsome face. "i'll run us both an ice bath afterwards, i swear. but i'll die if i don't get to hold you tonight, love."
minghao & fake amnesia.
"except for the amnesia?!" "i know! i know!" minghao screeches, uncharacteristically panicked as he meets junhui's disbelieving gaze. "i— i panicked okay?! it's not my best work!" minghao hadn't known what to say, really. it wasn't everyday that you ran into the one who got away while grocery shopping. he'll be damned if he's dragged right back down under, so he had let out a little white lie of having memory loss. "god," minghao groans, running a hand over his face in frustration. "i need to start googling what webmd has to say about amnesia…"
seungkwan & dating your best friend's enemy's sibling.
this is seungkwan's favorite place in the world: the railing of your balcony, waiting for you to look his way. it might be easier to date if your brother didn't hate his guts, but seungkwan's more than willing to make a couple of concessions. you've made a romantic out of him, it seems, because now he can only think of shakespeare whenever you come to sneak him into you room. the sight of you puts an easy, almost giddy grin on his face. "my lady," he coos, quoting romeo and juliet because he knows it will make you laugh. "my love."
vernon & love hate at first sight.
vernon has never been a believer in reincarnation. that is, until he met you. he's convinced the two of you have met in some past life— how else to explain the immediate hatred he has for you, the moment he laid his eyes on you? it's an undeniable, searing kind of loathing, almost laughable in its intensity. no person should be allowed to feel this passionately about someone. and yet here he is, his typically cool demeanor cracking like ice in the face of your fire. you have him melting for you, in more ways than one.
chan & true love's hate's kiss.
"let's make this quick," chan snipes, even though he's in no position to be making demands when he's the one calling in a favor. you shoot him a withering glare but you comply all the same, because he promised he'd owe you absolutely anything after this. a stupid true hate's kiss. chan squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the worst smooch in the world— only to be jolted by the soft press of your mouth against his. you taste… sweet. huh. when you pull back, your part of the deal fulfilled, chan instinctively leans forward, chasing your lips.
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archangeldyke-all · 3 days ago
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imagine Jinx survives and just pops up on readers's doorstep, and she's like, "...yay! I uhm..survived!" And sevika and reader are dumbfounded
ok lemme make up for that sad shit i wrote earlier today
also fuck it i'm gonna make it so isha's alive too don't ask me how
men and minors dni
nice as it is to live in a healing zaun, your new life comes with a few anxieties you never had to experience in the undercity.
the pressure of the entire city's infrastructure being overseen by just sevika is crushing. as much as the city is flourishing under her say-so, there are nights where you have hold her through her anxiety attacks.
there's the ever looming threat of an attempt on her life. she's made a lot of powerful rich enemies, and there have already been a few attempts.
and then there's just the grief. sometimes it paralyzes her, and you worry one day you won't be there to talk her out of the dark place she gets lost in.
so when you get home from the markets to the sounds of your wife sobbing in the living room, you picture the worst.
the eggs splatter to the kitchen floor as you drop your grocery bags to sprint through the house, dread coursing through your veins.
"sevika!? sevika, what's going on!?" you ask, horrified when you enter the living room. she's on her knees near the front door, her back shivering as she sobs. she's clutching something close to her chest and shuddering. "what is it!? sev, what's happening?!" you grab her shoulder and give her a tug, and your heart stops.
two matching heads of blue hair, one natural, one dyed, lift up from sevika's arms to look at you. "hey, sweetcheeks." jinx greets with a watery smile.
you collapse to your knees, sobbing and crawling forward to reach your family. "i-is this a dream?" you ask, grabbing isha's face in your hands. the girl smiles, in your grip and reaches up to grab your hands. sevika's arm wraps around your back.
"we... had to get away for a while. figure some things out. i'm sorry i didn't tell you-- i thought i'd have time to say goodbye during the war." jinx says. you reach one hand out to cup her face, desprately trying to soak up the sight of her.
her eyes are still pink, but the bags beneath them have lessened. her once shaved hair is now tickling her shoulders, and for the first time since you've known her, she's a little too big for the pants she's wearing.
and isha. isha's gold eyes shimmer just the same as they always have, and though she's taller and older, she's still got the same sweet, innocent smile she always had.
"this is real?" you ask, reaching out to tap sevika's arms.
"i don't know." she admits.
jinx chuckles. "always drama with these two, eh?" she asks. isha giggles and wipes up her snot with a nod.
missed you, ms. baby. she signs.
you pass out.
when you wake up, your heart sinks, and tears well up in your eyes.
a dream.
it was a fucking dream.
you should've known better. you wonder how many fucking years are gonna pass before you stop having these horrible, gut wrenching dreams.
"sweetcheeks? you awake? you hit your head pretty hard there-- can't have you dying right when we got reunited."
you gasp and snap up in bed, blinking owlishly at jinx. she chuckles and waves at you from her perch at the foot of the bed. something stirs beside you and you snap to your side, tears welling in your eyes when you find isha sleeping beside your pillow.
"it's real?" you ask. jinx giggles and nods, crawling forward slowly to wrap her arms around you. you sob in her arms and she laughs. "where the fuck is sevika?"
"would you believe me if i said she passed out too?" she asks. you pull away to gawk at her, and jinx sputters a laugh. "kidding! she's making up the guest room for us."
"not the fuckin' guest room anymore. you two are never leaving again, do you understand?" you ask, clutching jinx's face in your hands. she chuckles.
"alright."
"i'm not kidding jinx. you do that shit to me again, and i don't care if you're actually dead, i will raise you from the dead just to kick your fucking ass."
jinx cackles. "alright!"
"oh my god, i love you so fucking much." you sob, wrapping her back up in your arms. "i'll fucking kill you if you ever do that again i love you so much."
"alright, alright, janna, you're worse than sevika."
"she already gave you this talk?"
"when you were knocked out, yeah." she chuckles.
you huff and kiss her head. tears soaking her hair as you clutch her to your chest with one arm, the other reaching out to hold isha's ankle. "did you... sort all your shit out?" you ask.
jinx nods against you. "most of it. will you help me... stay on track?" she asks. you nod against her.
"there's nothing else i'd rather do in the world."
despite the fact that she's made up the guest room, none of you even attempt to pretend like the girls will be sleeping anywhere but in your arms tonight.
that's to say, the girls sleep. you and sevika stay wide awake, gawking down at them, memorizing their faces.
"they're really... here?" sevika whispers, tracing a finger down the bridge of isha's nose. the girl snorts in her sleep. you chuckle.
"yeah." you say, tears in your eyes. "they're here."
"i don't think i'm gonna ever stop crying." sevika says.
you giggle. "yeah, me neither."
"i love you so much." she whispers.
"janna, sevika. i love you too."
taglist!
@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner
@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther
@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart
@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette
@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp
@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner
@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke
@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed
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nadvs · 2 days ago
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the act of unravelling (part three)
pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader
rating mature 18+
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summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.
tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.
< prev
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Being in Rafe’s truck again is like being thrown back into a bad dream you can’t wake up from. You remember every detail from that night, the smell of bleach, the ache in your bones.
He parked by the edge of the country club lot, and as he settles in his seat and shuts the door, he wraps both of you in privacy behind his tinted windows.
“What is it?” you ask, your voice cutting through the tension. Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. He seems nervous, a contradiction to the smugness you’ve gotten used to.
“You were right,” he admits. “Cops aren’t even sniffing around yet and people think it was me.”
You meet his eyes, the blue hue bright and striking. The night it happened, you’d only seen him through the dark. Now, in the daylight, he almost looks innocent. But then you remember the loudness of the gun and how angry he looked when he fired it.
“What happened?” you ask.
“Last night,” he begins, “a few of us were hanging out and people were talking about how something might’ve happened to him. This guy had his name in my mouth… said some shit about how they should probably ask me.”
You nod slowly, taking his words in. You expected as much. As someone who openly hated Porter, Rafe’s likely at the top of everyone’s list of suspects.
“What’d you do?” you say.
“I swung at him.”
You exhale defeatedly, looking up at the ceiling of his car. He’s such a loose cannon that for the first time since that night, you worry that he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut.
“Damn it, Rafe,” you complain. “And you were giving me shit for being obvious?”
His temper flares like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline.
“I’m not gonna sit there and let some asshole say that shit about me,” he mutters. “This is why we need to have our story straight, alright? If you even think about ratting me out, you’ll regret it.”
You tense up. So, this is why he so desperately needed to talk to you. You can’t believe you thought you could find any comfort in him.
“You don’t need to threaten me,” you say sharply. Rafe is taken aback by the confusion on your face. You look like you’d never even considered selling him out. But maybe you’re just a great liar.
“We said we’re in this together,” you continue. “Neither of us leaves the other, no matter how messy it gets. That’s the whole point of being each other’s alibis.”
Rafe sucks his teeth. You realize just how on edge he is about this. He was so comfortable the night it happened. Almost careless. Irritated at how anxious you were. Now, it’s like he’s spiraling.
“I won’t let this ruin my life,” Rafe mumbles. He huffs an unamused chuckle, looking out of the driver’s side window. “I’m not going to jail. I’m not…”
He trails into silence. You stare at his profile. The coldness you’ve always seen in him has been shadowed by a deep paranoia.
“I’m freaked out, too,” you admit. He looks at you again. “But this is only going to work if we trust each other. We need to stick to our story so well that even we start to believe it.”
He tilts his head, looking at you with skepticism, a wrinkle between his brows.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about screwing me over, Pogue,” he says. “You could say I did it and scared you into staying quiet.”
“Are you that paranoid?” you ask. “I won’t go behind your back. I promise. Even if it’s just a cover-up, we need to act like we’re friends now.”
Rafe gives you a once-over, the hardness in his face slowly fading.
“And don’t call me that,” you say. “You know my name.”
He breathes a real chuckle this time. Despite your better judgement, your heart flutters that you’ve earned a smile from him.
“You’ll take it to the grave?” he murmurs.
“I will. You, too?”
“Yeah,” he says. He studies you again, realizing that you don’t have a guilty conscience at all. “You really don’t regret it.”
“No,” you state. The agony of reliving what Porter did to you hurts more than any sort of remorse you feel for taking his life.
Rafe is surprised to hear you don’t wish you could take what you did back. You’re as cold-blooded as he is. You might be the only person who comes close to understanding what it’s like being controlled by anger this intense.
“I just hate how I can’t stop thinking about if we left any evidence,” you say.
“Yeah.” He settles back, adjusting in his seat with ease, the tension between you dissipating. “We were rushed.”
You nod as you chew on your lip.
“At least nobody saw us,” you say. “And if the cops check our phones, they won’t find anything.”
“Good thinking to turn them off.”
Your face creases in surprise.
“What?” he says.
“Just throws me off when you’re not an asshole.”
He scoffs, his jaw tensing. But beneath the irritation, he wishes he could undo the way he’d spoken to you when you first got in the car.
It’s like his mind is speaking a different language to him when he feels any sort of shame. He usually tries to shut it up. When he looks at you again, he decides not to.
“I didn’t mean to… threaten you,” Rafe mumbles.
“Yeah, you did,” you say with a humorless laugh. “But I’m on your side here. Don’t forget that.”
You check your phone. You have plans to hang out with the guys after work and after what you put them through a few nights ago, you’d rather not leave them hanging again.
“I should go,” you say. “My friends are waiting on me.”
“Did you tell them the truth?”
“No,” you say. “This stays between you and me only. Trust me.”
Rafe stares at you, longer than he ever has before. It’s not anger in his face. Not worry, either. It’s something new. Vulnerability.
“I don’t trust anybody,” he says.
Your lips twitch into a frown. Even though this is a man who’s relentlessly teased you for your place in the classist system he seems to worship, your heart twinges in sympathy.
“Nobody?” you ask quietly.
He looks out the window again, tense and distant. He doesn’t say anything else.
“I have your back,” you reiterate to him. “To the grave, right?”
“Yeah,” he offers, not looking at you again. You exit his car, the confusing knot in your chest only tighter now.
·········
The police start knocking on doors a day later. When they come to yours, you do your best impression of a clueless nobody who just wants to help.
The lead on the case introduces himself as Detective Brading, settling in your living room like he’s been here before. He’s so confident that it’s intimidating. You can imagine Porter’s wealthy family are doing everything they can to find out what happened. The man staring at you is likely the best of the best.
You’ve rehearsed your story so many times that it feels natural. The two men nod along as you lie to them about how you’d fallen asleep in the bedroom, how you’d woken up to him and Rafe arguing, how you convinced Rafe to leave with you.
Your parents stand close by, arms crossed. This is the most they’ve heard you speak in a long time. They hardly ever ask you anything about your life, so it feels odd to have their attention.
“We think you two might have been the last people to see him before he went missing,” Brading tells you. “Porter didn’t say anything about going anywhere?”
“No,” you answer. “Rafe and I left pretty quickly.”
The detective looks up at your parents with raised brows, asking them to give you a moment. When they leave, he leans a little closer.
“We know he dealt drugs,” he murmurs. “And we know you bought from him. We’re not interested in getting anyone in trouble for that. We just want to know what happened to Porter. Is there anything you didn’t mention about that night in front of your parents? Be honest.”
“I fell asleep because I smoked too much pot,” you say quietly, looking back through the doorway your parents left through. It’s taking everything in you not to cry as you think about why you really lost consciousness in that room. “But I only ever bought that from him. He offered other things. Like cocaine. It’s why he and Rafe argued.”
It’s what you agreed on saying, but it still feels like you’re selling Rafe out. It’d be suspicious if you didn’t tell them this version of the truth, though.
The detective nods, clearly having been told this already. Your chest twists in unease as you think about Rafe’s name in everyone’s mouth, leading the cops to him. And possibly to you.
“How close are you to Rafe?”
“We've been talking more since I started my job at the country club,” you say. “We started hanging out a little bit ago. We’re friends.”
“Do you think he would’ve done anything to Porter?” Brading asks.
You meet his eyes, swallowing hard.
“No,” you say resolutely. “I don’t.”
·········
A man is missing and possibly, at this point, presumed dead. But that doesn’t stop Kooks from wanting to party.
You’re in the passenger seat as JJ drives to the north side of the island while John B and Pope talk in the back. You’re gazing out the window, watching the landscape go from dilapidated front yards to gated communities.
You’re heading to a party that you heard about from one of Porter’s friends and the way the police questioned you earlier today is spinning in your head.
“You good?” JJ asks.
You look over at your friend, flattening your lips together. You can never tell the whole truth, but you can offer bits and pieces.
“The cops told me they think I’m the last person who saw Porter before he disappeared,” you say. You can’t bring yourself to tell them the version of the story that includes Rafe yet. They’d never believe you. They’d judge you. “It’s kind of scary to think about.”
“My money’s on that he went on a bender,” JJ says. “Sampled his own product. Maybe even too much of it.”
“You think he overdosed?” you ask.
“More like Rafe offed him,” Pope chimes in.
“Is that what people are saying?” you ask, blood cold, turning back to look at him.
“It’s what I’m saying,” he answers. “The guy’s unhinged.”
You want to defend Rafe. To say he wouldn’t go that far. But it’d be suspicious. And a complete lie.
“It’s a small island,” John B says. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out what happened.”
You hope that’s not true.
·········
You make it to the house, reminding yourself over and over that you have to live as if you believe your own lie. You want to erase that night from your memory. Erase what Porter did to you.
You chug the first drink you can get your hands on. Your friends rib you for how quickly you down it. You blame it on a rough day at work.
Soon after, you’re at the keg, not even close to buzzed yet, but desperately needing to be. Discussing Porter with the cops today, pretending like he was just a dealer you had a few short conversations with, hearing that his family is concerned for his wellbeing made your pulse spike.
Does his family know what a monster he is?
You have to correct yourself.
Was.
“Slow down,” you hear.
Rafe towers over you, his eyes on your cup.
“What?” you shout over the music and conversations surrounding you.
“You’re on your second drink already.”
You look over your shoulder to make sure your friends don’t see you talking with him.
“I don’t even feel anything,” you reply sharply.
It’s a half-truth. Your sadness and anger are weighing heavy on your soul. That vile man took away your power, but you took it back, so you hate that you’re still so rattled by what he did. You just want peace.
“And why are you keeping tabs on me?” you ask.
Rafe stares at you, his lips just slightly parted. He can lie and say he wants to make sure you’re not setting yourself up to get hammered and potentially admit to someone what you did.
But even he’s not that selfish right now. The truth is he can’t stop thinking about you. And he doesn’t like seeing that look on your face, sad and absentminded.
He knows you hate him. He wishes he could hate you back.
“I need to be sure you’re not a liability,” he lies. “And people think we’re friends now, don’t they?”
You look over your shoulder again, anxious the guys will see you. You need privacy if you’re going to continue this conversation.
“Come on,” you say, dipping your hand in his, dragging him through the crowd. His palm is warm and soft and you don’t know what you were expecting, but the way Rafe feels is the opposite of it.
You open the first door you see, stepping into a narrow closet. You shut the door and switch on a light and suddenly he’s standing right over you, all breadth and intimidation.
Your heart races from the way you’d just touched him, from the way he’s just about pressed up against you right now. Something must be short-circuiting in your brain, because the fear you used to hold for him is entirely gone.
The attraction you’ve always felt is overpowering now. You can’t make sense of your own emotions.
“I haven’t told my friends our story,” you confess.
“What?” Rafe snips, his tone low.
“I can’t handle telling them right now, okay?” you say. You cross your arms. “I just said I was with a guy. Telling them that guy was you is… They’ll be so disappointed in me.”
“Disappointed,” he repeats with a scoff.
“Rafe, think back to every encounter you’ve had with us. All you’ve ever done is insult us. I don’t even want to think about how hurt they’ll be to hear I’m friends with you.”
“Who gives a fuck?” he mutters. “We need to make sure our alibi is solid. If the cops find out your friends don’t know we–”
“I’d tell the truth,” you say. “That I was worried about what they’d think.”
“I can’t believe you.” The thought of you being concerned about someone else’s opinion is ridiculous. “Why do you care so much?”
“They’re the only family I have,” you admit. It comes out before you even realize it. You look down, sighing. “You don’t get it. You’re like… an enemy to us. They know how shitty you treat me when I’m at work. Telling them–“
“How the hell do I treat you shitty?” he interrupts.
“I know that those tips are all a degrading show of how you’re so much richer and better than me,” you say with a roll of your eyes.
“It’s not like that.”
“What’s it like, then? Charity?”
Rafe’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring. Charity isn’t the right word. He hides behind a forced ego, but he’s always wanted you. And through excessive tips and constant teasing, at least he can talk to you without risking the chance of you rejecting him.
You have him all wrong. He doesn’t think he’s better than you. He’s afraid you’re better than him.
“I’ll tell my friends, okay?” you say when he doesn’t speak. “But I talked to the cops today and they seemed convinced. We’ll be fine.”
“They talked to me, too. I can tell they think it was me.” There’s an almost imperceptible tremble in Rafe's voice. “Everyone thinks it was me.”
“Even your friends?”
“Yeah,” he says. If he can even call them friends. Hearing you call yours family made his jealousy flare. Envy is all Rafe ever feels. Like he’s missing the one thing that deems everyone else loveable.
But he’s hanging on how you said they’re your only family. He doesn’t have a family, either. Not really. Not one that cares about him. Maybe you understand him more than he thought.
“Well…” You clear your throat. “They can believe what they want. You can trust me that I won’t ever tell anyone what really happened.”
“Why?” he finally asks. “Why not just snitch on me, Pogue?”
“Because that night, I told you to do it and you did. The world is a better place without him in it. You did me a favor.” You uncross your arms. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”
Rafe clears his throat, giving in, remembering how you’d saved his life and offering a quiet sorry before he says your name.
It’s the gentlest you’ve ever seen him. It’s a shock to your system. You search his blue eyes in the dim of the closet as if you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to make a snide joke.
But he doesn’t. He just stares at you, his breaths shallow, and you rethink everything you thought you knew about him.
He’s violent and aggressive and condescending. But you don’t see that right now. You see a man who doesn’t seem to be able to believe that someone would want to protect him. Is that who he is behind all the bravado?
The world continues to turn on the other side of the door, music blasting, bass rattling, but time has stopped between you. He’s looking at you through low lids. Like he wants you.
You shouldn’t. Shit is already complicated enough. But what’s one more tangle in the string tying you together?
Your fingers are at the collar of his button-up, pulling him towards you, lips meeting with abandon.
Rafe kisses you back immediately, hungrily leaning into you, cupping your face. His heart is racing. He doesn’t know how or why this is happening, but he wants it so bad that it hurts.
Your mouths part and finally, you taste him against your tongue. It feels so right, like you were always meant to do this and were both too stubborn to.
His hands press tighter against your jaw. Fear floods you. You’re back in that bedroom. You pull back.
“Not so hard,” you say.
“Okay,” he whispers, his grip loosening. He stays hovering over you, nose nudging yours. “Just… please…”
You nod, tilting your head to kiss him again, his hunger for you palpable. You’re with Rafe again, not in that bedroom, but here with a man you want who listens to your wishes.
Your head is swimming with bliss as he kisses you, smelling like cologne and desire, every piece of you wanting him. Then, his hands drift down over the curves of your hips, pulling you flush against him.
And it’s too much. You’re back there again. Begging for it to stop.
“No,” you snap, both hands roughly pushing his chest.
Rafe hits the shelves behind him, his head radiating in pain from how hard he smacked against the wood.
“What the fuck?” he mutters. He was just living in a dream. Why the hell are you pulling him out of it?
“No,” you repeat breathlessly. “You can’t touch me like that.”
“Okay,” he groans. “I won’t. Jesus.”
He clutches the back of his head, wincing.
“I’m sorry,” you say, your throat raw. “I didn’t mean to push you that hard.”
“Why’d you even kiss me?” he says. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” you repeat. You step towards him, trying to meet his eyes. “You can’t… I need you to ask before you touch me like that.”
His lips are glossy from the kiss, his face pinched in pain. You take a risk, gently placing your hands on his cheeks.
Rafe should be angry at you. But goddamn it, your touch feels so good that he melts. His gaze is heavy on yours, both of you breathing deeply, coming down from the sudden outburst.
“I didn’t mean to,” you repeat softly. “Just don’t take me by surprise. I can’t handle it.”
Rafe searches your face, silently asking for an explanation.
You shake your head, not having it in you to answer right now. Your goal tonight was to forget. Not relive. You pull him closer, and thankfully, he lets you.
Your lips are tender after you part, having lost count of how long you’ve been kissing.
Things just got so much more complicated. But you wouldn’t take it back. Not for a second. Nothing else makes sense right now, but having Rafe the way you always secretly wanted him is the one thing that does.
“Don’t fuck me over,” he says, a note of cynicism in his tone as his forehead brushes against yours. “No matter what happens, don’t fuck me over.”
“I won’t,” you promise.
·········
The next morning, you’re walking through the club hall towards the golf course to start your shift. You still can’t get the way Rafe’s mouth felt against yours out of your mind.
He kissed you like he’s been waiting to kiss you for ages. Like he felt lucky that he got to.
You’re about to step through the glass doors leading outside, but the sound of your name makes ice go through your veins. You know that gravelly voice.
You turn to see Detective Brading, his stare intimidating.
“You have a minute to talk?” he says.
You can tell by his tone that it isn’t a question.
to be continued
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whatiswrongwithpeople · 2 days ago
Text
Unspoken Understandings
part 2 to “Shattered Silence” (Jayce Talis x reader)
Part 1
Summary: After that fateful night in the lab both ,Jayce and you, have been unsure how to address the sudden shift in your dynamic. However, sometimes all it takes is a certain yordle to force Jayce to take a break from his work and leave the lab.
Warnings: none, no spoilers for s2, no canon plot, a good amount of domestic fluff
Notes: I am really REALLY surprised about how much love “Shattered Silence” has received and hope that you enjoy this follow up just as much. <3 Once again , this has been written in my notes app, I hope I didn’t miss any mistakes.
Tags🏷️ @a-queen-blr @anxious-doodler @brabuscoffwe
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The days after the break-in were a blur of frantic packing and moving. You had to find a new place fast—nothing too fancy, just something safe, something that could hold your things and the remaining bits of your research. But the weight of it all pressed down on you, your muscles aching from days spent running between your old and new apartment. You didn’t have the luxury of time to process what had happened the night you stormed into the lab, or even think much about him.
But the nights…
The nights were when you couldn’t stop thinking about how, despite everything, Jayce had held you. How, for a brief moment, you had leaned into him without fear of rejection. You’d allowed yourself to feel vulnerable, and he hadn’t pushed you away.
Now, you found yourself trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest every time you thought about him, but the silence between you both felt suffocating.
Meanwhile, Jayce had buried himself in his work. The breakthrough he’d been chasing for months was nearly within reach, and that goal, that obsession, kept him up at night. But even as his mind raced with equations and possibilities, something nagged at him—a thought that he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.
It had started that night when you had collapsed into his arms, your trembling form clinging onto him like a lifeline. The way your body had felt in his embrace, how you had allowed him to hold and comfort you… something about it just felt right. And the days since? It was almost like he couldn't think straight without you. Your presence had become something he couldn’t quite get out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, your face would appear—raw, vulnerable, but somehow more real than anything else in his life.
But what exactly was that thing between you? Was it something real, or just the aftershock of an unexpected and stressful situation? Jayce couldn’t even bring himself to ask.
---
It was late when Heimerdinger found him pacing in the lab, his mind so tangled in equations that the pieces didn’t seem to fit anymore.
“You’re working too hard, Jayce.” Heimerdinger’s voice was calm, but there was a quiet insistence behind it. He hadn’t seen the young inventor so distracted in what felt like ages.
Jayce, who had been scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, didn’t even look up. “I’m close to figuring this out. I just need a few more adjustments,” he said, but his voice lacked the usual tone of conviction.
Heimerdinger tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying the younger man. It didn’t take long for him to figure out the nature of the inventor’s problems. “You were always quick to tell me how distracting it was when you were around her. How you could hardly think clearly when she was near.” Heimerdinger spoke , a nonchalant tone covering up the intention behind his statement.
Jayce froze, his pen hovering mid-air. He couldn’t remember ever having said that, but since the incident the times of feeling annoyed by you felt so far away. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. That really had been how he’d felt around you, hadn’t it? You had always found a way of breaking through his concentration, making him second-guess his thoughts and decisions.
But now? He didn’t feel distracted anymore. The thought of you didn’t pull him away from his work—it was more like you were... quieting the noise in his mind. Every time he thought about you, his thoughts slowed, calmed. The gears in his brain didn’t spin at a hundred miles per hour anymore. They… rested.
Sighing, Jayce met Heimerdinger’s knowing gaze. "It’s not the same,” he said, his voice quieter now, unsure. “It’s... different.”
Heimerdinger gave him a pointed look, crossing his arms behind his back as he looked up at the young man. “You’ve been working non-stop for days, Jayce. Sometimes the best breakthroughs come when we step away from the work for a little while. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up."
Jayce opened his mouth to argue, but Heimerdinger was already walking toward the door. “I’m forcing you out of here. Take a break. Go see her,” he said, an almost cheerful tone in his voice. And with that, he was gone.
Jayce sat in stunned silence for a moment, the yordle’s words hanging in the air. Go see her? If he was honest to himself, he hadn’t even thought about it. A part of his mind harbouring a feeling of anxiousness regarding the inevitable confrontation. But something in Heimerdinger’s voice made him hesitate. It was as if the older man had seen through all the layers of self-doubt Jayce had buried himself under.
With the scrape of his chair he stood up. He needed to get out of the lab. He needed to breathe. He needed to see you.
---
It wasn’t hard to find your new place. Jayce had always been able to track down anything and anyone, with ease—Piltover wasn’t exactly a large city after all.
But as he stood outside your new apartment, his stomach churned. The weight of everything he had avoided saying hung over him like a dark storm cloud. He had no idea how this would play out—what could he even say? That he hadn’t been able to think straight since the night you’d come to him? That he’d wanted to be there for you, but had no clue how to navigate what had happened between you both?
But before he could completely lose his nerve, the door to the apartment opened, and you appeared.
You looked… tired. Your hair was pulled back in a messy up-do, and your shirt was slightly wrinkled, but there was something comforting about the chaos surrounding you. Not wanting to stare , his golden eyes quickly drifting to the space behind you. It was clearly your place now, your sanctuary, but it was still a work in progress.
You saw him before he could even open his mouth to say anything, and a flicker of surprise crossed your face. “Jayce? What are you—”
“I—uh, I came to check on you,” he said, running a hand through his hair, suddenly awkward. His nervous gaze switching back and forth between you and the wood on your door. “See how you’re doing… with the new place and everything.”
You raised an eyebrow but stepped aside, allowing him to enter. “Well,” you said with a tired half-smile, “it’s been a lot of work. Still don’t know where half my things are.”
Jayce chuckled as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His mind reeling at how your presence suddenly made him feel less anxious, like he didn’t have to carry his burdens anymore . Not here, not now.
You motioned toward a pile of boxes in the corner of the living room, your smile sheepish, almost apologetic. “You wouldn’t happen to be good at putting together furniture, would you?”
Without a second thought, Jayce was moving toward the pile, rolling up his sleeves with a quiet determination. “I can manage,” he said with a grin, glancing back at you. “But only if you promise not to laugh at my attempts.”
You smirked, feeling a flicker of warmth in your chest. “No promises,” you teased, but there was a lightness in your voice now where tiredness had been before.
For the next few hours, the two of you worked side by side, not really talking, but filling the space between you with easy silence. There was something almost intimate in the simplicity of it—a shared task, each moment feeling like it stitched something new into the fabric of your newfound connection. The screech of a screwdriver, the soft clink of metal against wood, and the occasional, shared chuckle when one of you fumbled—it was like you were building something together, but not just the furniture. It was this. Whatever it was that had started to grow between you.
You worked in rhythm, so comfortable with him that it didn’t even feel strange. You caught yourself looking up at him a few times, watching the way he moved, how the muscles in his arms flexed when assembling the pieces and silently admiring the way the light caught the lines of his face. Jayce wasn’t just the scientist, the bold, sometimes aloof figure you'd known—here, in this space, he felt… real. Vulnerable, even. The arrogant mask you had become so accustomed to had slipped away, leaving only the person beneath. And for the first time, you saw him as someone who was just as human as you.
When the last piece of furniture was assembled, both of you collapsed onto the couch. The apartment was still a mess, but somehow, it felt more like home now. After hours of unpacking, moving boxes, and trying to make sense of the chaos, you and Jayce had both reached a kind of quiet, shared exhaustion. There was something about the way the late afternoon light filtered through the windows—golden and warm—that made everything feel a little less overwhelming.
Jayce was beside you on the couch, leaning back against the cushions with his sleeves still rolled up, hair unkempt and his face still a little flushed from the work. Normally, by now you’d be bickering with each other, exchanging sarcastic remarks til one of you would have enough and storm out of the room. But ever since your distraught form had stormed into his lab, that usual dynamic was missing. The crackling back-and-forth had faded into something quieter, something more... honest.
“So, this is it, huh?” you said, glancing around the room. It was a mix of completed and incomplete, a snapshot of a new beginning. “Still a long way to go, but... it’s getting there.”
Jayce surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the boxes and the half-finished furniture scattered around. “It’s... definitely not what I expected,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile. “You still got a ton of stuff for someone who has been robbed.” You laughed lightly, but it wasn’t a tense laugh like it would have been just a few days ago. It was more... genuine.
The silence stretched a little longer, and you found yourself thinking about how easily you used to hide behind the jabs and insults. You had both spent so much time pretending—pretending that you couldn’t stand each other, pretending like there was nothing more beneath the surface. But nevertheless, despite years of constant back and forth, Jayce had been the one your heart had led you to when your mind was in a state of absolute panic.
“You know, I’ve spent a lot of time pretending,” you said softly, looking at him from the corner of your eye. “Pretending like we couldn’t get along, pretending like I didn’t... care.”
Jayce’s eyes flicked over to you, something unreadable in his gaze. For a moment, he didn’t respond, allowing the truth to settle between you.
“I think I was pretending, too,” he said finally, his voice low and honest. “Pretending I didn’t want... this.” He gestured loosely between you two, his hand hovering in the air, as if the words were more difficult to articulate than the feelings behind them.
There it was. That truth you had both danced around for so long. And now, it didn’t feel awkward. It felt like a breath you both had been holding ever since Jayce had comforted you that fateful night, waiting for the right moment to exhale.
You turned toward him, your body instinctively moving closer. You didn’t have to think about it. The space between you was just too small now, too important to leave empty. As if by reflex, your hand reached out, softly brushing his arm, letting your fingers rest gently against his. The touch was tentative at first but you felt him respond instantly—his hand turning slightly, his fingers seeking yours, meeting you halfway.
It was subtle, a small connection that sent a rush of warmth through you. Neither of you said anything. The words didn’t feel necessary anymore. Jayce shifted a little, his knee brushing against yours, his hand gently drawing you closer. He wasn’t in a rush. You weren’t either. But as the space between you closed even more, something shifted, and you both knew the moment was right.
Jayce’s thumb traced along the back of your hand, his touch light but deliberate. Slowly, he turned toward you, his body leaning in, and you could feel his breath on your lips before his mouth even touched yours. It wasn’t a desperate move, but one full of quiet intent, like this was something that had been building between you for far too long.
His lips met yours gently at first—just a soft brush, testing, as though waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Neither of you did. The kiss deepened, slowly, naturally. His hand moved to your jaw, tilting your head slightly as his other hand slid around your waist, his electric touch finding its way underneath your shirt, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours felt so right, so easy, just like it had back in the lab when he had shielded you from your troubles, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You melted into him. There was no rush, no hesitation now. Just the soft pressure of his lips on yours, the tender way his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if memorizing the feel of of your skin underneath his fingertips.
When you pulled back, there was no immediate rush to fill the space with words. The air between you felt charged, but in a quiet, intimate way. You both breathed deeply, your lips tingling from the kiss, your pulse still racing a marathon in your chest.
Jayce’s hand lingered on your waist, his thumb absently tracing circles on your skin. “Guess we don’t have to pretend to not like each other anymore,” he murmured, his voice hushed, almost unsure, like the weight of everything was finally settling in. You shook your head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as your hand found his again. “No. I guess not.”
Jayce leaned back into the couch, his body angled closer to yours now. His eyes twinkled with that familiar teasing glint, but there was something new in the way he looked at you. Something lighter. “So, dinner? I think I’ve earned it.”
You chuckled, your fingers still intertwined with his as you stood. “You’ve already helped me move half my furniture, Jayce. You’re definitely sticking around.”
He flashed you a relaxed grin, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied sigh. “Guess I don’t have a choice.”
Letting go of his hand, you turned toward the kitchen, starting to gather ingredients, and Jayce followed you, leaning in just enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Need any help?”
You glanced at him with a smile. “Unless you’ve got a Hextech gadget to chop vegetables, I’ve got it under control.”
Jayce chuckled and stepped back, settling in at the table as you started to prepare a meal. There was something comforting in his quiet presence, in the easy rhythm of the evening. You moved around each other effortlessly, the space between you filled with warmth rather than words.
Soon enough, you set the table and sat down together, the simple meal feeling more like a shared moment than just food. Jayce took a bite, then raised an eyebrow in approval. “I’m impressed. Didn’t expect you to be this good at it.”
You laughed, your fingers brushing his as you reached for your drink. “I’m full of surprises.” He smiled at that, his eyes lingering on your face , as if trying to capture the moment.
After dinner, you started to clear the table and do the dishes when Jayce moved to help. You smiled and gently took the dish towel from his hands. “I’ve got this,” you said softly. He gave you a mock pout in return. “I was just getting into it.” Looking up at him, you smiled fondly at his behaviour. “You’ve done enough for today.”
Jayce stepped closer, golden eyes soft as his hand reached out for the towel again. “I don’t mind,” he murmured, his warmth filling the tiny space of your kitchen and wrapping around you like a safety blanket.
“Thanks,” you whispered, cheeks burning with a soft blush as you suddenly felt the quiet comfort of his presence in a way that made everything else feel far away.
Jayce leaned in to brush a kiss against your forehead, light but sincere. “Anytime.”
And just like that, everything felt perfectly in place.
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rafedarling · 16 hours ago
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drew dealing with rustyns tantrums yk when toddler go through that phase 🥹
love this 👶🏻 love seeing tantrum baby vs drew dad
𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞
request: open
pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader
summary: new year’s eve is a night for celebrations, but for drew and you, it’s also a reminder of how challenging bedtime has become with your three-year-old son, rustyn.
warning(s): english is not my native language. toddler tantrums, perenting struggles, firm discipline (not hard or abusive)
au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy
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(love this gif)
New Year’s Eve always been a fun and filled with laughter, music, and the fairy lights strung around the living room. Rustyn, who had been riding a sugar high from earlier snacks and dancing with his parents, was now sprawled on the rug, building a block tower with Drew.
You glanced at the clock: 8:30 PM. Rustyn’s bedtime. It’s always been Rustyn bedtime since he was 1 and you never had a hard time putting him to bed until now
“Rustyn, baby,” you called gently, leaning forward. “It’s bedtime, sweetie.”
Rustyn didn’t even look up.
Drew tried, his tone still calm but a little firmer.
“Come on, bud. You know what time it is time to go to bed.”
Your son continued stacking blocks as if he hadn’t heard a word.
You sighed, standing and walking over to him.
“Do you want Mama or Dada to put you to bed tonight, honey?”
For a moment, Rustyn paused, considering. Drew added, “Mama’s asking you a question, bud. What’s it gonna be?”
Rustyn finally glanced up and answered with a defiant, “No.”
You glanced at Drew, your face falling slightly. Drew caught your look and immediately stood, scooping Rustyn up from the floor despite his protests.
“That’s not how this works, Rusty. It’s bedtime, no arguments,” Drew said, his voice firm but not unkind.
Rustyn immediately began to whine, squirming in Drew’s arms.
“No! no bedtime!”
Drew carried him to his room as you followed a few steps behind, your stomach already twisting at the familiar wails. The moment Drew closed the door to Rustyn’s room, the real tantrum began.
“No, no, no!” Rustyn screamed, his little fists pounding against Drew’s shoulder.
“I don’t want to sleep! I’m not tired!”
Drew sat down on the edge of Rustyn’s bed, holding him firmly but gently in his lap.
“Rustyn,” he said in a low, steady voice, “stop. I need you to calm down.”
Rustyn wailed louder, his little body trembling with frustration.
“No! wanna play!”
You lingered outside the door, listening as Drew handled the meltdown with his signature combination of patience and authority.
“Rusty,” Drew said again, this time softening his tone, “look at me.”
He gently cupped Rustyn’s face in his hands, guiding his tear-streaked eyes to meet his.
“I know you don’t want this fun night to end. I get it and I don’t want it to end either. But you know the rules. It’s bedtime, and your body needs rest.”
Rustyn sniffled but didn’t respond, still glaring at his dad with watery eyes.
“You’re upset,” Drew continued, “but screaming and hitting isn’t how we solve problems, is it?”
Rustyn shook his head slightly, his resolve beginning to crumble.
“Good,” Drew said, brushing a strand of hair out of Rustyn’s face.
“Now, let’s talk about this. Why don’t you want to go to bed?”
Rustyn hesitated before mumbling, “I want stay with Mama. No alone.”
Drew sighed, his features softening even more.
“You’re not alone, bud. Your room is right next to ours. Mama and I are always close by. But we need time to rest too, so we can keep having fun with you tomorrow.”
Rustyn whimpered, burying his face in Drew’s chest.
“But I’m not sleepy…”
“You’re not sleepy now,” Drew acknowledged, rubbing soothing circles on Rustyn’s back, “but if you stay up, you’ll be so tired tomorrow that you won’t want to play. Is that what you want?”
Rustyn shook his head vigorously.
“Okay, then. How about you lie down, and I’ll stay with you for a few minutes until you feel sleepy. Deal?”
Rustyn considered this before nodding slowly.
Drew glanced at you, standing in the doorway, and motioned for you to join them. You stepped inside, sitting beside Drew on the bed. Rustyn reached for you, and you took his small hand in yours.
“You know,” you said softly, “Mama doesn’t like bedtime fights either. It makes me sad to see you so upset, baby.”
Rustyn’s lip quivered. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
Your heart melted.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Just try to be a good boy for Dada, okay? He’s only trying to help you.”
Rustyn nodded, leaning against Drew as his eyelids began to droop. Drew laid him down gently, pulling the blankets up around him.
“Goodnight, buddy,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to Rustyn’s forehead.
“Night night, Dada. Night night, Mama,” Rustyn murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
As the two of you stepped out of the room and closed the door, you let out a deep breath.
“See?” Drew said with a small smile. “Easy.”
You gave him a look.
“Easy? He was screaming like we were torturing him five minutes ago!”
Drew chuckled, pulling you into his arms.
“Okay, maybe not easy. But he’s learning. He just needs consistency. And a little tough love.”
“You’re so good with him,” you admitted, resting your head on his chest. “I don’t know how you stay so calm.”
“It’s because I’ve got you,” Drew said, kissing the top of your head.
“We’re a team, and Rustyn’s lucky to have us.”
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mapiforpresident · 1 day ago
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It's Time to Let Things Go
Alexia x reader
~~~
The apartment feels heavier than usual, the silence wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. Alexia is sitting across from you at the dining table, her posture tense, her hands clasped in front of her. Her brow furrows slightly as she waits for you to speak. You’ve played this moment over and over in your head, but now, staring into her deep brown eyes, words fail you.
She breaks the silence first. “You said we needed to talk. What’s going on?”
You swallow hard, your throat dry. “I got an offer,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “From Bayern Munich. They want me next season.”
Alexia blinks, her expression unreadable at first. She leans back slightly, her eyes searching yours for something—maybe an explanation, maybe a reassurance. “That’s... that’s huge,” she says, but there’s no excitement in her voice, just quiet disbelief.
“It is,” you agree, trying to keep your voice steady. “And it’s not just about football. I think... I think I need a change. We need a change.”
Her jaw tightens, and the first crack in her armor appears. “What are you saying?” she asks, though it’s clear she already knows the answer.
You force yourself to keep going, even as your chest tightens painfully. “I’m saying that this—us—hasn’t been working for a while. And it’s not fair to either of us to keep pretending it is.”
Alexia’s breath hitches, and her hands fall to her lap. Her eyes glisten, but she blinks quickly, refusing to let the tears fall just yet. “You think leaving will fix everything?”
“It’s not about fixing things,” you say, your voice breaking despite your efforts to stay composed. “It’s about... letting go before we hurt each other more. You’re always busy, I’m always busy, and we barely even talk anymore, Alexia. When was the last time we had a real conversation? When was the last time we even spent a full day together?”
She doesn’t answer, her gaze dropping to the table. The silence between you is deafening.
“I love you,” you continue, your voice trembling now. “I’ll always love you. But this... this isn’t love anymore. Not the way it should be.”
Her head snaps up, and her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “So that’s it?” she asks, her voice raw. “Five years, and you just decide we’re done?”
“This isn’t just me deciding, Alexia,” you say, your own tears spilling over now. “You feel it too. You have to.”
She shakes her head, her hands trembling as she wipes at her eyes. “Of course I feel it. But I thought... I thought we could fix it. I thought we were stronger than this.”
Your heart shatters at her words, and you have to look away, unable to bear the pain etched on her face. “Maybe if we weren’t both so consumed by everything else,” you whisper. “But right now, we’re just... holding on to what we used to be. And it’s killing us both.”
Alexia stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. She paces the room, running a hand through her hair, her frustration and heartbreak palpable. “You’re just going to walk away,” she says, her voice cracking. “From me. From everything we built.”
“I’m not walking away,” you say, though the words feel hollow even to you. “I’m letting us go before we destroy each other.”
She stops pacing and turns to face you, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” she says, her voice fierce even through the anguish. “I would’ve fought for you. For us.”
You stand, your legs shaky beneath you, and cross the room to her. You reach out, but she steps back, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and it’s all you can manage.
For a moment, she just stares at you, her breathing ragged. Then, without another word, she turns and walks into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
You sink onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wrack your body. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. This is what’s best for both of you.
But as the hours drag on and the apartment remains eerily silent, you can’t help but wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.
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starrynightarchive · 3 days ago
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luffy saved sanji, nami and the entire crew in a way. everyone knows this. everyone talks about this. but what people don't talk about enough is this: luffy saved zoro too.
now here's the thing right. zoro might not have had any ongoing struggles that were keeping him up at night. no one might've harmed him physically or mentally for a long time. the last wound of his that never closed up right is kuina and that happened a decade ago. in many ways, he's fine. he is. is he?
the thing about zoro is that before luffy, he has been running on spite. on anger and determination and sheer fucking will. and i must say, spite is an excellent motivator. but it's also really fucking tiring. it's hard to make it stay because ultimately, you run out of fuel. your body was never made to house that much anger. fire burns bright, but it burns. and zoro has been burning for a long time.
this is how he keeps the fire going. this is how he stays spiteful, angry, hurt. he digs into the wound kuina left at nights he finds himself sagging under the weight of the responsibility he carries. he pushes his fingers into the flesh (you promised kuina) and twists (you told her you'll become the world's greatest swordsman) and he bleeds.
(you promised.)
enter: luffy.
I'm going to be the king of pirates, he had announced and zoro had felt a pang of longing because that was his dream. luffy wasn't carrying a life someone else couldn't live with him. he was not running on all things red and furious. he beams, bright and sunny and so incredibly real that zoro wants to avert his eyes and says, do you want to fight them with me or do you want to die here?
of course he joins his damn crew.
here's the thing right. luffy saved him not from his enemies, not from his own mind. he saves him like this: rubber arm wrapped around his waist and flinging him around. sheepish laughter that follows a shamelessly unapologetic sorry, zoro. he saves him like this: he lets him walk into the jaws of death when he challenges mihawk. he doesn't stop him. because he will never stand between him and his dream. because he is so certain he will get back up. because he is so certain of his strength, of his tenacity, of him.
the first thing zoro says after kuina defeats him for the last time is, kill me. because he has tried so hard and it still wasn't enough. it would be a honourable way to go- to die trying to achieve your dream. but after mihawk cuts him up, he doesn't say, kill me. he cries. he cries and he says, i will never lose again. is that okay with you, king of the pirates?
he makes an other vow, this time it's to a boy he barely knows. and he knows he will keep it, because he is waiting for him. he thought zoro would come back. and so he would.
luffy saved zoro by straightening the fingers that have been clenched into fists for a long time. he tells him he will achieve his dream. he tells him he's the best and he says it like it's just another fact, another truth of the universe. luffy saves zoro by showing him that it's so much more fun to chase something because you love it, see?
now, wado doesn't feel like chains weighing him down. it just feels like the comfort of an old friend. now, he burns brighter than ever but not with spite. his fire is warm, now, just like his captain. he has his nakama to protect. he has a love that waits for him outside of this dream that seems larger than life.
luffy saves zoro by holding his hand and dragging him out to the sea with that wild laugh of his, saying, look! isn't this so much better?
and it is. it is.
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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 2 days ago
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You know what I love?
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That little glimpse we get of the caring, funny, ironic, a little stressed by work and forgetful but overall happy Joel.
He was a man who made jokes, who laughed, who was happy to spend time with his daughter, he was a man with hobbies and passions, who did everything for his family, he was a hard-working, respectable, well-liked, honest man.
He was definitely a man who didn't realize he was attractive and didn't even care because he had other things to think about. But that Denise was eating him up with her eyes and with her all the other girls nearby.
And I could swear I saw Sarah teasing him when a neighbor knocked on their door every now and then, offering a pan of lasagna, some cookies, a cake. Officially to feed Sarah something real, not officially to try to impress Joel.
I could swear I saw him strumming with Sarah on the couch, singing her favorite songs, teaching her chords.
I could swear I saw him looking at his daughter's report card with a proud look on his face because she's so smart and one day she's going to go to some fancy college and he's going to bust his ass to pay for it.
I could swear I saw him roll his eyes and chuckle every time Tommy and Sarah teamed up to tease him.
I could swear I saw him overwhelmed by being a single father, rocking his daughter to sleep in the middle of the night, wondering how he got into this situation but determined to do the best he could for her.
I could swear I saw him embarrassed when her first period came, unsure of what to do and what to say, silently filling the hot water bottle and bringing it to her along with some chocolate.
I could swear I saw him arguing with her in the car because “that's music, not those boy bands you like.”
I could swear that he was protective but not overbearing, that he let Sarah make her mistakes and that he was always there to hold her hand when needed.
And that he was a man who knew how to take care of everything, that others called when something broke in their house and he always arrived with his toolbox.
I could swear he was a man who enjoyed drinking beers and watching football on the couch as much as he enjoyed taking Sarah on weekend trips and buying her cotton candy at fairs, or take her to the movies and buy a basket of popcorn to share.
I could swear that he wanted nothing more than to see his daughter grow up happy, graduate with honors, find a job and the right person for her, walk her down the aisle, become a grandfather and spoil his grandchildren beyond belief.
I could swear that he was a man who deserved a full, vibrant, satisfying life, who deserved to be loved and to grow old with someone.
I'm pretty sure he would have been an easy man to fall in love with.
And I'm sure he deserved every second of it and more.
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bloodlinesceo · 2 days ago
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Credit to gif owner.
A/N: That time of the semester & it inspired me to write this lol
Credit to @tsunami-of-tears for the amazing divider!
Pairing: Roman Reigns x Fem! Reader. Mentions & a bit of Tama Tonga x Fem! Reader.
Summary: School stress has been getting to you, but your amazing boyfriend & his twin cousins are there to pick you up & take you out to de-stress. However, more stress comes in when you have an encounter with the past.
Warnings ⚠️: 18+ Fluff, angst, swearing, stress ofc, mental breakdown, dirty talk, mentions of sex, fighting, past relationship, alcohol consumption, cheating. Past beef. The twins have no filter & Roman punishes them for it 😭Tama's the villain in this, sorry Tama girlies. But, I have something planned for you at the end of this mini-series.
Not proofread!
WC: 3.3k
Of course this is written for fictional purposes only & is based on their characters, it does not depict who they are in real life. Respect to them & their families.
Enjoy ☝🏽
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It was that time of the semester, you had everything thrown at you before finals season. Something was always due for each class every week, and that being all at once too. It wasn't just small assignments, but shitloads of them being worth so much, and it was exhausting you. You wish your profs would know each other's schedules so they know when they should assign work to their class & have it due. But yeah, guess that's how degree programs work.
Not only are you a Bachelor's Degree Student, you are a makeup artist as well for WWE & traveled alongside with your boyfriend & The OTC Roman Reigns. You loved your job, doing makeup, expressing yourself & having your boyfriend on the job as well. It was a dream come true. Although you couldn't work it right now thanks to school. You asked Hunter for some time off so you can kick this semester's ass. While being stressed out & trying to get this paper done, your hunk of a man walked into the den where you were studying.
"Babygirl, you're not ready yet? Come on! The twins are waiting outside." He said.
You turned around, your hair was a mess, and you had dark circles under your eyes. Roman's expression changed from a smile to a concerned look as we walked towards you.
"Babygirl, are you okay? What's wrong?" he asked.
Your lip started to quiver, and everything that was bottled up started to pour out.
"I can't do this anymore Roman! This is bullshit! These profs don't give a f-ck about us or our mental health! They just throw whatever at us & set us up for failure! School is so exhausting! I just want to do well, finish up & get this degree! I want to go back to work with you! I miss everyone! I miss Naomi, Bianca, Jade, Nia, Michin, Seth, Damian. Hell, I even miss Solo too now! I just can't! It's killing me!" you cried.
Roman lifted you up, wrapped his arms around you & pulled you into his chest as you cried. He caressed your hair & calmed you down.
"Shhhh, there, there babygirl, I understand how you're feeling, it's tough. School is tough especially with all the different variables that come along with it. You're so strong for getting through it & if nobody told you today, I'm proud of you. Proud of you for going after your dream, making sacrifices for it, putting your work aside for this. You've worked so hard for this & have come so far & I admire that about you babygirl, you're so courageous & intelligent & both of those are sexy" he whispered at the last sentence.
You couldn't help, but smile at his words. His voice & words were so therapeutic. You lifted your head up.
"Thank you RoRo, I appreciate you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you" you said.
He smiled & kissed your forehead, "it's no trouble, I'm always here to remind you how strong you are when life brings you down, you got this! You will finish this semester strong! You can & you will" he exclaimed.
"Coming from the strongest man himself, you're not just my man but a real-life superhero to me" you said.
His smile got bigger & he smashed his lips onto yours.
"I love you, babygirl" he whispered against your lips.
"I love you too my Tribal Chief" you whispered back against his.
He pulled away "You need balance, babygirl. Don't put your head in these books for too long, it'll only destroy you mentally. I don't want you to crash out. When's this assignment due?" he asked.
"Sunday by midnight" you said
"Seriously, and you're worried about it now? That's so long away! Take a break, hang with us we're going to watch a movie & then go to Waffle House after" he said.
You rolled your eyes in amusement "let me guess…Jey planned that?" you guessed.
Roman nodded, making you laugh.
"You need a break though, go out, get some fresh air, you'll feel better afterwards & then you can properly think. Everything is just up in the clouds right now" he said.
"You're right" you smiled at him.
Your moment was interrupted when the twins barged into the den.
"Hey Uce! What the hell is taking y'all so long?" asked Jimmy.
Both of the twins looked at you & screamed.
Jey took his YEET glasses off & looked you up & down
"Damn girl! You look a mess!" he said in disbelief. Roman covered his face with his hands already feeling a migraine.
"You know her?" asked Jimmy.
"Know her? Uce, that's Y/N!" he answered.
"Y/N? Damn! I thought I witnessed The Grudge live for a sec," said Jimmy.
Roman gave Jimmy a death glare & mouthed 'shut up' to him. He stopped talking.
"Wow, that makes me feel so much better" you said sarcastically.
"I'll deal with these two, go freshen up & get dressed babygirl. I'll meet you in the kitchen" he said kissing your head.
"Okay" you smiled, leaving the den.
As soon as Roman heard your bedroom door shut, he glared at the twins & crossed his arms.
"We're in trouble aren't we Uce?" Jey asked chuckling nervously.
Roman nodded "you both are paying for our meals tonight at Waffle House. Talk it amongst yourselves & think before you say anything to Y/N, she was feeling down & stressed" he said walking away, and leaving them alone.
"Yeah, grow up Uce!" said Jimmy as he turned to Jey.
"Me? You're the one who went crazy & compared her to The Grudge!" pointed out Jey.
"But you started it, saying she looks like a mess!" said Jimmy.
"Man, pay for your own damn food. I'm out" scoffed Jey leaving to find Roman.
"I don't need your money anyway!" yelled Jimmy going after him.
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You all had a great time at the movie theatre watching your favorite movie. You couldn't be more grateful for Roman & the twins in your life (even though you were mad at them for their comments earlier).
The four of you were at Waffle House, and finished your meals. Since you had a sweet tooth, you ordered the Triple Chocolate Pie, and fed a bit to Roman.
"That's tasty, baby. Don't give me too much though, I'm already looking at something sweeter" he whispered smirking at you. You gasped & playfully smacked his shoulder, making him chuckle.
"You look gorgeous, I can't wait to have you all to myself tonight" he winked.
"Says you? As if I don't feel the same way" you flirted.
"Um excuse me, we're right here" said Jimmy, making you blush & Roman roll his eyes. You continued to feed him & yourself.
"Well look who started dessert without us" you heard a familiar voice similar to the twins.
You looked up & saw Solo with his Bloodline.
"Solo!" you screamed, you ran to him & tackled him into a hug.
"What's up buttercup? Long time, how's life & uni?" he asked.
"Brutal, literally had a mental breakdown over an assignment today. These profs don't give a damn! Luckily Roman & your brothers took me out for a treat" you rambled.
"That's great! I'm happy for you! Don't take school so seriously though, it won't matter 5 years from now. Take it easy" said Solo.
"Just like how math doesn't matter to you now?" joked Jimmy, making Jey almost spit out his drink & Roman covering his face from laughing.
Solo gave his big brother a death glare. "I'll stop talking for today" said Jimmy.
"Thank you Solo, appreciate it. Don't listen to that Nut Job, I hated math too." you said.
Solo smiled "at least someone gets it!" he said while taking a seat. Meanwhile, you greeted the rest of The Bloodline.
"Hey Jacob! Long time, how are you?" you asked hugging him.
"I'm good sis" he said smiling & hugging you back "living the dream, and thankful for all God's given me. We miss you at work though, styling us & being our cheerleader" he said.
"I'm so happy for you! You're killing it! I miss you all too, and your famous "I love you Solo." Can't wait to finish this semester & come back during my break" you said.
"We'll be awaiting you" said Jacob as he sat down.
You moved to the last pair of people to meet which were Loa & Tama.
You smiled nervously, "Hey Loa" you said giving him a fist bump which he returned. "Tama" you said waving at him awkwardly, he nodded in return.
"What's up Y/N?" asked Loa
"Not much, I see you don't have to wear that eye patch anymore" you smiled.
"Yeah, thank God. I hated it" he said letting out a breath of relief. You giggled in return.
"Aye aye Captain!" you said saluting him. He just smirked sarcastically in response. You quickly got of their way & sat beside Roman who was studying both Tama & Loa as they sat down at the table.
Roman took out his phone as he texted the OG Bloodline group chat including Solo & Jacob.
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Roman: Solo, what the fuck is Tama doing here?!
Solo: Him & Loa wanted to come. I couldn't say no, I'd feel bad.
Jey: You could've said you had some personal family business with your brothers, uce. They would've gotten the hint knowing it's blood only.
Jacob: 👀
Solo: Idk
Roman: Wdym you don't know? Y/N was feeling stressed out w/ school & everything & the last thing she needs to see is her ex right now.
Jimmy: WOAH WOAH HOLD ON! THEY DATED?!
Jey: @Jimmy you came before me right?
Jimmy: @Jey I never knew about this? You did?!
Solo: @Jimmy cause you got a big ass mouth. You'd tell everyone about our business just like you did about me when we came in.
Jacob: LMAOO TRUE 🤣 I love you Solo 🙏🏽
Roman: @Solo All I'm saying is that Tama is your responsibility, I don't want him anywhere near Y/N while we're here.
Solo: You want me to babysit a 42 y/o man???
Jimmy: HE'S 42?!
Jey: @Jimmy UCE, YOU GOTTA STOP DOING THAT!
Jimmy: 🤐
Jacob:
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Roman: @Solo You brought him here, you deal with it. If he causes any trouble or gives Y/N a hard time, you'll see the worst of me.
Jacob: 😬
Solo: Noted 📝
Jimmy: Uces, how's this pic of me & Tank for Instagram?
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Roman: JIM!
Jey: STOP IT!
Solo: Now is not the time.
Jimmy: Damn sorry, I was trying to lighten up the mood here. Geez, it's so negative, we need a virtual Sage.
Jacob: @Jimmy I like the pic, looking fresh 👍🏽
Jimmy: See? Someone who sees the vision! Thanks Cuz! 🖤
Jey: YEET! 💯🔥
Jimmy: @Jey Too late.
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"Hello, why is everyone on their phones?" I thought we were having some family time?" you said, getting the guys' attention. They all put their phones away.
"Sorry babygirl, family emergency" said Roman. You nodded in understanding.
The new guests ordered their meals & started eating. While you & Roman were video chatting with Naomi, telling her how much you missed her.
While you were talking to Naomi, Tama kept sneaking glances at you while eating. Roman caught him & he looked away conversing with his brother.
Again, Roman whipped out his phone & started texting the group chat, clearly not impressed.
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Roman: He's looking at her…. what I tell you? @Solo ��
Solo: Whatchu want me to do? Tell him to look somewhere else???
Jimmy: I got an idea!
Roman: ???
Jey: Okayy, what is it?
Jimmy: Watch me 😉
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All men put their phones away waiting for his plan. Jimmy took the large laminated restaurant flier from the table behind him & stuck it in front of Tama covering him. He stuck it between his & Tama's table making it stand. He smiled big being proud of his work & looked over at his family. Everyone including you looked at him like he had 2 heads.
"Hey Naomi, look what your brilliant husband just did " you said turning your phone around & showing her.
"What?" he questioned. Roman just shook his head in response.
Tama stood up, "why is there a Waffle House flier stuck in front of me?" he asked. Everyone looked at Jimmy expecting an answer from him.
"Well, you know man. I was just trying to show you some specials. In case you wanted to add more to your order" said Jimmy. Tama cocked his brow at him. "You couldn't just pass the flyer to me like a normal person?" he asked. Jimmy was lost for words. Jey started stressing out "he does that all the time when we eat here!" he said laughing nervously. Solo put his hands on his head.
Tama signaled for his brother to get up & ask him to come outside with him to which he complied. As soon as both brothers went outside, Roman spoke up.
"I can't believe you thought that was a good idea" he said to Jimmy.
"Well it worked didn't it? I shooed him outside Uce!" said Jimmy.
"You got him all suspicious now" said Jey
"What's this all about?" you asked
The five of them turned to look at you in shock, forgetting that you were at the table.
"Nao, I'll talk to you later. Love you, miss you. Bye girl!" you said & she said her byes back before you both hung up.
"So? What's happening?" you asked.
"Listen babygirl, please don't get mad when I say this. I know you're already going through a lot of stress. But while you were talking to Naomi, Tama was looking at you" he confessed.
You laughed in disbelief "it was probably just one look right?"
"Not really sis, he was kinda staring at ya even while he was eating. He looked away when Big Uce caught him" said Jey.
"Ugh!" you stressed burying your face in your hands.
"See? This could've easily been avoided if you didn't bring him here! Now I wanna whoop his ass for looking at my girl!" Roman scolded while rubbing your back.
"I didn't know he still has feelings for her. I'm no mind reader!" responded Solo.
"Y'all dated?" Jimmy asked you. You lifted your head up from your hands.
"I thought you said you were going to stop talking for the day" said Solo
"No, no, let him ask! None of you guys told Jimmy about me & Tama?" you asked. They all looked like deers in front of the headlights.
"I just thought it would be better if he sat this one out, sweetheart" said Roman smiling awkwardly.
"Roman, it's okay. Jimmy I'll tell you the story. Yes, we've dated in the past. I used to work in New Japan Pro Wrestling as a make-up artist. It was tough being far from home, but I had to start somewhere & make sacrifices. I started my career in 2016 there, it was tough for me to adjust to a new schedule, country & lifestyle but I tried to adapt. I talked to a lot of amazing wrestlers men & women & had the pleasure of doing their makeup. I learned so many new skills & techniques especially face paint. One day, I met Tama, he wanted his face paint done for his match which I agreed to of course. We had a great conversation from there while I was doing his face paint, about him being in Bullet Club, Guerrillas of Destiny. He was fun to talk to, and we hit it off. After that, we started hanging out after shows & in between breaks. Those work hangouts turned to us meeting outside of work and then dating. We were inseparable. We had so much in common, it's like we were in the Honeymoon phase while dating. But then in 2018, he started acting weird, he started tweeting Roman for no reason attacking him then mocking him at shows. I tried to get him to stop & leave him alone, but he wouldn't budge. He got mad at me for defending you babe." you said referring to Roman.
You continued "we also started living together in Japan, he'd come home wasted almost all the time & try to sleep with me. It seemed like he wanted me for my body at that point. I remember that one time I told him no, he yelled at me, swore at me, and then left to go stay at Loa's. The next day I came to work & caught him making out with another makeup artist" you voice started to crack. Roman placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder for comfort.
"You don't have to tell us the rest babygirl if you're not comfortable to. I can tell it's hurting you" he said.
"No it's okay, I've hid this for so long. It's about time I tell someone. I threw my promise ring at him & went straight home to pack my things & move out. Somehow he got home & caught me leaving, he begged me to stay & mentioned how he was going through shit that caused him to be that way, but it didn't convince me. I left. It was hard to avoid him at work too as he tried to talk to me & explain his side of the story. I didn't want to hear it. It was miracle I prayed for when I applied to be a makeup artist in WWE & got the job. I gave my 2 weeks in, miraculously had 0 interaction with Tama during that time period & flew back to the US & started the job." you smiled. All 5 men smiled at you.
"Man Y/N, I'm so sorry you went through all that. You didn't deserve it. You're like the little sister I never had. Hell, I wanna whoop him" said Jimmy sympathetically.
"I never knew he cheated on you. Wow, I'm disgusted. I'm sorry Y/N" said Solo.
"What a jackass" said Jacob.
"And now he's in WWE, and he's probably trying to win you back I'm guessing?" asked Jey shaking his head.
"He'll never win me back after what he did. He'll never compare to Roman whom made these past 3 years of our dating life the best than the 2 years I've had with him" you said, making Roman smile big, he pulled you into his chest.
"I love you babygirl, I'll always have your back & cherish you. I'll never break your heart. Unlike him, I'll never force you into doing anything that makes you uncomfortable." he said kissing your head.
"I love you more my Tribal Chief" you said to him.
"Hey, that's me!" interrupted Solo.
"Get some new material you rip-off" teased Jey scrunching up his hair.
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Meanwhile outside
"You still love her?!" asked Loa in shock.
"I mean yeah, I can't help it, I still get butterflies when I see her. She's still that beautiful & humble girl I met in New Japan. I really miss the time we shared & our life together, I wanna make things right with her" said Tama.
"Listen, as a brother I love you. But to be fair, you did cheat on her & that really hurt her to the point she left her job & the country. Also, you know she's dating Roman right? He already caught you giving her googly eyes. He's gonna pound you like a mallot if he finds you're making moves on Y/N & I don't want that to happen to you" said Loa.
"I know that & I fucked up on my end. It's my fault, I'm a horrible person. But ever since Y/N left, it made me realize how I took this whole thing for granted. She was the best I ever had. I regret everything I've ever done to her, she deserved to be treated better. I'm willing to change all of that for her I wanna apologize to her & give us another go" said Tama
"I don't know about giving it another go, I did warn you, but apologizing yes, it's about time you did that." said Loa.
They both went inside.
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Feedback is appreciated! And if you want to be added to the tag list for the next chapter let me know!
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h3nderyss · 18 hours ago
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magazine - mark lee
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pairing: idol!mark lee x fem!reader . . . masterlist genre: fluff word count: 774 a/n: recently got the mark cosmopolitan magazine.. i KNOW it's a june issue and it's literally november, but i'm still thirsty. sue me.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
"i'm home!" mark's voice echoed throughout the hallway, the familiar voice making your expression soften into an automatic smile.
the day had been slow; off work, catching up on a show you occasionally rewatched, and anticipating mark's return from his long days of work.
being an idol meant his schedule was FULL. barely any time for anything, especially for mark, the most hard-working and committed man you'd ever met. nobody could ever compare to him, how he perfectly balances life, work, and relationships. most importantly; you.
he'd recently had a photoshoot. for what? well, you didn't know. he demanded he'd keep it a secret, although a hint had been it was for a famous magazine brand. of course, this meant waiting weeks upon weeks for the issue to release. especially when your boyfriend was on the cover, it felt like months of waiting.
you sprung off the couch and rushed over to mark who took off his shoes and set them aside, as a second after, bringing him into a loving long-awaited hug which you both had been dying for the entire day.
"what's that?" you looked at this plastic bag he was holding, inside of it was a suspiciously tall thin book that you took a glance of.
mark moved the bag behind his back, out of view. "a surprise." he smirked at you and gave you a peck on the lips. "i want you to be prepared."
it only etched more confusion on your face as you slightly tilted your head. "why? is it just a book?" the thought of the magazine photoshoot mark had weeks ago hadn't even crossed your mind.
his eyes darted up as if he was thinking, "hm, i guess you could say that.." he nodded and looked back at you as he was joking around. he made you chuckle, and he moved the bag back in between you two, looking into it.
"a magazine? a-" your eyes immediately widened, mouth agape.
"oh my god." you spoke in light speed, digging the book out of the bag and into your arms. "mark..?!" your voice had been quiet and breathless. he really did have *this* much impact on you, even if it was a single photo. "c..cosmopolitan..?"
"i only managed to get this second version. the other two they couldn't give me." he gestured at the magazine and you immediately went and sat on the table to prepare yourself to skip through the pages and only focus on your ravishing boyfriend.
mark followed suit and sat next to you, the whole time smiling like an idiot. you were smiling too; blushing and biting your bottom lip as you stared at the gorgeous man on the cover of this magazine.
"how are you real," you said in almost a whisper. mark had not taken his eyes off of you. he loved seeing your reaction to everything, and he adored you so much it had been unhealthy.
mark moved a piece of hair that fell on your face looking down at the magazine, he wanted to see your face as he melted upon seeing you freak out over the man on paper. him.
you flipped through the pages, taking a minute to actually take in the photos of mark. "this pose.. mark this pose is.. that shirt on you.." mumbles came out of your mouth as you glanced at the real mark next to you.
"how are you you?" you looked at him infatuated.
"how am i, me?" he chuckled at you with a smile and briefly looking at the photo of him in front of you.
you nodded. "how did i manage to snag you?" suddenly a joking mood filled the air.
"i don't know but, i'd prefer you over anybody else."
as if you hadn't already been fiercely blushing from looking at mark in photoshoot in the magazine, he never failed to make you flustered.
"stop it!" you giggled and turned your attention back to the magazine, flipping through the same pages over again.
"close that book now and focus on the real mark! i'm right in front of you.." mark starts to whine, his real self not getting attention, just the reflection in the magazine.
"it's your fault for getting me this! i'm gonna frame all of these pictures now."
"babyyy.." his whiny tone and his hand starting to intertwine with yours was just enough to make your give in.
"markieee..." you reciprocated his whiny tone and gazed into his eyes. "i can't believe you're mine."
"you better start believing soon because, i'm not going anywhere anytime soon." mark smiles and pulls you into a loving passionate kiss.
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son1c · 2 days ago
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i had a dream last night about the sonic movies. they were different, though. instead of staying put once he lands on earth, he keeps moving. he travels from place to place, always out of sight, staying safe with his speed and momentum. he gains a real appreciation for earth's environment this way, since he's basically "roughing it" through north america's many biomes.
he manages to go undetected until he's about 10 years old. his discovery happens like this: he's tramping through the woods like he always does. he's pretty far in there--don't want to risk running into any hikers, right?--but there's someone else there. at first, he thinks it's just a bird or bobcat making some noise. so, he turns the page in the stolen "borrowed" library book he's reading and ignores it, but it doesn't stop.
he closes the book. strains his ears. now that he's listening harder, the noise almost sounds like someone crying.
of course, sonic has his 1 golden rule: don't let anyone see you. he's stayed true to that for all these years, and he's not going to break that rule now... but what's the harm in a little investigating? it'll just be a quick peek.
as it turns out, the noise wasn't coming from a bird or a bobcat; it was the faint crying of a human kid. sonic can tell even from a distance that the kid is hurt--there's no way an ankle is supposed to bend that way--but he's also hesitant to get any closer. what if this is a trap? isn't it a little suspicious that there's a kid all the way out here? and, most importantly: does he really want to break his golden rule?
well, yeah. there's no one else out here but him and the kid. help isn't coming--if there's gonna be a hero in this situation, then there's no other choice. so, sonic steps out of the bush and toward the kid with his hands raised in what he hopes is a peaceful gesture. his heart is beating a million miles a minute, but he's not scared, not really. his entire being aches with this opportunity; the opportunity to shed his years-long loneliness and make a connection, if only for a moment.
the kid hears a twig snap under sonic's feet and stiffens, her sobs catching in her throat. in a trembling voice, she asks, who's there?
sonic pauses. he's barely 10 feet from her now. looking directly at her, with nothing in between them but air. and yet, it's like the kid doesn't see him. her eyes dart around, searching, but always jumping right past sonic. trying to keep it casual, sonic replies, your hero has arrived.
sonic holds his breath. the girl looks confused, her brow furrowing, but at the same time, her shoulders relax. under her breath, she mumbles something that might be, a kid? then, she looks directly at sonic... kind of. her head turns toward the direction his voice came from, but her eyes don't focus on him. what are you doing way out here?
you know, sonic says, a smile tugging at his lips despite the anxiety coiling in his stomach, i was just about to ask you the same thing.
the girl frowns. she turns away from sonic as a stormy expression overtakes her face. none of your beeswax, she replies, but her venom is halfhearted. she's clearly hurting right now.
tentatively, sonic steps closer. his golden rule is beginning to slip from his mind. ooo-kay, he says slowly, keep your secrets. now, sonic kneels down in front of the girl. if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her, and it took every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from doing just that.
the girl turns toward sonic again. this time, her eyes don't slide past him like he's made of slippery syrup. she squints, her nose scrunching up as she appears to focus very, very hard on what's barely a foot in front of her face. then, finally, she asks, you just gonna stand there and stare?
sonic grins. hey! it's not every day i get to stage a rescue operation in the woods. i wanna savor the feeling of being a forest ranger. sonic pauses, the girl's shallow breaths bringing him back to reality. he notices the old backpack clutched in the girl's hands and asks, what's in the bag? please tell me it's a smartphone. preferably of the apple variety. but i'd accept a blackberry too--those are cool. either way, we can use it to phone home. you know, like in E.T.--
i'm not an alien! the girl snaps. besides, i don't have any home left to call. she tightens her grip around the backpack as her eyes narrow into tiny slits. when she does this, sonic notices the deep, dark circles under her eyes. either rescue me, or go away. i don't care.
sonic matches the look of angry despair on the girl's face with one of stubborn optimism. i thought you'd never ask, he says. then, he pulls an old t-shirt out of his quills and tears it into strips. alright, so, he starts to say as he reaches for the girl's twisted ankle, i've watched almost all of grey's anatomy, and the first two seasons of house m.d., which means i'm basically a doctor. right?
the girl blinks. no?
sonic stops, his fingertips millimeters away from her bloody sock. you have a better idea?
the girl bites her lip. no.
great! i'll be fast. promise. true to his word, sonic wraps the girl's ankle in a flash. then, he says, yeah-heah-heah! now we're talkin'. if i didn't know any better, i'd say that was a professional patch job!
the girl loosens her death-grip on the backpack and slowly wiggles her toes. it hurts, but not as much as before. not bad, she mutters.
beaming, sonic offers her his hand. but she doesn't react at all, so sonic slowly lowers his hand. then, he scratches his head. he's missing something, but what? he looks around, scanning the dirt-and-leaf-covered forest floor for any clues until eventually he finds it: a white cane poking out of a nearby bush, caught in the root of a particularly gnarled tree.
forgetting himself for a moment, sonic uses his super speed to grab the cane before returning to the girl's side. he goes unpunished though, as all she does in response is widen her eyes and ask, what was that?
just the wind, sonic says, a little cheekily. then, he tells her about what he found. the girl snatches the cane from him rather rudely, but sonic lets it go without comment. then, because she's still sitting on the ground, he asks, need a hand?
and then the dream ended. i think it was pretty epic because a visually impaired companion would mean sonic could have a friend without letting his secret (i.e. the fact that he exists) get out. he'd just have to be veryyyy careful about not touching her or letting her touch him. cuz while he can explain some things, like his arms are fuzzy cuz he's wearing a... ""fur coat""... and his hands are big cuz he's still ""growing into them""... other things, like his quills, are a bit harder to explain.
i'm also not entirely sure what her deal was but i know she was a runaway orphan. her family died tragically etc etc. i was imagining a house fire. the flames of disaster, as it were. idk.
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wosowffc · 5 hours ago
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NEW GUNNER
Part 1
Today is the freindly against England on home solid in Australia so at least I don't have to a lot of travel. I've been playing with the Matilda's for about 3 or 4 years moving up from the u21s, I keep to myself and get on with each day here just waiting for it to be over, I'm grateful don't get me wrong but I'm not a people person.
I wake up early as per usual blinding myself with another gorgeous aus sunrise, throw on clothes and head down to go a walk , I do this every day getting up 2 hours before everyone while at camp so I don't have to do anything with them like sit in the canteen, not that they mind they would rather put a fork in my eye that sit and chat with me.
As soon as I came into my first camp 2 girls tried to talk to me but were quick to be pulled away by people who have played me or played with me at club and told them what I was like but I don't care I'm better off alone. I'm sat on the beach with a take away morning oats from a local shop watching the waves crash against the rock and the crabs rush along to get on with their days. Soon enough the 3 hours which felt like 20 mins had passed and it was time to go back to get on the bus to the stadium.
They game was perfect we had england right where we wanted them and they were struggling to keep on us. Throughout I got my usual dose of hard aimed tackles and fouls to which I kept my calm, we'll, that was the case until bastard Beth mead drags me to the floor off ball and then when gets up fake falls over me kicking my in the side. Is she for real. I'm about to blow and I know it so I pull her back by her shirt when we both stand cause int her to fall and to end it I step on her arm.
She screamed at the action but I don't care it's just rage inside me took over I try to not let it happen really I do but , she got me booked when I didn't do anything, I'm definitely off now.
A red card is shown and I'm booed off which is fair ofc the fans won't be happy with the action. I take myself to my cubby grabbing some clothes and getting a shower and ordering your self a texi to the hotel, there's still a 20 mins and acutivity after before the bus goes and you don't want to deal with the girls not so early after.
You make your way to you room Back at the hotel putting on a tee and shorts. You share the room with the only person who had been nice to you, Katrina gorry, she was you mentor type person when you came in to the squad at 16. You lay on your bed looking at a dark, dark purple bruise forming on your side wincing slightly as you lay a hand in it. A while later the door opens you see the light glow on the wall your facing, a tear dripping down you cheek not wanting anyone to see.
"You alright" is all you hear felling her sit and the bottom of your bed. "Look at me" she says trying to get you to turn away from the wall which u do wiping ur cheeks.
"I didn't mean to boil over, I'm trying" you quietly let out. To which she gives a sympathetic look
"Her arm was broke , listen I know your trying but let others see that, get some sleep you've got a lot of travel tomorrow" she says giving ur arm a rub and getting into her own bed.
You don't want to look weak, your not weak. You have felt with everyone hating you for years already so who cares, not you. You hate national time, fans don't like you, teammates don't like you it's just all shit you love representing your country but who are you to represent anything your a worthless piece of crap. Tomorrow night you go back to your club, Chelsea, nobody likes you their either not since the moment you arived.
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tactical-jellyfish · 2 days ago
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Tf 141 with an s/o who loves fiber arts!
Word count= roughly 1,750
Warnings: No! Just fluff with the lads :) Enjoy (but inly if you wanna)!!!
Kyle, who really never thought that knitting would be this hard, considering how much you raved about it keeping you both calm and properly stimulated. Now, he sits by your side on the living room floor, shakily holding two bamboo needles in his hands and trying to hold the "working yarn" (the yarn attached to the ball, apparently) the right way as you tenderly lecture him for being a dunce. "No, baby, you need to get through the stitch first before you yarn over-" Your voice is so pretty like that, trying to steer him from making another weird-looking hole for no real reason, but Kyle just whines again as you take the swatch into your own hands, finish off the whole row like some magic creature of the yarn and thread.
"You said that this was supposed to be easy, luvie." He whines into the crook of your neck, having loosely wound himself around your side as you showed him exactly what to do for the fourth time this hour. Some part of him loves the unfailing tenderness, the softness of your voice and the way you poorly hide the fact that you're laughing at him under your breath. "Sorry, i just thought-" There's a snort from your lips as giggles envelop you, your smile turns wide. Kyle's heart melts a little in his chest "I just thought you'd be better at this-"
Kyle gasps in mock offense, before pushing the needles to the floor, already planning his revenge for that little slight. "Say that one more time, and I'll give yer little magic sticks to my nieces and tell 'em they're swords." He revels in the shocked gasp you give, and grins as you bat him upside the head. "Hah, funny man. Try." Your voice is quieter, a little bit more dangerous, just daring him to do that very thing. Kyle saves his own ass by pecking your cheek, gently taking your hands into his own. "I wouldn't, babes, you know I wouldn't." There's not a modicum of lie in that statement. Kyle knows that the sweetest ones are the most terrifying, and his mum would never let him hear the end of it if he lost you. "Yeah, I do know you wouldn't, jus' wanted to mess with you." It's Kyle's turn to gasp now, but he smiles when you kiss his cheek in return, leans into you like a lapdog despite himself. Tonight's going to be good, and he knows it.
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Johnny, who remarkably managed very, very well with embroidery. You had been so happy to see him, posted on the couch next to you, working away at the hoop, having only very few questions on how he should hold the thing, if the tension you kept talking about was a little bit off. For an hour, maybe two, it was lovely. Simple silence as you leaned up on his shoulder, working a larger project as the Scot figured out exactly what he was doing on his own. Deft hands, you watched him pick apart the small knots in the thread without issue. It flooded your heart with pride. "Are you finally going to let me see the thing, Johnny?" You questioned playfully, trying to straighten your spine to get a peek before there's a big hand shoved over your eyes, and a thick accent chiding you for your gall. "No!" He squawks, you just know that he relishes in not letting you see, riling you up through your own curiosity, because Johnny is, at his core, a cheeky little shit. "Ye gotta wait, mo leannan, ye cannae jus' peek like that!" It draws a grumble from your lips, but you close your eyes, gently take hold of his wrist in your hand and nod, giving a softer affirmation before he coos at you. "Don' worry, it's almost done anyway." He soothes you with a soft peck to your temple, and just like that, you're calm again, all heart-eyed and dumb with love, relaxed. It's another thirty minutes before the finished product is tenderly set into your lap, and you gasp in surprise before seeing it. It's... stupid. An old sketch of his that really had amused him all too much, one of you from a picture at a night out (you had tripped on a root and he managed to get a picture of your face mid-fall) that he had always seemed too damn enamored with. "Oh my god." You press your hand to your face in shame, already feeling ridiculous before Johnny laughs brightly, pressed a firm, wet kiss to your cheek. "You look lovely! Don't ye? I think you look lovely." It's a sweet sentiment, enough to endear you to the terrible, terrible thing that your fiancé has chosen to immortalize and drive a too-fond sigh from your lips. "You're lucky that I love you." You grumble, giving Johnny a half-hearted glare before he swoops in to sweetly kiss your lips, because he really does know you too well. "Aye, I really am" He doesn't miss a beat, still grinning like an idiot. It makes your chest soften, your guts go mushy and fluttery. "Don't be coy, MacTavish." You reprimand. He grins, and kisses you again for good measure.
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Simon, who really didn't think this would be necessary, but here he is, sitting next to you cross-legged on the floor with the hook in hand. "Like this, right?" He speaks gruffly, and loosens his posture for you to peek over his shoulder. He feels the ghost (pun intended) of a smile pulling up at his lips when he hears your affirmative hum. "Yeah. You're doing real good, honey," Your voice wafts into his ear so nicely, floods his mind so deliciously, the only person that Simon knew he would always listen to, his angel right here on Earth. "Out of curiosity, have you ever done this before?" When you finish your question, Simon does let that smile grow on his face, lets the warmth flood into the cavity of his chest, seep into the crevices of his soul, heal the damage bit by bit. Simon leans his head on yours, and takes in a breath. The truth was, he had. One night, after a particular date when you had entirely infodumped a current project to him, he had done a little research. Then, promptly after, learned to crochet, even if it was only the basics. It paid off now, with you on his arm and impressed with his skill. "Nah. Maybe I'm just good at this, hm?" He denies that, shuffles his cheek closer into yours, soaking up the warmth that you radiate, relishes in the soft chuckle that you give. "Mmh, maybe you're gonna be even better than me, is that your plan?" Your teasing is soft, given out of affection. It makes Simon smile, makes him relieved that he's once again managed to make sure that a date went well. "No. Just pick things up fast." The mood really is dead in the water, but Simon really loves that you seem to thrive in that, that you still peck his cheek anyway despite him practically having negative game. "Smartass." You chirp at him, setting down your own piece on the floor before wholesale resting your head on Simon's shoulder. He fights a chuckle. "Better than being a dumbass, isn't it?" The joke wasn't his (he stole it from Johnny), but when you laughed, Simon knew it was well worth it anyway.
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John, who was more than content to help you work on another big project of yours. He was endlessly proud of you, how wonderfully you worked on those commissions and how perfect they always looked when you finally shipped them off. But disaster always strikes at one time or another, and the cat is often the cause of that. After maybe an hour of soothing his panicking partner, John had you wrapped up in a blanket in the corner of your own office, gently taking the needle into his own hands to sew the small tear in the fabric back together as you sniffled a little bit. Were you more than skilled enough to fix this issue yourself? Yes. But John felt particularly loving lately, wanted to make sure that his lovely, hyper-competent partner knew that they could rely on him. Because they always could. When he speaks, its gently, glancing up from the fabric in his hands to look into your eyes, still a little bit bloodshot from the tears. "Don't worry yourself, sweetheart. My mother didn't raise a man who doesn't know how to do repairs." The comfort was genuine, both an assurance of his skill and a statement that you could just lay back, let him take the reins for once and allow you to calm down a little bit. "But-" you sniffle, wipe at your nose with a tissue, and John doesn't allow you to question this. "Nope. None of that self-doubt, yer therapist already said that's bad, didn't she?" You nod, John watches your cheeks flush a bit simply because he remembered, that he cared enough to stow that away in the back corners of his brain. Oh, if only you knew how much he adores you, your little heart would blow up. "I can't just let you do my work for me, John, that's not right." The small rebuttal makes him pause in the middle of a stitch, gently set the needle down. His darling had the morals of a saint, why was he surprised by that? "Who said that I was doing your work? Maybe I'm just your guest of honor, sweetness." John speaks softly, shoots you a cocky grin that finally brings a smile back onto your face. "Yeah, yeah, alright," He smiles as you stand, wraps a strong arm around your midsection as you tuck yourself into his side, calming all of the way back down, turning back into the wonderful, sweet, bordering perfect partner returning to form once more. "That means that you have to sign it, too, you know." You tease in return as John nervously swallows, knowing damn well he is hopeless to ever replicate the pure beauty that is your signature on professional pieces. "Well, I'm not so sure about that-" He uselessly stutters to the joke, feeling his own cheeks heat up more than a little bit at the invitation. "Oh, don't be like that, I could teach you." Now that makes Price melt.
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