#it's what i want to be when i grow up or something

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!

[norrisjpg]

only angel - ʟɴ⁴

the one where lando's best friend finally admits she's not the most experienced in the bedroom - and that's all it takes to flip their innocent dynamic.

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten

contains; fluff, soft dom!lando, nsfw, smut; clitoral stimulation, implied masturbation, implied squirting, praise kink, mentions of fingering; inexperienced!femoc, talks of loss of virginity, swearing.

...

...

angelic rays of sunlight beamed in through the open windows of a monaco apartment, illuminating the body splayed out on the tangled white sheets of a large bed. it was summer, the air smelt of salt and ice cream, the clouds were nowhere to be seen, and the gentle breeze floated through the crisp air like a melody.

the softest of groans escaped her lips as she rolled away from the very thing that had woken her, and in her slightly hungover state, she had failed to notice how close she was to the edge of her moderately high bed.

thud!

"fuck," lily groaned, laying on the floor in a puddle of last night's carelessly discarded clothes.

footsteps echoed around the apartment, sounding like they were getting closer but she couldn't tell if it was just her throbbing head making things up. lily took a moment to glance downward, feeling a little cold at the loss of her duvet. she was wearing a bra - ew, why had she slept in a bra? - and her underwear was still on, albeit a little lower than what would be considered modest.

she gently pulled them up and managed to drag herself to her feet, and of course, this is when her door swung open. there he was - the reason for her hungover state - in all his glory, looking too good for this time in the morning.

"i heard a bang, are you okay?" lando asked, tilting his head at the girl, who looked a little dishevelled and very tired.

"fell out of bed." she murmured. "i hate you."

"how is it my fault that you fell out of bed?" he retorted, scrunching his face up in the same way he always did.

"because you got me drunk, and now i'm hungover, you twat." she huffed, picking up the clothes on the floor and tossing them into her laundry basket, not bothered by her lack of clothing in front of him.

"oh, get over yourself." lando rolled his eyes with a playful grin.

her response was a grumpy middle finger and she shooed him out of her bedroom, mumbling something about a beauty sleep and how men are so annoying - so lando just left her to it.

in all honesty, his mind had been running at a million miles an hour all morning - reeling from something lily had so casually mentioned last night.

"hey, i'm not a slut!" she slurred, in the cutest way possible.

a joking comment had been made by one of her closest friends, alexandra, about how her dress was a little slutty, and in all honesty it was. alex knew she could say these things to lily because well, they had been best friends before lily even knew who lando was... so a long time.

"if anything, i'm the opposite of a slut." lily giggled softly, leaning back into lando, his arm was draped over her shoulders. "harry and i never had sex anyway and-"

before she could elaborate, their friends returned with the next round of drinks, and the topic of conversation switched rapidly.

surely not.

harry and lily had dated for five years, from when she was sixteen, until she was twenty-one. their relationship was great, until new years' eve of twenty-nineteen came around. lily was well aware that harry was growing impatient with her. harry wanted sex, lily didn't feel she was ready yet. it's not that she felt pressured, but that she wanted to please him, so here she was. to cut a long and slightly traumatic story short, lily had gotten scared as harry was unzipping his jeans - and literally ran away.

somehow, the couple didn't break up for another two years - but the real reason behind that was that once harry realised he wasn't going to be - in his words - 'hitting it' any time soon, he found release in the grasp of some girl he went to college with in maranello. he cheated on lily for two years, and she didn't suspect a thing until he came to visit her after the covid lockdown.

they'd gone out for lunch, and harry had let it slip that he'd had to buy plan b pills recently - and well, that was the end of that.

now, it was news to lando that she and harry hadn't ever gotten intimate with each other - and well, he knew she hadn't brought anyone back to their apartment in time they'd been living together, but surely she'd been getting laid elsewhere.

it would make sense in some ways though. he always noticed how she'd flush a pretty pink colour when ever his hand lingered on her waist, how she'd look undoubtedly flustered whenever his gaze was trained on her, and how she'd become increasingly uncomfortable when a sex scene played in a movie they were watching.

surely not though, right?

lando's dangerous train of thought was interrupted by the soft thudding of footsteps travelling to his ears. his head snapped up to the girl rubbing her eyes, stood groggily behind the couch he was sat on.

"i thought you were having your beauty sleep?" lando teased, raising his eyebrows at the brunette girl, now dressed in the quadrant rugby shirt he had exclusively gifted her in january.

"couldn't sleep, my head hurts too bad." she mumbled, rolling her eyes at his teasing comment. "why do i let you get me drunk?"

"because you love me, duh." he responded, somewhat sassily, making a quiet laugh tumble from her lips.

"whatever, norris." she breathed out, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing some aspirin out of the cupboard below the sink.

she downed two pills along with a cold glass of water, wincing as she felt the cold liquid travel down to her stomach. lando's gaze was lingering, like it usually did - the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed, the way she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw as the pills were taken down in her pretty mouth - she was just so... enticing.

"come here." lando beckoned softly, gesturing for her to come lay with him. "you can nap here if you want."

"please." she groaned softly, plopping down on the couch next to me and immediately resting her head on his lap.

he noticed the goosebumps rippling across her skin, wondering whether he was causing them, or it was because she was cold. he went with the latter, and pulled the wool blanket on the armrest over her body.

"thankyou." lily murmured, reaching up for his hand to hold, innocently craving some physical touch.

he gently entwined their fingers, caressing her hand with his large thumb. within about three or four minutes, lily had drifted off into a sweet slumber, snuggling into lando's warmth.

...

it had been driving lando quite literally insane all day.

he didn't have the courage to straight up ask her if she was a virgin or not, so here he was, dancing around the question like a fucking tap dancer.

"so you and harry?" lando said quietly, almost praying that she wouldn't hear him.

her head snapped up from her phone, eyebrows knitted together in a confused frown. "yes?"

"well, i mean you never really told about why he's made you not want to date anyone." lando shrugged, his tone seeming a little apprehensive, not wanting to strike a nerve. "like i know he cheated on you, but was that the only thing?"

"um..." she pursed her lips, a little gobsmacked that he was even bringing up the subject of harry, a typically sore topic for her - but she answered nonetheless. "he always pushed me for sex, and... i wasn't ready back then."

"he didn't... did he?" the pause in lando's words made it clear what he meant.

"oh god, no, nothing like that, don't worry." lily shook her head quickly. "but we were like so close to doing it once, and i got scared - then he kind of just... never tried again."

"oh." oh? ask her the question, dumbass. "so... you didn't lose your virginity to him then?"

"no," the brunette shook her head softly.

"when did you lose it then?" lando said quickly, the words falling from his mouth before he even registered the question.

lily went what only can be described as crimson. it's not that she was embarrassed - well, actually she was. lily thought it was a bad thing - she was a literal model, and at the grand age of twenty-three, she still hadn't lost her v-card.

she hesitated, before murmuring, "i- uh... i haven't."

"oh." do you really not have anything better to say, dipshit?

"yeah." she pursed her lips once more, averting her gaze to an inanimate object somewhere in the room.

"do you want to?" lando himself now had no idea where this was going, he was kind of just rolling with whatever fell out of his mouth now.

"of course i do." she huffed. "it's just... i don't want to lose it to some random guy i meet on raya or some shit. and i feel like it's going to put people off, like they're going to think something is wrong with me."

a soft frown made its way onto lando's face, and he shook his head.

"nothing is wrong with you, lily." the brit reassured her. "don't ever think that there's something wrong with you because you weren't ready for sex when someone pushed you for it."

she fell quiet, taking in his words gratefully, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"anyway, i'd rather have some experience before i launch myself into dating again." she admitted, glancing up at lando to gage his reaction - she wasn't really sure what she was suggesting, but she wanted to see what lando thought of it. "but i just... don't know where to get said experience."

lando contemplated, trying to decide whether he should just offer himself up on a platter or not. in all honesty, the thought of her dating anyone else made him feel physically nauseous, let alone the new knowledge that she'd be letting someone else be her first - that made him want to die in a puddle of his own tears.

"well..." he began, his words trailing off. "i could always um... help you out."

she slowly lifted her head up, looking at him with a dazed expression, not sure if she'd heard him right. "what?"

"i wouldn't mind uh.. helping you gain some experience." lando repeated, a little more confident from seeing the dazed look in her eyes. "teach you what us guys like, teach you what you like."

lily blinked at her best friend, furrowing her eyebrows. "really?"

"if you'd be up for it, yeah." he nodded, leaning back against the couch a little more. "and we'd go slow, promise. we can take it at whatever pace you'd like, sweetheart."

the way he called her 'sweetheart' made her inner thighs tingle and heat pool in her lower tummy. she simply nodded, too in shock from this agreement they'd just made - was she really going to fuck her best friend in the somewhat near future?

"words, come on." he said slowly, gesturing for her to come to him on the other side of the couch.

"yeah, yeah." she breathed out, getting up and walking to him. "i want that."

"sit." he patted his lap, and she just stared, doe-eyed.

he chuckled softly, leaning up and grabbing her hips, pulling her down on his lap so she was straddling him, her face now at a level height with him.

"is this okay?" he murmured softly, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, mapping out all the places he wanted to kiss her.

"yeah," she breathed out. "i'll tell you if it's not."

"atta' girl." he praised softly, and could have whined at his words.

okay, so lando hadn't even touched her and he'd already discovered she had a praise kink - a good start.

instead of whining, her breath hitched and her cheeks flushed once again, earning a soft smirk from lando as he traced his index finger over her jawline.

"can i kiss you, pretty girl?" lando asked softly, now cupping her jaw with one hand, and drawing circles on her tummy with the other.

it's like her whole world stopped, that sentence was like music to her ears.

"yeah." she breathed out, eyes flicking over the drop-dead gorgeous features on his tanned face.

usually, lando was a sucker for rough sex, fast and hard. but, while he knew he had to be gentle with her - something else about her just made him want to treat her like glass. he wanted her to fall apart in his arms, but in the most loving and delicate way possible.

so, he leant in, his head a little tilted, briefly brushing their noses together before softly connecting their lips. her breath hitched and he could feel her body melting into his, the delicious weight of her feather-light body deepening into his lap. and that wasn't the only thing changing in his lap.

his cock was hard, painfully hard already. he was pathetic, he had literally only just kissed the girl and he was about ready to cum in his boxers.

the kisses were soft and delicate, tongue involved but it wasn't like he was about to devour her whole. he gently pried her legs apart a little further with his free hand, the one previously tracing circles onto her abdomen.

the most angelic of moans left her lips, and she seemed a little shocked, the movement of her lips faltering briefly. he opened his eyes, tilting her head back with the hand on her jaw, beginning his toe-curling attack on her neck. he nipped at the sensitive skin gently, soothing the area with his lips shortly after - repeating those actions had her a wet mess in his lap within minutes.

she was whining, whimpering, pleading with him to just do something, anything, everything.

lily's pretty pink lips were parted as soft, airy moans tumbled from her lips, her head still tilted back as he peppered kisses across all the right spots. his fingers were toying at the edge of her underwear in between her legs, relishing in the dampness coating his fingertips - she was soaked, the warm liquid coating the crease of her inner thighs.

he pulled his head away from her neck briefly, gazing at her for permission, earning a needy yes from the angel on top of him.

"wanna hear you, okay?" he told her gently, knowing that as this was her first time, she'd be more likely to hold back her pretty noises.

she nodded, biting her lower lip as her breathing turned a little more rapid and a little more shallow.

"good girl." he praised once more, and the heat rolled up her body once more.

lando slid his fingers underneath her panties, bunching them and pushing them to the side. her hips jolted a little as his knuckles brushed over her dripping folds, and he could have groaned at how sensitive the girl was.

"relax." he murmured softly, flicking his stare back up at her face.

he slid his index finger in between her folds, coating his thick fingers with her sweet juices. his jaw fell a little agape as he gaged just how wet she was.

"fucking hell," he murmured, but it fell on deaf ears, lily too focused on relaxing - her lower lip pulled between her teeth and her eyes fluttered closed.

he slid his ring finger beside his index, parting her folds and dragging his middle finger up and down her sensitive cunt.

the urge to just slip his fingers inside of her and make her cum until she couldn't speak was almost irresistible, almost.

he let her get used to the feeling, before switching his singular middle finger for the pad of his thumb, which he pressed directly against her clit.

"fuuuuck-" she moaned out, eyebrows arching as she tossed her head back. "so good- shit-"

lando just admired her as he slowly traced circles and figures of eights on her sensitive bundle of nerves - the most needy moans now falling from her lips frequently, the volume increasing in tandem with the speed of his thumb.

he increased the pressure and she doubled over into his body, pressing her head into his shoulder and biting down on his skin gently - earning a soft noise from him.

"lando- god-" she whined, moaning out his name like a fucking prayer.

he rubbed her back soothingly with his free hand, while increasing the speed of his thumb once more. her entire body was buzzing, bubbling with anticipation of the rapidly incoming orgasm. her lower abdomen was coiled tight, ready to snap at any moment now.

one particularly rough flick of her clit sent her spiralling, her thighs beginning to shake softly around him as she came, hard. sweet liquid gushed all over his hand as she moaned and whimpered his name loudly, coating his fingers as he slowed his movements to coax her through her intense orgasm. it was pure fucking bliss.

lily panted slowly into his neck, her head reeling from the best thing she'd ever felt in her entire life.

"you okay, baby?" lando asked quietly, pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

"fucking hell." she breathed out. "yeah, i'm good, so good."

he chuckled softly, looking at the seemingly-spent girl in his arms. he didn't want to push her any further today, she looked like she was going to fall asleep right there and then.

"come on, let's get you to bed." lando cooed softly, lifting her up from the couch and walking lily to her bedroom.

fuck, he was going to need a cold shower after that.

...

hello! this is my first official series, and i'm super excited about it! i don't have a name for it so feel free to suggest, and any comments in general are appreciated :)

[alia-alia12]

𖧹katsuki bakugou x fem reader

𖧹smut; katsuki makes you record him eating you out.

𖧹1.0k

𖧹mdni

“just like that” he says, red eyes glancing at the phone in your hand, the camera pulled up as you zoom in on the way his lips ghost over your cunt. “make sure you hold it still."

he's scheduled for a two week long mission out of the country and he needs something to tie him over.

you try— really try to keep the camera steady, but the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds has you gasping, your entire body jolting as the camera tilts upward, catching only the crown of his spiky blonde hair. his tongue is hot, firm, and deliberate as it drags from your entrance to your clit, circling it just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy.

"fuck," you breathe, scrambling to fix the angle. you bring the phone down, focusing on his sharp jaw and the way it moves as he devours you, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck softly. you can barely suppress the moan that builds in your throat, your head pressing back into the pillow as your chest heaves.

katsuki doesn't let up, his tongue swirling around your sensitive nub with maddening precision. the lewd sounds of his mouth- wet, sticky, and unrelenting-are captured perfectly by the microphone, the obscene audio only adding to your growing arousal.

you’re so lost in the pleasure that you forget what you’re supposed to be doing, letting the phone in your hand drop until nothing but darkness can be seen.

his mouth pulls away with an audible pop, and your hazy eyes snap open at the sudden loss of contact. his brow furrows, a sharp growl rumbling from his chest. "don't make me fucking repeat myself," he snaps, his voice gruff and commanding, but the fire in his gaze betrays just how much he's enjoying watching you squirm.

he reaches up, gripping your wrist with his calloused fingers to guide your hand—and the phone— back to where he wants it. "hold it steady, or i'll make you start all over."

you whimper softly at his words, the threat sending a shiver down your spine. his eyes flash with mischief as he watches you struggle to comply, your hand trembling with the effort to keep the camera on him.

"good," he mutters, dipping his head back down between your thighs. "now don't fuck it up again."

his tongue returns to your clit, flicking and swirling and sucking with a precision that has your thighs threatening to clamp tightly around his head. his blonde hair tickles your inner thighs and the phone shakes slightly.

"katsuki," you moan, your voice high-pitched and breathless. he growls in response, his eyes snapping up to meet yours through the lens of the phone. the intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. you look away.

"look at me," he commands, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. his lips are glistening, his face slick with your arousal as he nips at your inner thigh. "i want you to see this. I want you to remember who makes you fall apart like this when I'm gone."

his possessiveness ignites something inside you, and you nod weakly, barely able to process his words as his tongue returns to its assault. he's ruthless now, his movements faster and more deliberate, his lips and tongue working in tandem to push you closer to the edge. the knot in your stomach tightens, your legs beginning to shake as pleasure consumes you.

he chuckles against your core, the vibrations only adding to the unbearable pleasure. the wet sounds of his mouth working your over are obscene, loud enough to be caught on the recording. you can barely focus on keeping your composure, let alone holding the phone steady.

"you close, baby?" he asks, his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth. "I can feel you shaking. come on, let it go. let me hear those pretty fucking sounds as you cum on my tongue."

his words are your undoing. your back arches off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your climax crashes over you. the phone trembles in your hand, your grip faltering as waves of pleasure roll through you. he doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, dragging out your orgasm until you're left a trembling, gasping mess.

when he finally pulls away, his lips are curved into a smug grin, face coated in your arousal and he couldn't look happier. "good girl," he praises, his voice low and husky. he takes the phone from your weak grip, tapping the screen to review the footage with a satisfied hum. "this'll keep me entertained while I'm gone."

you collapse back onto the bed, utterly spent, chest heaving as you catch your breath. katsuki sets the phone on the nightstand, crawling up your body until his lips hover over yours. he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, before pulling back just enough to whisper against your mouth.

"don't think we're done yet," he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. "i've got a whole week to make up for. might as well record me fucking that tight little pussy next."

his words make your breath hitch, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you as he smirks, his hands already roaming your body in preparation for round two.

[rodolfoparras]

18+ MDNI 18+

Thinking about playfully wrestling with your boyfriend while he makes mindless comments about your strength “oh you’re so strong, don’t think I’d be able to escape even if I wanted,” he says in wonder, eyes practically shining as he squeezes your biceps, “you ought to be careful never know when I can break” he says jokingly while doing a half hearted attempt to try and escape your embrace.

Slowly but surely you start getting more and more rough with him: squeezing and pressing down onto spots, not enough to hurt but enough to make him uncomfortable. “You know what? You’re right. I don’t think you’d be able to get away if someone like me were to attack you.” The relaxed look on his face swiftly turns into one of concern and you can see the way he slowly attempts to back away from you.

But it’s to no avail, he’s trapped in your embrace, with you steadily inching closer to his face, a big sharp grin painted on your own face. “I mean what are you supposed to do? Can’t even push them away,” you say referring to his futile attempts at trying to push you away from him. “Guess you’d just have to stay and take whatever they’re willing to give you,” you continue, proving your point when you easily spread his legs wide and ground your cock up against his ass, all while he can’t do anything but helplessly watch as you twist and turn his body as if he were a ragdoll “Bet there’s plenty of things they would love to do to a pretty boy like you. Don’t you think?”

“Oh god- don’t -dont say that,” he gasps out, head falling into the crook of your neck as if he’s horrified. But you can feel his fully hard cock from where your hand is resting against his thighs , can hear the muffled whines and whimpers as he grinds himself up against you, can see it on him how he he’s torn between pushing you away and completely stopping this little game or pulling you closer to him to see how far you’ll take this.

What a sick little thing you got at your hands.

“How about this?” You say, hand yanking ahold of his hair to bring his ear closer to you “You try to run and we’ll see if I can catch you. Does that sound alright?”

This time you don’t get a verbal response. Instead you can see it on his face what he’s trying to say: and what happens if you catch me?

The silence is swiftly broken with a soft thud as you release your hold on him.”Run, quick,”

He doesn’t waste a second scrambling up the stairs, practically tripping over his feet as he turns corners. He looks and sounds absolute terrified and you can’t help but love that, cock growing harder as you follow him up.

With each step you take you can hear his rapid breaths getting louder and louder , can feel his own thudding steps as you walk down the narrow hallway, can practically smell him - not some cheap cologne nor any deodorant but rather a mix of sickly sweet vanilla and sugar- something that’s just so him - something you’d want to sink your teeth in and drain completely. You follow that very scent all the way to your shared bedroom.

And there he stands, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, or rather like a animal that’s bleeding out on the side of the road, with his cock still painfully hard and with a suspicious dark spot on his sweatpants.

“Oh sweetheart,” you coo, voice dripping with faux concern, while slowly walking up to him like he was an injured animal of some sort. “Why do you look so scared hmm? You know I won’t actually hurt you,” you continue, watching in amusement as he swiftly backs up til his back is flushed with the bedroom wall.

You’re quick to press yourself flush against his chest, once again trapping him in your embrace.“Come on. You wound me. I really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You know that,” You say eyes once again flicking up to the wet spot on his pants “Look, got yourself all worked up and for what?” You ask, as you cup the wet bulge over his pants.

“Stop - ah don’t” he cries out, sounding and looking absolutely horrified as he tries to push your hand away but once again it’s to no avail and he has to stand there as you freely grope him. However it doesn’t take much before he’s bucking up into your touch, head lolling back against the wall as whines and whimpers freely pour past his tongue “fuck- so good mph,”

“See sweetheart, I just want to take care of you, wouldn’t dream of hurting you,”you say with a soft smile as you continue to rub him through his pants. The man only furiously nods, begs and please of more more more, continuously rolling off of his tongue as he practically humps the palm of your hand.

“Unless you want me to, that is,” suddenly you’re flipping him around, hand rough as ever as you shove him up against the wall before slotting your leg between his thighs.

The poor thing squeaks in suprise, tears freely spilling from his eyes ,as incoherent words start pouring from his mouth.

“Come on now sweetheart,” you groan out , hand once again yanking at his hair and successfully pulling a hiss from him “you know that need you to use your words. Now tell em what you want yeah?”

Once again he’s fumbling over his words, too overwhelmed with emotions to form a coherent sentence. However you won’t take that for answer, hand once again yanking at his hair till he finally responds to you.

“Want- ah want you to touch me sir ah- please do anything touch me- hah fuck me - hurt me just anything please please-“

“Well who am I to say no when you ask so nicely?”

[jeongin-lvr]

🎼 ─┈┈ hubby heeseung ̩̩͙˚ ᩙ ⠀

husband! heeseung with the fattest crush on you literally ever. he worships the ground you walk on; he practically kneels before you, awaiting every need and command you bring to him. he’s so serious when he says he’d take every star out of the sky and give it to you as a gift if you asked. which also includes in bed when he has your face buried into the messed up, unkept bedsheets, whispering i love you’s as he kisses your g-spot with his fat cock. or when he has you in the shower, bent between your legs on his knees as water rushes down his back because you looked too pretty with soapy hair and skin. he mumbles against your clit as he does so, gurled by water but his point still comes across, “the prettiest girl... and you’re all mine, thank you...“

husband! heeseung who recites his vows as he fucks you in a mating press. its crazy but he does it every single time he has you all curled up, knees beside your head, too fucked out as buckets of his cum leaks out of you and stains the sheets. he’s telling you every promise he made on your wedding day and more. he’s reminding you it really is till death do you part. he doesn’t realize he’s doing it; it’s probably just because he gets so worked up, so full of love. every thrust into your flutterung hole is heaven, and all he can think about is how badly he loves you and how badly he wants to get you pregnant.

husband! heeseung who finds you the absolute sexiest when you’re wearing your glasses and his big t-shirt, bare legs, messy hair, rosy cheeks. it’s perfection, he can’t get enough. if he sees you like that fully expect to be completely ruined within the next hour. he fucks you with the glasses on, an dyou’re confused because he doesn’t get crazy like this when you actually dress up or put effort into your appearence, and all he has to say is, “this is the you that turns me on.“ he’ll pin your hands above your head and press your knees into your chest as he stuffs himself inside of you, loving the way the fabric of his shirt bunches at your hips. you weren’t even wearing any panties anyway, what did you expect <3

husband! heeseung who kisses your wedding bands whenever you two are having intimate, lazy sex. lifting your wrist and hand to his lips and pecking your knuckles, kissing on your shaky hands until his lips trace the cold metal, humming with a smile at the way your gaze flickers to his. its the cutest thing, immediately making you smile when you see the sparkles filling his gaze. its so obvious he loves you so much. he even promises to buy you more rings because, “you deserve it,“ and he never fails to fulfill his promise. the next day he somehow comes home from work with a new band, something new for your growing collection.

husband! heeseung who is the first to bring up kids and is very serious about wanting at least two. he’ll casually bring it up into conversations and its adorable... until he’s lifting you onto the counter and lifting your skirt because you’re ovulating and it’s, word for word, “the perfect time to get you pregnant.“ he says it sneakily, with a wink and a cunning grin. you can’t say no, especially since the idea of him being the father of your children was almost perfect. you’re both young but it doesn’t hurt to try does it? so he’s waking you up to his cock filling you up in the morning, or when you’re just watching a movie he ends up sitting you on his dick and filling you up. you have no complaints. just shaky legs and a nice, warm creampie.

husband! heeseung who finally gets you pregnant and is somehow even more obsessed with you. he’s doting on you hand and foot. every craving you get he’s finding every ingredient. every symptom you experience he’s researching diligently, telling you cures or remedies, scheduling doctors apointments to get an experts opinion. and on days when all you wanna do is be near him, feel him, feel sexy with him, he’s so perfect at being exactly what you need. he worships your body; praising you on how pretty you look full of his baby, how you’re glowing, kissing your ankles or your tits or anywhere you might feel a little unsure of.

[sylver-star]

⭑.ᐟ

"Are you sure you don't want me to do anything?"

You're perched on the counter, watching Seungcheol move around the kitchen. From what you know of him this far in your relationship - if that's what you can call it - he doesn't cook much. He doesn't have the time, and he doesn't have the energy. Still, he's putting all of this energy into making you dinner, just because.

"Just sit there and look pretty, baby." He sent you a quick smile, before walking up to the sink.

He turns on the sink, and you watch him carefully lather his hands in soap. It almost transfixes you, the way that he moves his hands over one another. Moments like these make you question how you can ever function normally around him. His tight black t-shirt lets you see every which way he moves.

"I feel like I should be doing something. You don't need me to cut the veggies or something?" You try to play it cool, but at this point Seungcheol has noticed that you're staring.

"You seem too occupied for that." He picks up a towel and dries his hands off, leaning against the counter beside you and looking up at you with a teasing grin.

"Please." You huff, but don't deny it or try to turn away from him. "You're so full of yourself."

He puts the towel down and takes one of his hands to cup your jaw. Seungcheol brings your face towards his and presses a kiss on your lips. It's masked as something chaste, but leaves you wanting more. When he pulls away, you have trouble fluttering your eyes back open.

"Just let me do the cooking tonight. Let me spoil you." He goes over to the kitchen island to prepare the vegetables he's put there.

You're easily persuaded when it comes to him, so you only sigh and look down at your lap - trying to hide the way that you fluster. "Sure."

Seungcheol keeps smiling while he works, and you just know that he's proud of himself. It's not exactly a bad thing - you're proud of him too, in fact - but the urge to walk up to him and kiss that smile off his face is growing within you.

"Could you at least tell me what you're making?" you ask.

"Soup."

"Soup?"

He looks over at you, then shyly looks back at the cutting board. "It's my mom's recipe. So, it's secret."

"Ah, a family secret." Your heart is full, and you don't know how to express it without squealing - so you try your best to conceal your emotions, but it's cracking through your smile. "I'm not allowed to know then?

"I mean, you could. Just not now."

His words linger as your heart skips a beat. The only word repeating in your mind is a big, fat "YES", but you say nothing. Seungcheol looks up at you again, smiling knowingly.

"You know," he says, "Because then you'd try to help."

You can tell that he knows that you know what he really meant. But he lets it stay in the air, lets it sink in fully. "Right."

Seungcheol keeps cooking, and you stay seated, but you can't forget what he said. You don't want to forget.

[bombuni]

Did.... did you say stuck-porn scenario San?? I'm gonna need that asap please👀 your writing is so yummylicious it's not even funny

rock & a hard place

summary: your roommate lends a helping hand. genre/pairing: roommate!san x fem!reader warnings: smut 18+ mdni, softdom!san x reader, unwanted creampie, kinda size kink, slight dubcon, so pls read with caution :) bom note: me writing jongho smut after jongho smut and forcing myself to write other member smut - i can’t put down the cup, i can’t put down the cup💔💔

You’re humiliated.

You’re not sure how you managed to fit your entire front half into the dryer, but the panic inside you is rising with every second that passes. The confined space of the machine is only making it worse as you try to fight your way out. Seriously, you swore this was only something that happens in porn.

You can’t even reach your phone. The last resort, the most embarrassing one, is to call your roommate.

Your voice is quiet at first, embarrassment shrouding your entirety. San is an understanding sweetheart, you know that, but he is unfortunately also one of the most handsome men you’ve seen. To have him seeing you like this, with practically naked in just your panties and bent over is what the kids call ‘an aura-loss.’

He comes running the second time you call for him, hearing the panic in your voice, “Are yo-ah.”

San covers his eyes at first, taken aback by the sight of your naked body. Even though you can’t see him gawking, he still feels too awkward to do it unashamedly. Your little plump ass is literally on display for him, in your adorable Hello Kitty patterned panties, and he can’t help it when his face sets on fire. Or when his shorts grow tight.

Hearing the realization in his voice only makes you want to disappear even more, “I’m so sorry, San, I was just getting my clothes. I don’t know how I got stuck.”

He’s still frozen in place and scared to touch you, “Don’t be sorry. I’m just-uhh. How do you want me to get you…out?”

San tries to psych himself up behind you, softly slapping himself as if that’ll get rid of his raging boner. He can’t rip his eyes away from your ass.

“Just-do what you need to, San.”

With your permission, San grabs your hips firmly. His hands send electrifying tingles throughout your body, but you have no choice but to ignore it. You don’t realize that San is fighting the same urge behind you, squeezing your hips and caressing your skin under the pretense that he’s finding a better grip. He never noticed how soft your skin is until now.

He pulls once, to no avail. The second time, he accidentally bumps against you with the force he uses. San mutters out a swear at the feeling, almost cumming right then and there. His hard-on isn’t helping, with every little inch he moves he’s in jeopardy of letting you know how hard he is.

But, he can’t help himself. You’re just so tempting, if anything it’s your fault for walking around like this. He rubs himself once on you, playing it off as an accidental touch, but he immediately needs more once he feels you. He’s dizzy with need, dizzy with you, and he just can’t resist the climbing urge he’s feeling to seize this opportunity you’ve presented him with.

San keens over, leaning onto the dryer in front of him, “Sh-shit,”

You feel him. You feel his desperate cock, his hot breath against your back, and the growing heat of his entire body. He feels your body shudder at the size of his bulge as it presses against you and he can’t help but think that maybe you want this just as bad as he does.

San tentatively inserts his fingers under the band of your panties, “Just-need better grip-hah-okay?”

“W-wait, San!”

He pulls your underwear off with one swift tug, groaning when he sees your slick glistening in the dim light. You’re shaking and he can’t help but find your little pathetic pleads adorable.

“You won’t get out of here until I help. So just let me help you, okay?”

He sounds so beautiful when he’s desperate and needy, and there’s really nothing you can do but submit to him. You don’t have time to react before you feel the cold metal of his rings rubbing through your folds. You hear his breathy moans as he continues exploring you, feel his shaky fingers trying their hardest to hold back. His other hand struggles to hurriedly get himself out of his sweatpants, already leaking and tip red with need. You suddenly feel San’s lips on the small of your back. A kind warning kiss, you fear, for what’s to come.

He whispers gently, as if trying not to scare you off, “You just can’t be walking around like this and expect not to be fucked, baby,”

The sound of his soft, gentle voice is like a key to your soul. You reply just as gently, “I know, Sannie, ‘m sorry…”

He drags his cock over your folds, surprising you. You can’t see what he’s doing, so every time he touches you it’s a complete shock to your senses. He seems to enjoy your little shivers and nervous shakes. He likes to see how vulnerable you are, how he’s in complete control of you and everything that’s happening to you. San keeps dragging himself between you, collecting your juices on himself.

He seems to drown in this feeling, swallowing every quiet whine you give and using it to fuel his domineering air, “Really, you did this on purpose-shit-just to get me to fuck your brains out. Why didn’t you just ask, dolly?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…”

“So cute. Your little, wet pussy is dripping, baby. You like this, don’t you? You like it when I force you to get fucked?”

San doesn’t even give you the chance to respond before sliding his cock inside of you. He shushes you when you complain, holding your arms back and still so you don’t hurt yourself. Although he likes watching your little shakes of defiance, how adorably useless you are against him. He soothes you through the stretch of him, groaning alongside your whines as he feels you suck him in.

He bottoms out, whining as you clench around his length, “No, no, dolly, quit that. I’ll cum in your tiny pussy, we don’t want that, do we?”

You aggressively shake your head as San starts to fuck you, all caution thrown to the wind with his harsh thrusts. You’re embarrassed by your loud squelching, but you hardly have time to think about that with San’s length hitting practically every inch of your insides. His moans are adorably whiny, breathy as the barely-there restraint leaves his body and he fucks you with even more vigor. He’s spurred on by the feeling of your tiny body against his, your pathetic attempts of freeing yourself only adding to his pleasure.

“Hah-you’re so tight, sweetheart. I really can’t help myself, might have to claim you forever,”

“S-sannie, no, I said no-“

He’s rabid in his taking of you, holding your wrists tight as he grows closer to the edge, “Oh, god, you’re so cute, this tiny, little pussy’s gonna be mine forever-“

“San!”

San holds your hips tight, fingernails digging into your skin and moaning sweetly as he pulls you into him, his cum flowing freely inside you. He pulls so hard in the haze of his orgasm that your entire body falls back with the force and onto him.

He’s still in the throes of his orgasm, yelping as you fall onto him and he lands on the floor. It’s cold against his ass cheeks, and he’s blushing hard once the post-nut realization hits that he came so hard he managed to pop you out. San decides this is probably on his list of worst orgasms.

Your face is flushed as you turn to him, “That’s what you get for cumming inside.”

He has the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry…”

[enwoso]

Hey, I have a request, you can write it for Lessi.

Well, she and Yn are together but no one knows about, only their families and Less's teammates. Yn is a reporter.

So when, for example England won the world cup, they were over the moon and Yn has to interview her, so when they were talking and almost the interview was over, Less was like fuck it, and kiss Yn, so obviously everyone was watching them.( Like Iker Casillas and her wife, I don't know if you know about it) and after that, you can write whatever you want, like Less's teammates teasing her, or Yn teasing her girlfriend.

SECRET OF US | alessia russo x reader

masterlist

the stadium was electric, england had just won the euros — again. they were back to back winners. the roars of the crowd echoed across the pitch.

alessia stood in the middle of the pitch, an england flag wrapped around her shoulders, taking it all in as her heart raced, her body drenched in sweat and pure adrenaline.

her neck feeling heavy with the weight of the gold medal around her neck but nothing could compare to the pride which was swelling in her chest.

the blondes teammates celebrated around her, hugs and laughter flowing freely, but alessia's eyes were scanning the sidelines until they found what they were looking for — you, standing poised with a microphone.

you were broadcasting live, for sky sports. you out the corner of your eyes caught your girlfriend's gaze giving her a subtle smile, but it was one that spoke volumes.

no one knew about your relationship with the blonde — at least not publicly. your families knew, of course, as well as alessia's teammates both club and country as they had both made it their mission to tease alessia mercilessly in private.

but away from that tight circle, your relationship was a well guarded secret. you both had agreed on keeping things private, not wanting your growing career in sports journalism to be overshadowed by being 'alessia russo's girlfriend' that and it was nice not having outsiders opinions on your relationship.

but tonight as you waved your girlfriend over for a post match interview, alessia felt something shift inside of her.

she wasn't just proud of herself or the team; she was proud of you too. proud of the way you had supported her every step of the way.

you voice was warm and steady as you introduced alessia to the live audience. "i'm here with alessia russo - now two time european champion." you paused with a grin, "alessia first of all congratulations! how does it feel to know you've made history tonight, again!"

as alessia listened to your words spoken so softly but with such reason as her heart skipped at the sight of you so close — your cheeks slightly flushed and your bright eyes as well as the way you would unconsciously twist the cord of microphone in your hand.

unable to resist, alessia brushed her hand against yours as she took her place in front of the camera. you sending her a quick but knowing look as she maintained her composure.

"it's unbelievable," alessia smiled, her voice slightly hoarse from all of the shouting and cheering she'd done in the past hour. "honestly i don't even have the words for it right now. this is everything we've worked for, everything we've dreamed of — it's surreal"

you nodded, your professionalism impeccable even as your eyes softened filled with love, "and what about the team? what is the secret to the lionesses success?"

a chuckle fell from alessia's lips as she reached up to adjust the medal around her neck, "this team is special and we've got the best players, the best staff and most importantly the best bond. we really are a family"

as you asked the next question, alessia's attention dropped for a moment to the hand which you had resting at your side, fingers lightly tapping against your leg.

alessia's mind trailed to thinking how many times she had held that hand through so many highs and lows, felt its comforting squeeze before each big game and now she wanted nothing more than to reach out for it again.

the interview continued for another minute or two, you asking insightful questions that everyone in the public wanted to know — alessia answering with a mix of humility and joy.

but as the interview began to wrap up, alessia felt a sudden overwhelming urge to share a moment — not just with you, but with the world.

you asked your final question, "so what's next for you, alessia? a celebration with the team, i assume?"

alessia's grin turned mischievous as your brow furrowed slightly, you'd seen that grin once or twice before. "oh there'll definitely be a celebration, but first-"

and without thinking — or maybe too much thinking — alessia stepped forward and cupped your face, kissing you.

the roar of the crowd doubled, the interview having been being shown on the big screens around the stadium. cheers and gasps filled the air as you froze for a split second, your microphone slipping slightly in your hand.

but you then melted into the kiss, your free hand reaching up and resting gently on your girls' waist.

alessia pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against yours, her thumb brushing against your cheek as you both caught your breath.

your cheeks were flaming but the sparkle in your eyes was a mixture of love and disbelief. "lessi," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

alessia turning towards the camera, shrugging her shoulders with a cheeky look on her face, "guess the secret of us is out now"

the feed cut back to the studio, but the damage, or rather the magic, was already done.

every social media exploded within minutes, clips of the kiss flooding every platform and news article, side by side with captions like: 'russo pulls a casillas!' and 'new power couple on the block!'

the two of you began to walk down the tunnel most of the team already back in there as you both walked along hand in hand, alessia relucantly letting go of your hand as she sneaked another kiss in before going into the locker room. you walking off to attend to other media duties.

as alessia walked into the locker room, still slightly breathless from the kiss, and the other ones she snuck in from being on the sideline to being metres away from the locker room door. the teasing from her teammates started immediately.

"about time!" ella hollered, throwing a towel at alessia's head. "thought you were gonna keep us sworn to secrecy forever"

alessia taking a seat where her things were, taking a sip of the drink which had been left in her cubby, chloe smirking holding up her phone to alessia, "you've gone viral, less. the internet is having a field day!"

others joined in on the teasing as they watched alessia squirm it setting in on what she'd actually done, on live national tv...

leah grinned from her spot in the locker room, "you've really pulled an iker casillas, less! full on national tv smooch"

that got some giggles going from the team as they began to imitate kissing noises earning nothing but a groan from alessia as she buried her face in her hands.

but the smile tugging at her lips easily betrayed her, "i never planned for it to happen- it just happened" she shrugged.

her teammates exchanged knowing looks before bursting into laughter, their teasing giving way to genuine smiles.

you eventually found alessia back in the hotel lobbey, scrolling through her phone with a bemused look on her face. you didn't say anything at first, instead just quietly slipped yourself to sit on her lap, placing your head on top of hers.

alessia immediately reaching for your hand as she treated your fingers together

"so," you smiled after a moment, your voice was soft but teasing, "that's one way to make our relationship public!"

alessia moved slightly so that you were now facing each other as she placed a kiss to your cheek, "i couldn't help it. you- you just looked so.. perfect. and i wanted everyone to know"

your expression softened, though your lips twitched with amusement, "your lucky i love you, lessi. otherwise i'd be very mad about the fact i've got ten producers texting me about an 'official statement'"

alessia winced, "too much?"

you laughed, tucking a bit of her loose hair behind her ear as you hand moved down to rest on alessia's chest, right over her heart. "maybe a little. but i don't mind. it's kind of romantic.. in a chaotic sort of way"

"chaotic? me?" alessia teased, feigning offended as she pecked at your lips.

you rolled your eyes but you couldn't help the smile that appeared on your lips, "you know this means we are never going hear the end of it right? the girls are going to milk this for years to come and i'm never doing another interview without the topic being brought up"

alessia shrugged, her other arm slipping around your waist as she played with the hem of your shirt, "let them talk. as long as i've got you then none of that matters"

you expression softened further as her words which were laced with just pure love, your voice barely above a whisper, "you've always had me"

alessia smiled lovingly as she leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow but tender kiss. a one that spoke a millions words and showed just how in love and infatuated with one another.

as you broke apart, alessia rested her forehead against yours, her hand cupping the back of your neck.

"and i always will," alessia murmured.

for the first time that night, the chaos of the day melted away, leaving just the two of them—inseparable, unshaken, and utterly in love.

[kirammanswifey]

helloo!! can you please write about ‘arcane characters when you get in an argument’? i absolutely love ur writing btw!! 🫶🏻

arguments with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love when you guys request this kind of interesting dynamics, it's so fun to write about it! also my favorite this time was sevika's, I meannn it was kinda hot and spicy. requests are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the keys under his hands seems to fill the air, but what resonates most is the silence between the two of you. The room is steeped in an unsettling calm, while he keeps working as if nothing else exists. It’s been days since he last rested, and you know it. His skin is paler than usual, his eyes glassy, as if all the world's exhaustion is about to devour him. The scent of machine oil and metal permeates the room, but what hurts you most is the fragility of his being, the one he insists on ignoring.

Slowly, frustration begins to simmer within you. You love him more than anything in the world, but watching him so neglected, so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even stop to eat, burns you.

You approach him, and suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your tone isn't raised, but the fury is felt in every word. "Viktor, stop," you murmur, almost pleading. "You’re killing yourself. You haven’t eaten in days, not even slept. Do you know what you're doing? You're letting yourself go. Your body is crying out for help, and you're ignoring it."

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react. He keeps working as if your words don't reach him. Frustrated, you step closer. "You can't keep going like this, Viktor! What are you expecting? For someone to come and save you from yourself? This isn't just about your work, it’s about you!"

Finally, he looks up, but his eyes don’t seem to truly see you. Only a shadow of exhaustion. "I do it for them... for the people. The work... my research, it’s all that matters now."

"And you? Don’t you matter?" The anger mixes with something much deeper. Something that has to do with fear. "Your lack of self-love is so evident, Viktor, even I can see it. You're losing yourself in this obsession."

The words come out harsher than you intended. But seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, you realize what you've just said. A lump forms in your throat.

You fall silent, feeling the air grow thick. Guilt quickly invades you, and before you can think, you kneel in front of him. "Forgive me," you whisper, the anger already dissipated, replaced by sincere pain. "I didn't mean to be so harsh. It’s just... I don't want to see you like this, so lost. I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you are what I love most, Viktor."

Your hands tremble as you take his face in yours. "Please, take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, fighting alone against everything. Because, to me, you are everything."

Viktor says nothing at first. He just watches you, the conflict in his gaze. Then, as if releasing a sigh he had been holding for too long, he responds softly, "I’ll try... I promise I’ll try."

You look at him with a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, you stand up and take his hand firmly. "Now come with me. I’m going to make your favorite dinner. You need it."

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his face softens, and for the first time in a long while, he gives you a faint smile. "You know, that sounds wonderful," he says with a tone that mixes surprise and gratitude.

As you prepare dinner, the atmosphere changes. The tension slowly dissolves, but there’s something else in the air, a silent understanding between you two. After dinner, you look at him with a mischievous smile.

"Viktor," you say, your voice full of complicity. "How many days have you gone without bathing? Because, honestly, I think it’s time you do."

He visibly shifts in discomfort, his face taking on a pink hue. "Honestly... I don’t know," he replies, as if trying to evade the question, looking down. "The truth is, I haven’t had time to think about those things."

Your laugh is soft but teasing. "I think you’ve forgotten a bit about yourself. So, what do you think if after dinner, we take a bath together?"

Viktor blushes even more, but before he can say anything, he has already conceded, and with an exaggerated formality only he can pull off, he responds, "Well... that... that would be very pleasant. If you don’t mind, of course."

The tension from before has transformed into something softer, lighter. You, amused by his so formal response, take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, feeling that, in that moment, all that really matters is that he’s finally willing to take care of himself.

Jinx

The sound of the spark igniting the fuse fills the room. Jinx has a playful smile on her face, but something isn't right. The bomb is making strange noises, as if it's about to fail. The sparkle in her eyes fades for a second, but it's accompanied by a nervous chuckle.

"What's wrong, Jinx?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. The moment feels out of place, and for a moment, you sense that something is very wrong, very out of control. "That... doesn't sound right."

But she just stands there, watching the bomb intently. She doesn't move. The air grows heavy, and suddenly, the bomb makes a terrifying click.

Your eyes widen as you see the timer on the bomb speeding up. A chill grips you, and in an instant, you act on instinct. You leap toward the table, your breath quickening, and deactivate the bomb just before it fully triggers. The explosion is seconds away from ringing in your ears, but you manage to stop it.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you quickly turn to face Jinx. She’s still there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the deactivated bomb, as if hypnotized. She doesn't look scared or relieved, just... empty.

"Why didn't you do anything?" you confront her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you just stand there? You could have died, Jinx! We could have both died!"

Jinx stares at the floor, her demeanor shifting in a second. The mockery dissolves, the mask falls, and in its place appears the scared girl she so often hides. "I... just wanted to see what would happen." Her response is soft, trembling, as if she doesn't know how to process what just happened.

Those few seconds of silence feel eternal. The air around you grows heavy, as if the whole world is waiting for something else to explode. And it does. You can't take it anymore. Fury takes over, and you lash out at her.

"What did you want to see, Jinx?" Your voice is harsh, filled with frustration. "Did you want to see us both die because of your stupid curiosity? Is that what you wanted?"

Jinx shrinks, her expression transforming into something so fragile it burns your heart. Her face is filled with regret, but her eyes can't meet yours. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she keeps staring at the floor, feeling small and scolded.

"I didn't mean to... I swear..." she murmurs, almost in a whisper, her words choked by the pain of having gone too far.

Your rage starts to dissipate, replaced by something deeper. An irrational fear, the anguish of watching Jinx destroy herself. You walk toward her, kneel to her level, and gently take her chin, lifting it so she looks at you.

What you see stops you cold. Jinx's nails are deeply embedded in her palms, red marks that have hurt her, as if she wants to punish herself for something. You stare at her intently, the pain reflected in her eyes and her gesture.

Quickly, you take her hands, without saying a word, and kiss them softly, your lips touching the small wounds on her skin. The blood from her hands stains your lips, but you don't care. "You know I hate seeing you destroy yourself," you murmur, your voice broken by the fear you still feel. "Please, Sweets, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us."

You stay still, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the door that had closed in her heart opens, and Jinx lets out a deep sob. Tears fall down her face, like an unexpected rain, and her body trembles.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jinx sobs, clutching you tightly. There are no more laughs, no more jokes. Just pure pain. And you hold her with equal intensity, rocking her in your arms, trying to soothe her, to erase the suffering she always carries inside.

"Pain isn't the solution," you whisper, stroking her braided hair, trying to convey all the love you feel for her. "I'll always be here for you, Sweets. You don't have to carry all this alone."

She remains silent for a moment, her sobs calming, but her embrace is still desperate. Finally, after a few seconds, her eyes lift, and with a small smile, she says:

"So... want to make bombs, but in a fun way? With less blood this time!"

The laughter that follows fills the room, and even though you know the battle isn't won, this small step in her recovery gives you renewed hope. Taking her hand, you lead her back to the table with the tools, ready for another night filled with madness... but this time, with a little more care.

Vi

The air in the Undercity feels heavy tonight, a cold that seems to seep into your bones. The sound of metal echoing through the structures, the distant murmurs of shouts and laughter, mix with the echo of your footsteps on the iron bridge that crosses the dark, grimy avenue. You walk in silence, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Suddenly, a drunk, staggering with a vacant stare, approaches you. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and his eyes settle on you in a not-so-friendly way. His rough, hollow laughter resonates in the air, as if nothing he was about to do mattered.

Before you can react, his hands touch your backside without warning, sending a wave of revulsion through you and a shiver down your spine.

A choked scream escapes you, but before you can push him away, you feel Vi’s furious gaze, like a storm about to break loose. The anger on her face is palpable, and not a second later, the drunk is on the ground, receiving blows that thunder like hammers. His face is soon covered in blood, and the sound of fists pounding against his body leaves a disturbing feeling in the air.

Vi doesn’t stop; each punch is more brutal than the last. People in the distance quickly disperse, leaving only the echo of the hits. Your heart races, worry consumes you as you watch Vi unleash her uncontrollable fury.

"Vi, stop!" You lunge toward her, but in the process, one of her fury-fueled punches lands directly on your lip. The immediate pain stuns you, and when you touch your face, your hand is filled with blood. The split lip burns. Vi stops abruptly, looking at her bloodstained knuckles—her own, the drunk’s, and now yours.

She stands frozen, her face, once filled with rage, now shows a look of horror. “Oh, God…” she murmurs, seeing what she has done.

You tremble, not just from the pain in your lip but from the brutality of her actions. You’re not used to violence, not on this magnitude. Fear knots in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you watch Vi, her face now wrecked with guilt.

"I didn’t mean to!" Her voice is broken, as if the guilt is overwhelming her.

“Let’s go home,” you respond coldly, more out of fear than anger, "and when we get there, we’ll talk."

The walk home is silent, the tension hanging between you like a taut string about to snap. When you arrive, you enter the kitchen and quickly tend to your lip, while Vi watches silently, unable to articulate a word.

Once you finish, you turn to her. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “Vi…” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “You need to learn to control your anger. This time, you just didn’t hurt someone else. This time, it was me too. Me, the person you love the most. Do you realize that? Do you realize how I felt when your blows landed on me?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and her throat tightens as if she wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her chest. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

You continue, your words coming out with more pain than you expected. “Sometimes… I’m afraid of you, Vi. Not because of what you might do to others, but because of what you might do to me. I don’t want to live in fear of your rage hurting me. It hurts so much. It hurt so much.”

Vi collapses in front of you, breaking down. Her tears fall one after another, and she throws herself into your arms, holding you in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t know how… how to control it. I always have this rage inside, and sometimes I don’t know how to stop it. When it explodes, everything goes to hell, I know…” Her voice cracks as she clings to you. "I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you."

The softness in her tone hits you harder than any punch, and in that moment, you know she understands. "Vi, I… I don’t want you to hurt anymore," you murmur, caressing her back. "I don’t want that rage to control you."

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention… but sometimes…” her words trail off in a sigh.

A small, sad smile forms on your face. “Have you thought about boxing? Maybe it’ll help you release all that. And I’ll go with you! But promise me you won’t use me as a punching bag, okay?" you joke with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

Vi finally laughs, a laugh that feels like relief. “I promise. Just, please, don’t leave me, okay?”

You approach her, tenderly kissing her, careful to avoid the wound on your lip, and you feel the softness of her lips, the calm that finally settles between you. “I would never leave you, babe,” you whisper as you both embrace, knowing that, even though everything is complicated and painful, there is something between you that always keeps you together.

Caitlyn

The door bursts open, and Caitlyn enters the room with a face marked by a fury that seems to burn inside her. Your eyes lift from where you're sitting, a little surprised by her abrupt entrance, but you quickly see what has been happening.

"I can't believe what I had to hear today," Caitlyn throws out, her voice cold and cutting as she drops her jacket on a chair. "All because of your... damn ideas of justice. Do you have any idea what that means in this place?"

You stand up slowly, the tone of her voice making the air grow denser, heavier. "What happened, Cait?" you ask, though part of you already knows it has something to do with her ideals.

"It's not just what happened, it's what's happening. All the damn time," she responds, walking toward you with contained rage. "You go on and on about doing what's right, without understanding that ‘right’ isn’t always what people in high places think. You think you can change something, but all you're doing is making it worse."

Your heart races, and a spark of frustration rises in your chest. "Make it worse?" you repeat, feeling indignation begin to spill out of you. "Is that what you think? That my actions aren't worth it? You're so blinded by your perfect view of the world that you can't see what's really going on in the streets! Evil isn't just in the ‘high society,’ Caitlyn. It's everywhere."

Caitlyn looks at you with an intensity that almost seems defiant, but also wounded. "I'm not blind, the problem is that I can't understand why you keep going against the whole system. Every time you do, you just feed more chaos. You have to think about the consequences, about the people who can't afford those ideals you're defending like you're some fairy-tale hero. Not everyone can afford that luxury."

"A luxury?" Your voice rises slightly, now stronger. "What you call 'luxury' should be a right. Do you really not understand that people are suffering? That your 'system' is letting all of this crumble just to maintain power? I can't just stand by because you think it's fine because it looks neat from your tower."

Caitlyn steps back, as if your words hit some deep place inside her. "Not everything is as simple as ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Sometimes things aren’t black or white. Sometimes you have to make concessions to move forward. What you’re doing is just putting yourself in the center, without understanding that there’s more at stake."

The words hang in the air between you two, and the intensity of the argument seems to rise with every exchange. Caitlyn is so convinced of her point of view that you can't help but feel frustrated by the barrier between you.

"What I understand, Caitlyn," you finally say, with a tense calm, "is that sometimes you do more harm by trying to follow the rules than by breaking them. And I know your intentions are good, but I can't stay silent watching you justify the unjustifiable."

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if taking a breath to calm herself. When she opens them again, something has changed. It’s not that her anger has disappeared, but she seems more exhausted, as if all this is wearing her down. "I’m not asking you to agree with me. I'm just asking you to understand that sometimes, even if it hurts, decisions aren’t as easy as you see them."

There's a long silence between you, the air thick with discomfort and tension. You both know you're not going to come to an agreement this time, but you also know that won't change what lies between you.

Finally, Caitlyn sighs and sits on the edge of the table, letting the exhaustion take over her. "Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right, no matter what I try," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "And you... you make me see everything that's wrong with me."

You move a little closer, calmer but still hurt. "Cait, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to realize you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You don’t have to keep walking down this path if it doesn't make you happy. I’m here for you, even when we don’t agree."

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes reflecting some vulnerability, something she doesn't usually show. "I know. I just… I’m scared that I could lose everything I’ve built because... because I don't know when to stop."

You sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re not going to lose it, Cait. No matter how much we fight, what matters is that we’re in this together. But you also have to learn to take care of yourself, not just the world."

Caitlyn nods slowly, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on her face, though it’s sad. "I guess sometimes I forget that."

The tension begins to dissipate, although the brush of differences is still there. Deep down, you both know that these kinds of discussions won’t end anytime soon, but you also know that you're both moving forward for something bigger than the disagreement.

Jayce

There was something heavy in the air that night. An uncomfortable silence that hadn't been able to break for the past few days. Despite being in the same house, in the same room, you felt farther away from Jayce than ever. It wasn't just the lack of physical contact, it wasn't just the absence of the small gestures that usually made everything work between you. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without him realizing it.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You sat on the bed, staring into the emptiness in front of you, and when he walked in, that feeling of discouragement completely overwhelmed you. Without looking at him, you started.

“Jayce, I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s been days since… since we’ve had anything. And I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about everything. I don’t even feel like you desire me anymore.”

Jayce, who had been in his own world as usual, looked up at you, confused by your words. “What are you saying, honey?” Surprise was evident in his voice, but it wasn’t enough to calm the torrent that had been unleashed inside you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You stood up from the bed, walking towards him, words pouring out like a torrent. “Every day, I feel like I’m just here, fitting into your perfect life. Everything we do, everything we plan, it feels like you’re doing it because you have to. What about what I want, Jayce? What about us?”

Jayce took a step towards you, opening his arms as if he wanted to get closer, but something in your gaze made him stop. “No… I don’t understand. What do you mean by fitting into my perfect life?”

Your breathing quickened. “What I mean is that sometimes, I feel like I’m just an accessory, another piece in the puzzle you’ve been putting together. Like what matters most to you is making everything look right, fitting, but not us. I don’t feel desired, Jayce. I feel empty, like I don’t matter, like I’m just here because I fit into your life, not because you actually want to be with me.”

The pain in your voice was palpable, and although Jayce tried to step closer, you moved away from him. “I’m so tired of feeling like we’re nothing more than two people sharing a space. There’s no passion, no connection… Just the idea of what’s expected of us.”

Jayce looked completely lost, like he never imagined you felt this way. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You know how important you are to me. But I… I’ve been so focused on work, on everything we need to achieve, that…”

“That what?” you interrupted, unable to keep bearing what felt like a pile of excuses. “That you’re too busy to see what’s right in front of you? I have my own problems too, Jayce. Not everything revolves around your projects, your perfect image. I’m a person too, and my feelings matter too.”

The words hung in the air, between rage and pain. Jayce didn’t say anything, and that only increased the feeling of abandonment you were experiencing. Frustration and sadness took over you more and more. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way you expected.

“Honey…” Jayce started, his voice softer now, but still full of confusion. “I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I didn’t realize I was leaving you out. I didn’t want you to feel… unwanted.”

Your eyes filled with tears, the emotional pressure of being unheard for so long finally bursting. “I don’t want to be just another option in your life. I want to be loved, I want to feel desired, I want you to look at me like you’re afraid of losing me. And I don’t feel that from you. I feel like everything we do is a routine, just fulfilling what’s supposed to be.”

Jayce slowly approached, now understanding the gravity of your words. “I… I don’t know how I didn’t see all this. I’m sorry, honey. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been so focused on everything else that… I’ve failed you.”

A heavy silence fell between you. You didn’t know what to think, just felt a knot in your stomach, but when Jayce took a step towards you, taking your hands, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes, searching for some sign that he truly understood how you felt.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his tone full of sincerity. “I promise I’ll change, I won’t take you for granted. You’re the most important thing to me, and if I made you feel like you weren’t, it hurts me deeply.”

You looked at him intently, seeing in his eyes the truth of his regret. “I know… but I need you to act instead of just saying it.”

Jayce nodded, a glimpse of a smile appearing on his face as his hands caressed yours. “I will. From now on, you and I… we’re a priority.”

Your heart lightened hearing those words, and when he hugged you, you held him tightly, knowing that the road to healing that disconnection wouldn’t be easy, but at least, finally, there was a beginning. And that promise to rebuild what had been lost was all you needed to start healing.

Ekko

That afternoon, it felt like the tension between you and Ekko was thicker than ever. You had been working together on a project, and the small jokes and dismissive attitudes from Ekko, which you usually let slide, began to affect you more than you expected.

"Wow, did you really think that was a good idea?" Ekko said, his biting tone making the sarcasm leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Your breath became heavier, and although you tried to ignore it, something inside you snapped. You looked at him, furious, and without thinking twice, dropped the tool you had in your hands. "You know what? I'm leaving."

Ekko looked at you, somewhat surprised by your reaction, but before you could walk away any further, he let out a light laugh, as if nothing was happening. "What's up, got your period or something?"

That was the breaking point.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a lump form in your throat. You turned to him with eyes shining with frustration. "You know what, Ekko? It's because of you. Because sometimes you don't seem to think about what you say, and you don't care how I feel."

Ekko furrowed his brow, trying to understand what you were saying, but before he could speak, you continued venting.

"You make me feel like my problems don't matter, like everything I do isn't up to your standards. Always so... so carefree, like you never have to think about how your words affect me. Have you ever thought about that?" Rage and pain built up in your voice as you spoke, but the words kept pouring out like an avalanche.

And then, without warning, what you hadn’t been able to say before came flooding out. "You know what's the worst? That I feel insecure, Ekko. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, like I'm not smart enough, not attractive enough... Because you never show jealousy, you never show anything. Like you never care. And that makes me doubt myself."

Ekko went silent, looking at your face in surprise, an expression that showed he finally understood what you had just said. The mockery from his previous joke faded, and his face shifted from confusion to deep seriousness.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he said finally, his words soft and filled with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I'm sorry, really. I'm not good at showing what I feel, I've never been."

He slowly approached you, not trying to interrupt the flow of your emotions. "You know, I grew up in a world where showing emotions was seen as weakness. Life never gave me time to process them. Since I was a kid, I was always at war, always on the move, always worried about surviving. But I never wanted that to affect you."

Your eyes softened a little as you listened to his words, and for a moment, the weight of frustration lifted slightly. "I... I didn't want you to think I cared less. It's just that sometimes, I get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that the people close to me also have feelings. And I don't want you to feel belittled, I don't want you to feel like you're not enough."

There was a tense silence between you both, but something in his tone softened the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, really. It was never my intention to hurt you. You're incredible just as you are, and you make me feel like I can be more, like I can improve."

For a moment, everything seemed to calm down, but Ekko, with a mischievous smile, added, "And if it helps, yeah, I do worry a little when others look at you. But I'm not so good at showing jealousy."

You couldn't help but smile a little, even though you still felt the open wounds. Ekko, seeing this, moved a bit closer and gave you a gentle hug, as if it were a small gesture of comfort you so needed.

"I really care about you. I don't want you to feel insecure. I don't care if you're smarter or not, because what really matters to me is that you're you."

And before you could respond, Ekko joked with his usual playful attitude. "Although, if I ever catch you with someone else, you'd better be ready, because I’m not going to sit still."

You laughed despite everything, feeling the tension slowly disappearing, as if everything you had kept inside had finally found a way out.

"I love you too," you replied, as you hugged him again, knowing that, although the path wouldn’t always be easy, at least you both understood each other a little more.

Silco

Silco's office was shrouded in shadows, barely illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp on his desk. The phone conversation he was having was filled with frustration. "No, that won't work. We need something more decisive, something more substantial," he growled before hanging up with a sharp click that echoed through the wood.

From your position at the door, you could hear every word, feeling the tension in the air. You couldn’t help but intervene. "Maybe you could try..." you began, suggesting a plan you had come up with after hearing his problem.

Silco looked up at you, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto yours. "Shut up. You don't know anything about this," he snapped with disdain, his words cutting through you like a knife.

The coldness in his voice felt like a blow to the chest. Without saying another word, you turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door with a force that resonated down the hallway. Frustration burned in your chest as you climbed the stairs to your room.

Surprised by your reaction, Silco followed. Reaching the closed door, he knocked forcefully. "Open the door immediately!" he shouted, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.

"I won't! Go away!" you replied from inside, your voice trembling with both rage and pain. A sound from inside made his heart race. Fearing the worst, he broke down the door without thinking twice.

Inside, he found you packing your things with trembling hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on you, trying to understand the magnitude of your decision.

"I'm done, Silco. Done with you not seeing me as someone capable of helping you, done with you constantly underestimating me," you declared, your voice trembling but resolute. "I’m a human being, just like you, and I can handle matters and plans. I’m not just a decoration in your world."

Silco scoffed, crossing his arms in impatience. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want me to buy you something? You look hysterical."

That was the breaking point. You turned to face him, your eyes fiery and filled with tears. "Silco, remember where you found me. I was a worker in that horrible brothel, sold by my parents at eleven. I thought that by freeing myself, I would have a voice, that finally someone would see me as an equal. But it’s not like that. You don’t even listen to me."

Silco looked at you, his eyes softening as the weight of your words sank in. He approached you cautiously, his fingers touching your cheek with an unusual tenderness. "It's not personal," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve always been like this, I prefer to work alone. I’ve been through so much to earn respect in the Undercity that sometimes I minimize the opinions of others. But I never meant for you to feel this way, not you."

The wall of pain you had built began to crack under the weight of his words. "I’ll change. From now on, I’ll listen to what you have to say. In fact, tell me that plan you were going to propose earlier."

A pause lingered, but then, with a sigh, he added: "But before that, there’s something more important."

His words echoed in the silence before Silco took you by the waist, pulling you toward him. He kissed you with a passion that overflowed with unspoken apologies, a fire that spoke of promises of change and a renewed understanding between you both.

Mel

The luxurious bedroom was bathed in soft lights that enhanced the golden and ivory tones of the walls. You turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress flowed around your body, highlighting your curves and cascading elegantly in a fabric waterfall. The excitement of the night reflected in your eyes, waiting for Mel's approval.

When you stepped out of the dressing room, the smile on your lips quickly faded as you noticed the disapproving expression on her face. Mel looked you up and down, her gaze critical and stern. "Take it off," she ordered in a cold, distant tone. "Put on the one I chose for you."

You frowned, surprised. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"

"It’s not that there's anything wrong with it," she replied, crossing her arms with an air of authority. "It’s just not what I want for you tonight. Change your makeup and hairstyle as well. Something more sophisticated would be better."

The heat rushed to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Nothing I do is good enough for you, right?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparking with indignation. "It feels like you always have to correct me."

Mel raised an eyebrow, her voice firm and unapologetic. "You should be grateful. I'm helping you make the most of your appearance. I need us to be perfect tonight."

"You mean you need to be perfect," you corrected, unbuckling your heels and throwing them to the floor with a sharp sound. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the terrace, needing fresh air to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. The cool breeze caressed your face as you leaned on the railing, trying to hold back tears.

It wasn’t long before Mel appeared behind you, her elegant silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with confusion.

"Seriously, Mel?" you turned to face her, your voice shaking with frustration. "Nothing I do seems right to you. You always correct me—the way I walk, the way I talk, and now even the color of my lipstick. It’s extreme and stupid."

Mel looked at you with a mix of surprise and reflection, as if your words had struck her for the first time. "I hadn’t thought of it that way," she finally admitted, her voice quieter. "I guess... I’m really hard on myself, and I project it onto others."

You took a deep breath, your eyes still shining with contained emotion. "I don’t want you to be like that with me. I’m not an extension of your standards, Mel."

Silence stretched between you for a moment before Mel took a step forward, enveloping you in a firm, comforting hug. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re fine just as you are, and I apologize for projecting my insecurities onto you."

You leaned into her, feeling the tension slowly fade. "I understand," you replied softly. "I know you were raised to be perfect. But please, when you feel those things, communicate them in a different way. Don’t impose them."

Mel nodded, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and affection. "I will," she promised. "Please, come with me to the party. Without you, I won’t have the strength to go."

You hesitated for a moment, looking at yourself with insecurity. Mel noticed and gently cupped your face in her hands. "That dress looks amazing on you," she said with a warm smile. "It highlights everything I love about you."

Her words and the kiss that followed dispelled any doubt, filling you with renewed confidence as you agreed to accompany her, knowing this time, you would go as yourself, not as a perfected version to satisfy Mel's standards.

Sevika

The apartment door opened slowly, revealing Sevika's figure in the dim light. She walked in with tired steps, the weight of the night reflecting on her shoulders. You, who had been waiting patiently for her return, stood up from the couch with relief, but as you approached to embrace her, something stopped you. A strange scent, sweet and foreign, emanated from her skin, a fragrance that didn’t belong to any perfume you knew her to wear.

Your heart raced as you took a slight step back, your eyes fixed on her. "Who were you with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, although a mix of anxiety and distrust began to rise within you.

Sevika looked at you in surprise, not understanding the reason for your unease. "I was at the bar, drinking. My ex joined me, we talked a bit, had a good time." She said it with such casualness that every word pierced you like a poisoned dart.

Anger began to bubble up inside you. "Why are you talking about it so casually?" you spat, feeling your voice start to tremble.

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn’t have gone out with your ex!" you exclaimed, frustration coloring your words. "You owe me respect."

Sevika crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. "I do what I want," she replied coldly. "If you don’t trust me, maybe you should leave."

Your eyes widened at her comment. The idea of walking out that door tempted you, but sadness and rage kept you rooted to the ground. "Is that what you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "For me to leave?"

Sevika seemed to realize the weight of her words. She took a step toward you, extending her hand as if trying to stop you. "Wait, I didn’t mean that," she murmured, her tone softer, almost pleading. "You know I’m impulsive."

"Of course, impulsive... and nostalgic too," you replied bitterly, your eyes burning with contained pain. "You miss your ex, don’t you? You want to get back together with her?"

She frowned, stepping closer until her hands rested on your shoulders. "What’s your problem?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Why are you saying all these things?"

The emotions you had kept under control for so long finally exploded. "Because I’ve been cheated on before!" you confessed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "I know the patterns when I see them. I don’t want to feel stupid and used again."

The hardness in Sevika’s expression melted away, replaced by deep understanding. Her hands, once firm, slid down your arms in a gesture of comfort. "I’m not those people, you shouldn’t compare me to anyone," she said, her voice firm but full of empathy. "If I didn’t want to be with you, I would tell you. I don’t need to lie to anyone. I love you, only you."

Her sincerity pierced your insecurities, breaking down the wall of fear you had built. Still, doubts lingered. "Then why did you go out with her?" you asked, still needing an explanation.

"Because it was a coincidence," Sevika explained, her gaze sincere. "We ran into each other by chance, and I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing a couple of drinks. But now I see it bothers you, and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel this way."

Her words resonated within you, slowly calming the internal storm. You nodded, allowing the warmth of her promise to envelop you. "I want to believe in you," you whispered.

Sevika stepped closer, her lips finding yours in a deep kiss, full of promises and silent regrets. When she pulled away, her soft voice broke the trance. "Are you better?" she asked, gently caressing your cheek.

"I'll be better when you take a shower and get that cheap perfume off," you joked, your tone still slightly irritated but with a hint of humor.

Sevika laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the space between you. She pulled you by the waist, drawing you even closer. "Then I’m going to need your help," she whispered in your ear, her voice laden with seduction. "Tonight, I feel especially incapable."

Your smile widened, a spark of mischief lighting your eyes. "I guess I can help with that," you murmured, letting the intimacy of the moment take over, knowing that despite everything, you were in the place you wanted to be: by her side.

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

near the start of the essay ooooough this hits hard

(edit) a few more things i wanted to pull out:

(alt text in image description)

basically, supporting trans people means supporting trans men and that means you have to shift your paradigm to fit men into feminism. there's not an alternative

Is there a term for that phenomenon that happens when people tell transmen/transmascs not to go on testosterone/not to try to look more masculine because it'll make them ugly/fat/hairy/bald/whatever negative thing?

I know it's not transmisandry, but does it have a name or is it just general transphobia?

I mean surely that's not NOT transphobia? but I'm also not, like, in charge of how transmasculine people talk about stuff so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION PT. 2 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

You can find part one here.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 2,330

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Sevika trusted your good work but your integrity mattered to her as well. The intimidating facade, her bearing and her gaze made her look lethal, but the truth was that Sevika protected the people she cared about and was extremely loyal. After years working for Silco and cleaning up Jinx's messes, Sevika had developed a special fondness for you and your good humor, as well as your eyes and your easy smile. She wanted to protect you for this commission as well.

A couple of days after the meeting, you were outside The Last Drop, waiting for Sevika while smoking a cigarette. "What did I get myself into." you whispered, exhaling before stepping on the butt with your heel, watching the woman approach from the distance. Next to her was one of her lackeys and another man you didn't know, a tall, dark-haired man with slanted eyes, veiny hands and good-looking, presumably a worker at the House of Pleasure. The candidate.

She gestured for the man next to her to approach and spoke up. "I want you to meet my friend, Silas." Sevika said, her voice a little gruff. "He's here to... provide for your mold-taking."

Gosh, this so embarrassing you thought, giving Silas a nod. "Nice to meet you, I assume Sevika explained you the uh... reason you're here."

Silas nodded, still smirking. "She did." He replied, his eyes roaming over you. "And it's a pleasure, lovely."

"Huh, sure." you mumbled, as Sevika made her way into the Last Drop, towards her personal room. The place was set up. Sevika took care of your requests and had a powerful spotlight installed in the center of the room, next to a backless chair and a work table, where the materials to make the mold were spread out and ready to be used. Sevika sat on the couch, lighting a cigarette while Silas undressed from the waist down. You focused on preparing the mixture, ignoring the blush on your cheeks at the rather peculiar and embarrassing situation you found yourself in.

"Robin asked about you." Silas said to Sevika. "You haven't visited her in a while..."

"Yeah, I've been busy." She replied gruffly. "With... business and such."

"You sure you haven't found another girl?" asked Silas. "It's quite odd to not see you around the brothel."

"I've been..." She paused, her gaze shifting briefly between you and the supplies on the table. "...busy. I don't have time for that right now." The truth was that, recently, her visits to the brothels of Zaun had decreased. The reason was sitting not ten feet away from her.

You gulped. "Please stand in front of the spotlight, legs apart." you said somewhat shyly, to which Silas complied with a rather pleasant and welcomed confidence. He certainly wasn't embarrassed, but you were. "Oh, I'm sorry to be so blunt but... you must be..."

"Hard?" Silas asked, to which you nodded.

Sevika chuckled, watching the interaction. She was amused by your attempts to be professional, trying your best to handle this with grace despite your embarrassment. "Don't apologize." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's a reasonable request."

You looked at Sevika with pink cheeks, before she turned to Silas in a non-serious tone. "Do you need magazines or something for the imagination, Silas?" she asked.

Silas chuckled, his eyes moving between Sevika and you. "No, I think I'll be alright." he said "But I wouldn't mind a little assistance..." He added, his eyes slowly roving over you, a smirk on his face.

Sevika's gaze was firm as she looked up at Silas, her voice cold. "Hands off, or I'll cut them off."

Sevika handed him the pills and a bottle of water. It only took a couple of minutes for Silas to be rock hard after taking them. Not that you found him appealing, but the man’s sexual aura stirred something inside you. However, you were here to work and Sevika would certainly disapprove of anyone putting their hands on you or you putting your hands on someone else. Sevika watched the whole process, focusing on the gentleness of your hands, the way you immersed the candidate's phallus in a container with the hypoallergenic plaster and the shy smile that were drawn on your lips while you took the time for it to harden. She thought about the privilege Silas was receiving, to have your complete and undivided attention on his body and to be touched by such angelic hands. Sevika grunted, pouring herself a whiskey.

"And... done." you said after the time passed. You removed the now hardened mold, satisfied with the result. You carefully placed it on the table, while Silas got dressed.

"I know I have a good cock, but I never thought I was worthy of being turned into a mold," the man joked.

Sevika chuckled, taking another puff of her cigarette. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetcheeks. We just needed someone qualified."

"Whatever you say, boss." He replied, his gaze shifting to you. "How long will it take for the final product?"

"Four to six days," you replied. "The material I'll be using is quite sensitive and capricious, plus incorporating the Shimmer system will take a couple of failed experiments," you explained, to which Silas laughed.

"Shimmer?" he asked, looking at Sevika. "You're planning on making a fucking Shimmer strap?"

Sevika leaned back, her expression cool. "Problem?"

"No, no problem. I'm just... curious. You never fail to surprise me, you know that?"

Silas gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm leaving now. Good luck with your little toy," Silas said, giving you a warm smile. You were focused on the mold when you and Sevika ended up alone in the room.

"You handled that well." She commented, her voice low and gruff.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do." She replied, exhaling a plume of smoke. "You managed to keep your focus and didn't let that hothead get to you."

“I know my job and what it’s worth,” you assured as you poured the second mixture into the cast to make the mold you’d be working with later. You were tired, however, this time of year people usually got their prosthetics renewed and everyone turned to you to do it. You’ve been using Shimmer again to keep the workflow going and it was starting to show.

Her sharp eye was trained to pick up on even the smallest details, and it was clear that you were exhausted. "When was the last time you slept a full night?

"Does it matter?" you inquired, focused on your work

"Of course it matters." She replied, her voice firm. "If you're exhausted, it will affect your work. I need you to be sharp, to be able to keep up."

"When's the last time you slept, really?"

"Mhm... two days ago?" you said, not sure. The truth is that Shimmer affected your perception of time and hunger, it was as effective as cocaine but more accessible, since it was Sevika who provided you with doses at a good price. However, she was regretting having done it, seeing you in this state.

"Are you kidding me? How many boosters have you taken in that time?"

"Don't remember." you shrugged. "I'm overflowed."

Sevika's jaw tensed as she watched your tired, sluggish state. The realization of what you'd been doing to yourself hit her like a ton of bricks. She put the cigarette away, standing up. "You're not going home. You're staying here." She said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "I won't have you passing out from exhaustion."

"Excuse me?"

Her voice took on a softer tone, but her eyes held a hint of command. "I won't negotiate on this. It's for your own good."

"I have more comissions waiting for me at my workshop." you insisted. "And I can't afford to deliver them late."

She leaned forward, her voice dropping lower. "Those orders can wait. Your health cannot. I won't take no for an answer on this, understand?"

“How bold of you,” you scoff. “You’re asking me to rest when you’ve asked me for one of the strangest and most complex commissions this month.”

"And you took the commission, didn't you?" She retorted, her voice cold. "You agreed to it willingly. Don't act like I forced it upon you."

Before you could protest, Sevika's metal hand covered yours and she lowered herself to your level to say, leaving no room for argument: "You will quit work for today, I will get you dinner and you will go to sleep. Do you hear?"

You'd never seen Sevika this protective, this... bossy before. And honestly? It was kind of attractive. Her dominant aura was on full display, and the way she left no room for argument was both intimidating and thrilling.

"I hear," you managed to reply, your voice a breathless whisper.

Twenty minutes later, you popped a piece of turkey into your mouth, Sevika had brought you dinner and a glass of lemonade to go with your meal, as she watched you eat, she poured herself a cup of tea. She had had enough to drink for the day. By the second or third bite, you sensed the sudden comedown and felt nauseous. The shimmer was wearing off and Sevika was quick enough to kick the wastebasket towards you so you could throw up in it.

She moved quickly, resting a hand on your back as you wretched, attempting to provide some form of comfort. "Easy," she said quietly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. "Just get it out."

The Shimmer comedown wasn't pleasant, it felt like all your energy was suddenly drained and replaced by an overwhelming feeling of malaise and despair. Your body was begging for more, and it was precisely that feeling that pushed people to buy more doses until they were in misery, but Sevika wouldn't allow it. Not when it comes to you. "It'll pass," she murmured quietly, her voice a soothing murmur. "Just breathe. It'll pass."

"Another one won't kill me..." you slurred with your head buried into the basket.

"That's where you're wrong," she replied, her voice firm. "It won't stop at just one. It never does. Especially not when you're already in this state."

Sevika straightened you up, handing you a bottle to rinse your mouth out. She then slid the plate over to you. "Eat."

"I don't..."

"I know you don't feel like it." She admitted, her voice softer now, "but you need to eat something. You haven't been taking proper care of yourself, and it shows."

You forced yourself to eat and drink the lemonade. Soon enough you were lying on the soft sofa in the room. Its walls were dark and seemed stained by the passing of time and cigarette smoke, it was lit by lamps in red and mustard tones. In the distance was the betting table, next to you the minibar and in front of you, sitting on a chair, Sevika was watching you. The withdrawal effect had already worn off, now you were just very sleepy.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm... I wanna sleep." you slurred.

She took another puff of her cigarette, tapping the ash into the ashtray beside her. "Close your eyes. Sleep."

You clossed your eyes, the smell of the cigarette entering your nostrils. "You shouldn't smoke that much." you mumbled.

"Oh, really?" She replied, a hint of playful sarcasm in her voice. "And who's gonna stop me?" She took another long puff of her cigarette, the smoke wafting towards you, the scent musky and alluring. "You, perhaps?"

"I don't have any power over you." you admitted.

"No, you don't." She agreed, her expression softening slightly. "But," she mused quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "sometimes, I wish you did."

You didn't know what to make of that, but you understood that Sevika wasn't joking. You felt a hand on your forehead, Sevika checking if you were feverish or cold, and luckily for you, you were fine. You shifted on the couch, before your curiosity got the better of you. "Silas said you've barely been to the brothel lately..."

"Are you concerned for my wellbeing?" She asked, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. "Or are you simply curious?"

"You're a woman of habits and you're missing that one."

"Yes, I suppose I am a woman of habits." She leaned back in her chair, her eyes still fixed on you. "And that one habit in particular... I've been avoiding it."

"Why?"

"It's... not as satisfying as it once was." She replied, her voice quiet, almost lost. "The same faces, the same encounters, the same routines. It's all... so hollow, now. Empty. Meaningless."

Suddenly you felt that the commission you're working on was meaningless. "Then why the hell am I fabricating a strap for you?" you asked with sleepy amusement.

"What do you mean 'why'?" She retorted, her tone sharp. "Because I asked you to, that's why."

"But you're saying you don't like to attend the brothel anymore." you inisisted. "Who will you use it with then?"

"I'll use it with whoever I damn well please," she continued, her tone growing sharper, "and it's none of your business who that is."

You noticed her tone change, she was closing up and it was best not to probe further. Not with Sevika. You simply nodded, closing your eyes against the potent spell of Shimmer's downturn and the days and days of work taking its toll on your body.

You felt her scent close by, a warm hand on your forehead and then tracing circles on your hair. You thought you were dreaming, or it was just the Shimmer messing with your mind, but you felt like you were in some kind of enchantment with those fingers massaging your scalp and the weight of her body next to you on the couch. "Get some sleep," she said quietly, her voice gentle. "I'll be here when you wake up."

To be continued...

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias

[last-dropsevi]

Sparks and Screws

Mechanic Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: Stranded with a broken car in Zaun, you find yourself at Sevika’s garage, where her confident, magnetic presence instantly draws you in. Over time, your visits become less about car repairs and more about the growing tension between you.

Possesive behavior and Sexual tension.

In the heart of Zaun, tucked amidst the steel skeletons of industry and the shimmering neon haze, stood Sevika's garage. It was a haven for the grease-stained and the speed-obsessed—a place where the hum of engines and the faint melody of a half-tuned radio replaced the city's endless noise. The scent of oil and metal lingered thickly, a scent so constant it was almost a signature of the shop.

The first time you walked through the doors wasn’t planned. It was pure necessity. Your car had decided to stage a protest in the middle of Zaun traffic, coughing up smoke as you barely managed to roll it to the curb. Stranded and flustered, you’d scanned your surroundings until the glowing sign for “Zuan Auto Repeat” appeared like a beacon of salvation.

Inside, the space was a symphony of movement. Mechanics bustled about, tools clinking and tires screeching as they were dragged across the concrete. A group of men, all grease-slicked hands and cocky smirks, eyed you as you hesitantly stepped in. One of them, tall and confident, was the first to approach.

“Lost, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning just a bit too close.

Your awkward laugh and sheepish explanation about the state of your car only seemed to encourage him. “I can take a look for you,” he offered, his grin widening. “No charge for someone as pretty as you.”

Before you could respond, a commanding voice cut through the air. “I’ve got it.” You turned just in time to see her. Sevika. She stepped forward, wiping her hands on a rag, her mechanical arm catching the fluorescent light as it shifted with a faint whir. Dressed in a grease-streaked tank top and well-worn jeans, she exuded an effortless confidence that was both intimidating and magnetic. Her sharp gaze flicked from the man back to you, softening just slightly when she caught your nervous expression.

That feeling gnawed at her, especially when she watched the way they hesitated. Her instincts told her this one wasn’t like the others who stumbled in here—this was someone worth keeping an eye on. She adjusted her grip on the rag and moved forward, a touch of both desire and care flickering in her chest.

“You want it fixed right, don’t you?” she asked, her voice low and rough, though not unkind.

You nodded quickly, your face flushing as the other mechanic muttered something under his breath and walked off.

“Come on,” Sevika said, gesturing for you to follow.

The hood of your car was open within minutes, and you stood awkwardly to the side, watching as Sevika inspected the engine with practiced ease. You couldn’t help but notice the way her muscles flexed as she worked, the contrast between her weathered hands and the careful precision of her movements. Something about that look in her eyes—sharp, but with a hint of warmth—made my pulse race faster than I’d like to admit.

“So, what’s the damage?” you ventured, trying to fill the silence.

She looked up, arching a brow. “The damage is you’ve been neglecting this thing for way too long.”

You blinked. “I didn’t know cars needed that much attention.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “Yeah, sweetheart, they do. You’re lucky this thing hasn’t fallen apart on you yet.”

Her teasing wasn’t cruel, but it still made you squirm. You watched as she wiped her hands on her rag, her smirk softening when she noticed your embarrassed fidgeting.

“It’s fixable,” she said. “But you’ve gotta take better care of it—or find someone who can.”

Over the next week, you returned a few times, more out of obligation than excitement. Each visit was met with the same dynamic: the men lingering a little too long as you walked in, and Sevika cutting through their attention with a glare that left no room for argument.

On your second visit, Sevika caught you glancing nervously at one of the mechanics who had been staring. “Ignore them,” she said, her tone laced with irritation. “They’re idiots.”

“Seems like they’re just curious,” you replied lightly, though your flushed face betrayed how uncomfortable it made you.

“They don’t need to be curious about you,” Sevika muttered, her eyes narrowing briefly before she refocused on your car.

It wasn’t until your brakes started squealing—loudly—that you found yourself back in her garage for the third time. You explained the issue, your face heating as Sevika leaned over the hood once again, her movements as fluid and deliberate as ever.

When she straightened up, her expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You never changed your brake pads.”

“That’s… something you’re supposed to do?” you asked, tilting your head.

Her laughter filled the garage, drawing the attention of the others. But unlike their lingering stares, Sevika’s laugh warmed you.

“You’re a menace,” she said, shaking her head. “Alright. Here’s the deal. Bring it in every two weeks, and I’ll check it over for you. Make sure nothing else falls apart.”

“Every two weeks?” you repeated, frowning. “That sounds excessive.”

“For someone like you? It’s not,” she said with a smirk, her eyes locking onto mine for a beat longer than necessary. “And since you’re cute, I’ll even give you a discount.”

The moment the words left her mouth, you felt a flush rise to my cheeks, warmth spreading across my skin as her gaze lingered on me. your heart skipped; my mind short-circuiting as you tried to process what she’d said. Did she just call me cute? The thought lingered, making it even harder to focus on anything else. Her voice, so smooth and confident.

you gave a nervous laugh, your lips curling into a smile that felt way too goofy for the situation. You nodded, trying—and failing—to play it cool. “Deal,” you managed

And so, every two weeks, you found yourself back in Sevika’s garage. The checkups became less about the car and more about the two of you. You brought her coffee one day, then donuts the next, claiming it was a “thank you” for all her help.

“You keep this up, and I might actually start liking you,” Sevika teased, though the fondness in her tone made your chest flutter.

“You’d be lucky,” you shot back, grinning.

The tension between you grew with each visit—lingering glances, subtle brushes of hands as she handed you a wrench to “help” (not that you ever really knew what you were doing), and the way her smirk would soften into something more genuine when you laughed at her dry humor.

You noticed how her eyes would sometimes linger just a little longer than necessary, like she couldn’t help but admire the deep V-neck shirt you were wearing. The way it accentuated your chest didn’t go unnoticed by her, though she never said anything out loud. But the way her gaze would flicker there, before quickly returning to your face, made your heart race.

By the fourth visit, Sevika had stopped charging you altogether. When you realized, you confronted her, guilt weighing heavily on your words. “Sevika, this isn’t fair. I can’t just keep coming here for free.”

She shrugged, leaning against the counter, her gaze lingering on you just a little too long. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” you insisted. “Let me pay you back.”

Her brow quirked, a faint smirk playing at her lips. “How?”

You hesitated for only a moment before blurting, “I’ll take you out.”

That caught her off guard. She stared at you, her expression unreadable, before a slow, teasing grin spread across her face. “Dinner and drinks? You trying to bribe me?”

“Maybe,” you said, crossing your arms. “Is it working?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Alright, sweetheart. You’re on.”

As you left the garage that evening, your heart raced with the promise of something more. And for once, Sevika allowed herself to look forward to the unknown.

Masterlist and PART 2

But yeah guys sorry I haven’t posted in a while Tehe. ALSO HAPPY NEW YEARSSS MWAH

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 9

Summary: Secrets are revealed on New Years Eve.

CW: Alcohol consumption, sexual references, mention of cigarettes, swearing, lots of drama.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

--

"YOU SLEPT WITH SIRIUS?!"

"Shh! Mary keep your voice down," you uttered, looking around to see how many of your coworker's heads had swivelled towards you in response to Mary's loud exclamation.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "I'm just.. I'm in shock."

You sighed and leaned back where you were perched on the corner of her desk. "I think I am a bit as well."

There was a pause.

"Well, was it good?"

"Mary! Oh my god!" you groaned and threw a hand over your face to hide your mortification.

"What? I'm just asking. I can't say that I haven't imagined it once or twice myself-"

You slapped her gently across the shoulder with the back of your hand. "You're distrubed. You know that?"

She smirked. "You know you love me."

You rolled your eyes affectionately at your friend. "Anyway, we'd been drinking and it was Christmas and we were having such a wonderful time. I think we just got swept up in it all and now I don't know what to do. Things have been kind of... weird between us."

"Well have you guys talked about it?" Mary inquired.

"That's the thing. Afterwards he just kind of moved on like it never happened. I don't know if he thinks it was a mistake or something but it's stressing me out."

"Hmm," a thoughtful look crossed Mary's face as she took everything in. "Well how are you feeling about it? Do you think it was a mistake?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No? I-I don't think so. I dont know."

A look of realisation washed over Mary's face. "Do you like him??"

"I mean, of course I like him. I'm just not sure I like like him."

Your friend sighed exasperatedly. "Oh my god! We're not in Primary School, just answer the damn question!"

"Fine! I guess the answer is... yes?" you sighed. "But whatever! Does it even make a difference? He's made it exceptionally clear that he doesn't feel the same way."

"Look," Mary huffed, her expression growing sincere. "Sirius is great. He's fun and friendly and a total flirt but he's also been known to be a little emotionally constipated. Just be honest with him. Talk to him about it. He's not going to be able to pick up on any signals you're trying to send him."

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a breath throught your nose. "Ugh fine."

"Good girl," Mary smiled. "Now go away. I actually have some work to get done today."

"Oh fine. I suppose I know when I'm not wanted," you teased, getting up and walking back towards your desk.

"Love you!" Mary called lightheartedly as you walked away.

"Yeah, yeah," you joked in response.

As you arrived back at your desk and slumped down in your chair, prepared to get back to work, a head peaked down at you over the cubical.

"Oh, you're back, I see."

You jumped slightly at the unexpected voice and looked up to see its perpertrator.

"Yes, Glenn. Hi. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Glenn was a new employee in your office and he sat in the cubical opposite yours. He was only a few years older than you and he was tall and fit with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. In the few weeks you'd known him for, he'd been particularly friendly towards you and recently you'd been getting the idea that he had taken a liking to you.

You weren't interested of course. He was an attractive guy but not really your type. And with everything going on with Sirius over the last week, you'd been making a effort to put some distance between you. You definitely weren't looking for anything of that nature right now and you didn't want to give him the wrong impression. However, Glenn was nothing if not persistant.

"Actually, I was just wondering if you had any plans for new years tonight? A few of my mates are throwing a party and you're welcome to join us if you're interested."

You sent him you're most empathetic smile. "That sounds lovely but unfortunately I already have some plans with my friends."

He sighed, flashing you a grin that looked suspiciously rehearsed. "Oh well. No problem. It was worth a shot. You have fun tonight."

"You too, Glenn."

As the man dissapeared back over the divider, you let out a heafty sigh. Tonight was surely going to be interesting.

--

The view was impeccable from the bar where your friends had gathered to spend New Years. In fact, seated beside a huge floor to ceiling window, you suspected you'd have a clear view of the New Years fireworks.

It was a classy joint, one that Dorcas had managed to get you access to through one of her fancy lawyer contacts.

Everyone was assembled on stools around a table, looking out over the London skyline. It was about four hours until midnight and the group was chatting excitedly in the lead up.

"I've got shots!" Mary called out and everyone cheered as she returned to the table with a tray.

She passed the drinks around and then took her seat beside you.

"Well, I suggest a toast!" James called out, grabbing the attention of the group. "To a wonderful year ahead, and many more memories with old, and new, friends!"

He emphasised the last line with a pointed look in your direction and you felt your cheeks growing hot.

"Cheers!" Marlene shouted enthusiastically and the others echoed her sentiments, clinking glasses and swallowing their drinks.

The burning of the liquor was welcomed as the drink ran down your throat. You'd been thinking a lot about what Mary had said to you in regards to your situation with Sirius. And as he sat beside you, laughing animatedly at one of Peter's stories, it only confirmed your worst fears. Maybe you were starting to develop feelings for your roommate. You grimaced at the thought. Things were bound to get messy in situations like this.

"So guys," Sybil piped up from across the table. "Let's all go around and say our New Years resolutions."

"Oh, I'll go first!" James volunteered. "I hope my team continues to play a great season annnddd... I want to work out more."

There was a collective groan.

"Come on, James. That's not a real one!" Mary complained.

Sirius chuckled, taking a pointed sip of his drink. "Yeah! You already work out like 7 times a day!"

"Ugh, okay fine!" James responded with groan. He thought for a moment. "How about this one. I'd like to fall in love this year."

You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered across the table towards Lily and you felt your heart sink. Lily seemed to take notice a well as she averted her eyes, taking a heafty gulp of the drink in her hand.

"Aww, James. Always the romantic, aren't you?" Marlene chuckled.

"Shut up." James rolled his eyes playfully. "Your turn then, Marls."

"Okay," She took a deep breath. "My goal this year is to become super rich and famous and sucessful."

"I second that!" Mary called across the table and you giggled as they clinked their glasses.

"Y/n. Your turn," Dorcas announced.

"Oh okay, um..." you thought for a moment, your gaze flashing to James and Remus across the table, then over to Sirius, who was watching you expectanly, a playlful glimmer in his stormy eyes.

You then looked back towards the rest of the group. "This year, I'd like to spend some more time with you lovely people."

A round of cooing echoed across the table and Mary threw her arms around you.

"Well aren't you just the sweetest!"

"Oh, and I'd like to work more on my novel," you added.

"Alright, alright. Sirius, you're up!" Marlene chimed.

The boy beside you pursed his lips, looking off into the distance as if deep in thought. Then, after a long moment, he turned back to all of you with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"This year, I want to have lots of amazing sex!"

"Ew. Sirius, you're so foul," Lily exclaimed, followed by a symphany of similar sentiments from the other members of the group.

While everyone else was distracted, grumbling and groaning about Sirius' bluntness, the man leaned down towards you.

"You look great tonight, by the way." He whispered into your hair.

You gulped thickly, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You opted for downing the remainder of your Vodka, Lime and Soda.

--

As the evening drew on, you found yourself growing more anxious in Sirius' presence. You weren't quite sure what his game was, whether it was the alcohol or he was just feeling extra bold tonight, but he'd been suspiciously flirtatious.

You didn't know how to respond. Part of you wanted to let him. To let him woo you and go crawling back for more of what you'd had together on Christmas Night. However, the other, more logical part of you, told you that was a terrible idea. He was your roommate afterall. The last thing you wanted was to start some complicated friends-with-benefits situation with a guy you lived with, especially one that you had sort of, maybe, possibly had caught feelings for.

You downed another drink, feeling the alcohol grip you and hoped it would help to ease the nerves ever so slightly. You realised then, that you were staring.

Sirius had gone to the bar to order another round of drinks and you'd been watching with bated breath as he sent his signature smile to a girl wearing an explicitly tight black dress. You noticed the way she leaned forward, pressing her cleavage up against the bar as she spoke to him. God, could she be anymore obvious?

"Calm the hell down, y/n!" You thought to yourself. "It's not like you guys are together. He can flirt with whoever he wants."

"Hey, are you okay?" you raked your eyes away from the scene as a voice came from beside you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," You muttered absently, too distracted to notice that it was Remus who asked the question.

"Okay, never have I ever... made out with more than one person on the same night!" Mary's voice rang out and you forced your attention back to the group.

You weren't sure when this game had begun but you suspected it was suggested by one of the girls (likely Mary or Marlene) as a way to pass the final hour until midnight. You hadn't participated in this game since probably highschool, but you were all a few drinks in at this point so you figured, what the hell?

You watched as Marlene, James and Dorcas all took a sip. Then Lily sent Mary a pointed look.

"Come on, Mary. That's not how the game works. You have to say something you haven't done."

"I haven't!" Mary responded. Then she paused. "Oh wait, yeah I definitely have."

Everyone chuckled as she took a drink.

"Alright! Dorcas! Your turn." Mary nudged the girl in the side.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. "For the record, I just want to say, I think this game is stupid."

"Come on babe. Don't be a party pooper!" Marlene exclaimed, leaning in towards her girlfriend. "How else are we supposed to learn everyone's deepest darkest secrets."

Dorcas sighed and shook her head but there was a hint of a smile on her face. She really could never say no to Marlene.

"Ugh, fine. Never have I ever stolen something."

"Well that's a hard one," Mary muttered. "What do we count as stealing? Because I've stolen stuff from James a ton of times."

"Oi!" James shouted, looking positively affronted. Mary sent him an apologetic smile.

"No, not like that," Dorcas clarified. "It had to have been from an actual shop."

You all sat up straight for a moment, curiously looking around the group to see if anyone had. Hesitantly, Peter lifted his glass to his lips.

"Pete! What the hell!" James exclaimed.

"I don't know, I went through a phase in highschool!"

"What sort of stuff did you take?" Marlene pressed.

Peter shrugged. "Chocolate and ciggarettes, mostly."

There was an eruption of laughter that rippled across the table at Peter's revelation.

"Wow, I didn't know there was a degenerate among us," Lily teased, watching Peter's face flush bright red.

"Okay, okay. My turn!" Marlene said, once the laughter died down. "Never have I ever... gotten really sloshed and fallen down the stairs at my 18th birthday party"

"Hey! That's not fair!" James moaned, taking a sip of his beer. "You can't do targeted ones!"

Marlene just shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't think that was established in the rules."

James smirked. "Fine then! Never have I ever had sex with someone at this table."

Your blood ran cold for a moment as you glanced back towards the bar. You sighed in relief when you saw that Sirius was still over there. In that case, you technically hadn't slept with anyone at the table. You were off the hook for now.

Marlene rolled her eyes at James and took a drink, as well as Dorcas, Peter and Sybil, however, you watched James' eyes widen as Mary also took a long sip.

"Mary!" Lily hissed across the table. Your heart plummeted.

"What?" Mary shrugged, the alcohol clearly having gone to her head. "We have to! It's the rules."

"Wait! Hold on," Marlene murmered, her eyes drifting between the two girls. "Did you guys..."

There was a heavy anticipatory silence that hung over the table as you all awaited Lily's response. The girl grimaced, as she tried to muster some kind of explanation.

It was then that her eyes drifted up to meet James' pleading ones.

"Lily?" the boy asked softly. Your heart broke for him.

"So I guess the cat's out of the bag huh?" the girl sighed. "Mary and I have sort of been seeing each other. Romantically."

"Holy shit!" Marlene shouted, candid and straight to the point as she usually was in these situations.

"How long has this been going on?" Dorcas questioned.

"It's still really new," Lily explained.

"We were just trying to figure out the right time to tell you guys," Mary added.

"So you're the one Mary has been seeing?" James murmered.

"Yes," Lily responded. "I'm sorry James but you had to know it was never going to work out between us."

The boy sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls. "Yeah, I know."

Then he started to stand. "I think I just need some air for a minute."

"James, wait-" Remus reached out to grab his arm but James shook him off.

"I just need minute," he repeated, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair and hurrying towards the exit. Part of you wanted to go after him but the other part recognised that he probably needed some space to process things.

"Sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to ruin the night," Mary murmered folornly.

"No hun! you didn't ruin anything," you comforted.

"Yeah, we're really happy for you two," Dorcas added.

"Really?"

Everyone nodded.

"Absolutely. You both deserve to be happy," Remus confirmed.

Wide smiles crossed over the girls' faces.

--

It was two minutes until midnight and Sirius was nowhere to be seen. Despite your better judgement, you couldn't help but feel slightly disapointed. You supposed that there was some small aspect of your mind that hoped Sirius would be your New Years kiss.

You knew it was wishful thinking, especially when you hadn't even spoken about what happened between you, but with how he'd been acting towards you throughout the night, you'd allowed yourself to nurture that flicker of hope.

As people crowded around the window and the countdown began, you found your eyes searching the room for the dark haired man, wondering if just maybe, he'd make a last minute appearance.

"Five, four, three, two..."

You scanned the space one last time.

"One!"

You're last flicker of hope died out as your eyes finally landed on his form.

"Happy New Year!"

The shouts and cheers faded into the background as you watched Sirius press his lips to those of the boob-y blonde you'd seen him flirting with before.

The moment seemed to go in slow motion. You watched from afar as he tangled his hand in her hair, just as he'd done in yours only a week prior.

"Of course," you thought. "Typical"

It was Sirius Black you were talking about. You were stupid to think you meant anything more to him than a casual night of fun.

In an instant, you turned on your heel and walked towards the door, the sounds of the party fading into the background. You decided, instead of bumming around waiting for Sirius to notice you, you'd go look for James, just as you should've done much earlier.

The cold hit you like a block of cement as you stepped outside onto the street. It didn't take you long to find him.

He was sitting on the curb, outside of he bar, arms resting on his knees as he looked up towards the sky. Another explosion sounded and a flash of colour filled the air. In the distance, you could hear the cheers of excited people all around as they celebrated.

"Happy New Year, James."

He turned to look at you and in the flash of light, as another firework flickered across the sky, you were able to notice the faint tear tracks that lined his cheeks.

"Oh hey." he sniffled, rubbing a hand beneath his glasses and trying to regain a semblance of composure.

BANG!

You flopped unceremoniously onto the ground beside him as another flash filled the sky. You gave him a sympathetic smile. Funnily enough, in that moment, you knew exactly how he felt.

"Are you okay?" You asked him gently.

He let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. I will be."

BANG!

"Good."

You both turned your gazes back to the display, taking in the beautiful array of colours filling the air. It wasn't quite the view you'd expected for the night, but somehow, that didn't seem to matter.

As you continued to watch the fireworks, you felt the gentle touch of a hand wrapping around your own. You smiled slightly as your fingers intertwined.

BANG!

Slowly, you shuffled closer and leaned into him, gently resting your head on James broad shoulder.

You stayed like that a while, just taking in the show, and each other's company.

--

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough

[smurphette98]

So, I did this not with a villain, but with an NPC from a D&D campaign I’m running on a day where the group didn’t meet. It’s under the cut if you wanna give it a read!

(CW: discussion of death, resurrection, the afterlife, and murder)

Subreddit: r/relationshipadvice

Title: I haven’t seen my husband in 5 years (because I was dead) and I just found out that he left our daughter with his mother for that whole time.

Posted by u/Lovemordian

Apologies in advance if my Common isn’t great; it isn’t my first language.

I (21F) was recently resurrected by a party member of my husband’s (now 26M) after dying in his arms five years ago. Admittedly, the experience was wonderful, since I had always hoped that magic was real and not just the stuff of children’s stories, and I am not upset at living once more. The afterlife is…well, it’s beyond what I need to discuss here.

The issue I am having is this: while I was dead, I was comforted in the knowledge that our daughter (now 8F) was not going to grow up completely parentless even if I could not be with her. However, when I saw her again after returning to life, she mentioned that her grandmother, my husband’s mother, had been caring for her this whole time. She did not grow up with her father, and the one thought that had kept me sane while wandering the fields of the waiting became a lie.

He says that he left her behind with his parents to ensure that no one would use her to pressure him, that the Flesh Collectors wouldn’t use her as bait to get to him. Though I understand the logic of this, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. It feels like he’s trying to be the man he was 5 years ago, but I know he’s gone through much in my absence and I wish he would just be honest with me about it. Does anyone have any advice for how to talk to him about this? In some ways, it does feel a bit as if I’m approaching him as a stranger once more.

Update: Thank you to all who replied with your advices and your recommendations. I do want to answer a few of the questions I saw most frequently:

1) Apparently, he tried to avenge my murder after the judge had been paid off, stealing a highly advanced prototypical weapon designed by a classmate of ours (27 NB) to do it. This is why the Flesh Collectors were after him and why he apparently joined a guild for thieves and assassins that, if I understood him right, was run by a staff member at the university? I don’t know; he seems more comfortable speaking Common than Lamordian, so I may be misunderstanding things.

2) Flesh Collectors are sort of like a police force, but more than anything they are scavengers who harvest body parts that scientists need for their work. The “ethical” ones wait until a body is dead to harvest. The majority of them are not ethical.

Now, onto the update: I had the open conversation with my husband that so many of you recommended. I just asked him to tell me what kinds of things had happened while I was dead, and he was honest with me, just as I always remember him being.

While he was on the run for his vengeance, he fell in with the guild I mentioned and did “less than honorable things” to put aside money for our daughter’s future. At first, I thought he was implying that he had sold intimate favors, but he clarified that it was killing people. He did put aside quite a bit, over 10,000 gp, so I do think it was well-meant. And our daughter seems to hold no resentment toward him, so I don’t suppose I should either. For anyone out there who has been resurrected after a while, is this distance I’m feeling just a symptom of that, or is it something I should be concerned about? Perhaps I should speak to my mother-in-law, as she has always been a source of wisdom in my life. I don’t think I will need to update further, but if more developments happen, I will be sure to let you all know.

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I just imagined if batchild who favored Tim being Bruce bio-child. Damian so jealous and angry because his blood sibling chose Drake over him? This is too personal. Poor Tim will not have peace. I can imagine Damian trying to prove himself to his little sibling.

But the question is, does Damian even really give a flying fuck about this kid? Or does he just hate Tim and wants to destroy any ounce of happiness this boy has? Questions. Questions. Questions. lol.

Idk I love Damian being a little shit,,, he's something a little silly

Yes, Damian will terrorize Tim over this. He has such bad emotional regulation and he doesn't fully understand why he's so angry. He doesn't particularly like children and all their crying and babbling..they're stupid and useless...

But it peeves him so much seeing Tim take on such a prominent older brother role in their life. Tim is tainting the kid, he's not teaching them properly. A child should be held this way, it should be taught this, you need to do this. That is what his mother did to ensure his proper development so it must be right!

I can just imagine Damian cringing at all the baby talk and stupid games Tim plays with them. At first he's such a hate watcher of them. He'll be in the corner of the room, glaring daggers into them. "hmph they're perfect for each other. Dumb and even dumber. Guess which is which..." He snickers in his mind

Then he resorts to insulting Tim and micro-managing him. His baby siblings doesn't need to play with rattles, they need to be doing more intensive activities....Ughh.. They're being so stunned right now.

Then...slowly when no one is watching, he might speak to it. He doesn't get down on the floor with his sibling, he's just looking down at 'em and low-key shit talking. They piss him off so much but still he's at a lost for why?? Why does he seem to care about them and their upbringing so much when he hates them?

It isn't until Tim leaves for a mission or something when Damian *attempts* to hold and play with batchild. The child just looked so pitiful that he felt compelled to entertain them. Batchild starts to unexpectedly grow on him...eventually he starts kind of...loving them...? He feels warm when they smile at him...and an intense passion to protect them...

He's shy about it but Damian is obsessed with that damn baby. He won't try to draw attention to it but that is his baby now.

He can't help but to feel so possessive over them too, he'll cross his arms and huff when someone picks them up...he's stealing them back after five minutess...

But here's where the issue arises, Damian finally is feeling super close with batchild and has created this secret bond that no one else understands. He's done this oath with them in a pillow fort and everything, he's confidently believes that he's the new favorite sibling.

"Okay, Now we will drink this grape juice as we are solidified as true bloods of the Wayne bloodline..."

*intense babbles and clapping*

"Yes, our superior lineage is something to celebrate."

But then Tim comes back and batchild completely forgets about Damian and rushes to Tim. Even refusing to be held by Damian later on. His heart is crushed and to him this is the ultimate betrayal.

If Tim didn't have peace before, he really won't have it now. Like Damian wants to duel over this, it's that serious to him.

The pure venom that Damian spews is so fucked up that I cannot even repeat it. Like Tim is worried for his safety at this point.

Damien would definitely steal batchild out of their crib at night and take them into one of the unused rooms in another wing of the manor. It's fully decorated with tons of things batchild loves, all necessities...even has tons of snacks and a fridge with goodies. Damian is fully prepared to be the sole provider for this baby. lmaoo. He's hiding this kid out there for a good couple of hours before everyone realizes where the two of them are.

Damian is fighting hard to keep from them taking batchild...but is defeated when batchild sees Tim and goes

"Timmy!!" and tries running to him. It's so hilarious. Damian is at his wits end. He's never going to stop though until he's number one. Even if "Timmy" has to go.

Dami is the most un-serious-serious person on the planet.

[verstappenverse]

Pairing: Camgirl!Reader x Obsessed!Max

Authors Note: NSFW still working on the details for the upcoming fic but having fun with the concept. Let me know what you think or send any additional ideas 😉

Max can’t remember how he found your page—maybe it was a suggested post on Instagram, or maybe some random link caught his attention. It doesn’t matter how it started, what matters is that now he’s addicted.

At first it's just curiosity, he wasn’t the type to watch cam streams or really spend any time on adult content, but something about you was different. You weren’t like the over-the-top, hyper-curated content he’d expect from this kind of thing. You were sweet, soft-spoken, almost shy in the way you interacted with the camera. And Max sitting alone in his Monaco penthouse couldn’t look away.

He tells himself it’s just a passing distraction, a way to unwind, but then he starts getting… attached. His obsession grows quietly at first. He subscribes to your page, buys your exclusive content, and sets notifications for your streams. It doesn’t matter if he’s at a racetrack, a sponsor event, or a hotel halfway across the world - when you post about your next stream, he checks the time difference and tries to plan his schedule around it.

The first time someone else drops a high tip and you thank them by name, Max feels it. That sharp, irrational sting of jealousy. He knows it’s stupid, he’s one of thousands of viewers, but the way you smile for them? It makes him want to punch a wall. So he does the only thing that makes sense - he outbids them.

When you say his username in that soft, teasing tone and add “Thank you so much, you’re incredible!”—it’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to his chest.

It starts small a few high donations here and there, but soon enough he finds himself spending more of his income on you than he’d ever care to admit. From there it spirals, he’s tipping more, requesting more, even messaging you privately. You respond graciously of course, you always do, but Max convinces himself that your replies to him are different. More personal.

Custom videos, private streams - whatever gets him a little closer to feeling like he’s the only one you’re looking at. He tells himself it’s harmless. He can afford it after all.

It doesn’t take long before his obsession starts creeping into the rest of his life. Between races, he’s refreshing your page to see if you’ve posted. During long-haul flights, he’s watching your videos on repeat. Even at the paddock while his team is running simulations or tweaking the car setup he catches himself checking for notifications.

There are nights he barely sleeps staying up to catch you live, even if he has an early training session the next day. Between races he’ll watch your older streams on repeat, memorising the way you speak, the way you smile. Max knows he’s in too deep, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

His spending ramps up. When someone else tries to steal the spotlight in your chat, he doesn’t just outbid them—he obliterates them. He’s dropping tips that make everyone else look like amateurs, just to keep your attention squarely on him. And it works. His messages get bolder and more desperate too.

I can’t stop thinking about how good you’d look in my bed.

It’s torture watching you touch yourself, knowing I could make you feel so much better.

Tell me I’m your favourite, just once.

You should be sitting on my lap right now instead of talking to them.

Do you know how hard it is to sit here and watch you, knowing I can’t touch you?

The things I’d do to you if you were mine… you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. Your lips part in surprise at that one, and you quickly cover your flustered reaction with a laugh. “Well, that’s… quite the statement,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. I never make promises I can’t keep.

But it’s not enough.

The idea of being just another fan starts to gnaw at him. Max Verstappen isn’t “just another” anything. But Max is nothing if not competitive, and the idea of being just another fan doesn’t sit well with him for long. He’s used to winning, to being first, to having the best. He wants to be the one you think about when the stream ends.

He wants to know you in ways the others never could. Where you live, what you liked to do when the camera was off, whether anyone in your life treated you as well as you deserved.

What would it take for me to get your attention?

And when you reply, laughing softly, “You’ve already got it,” it’s game over for him.

Max is playing a dangerous game. Balancing his life as one of the most recognisable athletes in the world with his growing obsession for someone who doesn’t even know who he really is. But that’s the thing about Max - when he wants something he gets it. And right now, there’s nothing in the world he wants more than you.