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sc0tters · 7 months ago

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Dreams Awakened | Jack Hughes

summary: when Jack gets caught in the midst of your dreams, it’s only fair he helps you.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving!), swearing.

word count: 2.67k

authors note: this was meant to be the soft sex for jacks birthday (before we get to something real big) but I got busy and sprained my ankle so this is shorter than I wanted but here it is and better late than ever really!

All he wanted was you.

Before Jack didn’t mind when the team was sent on their long roadtrips, he never understood why it mattered so much to the married players as they’d complain. Jack consistently enjoyed the time away from the city as it felt like a break.

But now it all changed for him once he met you, the girl next door all bright eyed for her change of scenery which was meant to be a big fuck you to your past friends who thought you couldn’t do it. Your new beginnings quickly led to you ending up in Jacks bed a few times before you both agreed to make it official and within six months of that when your lease was set to soon expire, Jack offered up a permanent place at his.

From that moment on he knew all too well why his teammates hated those long roadies, being away from you for that long felt like torture. And now after doing it for two and a half years he swore it never got easier, yet the arrivals home seemed to get more sweet. This time they came back directly after the Dallas game and even as the clock on his phone showed 02:34 Jack still hoped that you were awake so he could talk to you.

It wasn’t that he had anything on his mind, he just missed the way he could see you in person. But that idea was quickly tarnished when he noticed that all but the light in your bedroom was off. The crack under the door revealed the glow of the bulb, making the boy drop his bag in excitement.

Even as he let the door burst open you didn’t move a muscle, in fact, you had fallen asleep on his side clutching his pillow as you lay with your ass in the air and only his shirt and a pair of panties on. He couldn’t help but crack a grin at the sight, you looked perfect as you lay there and Jack was ready to push his desires away. You knew all too well about how he wanted to fuck his girl in her sleep once just to feel it, and you gave him the green light to do it whenever he wanted because you figured it’d be a good time for you.

With your blessings he still found himself reaching for your blanket as he felt sick. You were meant to be his sweet girl, not someone he could just use like a toy to fulfil his needs “Jack.” Your moan made him freeze with a blanket in his arms ready to cover you up.

You wriggled your hips and as your eyes were still shut. He quickly realised that you were in the midst of a wet dream as your fingers gripped at the sheet beneath you.

Jack felt his jaw soften as his lips turned to a smirk “my horny little girl huh?” He muttered to himself as he ran his fingers over the edge of your panties looking at the table where your vibrator sat.

You always got horny at the ends of his road trips when the phone sex would no longer cut it and you were left imagining what he would do to you. Like him, you hated the long roadtrips because no matter how hard you tried, your fingers were no match for his.

As Jack felt his suit bottoms grow tight against his cock he loosened the button of his shirt “wanna be-good girl.” Your words came out gurgled as your lips formed a pout “fuck baby.” Jack let out a grunt as he let the vibrator sit between his fingers.

The gummy material was something he wasn’t unfamiliar with as the hot pink toy ended up in your relationship as a joke when he said you’d need a friend, and has since never left. He turned it onto the lowest setting looking back to make sure you were still asleep before he pressed it against your clit.

The fabric of your panties were quick to grow soaked at the fact that he had left those on you “ah.” You moaned arching your back further to give him an even better view as his shirt rose up on your body.

It was a sight Jack was never going to get tired of as he made the vibrator’s speed increase “mhm.” You let out a whimper as Jack swore he was now caught when your head went deeper into the pillow, but still you were asleep.

He watched on for another minute before you began to babble on about how you were close “please.” You whined finally making him pull away from you. Even as you were sleeping the pleasure dissipated from between your legs making you pout in disappointment.

Jack smiled at the sight letting his tongue coat his lips in wetness as he placed the vibrator onto the table. He let his hands grace over the waistband of your panties before he stealthily pulled them down. Still you remained sound asleep and now he even had the sight of how wet you were in front of him.

The soft purrs left your lips as he rubbed your ass “can’t believe I always let you go for so long.” He grumbled to himself as he shifted his legs trying to find a comfortable place to be sat in that moment.

He found himself sat on the mattress as he blew cool air against your cunt “mhm.” You mumbled driving your hips closer to him “always such a needy little cunt.” He cooed licking up a stripe against your cunt.

It made you moan as he froze looking up at you “you’re such a pretty fucking girl.” Jack explained as he used his hands to spread your ass cheeks so that he could taste you properly.

The hockey player enjoyed the taste treating you like his last meal as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man “Jack.” Your moans seemed deeper as his tongue sucked at your clit.

Your eyes blinked open adjusting to the light around you “hi pretty girl.” Jack cooed causing your head to lift from the pillow as you looked at him.

He smirked thrusting his fingers into your core as he leaned over you so that he could get to your neck “fuck.” You whimpered feeing his lips nip at your skin “was thinking about you all damn week.” Jack confessed as he kissed your jaw.

You gripped at the sheets beneath you “missed you.” You confessed letting your voice break as you clenched around his fingers “couldn’t get this fucking sight out of my mind.” The hockey player explained as he let his hand slap your ass.

The action made you moan as you jumped feeling his thumb circle your clit “make me cum.” You pleaded wriggling your ass against him “that’s the first fucking thing you ask for when I’m home huh?” Jack laughed as he shook his head increasingly the speed of his fingers as he curled them into the gummy walls of your cunt.

Jack’s cock throbbed as he watched you spread your legs further “honestly think we should put you in my suitcase.” He confessed as he inserted another finger into your cunt “can’t help missing this needy cunt.” The boy added as he sped up his pace, making sure that he got every spot of your walls including your gspot.

He was grateful for the fact that Luke had moved out as your door was now able to be wide open, yet still you kept your hand over your mouth “doll you wanna cum then I better fucking hear ya beg for it.” He grunted feeling his cock grow uncomfortable in his pants “please baby.” You pleaded seeing his eyes stare into yours.

His silence served as a reminder to the fact that you hadn’t done nearly enough to convince him “missed you so much Jacky.” Your eyes filled with tears as your legs began to shake “just wanna make a mess on your fingers so I.” You cut yourself off as you moaned feeling your toes curl.

Jack let his free hand go under your shirt now letting his weight go dangerously close to sitting on top of you “so you what?” He taunted you as he smirked letting you feel the way his lips curved upwards against your skin “can fuck your cock.” That was all enough for him as he swore he could have cum on the spot.

He kissed your ear as your moans echoed in his ears bouncing off of the walls “let me finish ya off then huh princess?” Jack mumbled giving you the green light to cum.

The both of you loved getting the chance to be this close as it felt like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in years “don’t stop Jack.” You begged letting your head drop to the pillow as you clenched around his fingers.

Your eyes screwed shut as white dots scattered over your vision when you got your first proper orgasm in over a week “there we go pretty girl.” He cooed brushing his fingers through your hair as you came down from your high.

A flurry of whimpers flew from your lips as you felt his fingers release from your cunt, causing your release to ooze down your slit “fuck Jacky.” Your words were soft as you let out a cough smiling as you looked up at him.

He was quick to roll you over, letting the space between your legs get taken up by him “missed ya.” Jack confessed as he kissed your lips.

The moment was soft as your hands cupped his cheeks letting your hands rub over his skin “why don’t we get you out of this?” Sure Jack loved the way his clothes looked on you, but in that moment he wanted you in as little as possible.

As cooler air came around you, a whine slipped from your lips as the both of you were now sat up straight “you’re too clothed.” You grumbled making him laugh as he sat back on his feet “think you should help me then.” He joked letting that same smirk come back to his lips as you began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

It was clear you were desperate as his clothes quickly formed a pile on the ground “god I’ve missed this.” Jack groaned ripping open the wrapper to his condom as he watched your eyes light up “seems like you have too.” As he rolled the condom over his cock he couldn’t help but kiss your lips.

You lay back down with a stupid grin lacing your face “think I should go nice and slow-” Jack loved teasing you when you were overly eager “I know you didn’t just wake me up without fucking me.” You grumbled propping yourself up by your elbows.

If this was any other day he would have laughed, but in that moment he just wanted you to ruin you “fucking hell.” You both groaned feeling him bottom you out.

His forehead pressed against yours as he gave you the chance to adjust to his size, always having the same effect on you that he had the first time around “please move.” You whimpered trying to move your hips to create some kind of friction “look at you all needy again.” Jack taunted bringing your legs closer to him as he brought them over his shoulders.

The movement made you squeal feeling Jack peck at your lips. It was what you loved most with him as he found the way to make you feel like you were playfully in love “missed this cunt.” He confessed as he began thrusting his hips as he wanted to feel every inch of you again.

You whimpered in agreement “kept on thinking bout you.” You babbled on as the bed creaked beneath you “wanted your cock so bad.” You clenched around him remembering how needy you felt seeing him get into a few fights on screen.

He let his hand crawl up your skin “don’t think I ever wanna leave you again.” Jack announced as he watched his chain drop to your chin “already told Neeks I’d fucking murder him if he made me leave ya tomorrow.” The boy added as you lifted your lips up to kiss him swearing that this had to be a dream.

His cock continued to push deeper into your gummy walls as you clenched around him “you carry on doing that and I’m not going last.” Jack warned dropping his head to your breasts.

The coil in your stomach tightened as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking at the sensitive bud trying to bring forth your second orgasm before he came like an excited teenage boy. His message to himself was always that you had to come first, and that was no different tonight.

You had one hand gripping at your sheets and the other at his hair wanting him to stay there “please don’t stop.” You begged feeling your legs begin to shake.

He brought his lips up looking at you to see you staring back in awe, as the sight of broken saliva trailing from his lips made you squirm “wanna milk your cock.” You whined letting moans echo off of the walls.

It made him throb against your walls “wish I could make a mess.” Both of you weren’t ready for kids but still he couldn’t deny his desires to mark you up like some little whore.

You moaned letting the thought crowed your mind “please baby.” You nodded letting your fingers slide between your bodies to attack your clit.

But Jack was all that much quicker as he slapped your hand away looking back up at you “it’s gonna be me that makes you cum.” He explained with a scoff feeling his jaw tighten “please Jacky.” Your lips were swollen from how you chewed at it and your pupils were blown.

The sight alone was enough to make him nod as he let his fingers strum at your clit like he was playing a guitar “go on baby.” He cooed moving closer to you as skin slapped together when he kissed you.

It was enough to silence your moans as you came feeling the coil snap in your stomach quickly triggering on his orgasm “oh my god.” Your chest heaved as you caught your breath making him laugh “it’s just me princess.” He grinned as you scoffed going to argue with him when he pulled out of you.

Your eyelids grew heavy as he watched you lay on his side of the bed “really did miss you.” Jack confessed as he softly kissed your lips wanting to still feel you.

He watched you grin as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek “you want a bath, shower or bed?” The hockey player asked not wanting to care that it was well beyond a suitable time to be awake anymore.

You chewed at the inside of your cheek “you gonna put my bath bomb in?” Your voice was soft as he nodded “and those bath salts you like so much.”

After the late night that the two of you had, it was no surprise that all you wanted was to sleep in. Craving Jacks warmth as you were practically falling onto his side edging closer to him.

But that only lasted so long as your eyes stirred open hearing the sound of knocking at your door “baby should I get it?” Jack asked hearing the knocks get louder.

Your groans deterred him from it, ultimately making him laugh “if you even think about it I will murder you Hughes.” You warned pulling him in closer with you.

From the other side of the door stood John and Dawson “why do you think that Nico told us Jack wanted to see us?”

#Jack Hughes imagines #jh86 #jack Hughes smut #Jack Hughes Oneshots #hockey oneshots #hockey imagines #nhl oneshots #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey smut #jack Hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #amber writes fics

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jolalibrary · 8 months ago

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8. dark olive

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eight of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. frankie has a little panic attack as he shares canon things. an: this one would be called the revelation.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Rounding the corner, hands pushing the cart, you spot him immediately. Hands busy, comparing two types of tape in the middle of the aisle he’d left your side for.

Fuck, the tape looks so small in his hands.

A thought you're quick to shake out, eyes glazing past items on the shelves as you wander to him.

This store is so different from the one you met him in—the one he works in. Even if the circumstances feel oddly similar. Him, down an aisle; you, hopelessly and completely out of your comfort zone, still struggling to understand what it is you're here for.

It also smells different here. The place is a lot brighter, the lights above gleaming—newer, more LED than bulb—and the floor has little to no stains. You’d also noticed that the paint tins live across several aisles, with more colours than you thought possible.

Mostly, you miss Harold.

Oddly, for saying you’d rarely been there, you feel like you’re cheating on him. Almost betraying Harold's Hardware by being inside this larger, more fancier store.

A thing which tugs at the corner of your lips when you come to a stop near him. Finding Frankie turning his chin, wearing a puzzled look across his ridiculously handsome face. One that almost makes you break out into a smile, instead choosing to drag your tongue across your bottom lip as you inhale—trying not to let your eyes drop from his loose curls to his dark jeans.

“Do you feel like you’re cheating?” you ask, voice dropping as you come to a stop next to him, watching as he simultaneously places one tape back and one in the cart as he moves around to where your forearms are resting. “Because we’re shopping in a store that isn’t yours.”

Sliding his fingers under your chin as you straighten, making it easier to slide his mouth over yours.

Smirking, you bite your lip. “I feel like he’s going to know—Harold. He’ll smell it on you.”

“He’s not a vampire.”

“Could be. Instead of blood, it’s wood chippings and—”

Fingers crawling up your cheek, you catch the whisper of shh before he kisses you.

An attempt made to steal your breath, a thing you allow him to take willingly, practically handing him all you have in your lungs as your smirk and thoughts fade. At the feel of his hand sliding around you, you melt. Hands sliding from the cart to his face, feeling the fuzz of his hair against your palm, the smile that adorns his face against your mouth as you do all you can to hold back a moan in the middle of a tool and supplies aisle.

“Morales,” you warn as your mouth parts from his, catching the sound of him groaning—even from the back of his throat.

Tongue peeking through his teeth he snorts. “Morales? Ay?”

“Butterscotch in the sheets, Morales in the streets.”

Even if he shakes his head, you spot how soft his eyes are—all adorned with mischief, love. A sight you can't get over as it does a good job of making your heart flutter, especially as he continues to stroke your cheek—his calloused thumb dragging back and forth in gentle movements.

One he woke you up with the other day; one he does when he can tell your heart is racing quicker than your worries.

Fuck, you like him.

A lot.

His thumb still drags along your cheek as you think as much, as he sighs—all faint, with ease. As though he’s thinking something similar. Or maybe, you're just hoping.

“I think it's our little secret,” he murmurs.

His hand slides down, brushes down your body before he reaches for another item on the shelf. Not even looking—just knowing.

And, for the third time since being in here, it makes you warm. Makes you hot. It makes you want to drag him back to his truck and ask him to park it somewhere out of sight.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, hands finding the cart again. “I just…”

“You just?”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you lift your chin. “I don’t know how you just… do things, sometimes. You’re so—”

“Handsome?”

“—Competent.”

Narrowing his eyes, he tries not to smirk. You can tell. Giving you that look—the one he gave you in your kitchen, in the aftermath of when he almost choked on his juice, when you said you had breakfast he could eat. Meaning eggs. Even if the two of you burnt them doing something far more fun.

“Do you like that, Rainy?” You try not to warm at the pet name, at the nickname that’s grown to have more meaning than your own. “That I’m competent?”

Grabbing the cart, you nudge it into him. “Stop.”

Smirking, he winks, adding a noted before he begins leading you. The two of you weave through the aisles, mundane items ending up in the cart—the mess of things all rolling around the metal frame. On occasion, he mumbles something before scratching his forehead with the back of his hand, while you hover, not at all sure if he's naming a product or just making up words.

And, you just admire.

Completely in awe as he calculates something and then looks at you—like you’re the answer. Or because he knows now that it somehow turns you on.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?”

Rolling your lips, you shake your head, watching him add more things to buy.

“Twice, actually.”

Pulling a face, and moving closer, he hooks a finger around the loop of your jeans. “Doesn’t feel enough.”

“No?”

Shaking his head, you stare at him—right into his eyes, falling into them. “We should go pay.”

He smiles at you, the corners of his lips curling into something more as he nods his head and leads you to pay—joining an empty checkout.

"Same time next week?" he asks.

“Are you making these hardware dates with me a regular thing?”

“Why not? Maybe we can visit them all—I know some guys take girls to new cities or towns, but I wanna show you all the hardware stores.”

Laughing, you watch him empty everything, shooting you a grin each time he grabs something else from the cart until it empties.

Then, you bite the inside of your cheek when he goes to grab his wallet, fumbling for it. Your eyes spot it, that line—the one you love to smooth out with your palm—and how it begins to deepen. Moving from your place as you slide your phone out, ass brushing against him as you mumble that you’ll get this one.

It’s only when you hear the distinct beep of the payment, that you look over your shoulder. “You didn’t lose it,” you announce, watching him pause, face smoothing out. “Your wallet.”

Hands pause on the back of his jeans, he stops.

“It’s here,” you continue, patting the pocket of your jacket, “But, I’ll let you buy me lunch if you want?”

The cashier chuckles, hearing it, distantly, something about your girlfriend is funny—even if you’re focused on him, on how his eyes soften and his lips have curled into a grin.

We should think about constructing your shelving soon.

Good afternoon to you too, baby. That sounds fun. How do we do that?

Hello baby. I’m thinking, as it’s entirely bespoke that we get some drawers from IKEA, but the shelves above we make ourselves.

Does this mean you’re going to show me how to use power tools?

Yeah, sure. Probably be safer at mine, then I can transport them over to yours when we’re done?

Sounds good to me. So, an IKEA date?

Yeah. That can be next week's Hardware trip.

Oh, how you spoil me.

You know it, hermosa.

I still need to pick a paint, right?

Yes, you thought about any of the swatches you’ve done?

Frankie answers in record speed, your back leaning against the wall—staring at the now smooth wall the two of you had gotten pristine.

“Thought this would be easier.”

“Admit you missed my voice.”

Fighting a groan at the sound of the way he lowered his voice, you flex your toes in your socks. “You’re getting awfully big-headed, Butterscotch.”

Snorting, you hear a crash from his end of the phone, and the distinct sound of the phone being brought away before he shouts to Luca.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s building the equivalent of Jurassic World in my living room.”

Smirking, you lick your lips. “You sound thrilled.”

“Tim and Vinnie needed a home. And, it’s cruel of Daddy to make them homeless—”

Nodding, you glance at the swatches as you listen. Eyes flicking over taupes and golden yellows, over soft pinks and sea blues, but you keep being drawn back to one shade each time.

One that makes you linger, before gazing away from it—hesitant, somehow. The reasoning is half-known, yet you don’t want to unfold or unravel it properly.

Because you know why you like it—why you’re drawn to it.

Why it makes you want to smile, why it makes you feel at ease and calm, safe—

“—Is that your friend, Daddy?”

“Luca—”

“Hello, Daddy’s friend!”

His voice, all little and high-pitched—almost out of breath, as you imagine him running—makes your heart flicker, managing to croak back a, “Hi there.”

“My name is Luca and I’m—Daddy no—”

Your hand comes up to your mouth, grinning behind your fingers as you hear giggles and little screams. Frankie’s voice jokingly calls out that he’s a little monster—the phone clanging and clattering before the most joyous sound of two laughs blending into one before you’re picked up from whatever place you’d fallen to.

“I’m back.”

“Hi, baby.”

Sighing, he apologises, “Where were we?”

“Olive green. I like olive green.”

He makes a noise, one that you can’t help but think he’s surprised by.

“What—green is growing on me,” you add.

And he makes a different noise, one you suspect is married to a smile—a grin. One you’re pretty sure you’re mirroring neighbourhoods away, as you hear Luca in the background cheer at the sound of another crash.

So, I know you mentioned us going out for dinner tonight, but I wondered if I could interest you in something else.

I’m intrigued.

Well, you said you were still sore from training yesterday with Ben and I know you’ve been doing extra at the store, so how about UNO and pizza?

Baby, I promised you I’d take you out.

And you are. From my kitchen counter to my living room.

Is this what you really want?

Yes. Please.

I'm starting to think you don't like going out.

Why would I want to share you with more eyes, Morales?

Let me bring pizza then.

I guess I can agree to that.

Throwing down the last card, cheering, you watch him scowl—the few UNO cards he had left thrown down onto the table as you grab another slice of pizza. Wearing your win on your face, letting it descend like mist to your shoulders, hips as you do a little wiggle—all cross-legged on your living room floor.

He, on the other hand, huffed in faux annoyance, a glint in his eyes—the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Best out of three?” he proposes, already reaching forward and shuffling the deck with a smirk.

“You know you’ve lost two already.”

“Best out of seven then.”

And so, the game continues. Frankie on your sofa, leaning forward over the coffee table—surrounded by the remnants of pizza and scattered UNO cards. The glow from your lamp cascaded over the room, his curls teased and pulled on as he lost another game.

“Alright, cheat. Last round,” he declares.

As the game unfolds, you can't help but feel so incredibly happy. Just being here, with him. It's a simple night, nothing fancy, yet it feels more special than any other night with any other people.

You don’t even mind that he wins the last round, rolling your eyes at the triumphant grin on his face. “Told you I could beat you,” he gloats, gathering up the cards.

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile on your face. "Alright, alright, don't let it get to your head," you tease, unfolding your legs as you stand, grabbing the plates and napkins.

After everything is tidied up, you both settle down on the couch, snuggling into each other. His arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You look up at him, a soft smile on your face. “I had a great time.”

“Because you won?”

“Because I won.”

He swallows, shaking his head lightly as he stares at you—as you purse your lips and think about throwing your legs up over his. Heart doing a steady skip, the longer you stare, mouth opening to ask if he wants to stay when his opens and beats you to it.

“I want you to meet Luca.”

Face softening, your eyes widen to match the smile spreading over your face. “Yeah? You do?”

Nodding, he runs his knuckles over your chin. “I talked to Sam—Samantha. ‘Cause I wanted to make sure she was okay with it, y’know?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t want to do it without her being okay with it.”

Smiling, his hand drops to your knee, drawing a square. “You’re also… the first person,” he adds, nose scrunching as the words wash over you.

“Oh. Well, Frankie, I’d love to meet him. When you’re ready.”

His eyes drop, and you feel it—the air shift, something changing—before he clears his throat again. Retracing his hand, the heel of his palm runs across his forehead, and your heart’s pattern changes, and alters.

A dread falls out, sliding down over your skin, cooling the warmth that had been steadily growing all evening.

“But,” he swallows, fingers brushing over your knee. “I need to tell you something first.”

It’s quiet, the okay that escapes. That slithers out and spreads its fingers towards him. A panic rising in you, twisting—knotting. It makes you want to clear your throat, swallow, and do all you can to make it shift, but you can feel it pulsing, waiting.

Swallowing again, you spot Frankie’s hands twitching nervously. "Remember I told you about when I helped a friend—the dangerous thing?”

Eyes flicking, watching his hand lock over the other—fingers moving back and forth, scratching, eyes on you like a hawk as you nod, bracing yourself.

“Well…”

And it falls out of him. Listening, even over your racing heart—taking it in, as much as you can, more than bits and pieces, but not confident the full thing is reaching your brain.

You match the names of his friends to the ones you met, two shadows forming in the picture he paints—briefly wondering if they were in the photo at his, if they were people you’d heard about before, and never known. Hearing names like Ironhead and Pope, not realising until a second later explanation of who they were.

The more he spills, the more panicked his voice becomes—the more breath he attempts to take in. As though it's been shoved somewhere inside of him, crammed in a space too large, it bursting out of him now. All visibly affecting him, making his hand continue to scratch, nails digging deeper into the other. Red lines appear, clawing into the back of his hand as he continues on, and on—

“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I do, baby. I do because—” he chokes, a sob there—likely bubbling and unwilling to burst in his throat, eyes shimmering, swimming in unspent tears, “—I made a rushed call, and… and my friend—“

“Frankie.”

“He died.”

It feels like you’ve been hit in the chest.

A hand reaching in, twisting in past your ribs. A tightness that had been turning and shifting, suddenly explodes, leaving you breathless. Your mouth falls open, thoughts empty as you simply stare, blinking.

Not because of what he said, but because you knew it before he said it. Before he confesses the next thought, which you had a feeling had been eating him alive since he first began—

“And it was my fault.”

Your heart breaks, shatters for him.

Worsened by the way his words catch on his teeth as he shakes his head, as a tear falls down his cheek—as his nails continue to scratch, and scratch, more words tumbling out from his tongue.

The weight of his confession presses down on you, a suffocating force that threatens to crush your spirit. The air is heavy in the room, charged with sorrow and regret, his eyes encased in torment as his skin begins to peel apart—a raw wound laid bare, both metaphorically and literally.

“—and if I hadn’t crash landed, if I hadn’t taken the shot, if I hadn’t—“

If I hadn’t. If I hadn’t.

If I hadn’t.

The words are balled up, dropping out—followed by other things. Failings, all of them. Ones that have rippled inside of him for longer than you care to think about; them all likely rotted, become a mass of heavy regrets that have clung to the inside of his chest.

You whisper his name, but it’s like calling out a person in the centre of a stadium full of noise.

It’s swallowed, smothered. Barely reached his ears as you want to reach out and touch him, to centre him, bring him back to you. In all the ways he does so with you.

“—It's why I couldn’t fly, why I took the job, why… she left me.” His eyes snap to you, all clear, focused—unlike they’d been a moment ago. “You deserve to know—to choose, to know who you're with. ‘cause I fuck up. I fucked up and I took a man from his kids. I lost my head, I just needed to get out and I—”

Eyes flicking to his hand, you stand up, all suddenly, forcing his voice to trail off as he stares up at you. The room falls quiet as big, brown weeping eyes watch you shift your weight from side to side.

He looks lost, floating in a sea of pain that’s drowning him, that he can’t kick up from as he tries to keep swimming.

And he says your name. All broken, the edges of it chipped—cracked and fractured.

It’s quick, the way you mumble one minute before moving into your kitchen. The way you scramble for the green box, knocking over bottles of cleaning products and bleach as you hear him crumble, as the sound worms in your chest and cracks you. Hearing it, the distinct sound of shit and the way he curses himself for fucking up.

You barely shut the cupboard behind you when you’re moving back to him, seeing him panicked, gasping for breath between sobs. Sorries echoing, vibrating out. They're all a mashing of words and syllables, yet you can discern every single one as you drop back beside him.

Watching him try to shift away, your hand grabs his—quicker, smothering out over the one that sits on top of the one he’s scratched.

“Breathe. In, and out.”

Your name slithers out, between gasps and shakes.

“In for four, that’s it—then we hold for seven, like me—and exhale. Good. Again.”

Watching him come down, settle—ease falling out over him as you hold his hand, grip it, hold him so tight so he knows you’re not going anywhere.

“You don’t have to—”

“I just needed to get this,” you soothe, grabbing the first aid kit, placing it between the two of you. “You… you’ve cut yourself, baby.”

Swallowing, he blinks—either at the name, or the softness of your tone—before he glances down.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say, a double meaning.

Opening the kit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages, feeling him watch you as you gently clean his wounds, his breath hitching when the antiseptic stings, but he doesn't pull away. Not even when you ask if he's talked to someone, or when he nods, when he explains that he had to, that he hadn't been able to sleep and he was worried about having a baby overnight.

Frankie doesn't move even after you’ve cleaned it, or when you softly bandage it. Your fingers move with precision, all the while careful not to press too hard.

When you're done, you let your hand linger on his, your thumb gently rubbing over the bandages. You meet his gaze, seeing nothing but pain—wishing you could light a flicker of hope, do something to ease it.

“I need you to hear me say something, Frankie. Can you do that or would you prefer I wait?" you ask, voice steady, even though your heart pounds in your chest.

Waiting. Waiting.

Waiting.

Swallowing, he averts his eyes. “Yeah. I can hear it."

Your heart falls in your chest. “Frankie, I'm not ending it." You reassure, thankful his head shifts to face you. “Baby, whatever happened, it happened. It doesn't—it doesn’t change things for me. Doesn’t change the person I know. I know it’s a part of your story, a thing I can never heal for you, and I know there's likely more there, but you don't need to tell me. I don't need to know the whole thing.”

His eyes don't leave yours, and you see them fill with tears again. But this time, there's relief in them, too. Your hand lightly brushes over the bandage.

“Because what I do know is how much I like getting to know you. I know how Ben talked about you—how good Will said you were, are. I know what person I’ve been seeing, so, I don’t feel any different, about you—about us. Okay?”

Nodding, chewing his tongue for a moment, he slowly pulls you into a hug, burying his face in your neck. And, you hold him just as tight—hand stroking his back, feeling his tears on your skin. How his breathing steadies, and becomes more regular.

Only when he loosens his grip do you pull away slightly. Seeing enough to catch his face, how he's looking at you with such raw gratitude and vulnerability that it makes your chest ache. Pressing your forehead to his, closing your eyes as you take it in, you lay a soft kiss on his mouth, taking a moment, letting it all settle.

And then you clear your throat. “But, you are really bad at UNO.”

He snorts, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Like really bad—maybe the worst person I’ve ever played UNO with—”

Grabbing you, almost tickling you, he half-smiles, somehow having shifted himself to be above you, pressing you into your sofa cushions. “Yeah, alright”

Smiling up at him, you flick your eyes from his to his lips. “Do you want to stay and make me eggs in the morning?”

Rolling his lips, he takes a deep breath, before slowly nodding. "If that's okay?"

"I'd like you to."

Baby, you were fast asleep when I had to get up for work, so I made you a thank-you-for-listening-to-me-omelette. The recipe was complex, with lots of various thanks woven into it, so I hope you like it. I also spotted my brand of coffee in your cupboard, I’m trying to stop grinning at that, so I’ll try and call on my break if you want—so you can remind me how bad I am at UNO.

I just woke up, so I’m going to hunt down this omelette that definitely didn’t need to be made from thank-you-eggs.

Okay, first report, your omelette is almost as good as your coffee. Which yes, I bought.

Starting to think you really like me, Rainy.

I might do, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

AN: hope we're all doing okay

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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emotionalsupport-ljh · 28 days ago

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All Better 🩺🩹

It's okay to take a little break.

Fluff - woozi x nurse!reader (fem)

Woozi Birth Month special! One fluffy baby getting taken care of!

AO3 link

Word Count: 1.8k

CW: hospital, IV, mentions of fainting, mentions of self neglect

🤍⊹🩺♡⚕⟡˙🩹˙˙⟡⚕♡🩺⊹ 🤍

It’s too bright in the hospital room Jihoon is currently waiting in. The fluorescent light bulbs only seem to reflect the sterile white environment back in his eyes, causing him to squint slightly. He drew the blinds a long time ago, trying to avoid exactly this discomfort. He isn’t used to this. He’s used to the soft blue and violet ambiance of his studio and the LED of his computer. An IV drips steadily next to him with a tube connected in his arm. His phone died a while ago, and no one seems to have a spare charger in the hospital. He’s chosen to combat his boredom (and loneliness) by closing his eyes, breathing steadily. He knows he won’t sleep. He can’t. He has too much to think about and work to get back to. Forever the workaholic, his mind immediately starts making a list of what to catch up on once he can get out of here and back to his sanctuary.

A small click and very light footsteps approach his side. He doesn’t mind them; it’s probably just that old nurse coming back to check on him again or lecture him about staying hydrated and getting at least nine hours of sleep because eight is actually too little and that lie was spread by blah blah blah. There’s quiet sounds of a pen on paper then a rattling of equipment and a squeak. Jihoon cracks one eye open at that new sound like a mouse had suddenly appeared to record his vitals. Not a mouse. A nurse. One wincing as he makes eye contact with her, his face emotionless.

“Sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t want to disturb your nap.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he replies in a sigh. He opens both eyes and blinks away some of the discomfort of the environment. The first color he sees other than hospital white is pastel pink. And pastel flowers on hairpins. You smile down at him brightly.

“Oh! Okay! Well, you are doing much better. Shouldn’t be long until you can get out of here.” Your smile is warm and your voice is cheerful.

“Thank you, Nurse…” he trails off, waiting for an introduction.

“Y/N! Just call me Y/N.” You can’t help but notice this patient as he lightly smiles for the first time since you’ve been here. It’s only been something like two minutes, but still. It’s a soft smile that crinkles his eyes into crescents. He’s very cute.

“Why couldn’t you have been my nurse the whole time? The other one kept nagging me.” Jihoon pouts a little as he talks. He’s really very cute.

You hold the clipboard you were writing on close to your chest and relax your stance a little to talk, “Her shift ended. I’m her replacement.” It’s, for once, not super busy this afternoon, so you have some time before someone is breathing down your neck about checking on patients. There’s something about this guy that makes you want to pause and talk. Maybe even unload. His gentle eyes are tired; it’s like he has been carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders and this is his first genuine excuse to let up a little. His voice is soft in his chest, and there’s something adding timber, something somber.

“Good, you are much easier to talk to. My phone died a long time ago, so I’m bored,” Jihoon says, letting out a deep breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

You glance at his chart again. He’s been put on fluids and vitamins for dehydration and poor nutrition. This guy is overworked, stressed, and isn’t sleeping much. He’s literally on record saying “I only eat white rice, really” and he doesn’t drink much water. You begin to see why the last nurse wanted to lecture him so bad.

“You should rest. Get some extra sleep while you're still here.” You gently goad him in the right direction.

Jihoon groans indignantly, “I really don’t want to. Besides, it’s uncomfortable here: too bright with the lights on, too dark with them off. I’d much rather talk to you.” He’s being a little whiny, even for his own taste, but any excuse to not waste more time while he’s still conscious. He has work to do. Well, maybe not to do right now, but he can still think about it.

You give him a half smile and set the clipboard on one of the chairs near the bed. “Sit up,” you command and he obliges without hesitation. You move in close to fluff his pillow and then gently, and without thinking, push down on his chest to get him to lay all the way back. You bring the thin blanket up to his chest, and for the final touch, you move the bottom corner of the blanket for it to expose one leg. Jihoon’s heart has been racing since you stepped forward to fluff his pillow and you clock it on the heart monitor immediately.

“Is that better?” There’s a chuckle in your voice.

Jihoon nods kind of mystified, just staring at you with big eyes. You grab the discarded clipboard and move to the door to shut off the lights. It is really dark in this room. “I’ll be back,” you announce and speed off into the hallway.

Jihoon is staring at the ceiling while his mind reels at the interaction. Nurse Y/N, he thinks, What a force of nature. He finds himself missing the pop of color your scrubs brought to the otherwise bleak room. When he does reluctantly close his eyes, all he can picture is your smile. The silence is killing him, and, almost on queue, the door swings open once more; this time it’s a lot less subtle.

You walk in with an assortment of items. A small noise machine, a night light, and an extra blanket. You carefully set up each item to make the room feel a hell of a lot cozier. Jihoon is once again at a loss for words. The oppressive sterility of the space transforms before his eyes. Once the night light is plugged in, there is a softer, warmer glow about the room. When you turn around, you are backlit in a golden light.

“Do you need a lullaby for your nap, as well, Mr. Lee?” you tease your patient smiling.

“Please, just Jihoon is fine. And no, this is… perfect.” Jihoon cracks a genuine smile, feeling all his stress slowly begin to melt away. “Where did you find a nightlight?”

“Pediatrics. The noise machine is from the On-Call room. You’re lucky no one is using it right now.”

“I really am lucky, huh?” Jihoon says more to himself than he does to you.

“Okay then, just Jihoon. Sweet dreams,” you say, flustered.

They sure will be, he thinks. You watch as he settles into the bed and actually plans to rest. You slip out of the door with a prideful feeling in your chest. You’re good at your job.

When Jihoon wakes up, his first instinct is to reach for his phone and check the time. It’s around 2:30 in the afternoon. He’s been in the hospital for a little over an hour. He blinks heavy a few times then looks at his phone again in surprise. It’s charged! It’s attached to a charger, and it’s fully charged! He follows the rainbow colored cord with his eyes to the outlet it’s plugged into, and sharpied onto the brick are the words “Y/N’s Do Not Touch!!”. There’s a water bottle on the nightstand and a red jello cup. He sits up and take the jello cup in one hand and his phone in the other, checking his messages.

When you ease the door open with a light knock, you find him watching a video on his phone while his tongue tries to scoop the last bit of jello out of the cup. You giggle a little which catches his attention causing him to swiftly put the now empty cup down.

“That nap was good, huh?” you say, still giggling lightly and flicking the lightswitch. You walk up to check his vitals and IV for the last time.

“Yeah, actually, thank you… for everything.” Jihoon sounds less stressed out. He’s much calmer and even a little happier.

“It’s no biggie, honestly,” you reply. There’s a beat of silence and you sigh before starting your next sentence. “I’m going to do that thing that you hate.” You gesture to his arm, and he presents it, letting you tend to the removal of his IV. Your touch is soft and leaves him wanting more. He wants to fall into your gentle and nurturing arms and stay there forever.

“Jihoon, this incident was serious. When you fainted, you could’ve ended up with a concussion or worse. You’re lucky, but… this all could’ve been avoided.” You choose all your words carefully and talk gently. “You have to take care of yourself.” you finish up and dispose of the waste. Then, you chance to place a hand on his knee and add with a smile, “I won’t always be there to do it for you.”

Jihoon, who has been looking down while you speak, looks up into your eyes with a look of resignation on his face and a slight smirk. “You don’t, like, make house calls or anything, do you?”

You laugh and lightly hit his knee you were once holding, “Of course not! But, if you have any questions,” you produce a slip of paper from your pocket, “shoot me a text or something.”

Jihoon takes the piece of paper and sees a phone number written inside. He breaks into a genuine smile as he runs his fingers over the numbers to make sure he’s not still dreaming. He speaks up before you leave for good, “I might have a lot of questions. Can I ask them over coffee? Tomorrow, maybe?”

You raise your eyebrows, “You sure you're not too busy?”

“I’m sure. I’m gonna take my health a lot more seriously now. Starting with having a date with the cute nurse.”

You blush, but before you can come up with a cute response, your pager sounds. You manage to say through a smile, “Get out of here! Your discharge paperwork is at the desk,” before speed walking out of the door to attend to the next patient.

Jihoon takes a beat, smiling to himself before gathering his things to leave the hospital. He is serious about staying healthy and conscious for his job and fans and to impress a certain nurse with his ability to improve by himself. Though, having you around to bring him back to life sometimes is certainly a plus.

#teehee #want to bby him #woozi birth month #seventeen #svt #woozi #lee jihoon #lee jihoon fanfic #lee jihoon fanfiction #woozi fanfiction #woozi fic #lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #woozi fluff #lee jihoon fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff

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linkemon · 5 months ago

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I won't say I'm in love (Shroud Idia x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ɪᴅɪᴀ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ᴍᴇɢᴀʀᴀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀᴄᴜʟᴇꜱ. ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ, ʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴏᴛᴏᴍᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴀɪɴ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʀᴘɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜʏ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ɪᴛ.

— Ortho, can you repeat that again? — Idia blinked rapidly.

He stared at his brother as if he had suddenly sprouted three heads. In the darkness, illuminated only by the light falling from the screen, he had the impression that the dark, robotic silhouette had turned into Cerberus. A huge dog standing guard in the doorway. He would love to cross to the other side of this imaginary Styx but he couldn't. Such betrayal? His own brother stabbing him in the back?

— Bro, you don't have to be so dramatic…— Ortho shook his head. — I invited [Reader] because you haven't seen each other for a long time and...

— And you don't see any problem? You're a huge red flag for doing this behind my back. —The older brother hugged the pillow. The huge dakimakura seemed to help him shut out the world.

The youngest Shroud turned on the light. The glow of LED bulbs seemed to peer into every corner. It was looking for colourful wrappers from sweets imported from abroad. It skimmed over every screw and scrap of metal from failed projects. It even discovered piles of comic books mixed with records falling out of their packaging. The room was a mess. Ortho was aware of this. However, he stated that it was not worth turning the knife in the wound. He did not comment on the state of affairs. Instead, he turned on the quick cleaning mode. Idia joined him reluctantly. Silently, with a suffering face, he threw the garbage into a large bag.

Ortho wondered what exactly he had done wrong. According to his information, [Reader] and Idia did not have a quarrel. On the contrary. Since everyone had returned from S.T.Y.X. HQ, he felt like his brother had finally made some friends. People he likes spending time with. They played games together and sometimes he even let them take him outside, which was a big success in itself. The prefect didn't mind his enthusiasm for fantasy. She seemed happy to learn about the media that reigns supreme in Twisted Wonderland. She hadn't had much opportunity to explore this side of the world, so Shroud was quietly happy to introduce the, as he put it, noob to the most important corners of Internet.

The contact ended quite suddenly. Ortho didn't need special programs to notice that something was wrong. He asked [Reader] directly but she said that Idia was apparently very busy with a new project. He would have believed it if he hadn't lived with him. How busy can you be watching the same old Premo concert for the thirty-third time in two weeks? His brother looked like he couldn't find a place in his own beloved room and didn't want to say what was going on. So Ortho did what he always did — he pushed him. The invitation was the first step. What he will do with this fact will be his initiative alone. With that thought he left the room.

There was a faint knocking sound through the metal door. Idia felt like he had just had a heart attack. He had a choice:

a) pretend he's not there (20% effective, most people on campus knew it wasn't true because he used this attack too often)

b) say that he is sick (an even worse plan, because someone will definitely take him to the hygienist)

c) ask [Reader] to go away (a tragic choice in RPGs that causes you to lose a companion; if she hasn't hated him by now, she definitely will after this option)

d) open the door like a civilized person his parents tried to raise him to be (he will be given the fearful status but will gain +10 courage)

He decided on the last option and, taking a deep breath, opened the door.

— Hi! — [Reader] immediately went to her usual place on the huge pouffe. She fell on it like a giant starfish from the Octavinelle aquarium.

The boy expected anything. Or at least reproaches. He didn't fully understand himself. Was he such a good liar? NO. He wasn't stupid. He knew his capabilities. He was never great at this. Unless we're talking about framing someone from the opposing team in games but that's not the case. Maybe he was annoyed that she didn't miss him as much as he missed her...

— I brought us a new game. Cater recently mentioned that his sisters had some to give away because they were bored of them, so I took all they had.

— What do you have there? — he risked a safe question.

The girl handed him a colourful package. He guessed that the record was second-hand. The colourful cover looked like it had seen better days. However, after seeing a crowd of pretty 2D men, he guessed what genre he was dealing with. Visual novel. And not just any kind. In his hands he held an otome…

— Reincarnated in a fantasy world with six princes after being run over by a carriage... Okay, this title is so long it doesn't even fit on the cover. Meet them all: rules-loving, wild, THIS ONE IS A MERMAID?!

He didn't feel like reading the rest. Idia wasn't a noob when it came to otome. On the contrary. He ate his teeth on all possible game genres. Usually, however, he made sure that they maintained any level. However, this title seemed to him like a bunch of random tropes. Someone on the other side just had to wait to throw them all together and create their fan dream.

— I guess we can just take making choices — he said, inserting the disc into the console.

— Don't worry, good people, for ladyknightskibidi:3 has arrived! — announced the prince with the archetype of the mysterious figure.

— Idia, you have the humor of a seven-year-old — said the girl, seeing the MC nickname written on the screen.

— But admit it, you're enjoying it. — Shroud handed over the controller.

The heroine's long hair waved in the wind. Her eyes seemed to contain the light of all the stars. Rose petals were floating in the air and their strong scent seemed to captivate everyone around. Even though it was the middle of winter and they basically should be dead...

— You can even choose the colour of the horse. Do you think this is important to the plot? And what if we miss the illustration? — [Reader's] hand hovered over the controller.

— It's an obvious move. They want us to think that white is assigned to the pretty guy and black is assigned to the mysterious guy. Meanwhile, it's quite the opposite. I don't know who the last one is assigned to but it doesn't matter — Idia said.

The white steed, a brave companion on many journeys, headed towards the main gate, where ladyknightskibidi:3 met the archetypal prince with a heart of gold who was talking to an NPC. She made her purchases, although they actually had no impact on the plot and were just a cash grab to force players to buy new outfits for the characters. So she left without a new dress, which was highlighted in the illustration by the armor that did not match the idyllic setting. After all, who says you can't kiss in full armor on the beach...?

— There's no way we're going to pay for any DLC. Who do they think they are?

— Do you know what the process of publishing indie games looks like? They have to make money somehow.

— I don't care, we don't pay! I got this from Cater. Free is a fair price.

The heroine saw the ultimate villain of the series, whom she had to defeat. With the power of kindness, friendship and, of course, sarcasm. Mostly sarcasm. Dressed in completely mismatched clothes because good stats are the most important. Even if it means you get married in a neon hat... The most important thing is that MC and her groom rode off into the sunset. Good ending unlocked. Now just repeat this a few times and multiply it by each save to also make bad endings...

— Is it the end already? I understand they had to cram in a few routes but this is so short. — Shroud shook his head.

The screen showed a colourful collage of obtainable illustrations. The end credits and the creators' names were scattered between them.

The chosen one of MC's heart seemed to be smiling mockingly at Idia from behind the glass. Here is another story where someone like Vil from Pomefiore wins a girl's heart. Handsome, rich and famous. The complete package.

— Oh yes, beautiful and perfect type. Why am I not surprised that bishōnen won? — Shroud mumbled into his sweatshirt sleeve.

Unfortunately not quiet enough.

— Idia, need I remind you that you also made half of the choices. You're also responsible for the outcome — [Reader] commented, putting down the controller.

— I chose exactly as normies do in real life.

— It's not about the game at all, is it? — [Reader] looked straight at him. — You've been avoiding me for two weeks. — So he really wasn't a good liar after all, he thought. — I don't think I gave you a reason to be offended but if I did, just tell me. And if it's another S.T.Y.X. problem, I'll try to do something too but I can't help you if you don't talk to me at all.

Communication was never his default stat. However, he had to admit that he rarely tried to put any points into this skill tree. He just didn't develop it. He really wanted to start but just thinking about it felt like the ends of his hair were starting to change colour. The edges of the metalic chairs reflected an embarrassing red. As always, his hair had to betray him.

Idia was a nerd. He thought through the situation in several hundred different ways and came up with tons of potential solutions. So why wasn't this conversation in any of his plans? Why was it so difficult to put any of the imaginary conversations into action? His brain went into a glitch because he had to face this hopeless truth that he didn't want to reveal even to his own brother.

What could he say? [Reader] didn't deserve this prolonged, embarrassing silence. But she waited patiently despite two weeks of being ignored. So he did what was the only thing that came to his mind.

— I'm an NPC — he finally said.

— Okaaay. — Prefect of Ramshackle tilted her head uncertainly.

— No, you don't understand — he sighed, rubbing his forehead. — For example, take the MC from Reincarnated in a fantasy world... uh... the MC from this game. You are like her. The main character is always running around and helping all the characters around her, without looking at herself. She doesn't even realize that she is smart, selfless and beautiful. She always knows what to say to bad guys and is not afraid to fight. And then a prince arrives on a white horse. He's pretty, rich, and provides her with everything she needs. There are no flaws because that's not how you write ikemens. They just should be cool and that's it. Then these two come together and boom! Good ending. At their wedding, the creators will put the NPC who sells you items in the crowd because they don't want to make a new model, so they can use it. In the sequel, maybe he'll even say a few words and you'll find out that he has a brother, a magic workshop and will repair your carriage but that's where the relationship ends. He will stand by the gate and sigh because he loves her but he will never tell her because he is not even in this game. He was never selected so he didn't make it to the cover...

Everything he said came to him with a delay. When it came to games, his brain had always thought faster. But now he cursed him inwardly because the statement seemed to hang heavy in the air.

[Reader] looked at him searching for something. She seemed to weigh her words. But he was prepared for anything. He played so many bad endings. This one will just be another one of them. So why was his heart beating so terribly fast and he was silently praying to his favourite idols to just take him away?

— There are almost always secret routes in otome — the girl said.

— Huh? Idia blinked rapidly. — I've played more otome than you, I don't know if you should educate me…— [Reader]'s raised brow made him stop talking.

— The truth is, I played it a little with the Cater's sisters. This game also has a secret route. The seventh romance character is hidden. You unlock it when you pass…

—…all routes — Shroud interjected. — Okay, I'm seriously shutting up now — he added, looking down.

— This character is an item NPC. — [Reader] paused in case the boy was to interrupt her again but nothing happened. — What I mean is that the MC can also choose an NPC. If only he tells her how he feels and wants to take part in the game.

The screen illuminated her face with a pale glow and the boy realized that in the darkness she really looked like the main character. How can you seriously say something so cool, as if nothing happened? She stared at him with silent expectation. He wanted to scream into dakimakura but he probably wouldn't look too cool doing it. So he mentally prayed to his idols. If there was ever a time the Premos should help him, this was it.

— In the game, the MC makes decisions, so technically she has no causative power and... Ahem. Okay. I know that I'm going too far. Sooo... would you like to go on a date with me? But it's best not to go to Mostro Lounge because there are a lot of people there and for the first time it could be tragically scary and...

— Idia?

— Yes? — He swallowed loudly.

— I'll go on a date with you but your hair is burning the controller right now...

#idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #oneshot x reader #tw x reader #ortho shroud

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sonotpattismith · 23 hours ago

Text

composing a burlesque

pairing: yuta okkotsu x burlesque!reader word count: 10.2k inspired by: nearly witches by panic! at the disco content: burlesque reader, angst, sexual assault, violence, yuta being a little insane, smut, 18+

There was a time when exorcizing curses provided a rush of dopamine to Yuta Okkotsu’s brain unlike any other drug that would ever come to graze his calloused hands. The action was filled with purpose— it made him ooze a certain confidence that felt damn near orgasmic. Being a special grade, being sent off on missions others were deemed incapable of completing themselves, it was all euphoric for the once insecure and helpless boy.

Yuta had been in the business for years now though, and he wasn’t sure the last time his job felt that addicting. Perhaps in the heat of all that he had fought through, the sorcerer failed to ever acknowledge when he was in his prime. Now though, as he swung his katana over his shoulder and gazed haphazardly at the mission synopsis before him, all he felt was the grueling realization that he had been tumbling down that hill of his supposed peak for quite some time now.

He longed for it though, the type of purpose he could sink his teeth into and feel the pressure of it achingly caress his gums. With his well surpassing all his peers, at what point did his original purpose for building himself up get lost in the rubble of all his past successes? Perhaps it was the validation of it all that only tasted so nice when it was those he desperately had something to prove to.

So, the special grade would take every mission thrown his way. Hell, he would even go as far as to seek out especially perilous ones just for a hint of that rush he used to get. It wasn’t a difficult feat, given the fact that the higher ups always found his efforts better suited to higher grade missions anyway. This was why, as Yuta stared up at the red, LED lights flashing down at him from what appeared to be a gentlemen’s club, he wasn’t sure where his skills fit in here.

The lit up, archway entrance had a mysterious way of luring him in while simultaneously warning him that Yuta Okkotsu was way out of his element here. He could hear the sultry music that was playing inside reverberating on the ground beneath his feet, penetrating deep into the already uncertain depths of his chest. The sorcerer hadn’t even been aware that such places existed anymore, much less that they still drew in such a crowd, judging by the boisterous chatter that also escaped the tantalizing walls of the club. Of course, these types of… establishments were never really his scene.

Gulping down his nerves, he was more anxious about the human proclivities that would be awaiting him on the other side rather than whatever curse he was sent to deal with. Despite this apprehension, he followed the gold, bulb lights that lead the way to the heavy, double doors. Upon pushing in, the alluring music seemed to increase tenfold, and he could feel the vibrations of the drunken club-goer’s conversations in his chest.

His breath left him momentarily as he took in the sights before him. There were very obvious, overwhelmingly strong tendrils of cursed energy that seemed to waft from the very back of the establishment, and he assumed that’s where he should be headed to find what he’d come here for— perhaps he would have had it not been for the fact that he was completely enamoured by the dominating presences on the main stage.

At present, there were three women on the stage, each doused head to toe in delicately intimate costumes. They oozed artistry and professionalism with each pointed kick and calculated sway of their hips. The men that surrounded the stage must have felt it too, what with the way each of them was glued to performance, eyes unsure where to focus at any given moment.

Yuta watched as they smirked and hollered over at each other, depraved thoughts that should never have been conjured in the first place let alone spoken aloud being tossed around the room nonchalantly. Of course, the sorcerer wasn’t blind, the beauty that emanated from each woman on the stage wasn’t lost on him, but he couldn’t help but be thrilled by the artistry alone.

“First time?”

He was pulled from his gobsmacked trance by a saccharine voice, so sweet and sultry in its delivery that he determined that it just had to have been rehearsed. Spinning around so abruptly, Yuta knocked into the tray of drinks balanced on your gloved, manicured hand. It tipped to the side unceremoniously, and he was jolting forward with an expert reflex to catch it before it fell.

“Oh!” He gaped frantically, anxiety ridden hands shooting up to steady the martini glasses as their contents began to splash onto you. The awkward man before you seemed to work with such swiftness and tact that you were sure you missed all of what had happened in the second you took to blink. “I— Gah! I’m such a clutz. I’m sorry, Miss—”

“So, yes for first timer?” You teased with an impressed gaze, taking note of the now perfectly balanced glasses on your tray. Carefully shifting the tray in your arms, your free hand reached up to swipe the drops of spilled alcohol from your chest.

Yuta, finally looking up from the glasses, followed the motion with bated breath. You donned a similar costume to the ones on the performers, a shimmering gold bodysuit that clung sinfully to your every curve, reaching high on your hips and exposing the skin of your fishnet laced thighs. Your red-manicured fingers dipped onto the plush pillows of your chest that were exaggerated by the tightness of your bodice, gathering up the wetness that lingered before returning your casual grip on the tray.

His heart was beating up higher and higher until he felt its mocking rhythm in his throat, and his wide eyes drifted from your glistening chest, up your neck until they met the intricately painted face attached. The response he meant to give strained to come out as he stared into your shadow-lined eyes with dramatic lashes fluttering up to meet his gaze, and whatever he meant to say came embarrassingly out as a cross between a hum and a grunt. Your red-painted lips curved up in amusement, an expression that reminded him of just how pathetically he was behaving. It was hardly within his ability to care though, not when your smile revealed itself to be the best bit you had seemingly saved for last.

“Am I—” Yuta stammered, desperate to take back any semblance of dignity in this painful interaction. When your brow quirked up, he laughed nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Just a lucky guess.” You winked, looking behind him to the stage he had been staring at. “They’re pretty good, huh?”

“Huh? Oh! Y-Yeah, it’s incredible.” He gushed honestly, stealing another glance at their seamless choreography before turning back to you. “Um… You don’t— uh, dance?”

“I do.” You smiled sweetly at his anxious disposition, picking up one of the glasses to hand to him. “Just not today.”

He stared at the glass for a beat too long, the dark, red lighting in the room illuminating off of the prominent whites of his blown out eyes. After another second, his midnight eyes fluttered back up at you, and he offered a wobbly smile.

“O-Oh, I didn’t order anything.”

“On the house.” You offered nonchalantly, bending over just a bit to hand out the drinks to the couch of men awaiting their orders.

Yuta wished he could be a better man in that moment, for he knew his gaze lingered too long on the arch in your back as you flirted casually with the customers. One particularly burly man had cash pressed between his fingers, fully prepared to tuck it into your pronounced cleavage. It was evident then though that you had been in this game too long, and you snatched it smoothly between your shiny, red nails before tutting at the man in playful disapproval.

As you straightened back up to return to the anxious boy behind you, you gave a mockingly exasperated expression. The subtle attention made his chest burn, and had it not been for the lighting, he was sure you would have caught the way it spread up to his neck and cheeks. Nonetheless, he smiled shyly back at you, taking a swig from the drink you’d given him in an attempt to cool himself down. The bitter liquid splashed against his unsuspecting tongue, and he had to fix his face in record timing lest he embarrass himself again.

“Not your poison?” You laughed softly while brushing past him to head back to the bar. His white sneakers squeaked against the floor as he stumbled after you. “I figured you’d need a little liquid courage before dealing with whatever the hell haunts this place.”

His expression fell a bit in surprise at your words. Now behind the bar, you peered back at his dumbstruck expression.

“How did you know that’s what I was here for?”

Leaning forward, you tugged gently on the swirled, yellow button on his chest, making him pull forward toward you just a hair.

“Not the first yellow button I’ve seen come through here to take that thing out.” You whispered lowly, and had he not been so close, he wouldn’t have heard you over the rowdy crowd and blaring music. Your confession made his brows furrow.

“No one’s been able to exorcise it?”

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it?” You laughed, finally letting go of your grip on his shirt to lean your hands against the cool, glass counter. “Well, I heard that’s why they sent you. Rumor has it you’re stronger than the rest of them. Is that true…?”

“Okkotsu.” He introduced as you trailed off in question, holding his posture just a bit higher at your praise. “I’m Yuta Okkotsu.”

You smiled again, your pearly whites glittering under the neon lights. With a tilt of your head, your pristinely styled curls shifted enough to waft the scent of your shampoo straight toward his face. With Yuta’s luck, it wouldn’t be the martini in his hand that got him drunk on the job.

“Well, Yuta Okkotsu— are you? Stronger than the rest?”

Your questioning of his talents assured that Yuta didn’t need any alcohol to charge into the back of that club to prove himself to you that night. It wasn’t as if he ever needed any encouragement before, the sorcerer had become more than confident in his abilities over the years, and he knew there was little to nothing that could rival his techniques. Still, it had been a while since he had felt so driven to tear something apart just for the sake of saying he could.

You had informed him that the thing (as you had called it) resided in the boss’s office, and that it never left. Yuta had questioned where the man in question was, but he was informed that he wouldn’t come in until the curse was taken care of. The faintest of red flags waved in the sorcerer’s mind at the thought of the owner of this establishment jumping ship yet still expecting the women to keep it afloat, putting themselves in dangers he wasn’t man enough to face himself.

He insisted that he didn’t need you to show him where the office was— he could feel it. It was spilling under the cracks of the door, filling his senses with that familiar dread that kicked on his fight or flight everytime. It had been ages since he had the privileged choice of flight though. With the key you’d given him, his nimble fingers worked to unlock the ominous barrier. It creaked open, and, before anything else, a waft of sickeningly sweet perfume wafted into his consciousness. Reaching out blindly, he felt for the light switch before flipping it on.

A dull light flickered on, flooding the once pitch black room. His eyes met those of the curse almost immediately. Yuta Okkotsu had seen the most grotesque of ghouls and curses in his few years as a jujutsu sorcerer, ones that made the strongest of men flinch back in fear, but he was sure, as he gaped back at this one, that he had never laid eyes on one that made his stomach churn so uneasily. It wasn’t large, or loud— hell, he wasn’t even sure it could be categorized as a grade two. Still, there was something so deeply disquieting about its vacant stare and the whines that left its mangled mouth.

It didn’t move to attack him, it didn’t leave its spot on the worn-down, yellowing couch on the far wall of the office. It laid sprawled out, its limbs almost longer than the furniture itself. Its complexion was pale, but its face was painted dramatically with deep, burgundy rouge as what appeared to be drool dripped out its torn and welted lips, smearing the ruby paint that lined them.

Yuta’s wide eyes blinked down at it; once, then twice. It mimicked his motions, a tear dropping from its oddly protruding eyes on the second blink. Even as he slowly approached it, unsheathing the katana from his bag, the curse made no move to defend itself. It made his movements falter— they needed a special grade sorcerer for this thing? Gulping down the brimming feeling of nausea, he uncharacteristically turned his cheek as he plunged his katana into its chest, unable to face the demise he was inflicting on it.

The air in the club was notably lighter as he made his way back out to the main area. From the archway, he could see the new set of dancers on the stage performing a different number. Some of them glanced his way as he sauntered out from the back, but most of them paid him no mind.

As his haunting eyes sweeped over the crowd of people in search of you, almost instantly spotting you leaned against one of the couches with that performatively provocative smile on your plush lips, he felt that familiar rush of adrenaline flood his system. It almost made him forget about the unease of exorcising the curse he’d come here for, and he pushed through the crowd, shouldering at horny men carelessly in his pursuit. The proximity between you was slowly waning, and it made some of his previous confidence fly out the window.

Your hand brushed teasingly over the shoulders of the customer you were currently buttering up, and it made Yuta’s chest burn with the fiery hope that it was just the artistry of it all. Still, his logical mind must have abandoned him in favor of something more primal, as he pushed past his doubt to make his way to you. The sorcerer, practically buzzing with a high unlike any other, wasn’t sure what he planned to do when he reached you, but he wouldn’t find out because you turned to face him just as he opened his mouth.

“Wrapped it up already?” You quipped, a knowing smile playing on your lips. In your eyes though, there was an underlying darkness that he couldn’t quite place. Nonetheless, he followed beside you this time as you made your way back to the bar.

“All clear, Miss.” Yuta confirmed, feeling almost lightheaded as he awaited your reaction, but you only hummed in response. He huffed out a nervous laugh, watching you distract yourself behind the counter. The blues of his eyes darted about incredulously. “You sound like you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, sweetheart.” You peered up at him through your heavy false lashes with a slight tilt of your head. The exasperated furrow of his brow was almost endearing, but it wasn’t your intention to step on his ego. “I’m sure you got rid of it for now— just like the five that came before you did.”

“The five…” His bewildered tone trailed off as your words sunk in. Whether unconscious or not, he leaned in closer to you. “What do you mean for now?”

A soft sigh had your pristine posture falling a bit. It had begun feeling like whatever organization these people were coming from were simply throwing shit at a wall and waiting to see what stuck. After the third attempt though, you had started to lose that spark of hope that lit up each time you’d see one of those familiar, yellow buttons.

“Well, it usually goes like this—” Yuta’s breath hitched ever so slightly as your stiletto-clad foot pulled the stool beside him closer, now a mere inches away as you sat down gracefully. With an elbow rested casually on the bar, your long, fish-netted leg shifted, brushing against his as you folded it over your thigh. “A bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit comes in here, all high and mighty that they’re going to take care of everything for us.”

As you recounted, your finger trailed absetmindedly up his arm, making his shoulders tense in anticipation.

“And you do. You do whatever the hell is you do, and you leave. Everything is fine for a while.” Your fingers squeezed at his bicep teasingly, and you couldn’t help but be a bit surprised at the firmness that seemed to be hiding under his baggy, white shirt.

Continuing your exploration, you could feel the heat of his blush under your fingers as you trailed up his neck, grazing your nails against his nape. Yuta’s lips parted, leaning his head back unconsciously against your delicate touch. His eagerness made you smile softly— it was almost second nature to tease him, and you wondered when the last time a man so green walked through the doors of this place.

“And what then?” He breathed out, trying with everything in him to keep his concentration on the conversation at hand.

Your hand curled around his nape, and you pulled him in closer to you. The abrupt motion had his hand shooting forward, steadying himself with a clammy hand against your thigh lest he fall face first into your chest.

“And she always comes back.” You whispered, almost losing yourself in the way he stared up at you with those hauntingly wide eyes.

“S-She?”

You nodded softly.

“She, it, the thing. Whatever you people call them. It comes back everytime.”

At your explanation, Yuta forced himself to pull back a bit from your grasp in an attempt to collect himself. With furrowed brows, he shook his head in disbelief. You quirked a brow at this motion, as if both offended and amused that he didn’t believe you.

“Sorry,” He chuckled nervously, your words still ringing in his head. Never in his years as a sorcerer had he come across a recurring curse. Sure, new ones would arise; usually different in appearance, strength, location, but never the same curse repeatedly. “I’ve just never heard of anything like that, is all.”

“Tell you what,” You countered, your hand finally falling from its gentle caress in his hair and allowing him to think a bit straighter. “Give it two weeks, come back here, and see it for yourself. Make sure it’s a Friday.”

In truth, he still highly doubted that the curse would come back, but he wasn’t about to pass up on an excuse to come back here and see you again. So, he nodded slowly in agreement, biting back the anticipation that rose in his stomach at the idea that this wouldn’t be your last interaction.

“Why Friday?” He questioned suddenly, just now processing your request.

The sly smile that creeped onto your lips almost had him falling to the floor like puddy, the sight sparking an incandescent warmth in his chest that set every nerve in his body ablaze. Sinful. It was the only word Yuta could think to describe the way you looked at him. Maybe it was how you looked at all the men that came in here— it was your job to make them feel wanted, after all. Still, that little spark in your glowing irises did such intricate work in making sure he felt like the only one.

Leaning in closer to him, you reached up to brush a tuft of his dark hair behind his ear before grazing your lips against its sensitive shell. The hand that had found your thigh to support him squeezed gently at the sensation, fat mushing between his fingers deliciously.

“I always dance on Fridays, Okkotsu.”

Yuta spent the following two weeks in an all-consuming rut, thoughts smoked over by the smell of your perfume and the sensation of your fingertips trailing up his neck. Perhaps he should have given more thought, paid any mind at all to your claims that no one had been able to fully exorcise that strange curse in months, and maybe he would have had he not still been able to feel the plush of your thighs against his fingers.

In addition to that, his befuddled mind wouldn’t even process the fact that you had invited him back to assure the job was done. No, because as he replayed the scenario in his mind each night, your lips whispered that they wanted to see him again— they wanted him to see you. Of course, it didn’t help that he had become so grossly confident in his cursed techniques. To Yuta, there was no way the thing would come back, not with how cleanly he’d sliced through it, not after he watched it disintegrate before his very eyes.

So, when he walked through those familiar double doors two weeks later, running his fingers through his hair and straightening his posture to assure he looked the part, the wave of cursed energy that hit him nearly sent him falling onto his own, lovesick ass. Gone was the dreamy, far-off look in his eyes, and, in its place was a fierce confusion as he pushed past the typical group of men oogling women who were far too young for them.

There was no way.

He searched for you, unsure if it was to apologize for having brushed off your accusations so rashly, or simply because of the ache that had settled within his bones from the second he left two weeks prior. It felt like he was jumping out of his skin, rubbing at his neck and licking his dry lips incessantly, begging himself to get a grip. It didn’t help that he feared his strangely timed obsession was clouding his judgment on what might actually be going on in this place.

There was an almost overstimulating ringing beginning to invade Yuta’s mind. His thoughts were scrambled with the sheer force of the energy permeating through the building, ideas fleeting in and out about what could possibly be lurking behind the shadows of this place. Shoulders of rowdy club-goers were pushing into him, only adding onto his state of unnerve with every shove.

His senses were drawing him toward the back, but just as he began to push through the crowd, the lights of the club died out dramatically. At an almost cosmically slow rate, Yuta turned his head to face the stage that was now being lit up one by one by gold, fluorescent lights— all building up for the grand reveal that was you.

You— Yuta gaped up at the stage— you with your crimson, glittering bodysuit that clung so sinfully to every curve of your body. You with your calculated sways and pointed, sensual kicks of your heeled feet. You with your sultry eyes that seemed to scan the crowd as you leaned over yourself, shining hair falling teasingly into your intricately painted face until you spotted him. Your brows popped up with a delighted smile, and you winked at the awestruck boy before snapping up in tandem with the beat to continue your choreography.

The cursed energy continued to swirl around the sorcerer like dark tendrils, but the captivating sway of your hips was fighting for the dominance of his attention. Halfway into your number, he wasn’t sure if the burning that was seeping from his chest and down his stomach was due to the fight or flight instinct triggered by the energy or by the sheer heat that you seemed to shoot into him with each teasing glance over your shoulder to him.

He seemed to have more depth than the other sorcerers that passed through here, you thought as the number was coming to a close. The others had a different aura to them, almost as if trying to fill shoes they had no business stepping into in the first place. Yuta Okkotsu though, with his tired eyes and messy hair, seemed so humble for a man his organization had deemed stronger than the rest. The bashful tint on his confounded face made you smile, throwing a wink over your shoulder at the crowd of forgotten watchers as you stepped off the stage.

Yuta thought he might trip over his feet or start a bar fight, whichever came first as he stumbled through the crowd to follow the path you’d taken to the back. It was as though the lingering scent of your alluring perfume guided his trek, utterly indifferent to the people he was elbowing on the way. His once determined walk faltered as he read the ‘dressing room’ sign on the door before him. Tucking his bottom lip nervously between his teeth, he glanced around the vacant hallway before lifting a hesitant fist to knock.

“Come in!” Your muffled voice responded from the other side of the forbidden room. Okkotsu’s wide eyes blinked rapidly, and he bounced on his heels once, then twice, as if it would summon up any courage that might be hiding within his otherwise powerful body. With a final, anxious gulp, he resorted to covered his eyes with one large palm splayed across his face while the other pushed the door open.

“Uh… sorry, I don’t mean to—”

“You can take a peek if you want, Okkotsu.” Your teasing voice filled his ears as he allowed his outstretched hand to guide his path.

Yuta stopped dead in his tracks, mouth opening and closing unassuredly with twitching lips. A few unintelligible stammers left him before a soft hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand shielding his eyes and pulled it down. Squinting one eye open as if unprepared for what may be awaiting him, he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed to find you fully clothed before him.

There was an amused smile illuminating your features, further emphasized by the bright lights on the mirror in front of you. You shook your head softly at him before continuing to take the countless pins from out of your hair.

“I was only messing with you..” You laughed softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you prepared yourself to go help out with the bar the rest of the night.

“Right.” Yuta forced a laugh, shifting from one foot to the other as he stood before you. It was silent for a beat too long while he surveyed your concentrated expression. You quirked a curious brow at him, and he seemed to snap into action. “Uh— y-you were incredible out there!”

Tucking your chin into your shoulder, you offered a bashful smile, fluttering your lashes dramatically at him.

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. What you do— it’s art, really.” He continued to gush sincerely as you shook out your hair and stood.

“I’m glad you liked it, Okkotsu.” There was a fondness in your breathy laugh as you turned your back to him. “So, did you come here just to give me feedback on my performance? Get the zipper for me, will ya’, sweetheart?”

“Oh!” Yuta stammered out, staring down at your expectant form. Willing himself to man the fuck up, he wiped his perspiring palms on his pants before grasping the zipper, placing his free hand shakily on your bare shoulder to steady his movement. He turned his head to the side as the little metal accessory slid down your bodice, grasping at straws to maintain his composure. “Uh, no. I-I actually wanted to talk to you about the curse.”

“Curse?” You questioned absentmindedly as you stepped out of the sturdy body-suit and reached for your silk robe.

“The thing in the owner’s office.” He peeked around carefully just in time to catch you tying the smooth fabric around your waist. “It’s back.”

“Didn’t I tell you it would be?”

“Well, yes, but it just doesn’t—”

“Help me!” A desperate voice tore into the conversation as the door flew open and smacked against the wall before shutting dramatically. Two girls in similar outfits to those you had just donned on the stage flooded into the dressing room, one of them sinking to their knees theatrically before you.

Yuta stepped back in astonishment at the scene before him, suddenly feeling very much out of place— moreso than he already did.

“I know you’ve shown me like a hundred times, but I can’t for the life of me keep my bangs up the way you did.” The frantic girl rambled, grasping at your hands and shoving what looked to be hairpins into your palm. “Please, can you please just fix them? I have to go up in like three minutes!”

The smile that graced your lips at the girl’s theatrics was different from the ones you’d previously shown Yuta, and all the other club-goers for that matter. It was softer, holding a fondness in it that your teasing smirks and sultry pouts couldn’t quite convey. Your freshly undone hair swayed as you shook your head affectionately at your fellow dancer before motioning her to sit with her back to you.

“You girls are going to be the death of me.” You quipped, opening a hair clip with your teeth as you pinpointed her traitorous bangs. “What if I get sick one day? Hm? Your bangs will never be the same— and you’ll remember when I told you that you’d regret cutting them! I told her she would, you know.”

You glanced up at the sorcerer with a humorous smirk before turning your attention back to her hair emergency.

“And who might you be, mister?” The other dancer that had accompanied on the ‘rescue mission’ drawled out with an airy giggle, looking down at her friend gleefully.

“Girls, this is Yuta Okkotsu.” You introduced knowingly as you reached for the can of hairspray on your vanity. “He’s helping us out with some maintenance this week, so talk nice to him, hm?”

Both girls glanced knowingly at each other at the sound of ‘maintanence’. Yuta got the vibe suddenly that they were all very aware of what was going on in this club, no matter the efforts you seemed to have made to keep them in the dark.

“Must be real strong then, huh?” The girl beside him estimated, wrapping her arms around his bicep. He felt his heart leap into his throat, his shoulders seeming to tense on their own accord. “How about a private dance— whaddya’ say, Yuta Okkotsu?”

“Oh, that’s really not, uh—” His mind couldn’t seem to work fast enough to keep up with his anxiety as he watched the two girls glance at eachother with tickled smiles. It felt like he was back in highschool, feeling as though half of the time everyone was in on a joke he’d never be privy to.

“They’re messing with you, Okkotsu.” You finally chided, giving the giggling girl in front of you a playful tap on the side of her head. His ever-pleading, midnight eyes shot up to meet you, and he was once again forcing a laugh. “We don’t do private dances around here.”

“And we can’t make an exception?” The hands around his arm tightened as the girl pouted dramatically at him.

Your bubbly laugh filled the air around them again, and you could hardly get onto the vibrant girls for being so giddy around the sorcerer. It wasn’t often that young men came around here— attractive ones that is. Better yet, attractive ones with manners. You assumed that they, like you, couldn’t help but push the wide eyed recruit a bit upon sensing his jumpy personality.

“Go on— you all have hungry customers waiting.” You joked, giving them both a playful tap on their rears as they stood.

Twisting on their heels, they hooked arms as they gave the poor, stammering boy one last look over.

“Let us know if you change your mind, Yuta Okkotsu.”

“You’ll know where to find us, handsome.”

Yuta could only wave silently at him, whatever cat that had his tongue seeming determined on keeping it far from him. Behind him, you snickered quietly. There was so much warmth you held in your heart for your fellow dancers— one that was clear even to Yuta himself even if only seeing it for a few minutes.

“You ladies are… really happy here, huh?”

“Of course we are.” You responded immediately, almost defensively. Truthfully though, the boy didn’t mean it in any sort of way. You had been a dancer long enough though to know what others thought about the way you all chose to express yourself artistically. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well, I only meant—” Yuta paused, looking down at the stray hair pin hiding within your locks. He hesitated once before carefully reaching out to pluck it gently from your hair. You seemed to have been caught off guard by his tender actions, the typical bravado front you donned falling into a soft expression. Smiling apologetically at you, he muttered something about forgetting one before placing it on your vanity and continuing. “Curses; they usually manifest in areas where negative emotions are common. With this one reoccurring, I just thought…”

His explanation made you snap from your stupor. You looked up at him inquisitively. The slight urgency in your posture made him tilt his head in question. Leaning forward, Yuta had to seriously concentrate to keep his gaze respectfully on your face as the movement made your robe fall forward just a hair.

“They… they come from negative emotions?” You questioned, searching his wide eyes as if he was lying to you.

Reaching up, he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously.

“Um, yeah. They—”

Before he could finish, the door flew open once more, but this time no pretty, giggling women accompanied the abrupt entry. Instead, a short, burly man stumbled in with purpose. The irritated look on his perspiring face had Yuta moving almost instinctively to step in front of your indecent form. Had he been given the chance, the sorcerer would have asked the man if he’d stepped into the wrong room— given him a chance before assuming he was a rowdy club-goer perhaps pushing for a private dance that he’d already been made aware did not exist. Just as his fingers twitched to reach for his katana though, the man began blabbering.

“You—” The man pointed over Yuta’s shoulder at you before stepping forward with little care. “We need you at the bar, the new girl is useless back there. And you—”

The man, who Yuta had now deduced must be the owner with the way he was speaking, jabbed a stubby finger into the center of his chest. The boy made no movement, staring firmly at the demanding man in assessment. It unsettled something deep within him, the way this man seemed so comfortable bursting through the door of the girls’ dressing room without so much of a warning knock.

“You were supposed to be getting that shit outta my office— not sampling my dancers.”

The use of the word sampling also didn’t sit quite right with him, but he was already being led out of the dressing room with a firm grasp on his shoulder. He whipped his head around to look at you, but you were only shaking your head in disdain, searching for your bodysuit.

There was something, Yuta determined as he took the familiar path to the office, that was lurking in the walls of this place. Something wasn’t clicking, and he knew as he slayed the curse once more that evening that it wouldn’t be the last time.

He found you later that evening as he was hesitantly making his way out and slipped you his phone number. You raised a brow at his forwardness, an expression that had his neck warming embarrassingly fast.

“I-In case something happens.” He quickly explained as you folded up the small paper and tucked it into the chest of your bodice. “Just call me— I’ll come.”

Little did he know, you had been sitting on your own assumptions since his explanation earlier in the dressing room. You weren’t sure though, as you looked around at the glittering faces of the women you’d practically taken in as your sisters, that you were ready to face the implications that explaining it to him would mean. This type of artistry, this industry wasn’t easy to build yourself up in, but you had all cultivated something so beautiful here. With everything in you, you were torn on what was the right step to take to protect it.

Yuta Okkotsu, unaware of the internal battle your mind was raging, wasn’t expecting a call so soon. It had taken everything in him to quiet his thoughts long enough to slip into unconsciousness. His mind kept racing with possibilities— with the feeling that something was crawling under his skin, much like he assumed something was crawling through three very essence of that establishment.

He thought of you and the look on your face when he’d explained how cursed manifested. He thought about what you may have revealed to him had your boss not interrupted. He thought about your boss— that man that seemed to have zero regard for the delicate position he was put into. Men who had that kind of power over women and liked it.

Those kinds of assumptions would only drive him insane without any real basis for them— Yuta assured himself as he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. So, he thought of you instead; the way your silky skin felt under his finger tips, the way the sight of your genuine smile made his heart soar, only partially sour at the thought that it wasn’t one he’d caused.

Of course they’re happy.

It was what he told himself in hopes of getting any sleep that night. Just as his prayers had been answered though, and his mind drifted into a state that graced him with images of you and your torturously supple hips, his phone sliced through the first pleasant dream he’d had in ages.

Sitting up with a jolt, Yuta felt almost unnecessarily violent toward the offending device. Grunting in frustration, he tossed his pillows about the room until his frantic hand gripped the vibrating phone. It was an unknown number, but that wasn’t an unusual sight for him. He often got calls regarding missions at ridiculous hours of the night— only adding onto his already abysmal sleep schedule and perpetually tired appearance.

“Hello?” The exhausted man rasped out, rubbing at his eye roughly.

“Okkotsu?” The voice that had just been lulling him to sleep via fleeting memories and desperate fantasy rang through the device.

“Is everything okay?” Without a second thought, the once begrudged boy was swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Snatching the shirt that was hanging out the side of his drawer, he frantically shrugged it on. “What’s going on?”

“No— it’s fine, everything’s okay.” Your tone didn’t convince him, and he moved to shimmy into his pants. On the other line, you chewed apprehensively at your bottom lip, toying with the tie of your robe. Your throat felt like it had its own heartbeat. “I just— what you said before, about there usually being lots of negative energy where curses manifest…”

“If there’s something going on you need to tell me.” Yuta urged, his fingers gripping the phone a little tighter.

“Say we get rid of the negative energy… would it stop?”

“What do you need to get rid of?” His tone was almost desperate at this point, wanting so badly to have his endless questions answered. He was shoving his shoes haphazardly onto his feet before tossing his katana over his shoulder. “Whatever it is, I can take care of it. You just need to trust me.”

Take care of it— his words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the uncertainty you’d be left with should he succeed. Looking over at the three dancers that had just rushed in, all huddled close and giggling plans about a choreography they had been working on, the confidence you had when you dialed his number seemed to dissipate. Your shoulders dropped, and you shook your head.

“Nothing, just… curiosity I guess.” You attempted a laugh, though it sounded bitter falling from your lips.

“It would stop.” Yuta finally assured in hopes of getting through to you. “If you got rid of the influx of negative energy— the curse would stop coming back.”

“Okkotsu—”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of the door opening, and he could hear your bosses muffled voice on the other end. It sounded as though he was calling for you, making the sorcerer curse with his poor timing.

“I’ve gotta go.” You dismissed dejectedly.

“Wait—” But the line was already beeping, indicating that you had ended the call. No sooner than it ended was Yuta shoving his phone into his pocket and making his way to you once again.

When he arrived back at the now familiar club, they were clearly in the process of wrapping up for the night. There weren’t any performers on the stage, and there were only a few more patrons left, all huddled by the bar and finishing up their drinks.

“Yuta Okkotsu!” One of the girls called out excitedly. He recognized her as the one with the bang crisis, and he managed a tight lipped smile at her, eyes darting around in search of you. “Change your mind already?”

“Oh, haha,” His laugh was forced and awkward, and the girl could tell. She smiled knowingly at him. “No I uh— have you seen—”

“She’s with the boss.” She explained, leaning down to collect a few empty glasses from the table. Her sharp eyes peered at him from her peripheral— almost in warning. “You can wait out here for her if ya want.”

“It’s an emergency.” Yuta explained halfheartedly, already making his way toward the back hallway. The girl was calling out to him, but it seemed an indescribable force was keeping him moving. There was something, so clearly being displayed before him, but he couldn’t seem to place it. It made his skin crawl, an unbridled sense of doom looming in his chest. He couldn’t stand by— not when he knew in his heart that something wasn’t right, and not when he knew he could do something about it.

As he pushed open the owner’s door however, he wasn’t prepared for the nature of his revelation. Your back was facing the door, those cascading locks of hair that he felt he could pick out of a crowd, knelt in front of the couch before you. That beautiful frame that had haunted Yuta’s dreams was positioned between the legs of your boss, his pants pooled around his knees.

It was silent, as both you and the man you had in your mouth turned to face the intruder. Your eyes were wide, glossy, and fluttering around anxiously as you met the sorcerer’s gaze. There was no explaining your way out of the situation, a clear picture painted already.

One of the man’s burly hands was tangled almost aggressively in your scalp, pulling at the roots in a manner that was pinching the skin of your face back ever so slightly. Tracks of tears painted your face— one that was for the first time bared to Yuta, free of the makeup and the glitter. In the absence of the art laid your raw fear, the humiliation, and regret. It was an expression so familiar, so haunting since the first time he’d seen it. It was the same one the curse wore before he exorcised it both times.

Everything was clicking into place, but all Yuta could bring himself to do was blink slowly at the scene before him. The owner, already red in the face with sweat dripping down his temples, seemed aggravated at the intrusion.

“Get the hell—”

“Go.” Yuta demanded with an eerie calmness, his eyes directed at you. Your mouth open and closed, chest heaving with uncertainty. “Go and get all the customers out of here.”

As if sensing the overwhelming waves of instability that seemed to be rolling off of the wide eyed boy, you could only stumble up, the hand that gripped your hair falling as Yuta took a threatening step forward.

“Okkotsu—” Your frail attempt to stop him from whatever he might do was futile as he silently offered a hand to help you up, eyes still locked on the dumbfounded man sat on the couch.

“Go.”

With a heaving chest, you took one last look at the two before rushing out.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The owner finally stammered out, working quickly to fasten his pants back up.

Yuta watched as the door shut behind him before slowly turning his gaze back to his target.

“How many?” He questioned lowly.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“How many of these women have you taken advantage of?” His voice finally rose to match the fire burning within his bones. It wavered with the intensity of his fury, but not once did his stance falter.

“Taken advantage of?” The boss tutted, standing up to grab a glass of scotch as though he hadn’t just been exposed as the true piece of scum he was. “You should have seen where half these girls came from. They all have it made here, so what if they all have to pay their dues every once and a while?”

The sorcerer felt his fingers twitch in anticipation for his next move. His sanity felt as though it was ever so slowly slipping down the drain of his psyche, replaced by a carnal desire ringing from deep within him.

“All of them?” It was more of a statement than a question as Yuta lunged forward to grip the man by the lapels of his suit. The glass of alcohol in his hands slipped with the sudden jostle, crashing against the floor by their feet. “How many are there?”

“You’re picking a fight with the wrong guy, kid.” The man warned, though he didn’t know the half of what the seemingly lackluster boy before him was capable of. “Cut the hero bullshit. You were hired to get rid of the shit that was in my office. No need to get all holy on me.”

“You’re the only shit around here that needs to be ridden of.” Faster than his own mind could even process, his fist had collided with the man’s nose.

The sickening sound of skin pounding against flesh seemed to drown out the last bit of restraint Yuta had been hanging onto as he poured his energy into this scum’s demise. He thought about the curse that he’d exorcised in this very room, how she cried yet made no move to fight back. The man gurgled up spats of blood as Okkotsu’s knee lodged between his ribs, thoughts flooding his enraged mind of how powerless these women must have felt to have manifested a curse incapable of doing anything but accepting her fate. Yuta thought about you, about all the women just like you who were backed into a corner for the sake of their own artistry— their passion.

“Pl-ease,” The man gasped out, grasping weakly at the hand Yuta still had curled around his suit. “I can give you anything. Connections, money, the girls— anything. Please don’t kill me.”

The girls.

The thought made his stomach churn. Until his very end, he still only saw the very pillars of his success as items to be used.

“No,” Yuta breathed, an unnerving smile splitting across his since enraged face. “I won’t kill you. That’s not my job.”

The frantic chatter of the girls in the main floor filled the otherwise vacant club as Yuta stepped up onto the stage. Behind him, the bloodied and thrashing form of the owner was being dragged up by the neck of his suit. All eyes in the room snapped up to the stage in shock as the tall boy wiped at his blood stained cheek with the back of his hand. The girl’s collectively gasped as he tossed the man forward and unsheathed his katana, positioning it pointedly at the boss’s back.

“Tell me what you want me to do with him.” Yuta announced, blown out eyes sweeping across the room. He found your gaping gaze almost instantly, taking in the way the other girls seemed to huddle beside you in search of solace. After a moment of stunned silence, he elaborated. “I can take him to the police station now if that’s what you want.”

He took two slow and calculated steps forward, placing his foot on the man’s back as he attempted to get up. A loose strand of his dark hair swayed in his eyes as he looked back up dangerously. “Or I can kill him right here.”

There was a glint in each one of the dancer’s eyes, one that said they didn’t find his latter suggestion as outrageous as they perhaps should have. Each one of them glanced at one another, unspoken uncertainty bouncing between the group heavily. After a pregnant silence, it was you who finally spoke up, stepping closer to the stage to look up at Yuta.

“You can’t kill him.” You urged, even if there was nothing that would satisfy you more than watching the life drain from his eyes. Okkotsu peered down at you with furrowed brows, and you felt the tears well up in your eyes. “This place is all I have— all any of us have.”

The thusfar impossibly tight grip he had on the hilt of his katana seemed to loosen at your confession.

“If he dies— we don’t know what will happen to it. Anyone can buy it— turn it into whatever they want.” Leaning forward, your own indecisiveness was making your chest heave. On one hand, it killed you knowing that he had gotten away with the hurt he was causing for so long. Even moreso, it killed you each time a new girl was brought in, hopeful for the family she would make in the tight-knit group, only to be subjected to the same fate as the rest. Alternatively, you knew what the lives of many of these girls were like before finding their place within their artistry, and none of you were quite prepared to risk it— even if it meant enduring his putrid displays of depravity. “All we have is each other, Yuta.”

His heart broke with each tear that rolled down your cheek and onto the freshly cleaned stage. Yuta had seen it first hand— how you all reveled in your craft, how each of you breathed life into this place. He had also seen the way you all kept eachother afloat despite the shared, unfortunate circumstances you found yourselves in.

“He’ll hand over the deed.” The suggestion tumbled out more like a demand, and the man beneath him began to grumble something along the lines of like hell I will. Yuta pressed the tip of his katana into his back before snatching his head up by the little hair he had left on his scalp. “I wasn’t asking.”

It was almost half an hour of timid shuffling around his office, katana still pressed against his back as he sifted frantically through his papers for the damned property deed. He was blabbering some half-assed excuse about their needing to be a proper transfer signing for the business, but Yuta quickly reminded him that they’d have plenty of time to work those details out while he was rotting in a cell.

The police came shortly after upon one of the girls’ call. After taking him into custody, Yuta stayed back as each girl gave their statement to the officer, chiming in as a witness when needed. It was uncomfortable— listening to each one of them recount the atrocities they’d been subjected to for so long. The unease almost had him wanting to wait somewhere else for the time being, but he felt he owed it to them to stick it out.

So, he hovered close by until the last officer left the building. It was already almost early morning hours, all the girls clearly exhausted having not had the chance to rest following their shift. Despite their worn out auras, they summoned enough energy to grin gleefully at Yuta as he stacked the last chair on the table. Gone was his somber and frankly intimidating demeaner, and in its place was that shy, wobbly smile as he took in their hopeful expressions.

“C’mon, don’t get all shy on us now, Yuta Okkotsu.”

“Yeah, who knew— it really is always the quiet ones.”

In spite of their teasing tones, they were all stepping forward to envelop the boy in a tight, group hug. There were hushed thank you’s being whispered into his ear as the sea of dancers seemed to squeeze him at all angles, him not sure where one ended and the other began. It was coming back to him— that high for his job that had thusfar been missing. He was realizing with each appreciative kiss to his cheek that it was never about the curses, but the lives that were spared in the wake of his chaos.

“Don’t crush the guy, he’s got the deed.” Your voice rang out from outside the swarm. They slowly released him, and you had to bite back your laughter at the various red lipstick marks that were now covering his face. You wrapped your arms fondly around your sisters, a soft smile gracing your features. “Now go on, get home. I’m calling a mandatory meeting tomorrow, so you all better be bright eyed and bushy tailed when you come back.”

Each girl said their respective goodbyes, and Yuta got a few more rushed hugs and bows of thanks to which he waved off each time.

“You could have told me, you know.” He stated as he watched you lock up the front door. You turned to peer at him with an unreadable expression. The closer you grew to him, the more his previous confidence was sinking into the wood floor beneath him.

“Yeah, I guess I could have.” You reflected honestly, your hand trailing up his chest and toward his face.

The delicate pads of your fingers gripped at his lip-stick stained cheeks, and you determined that red really was his color. Yuta gulped anxiously under your watchful eye, and he quickly reached into his back pocket to pull out the folded up deed.

“I, uh, believe this belongs to you now.” He chuckled breathlessly, watching your gaze soften as you took the deed into your hands. “You’ll do great, I know it.”

Your eyes skimmed across the miniscule writing before looking back up at him through your lashes. The paper fell to the floor between you two.

“You think so?” You breathed with a tempting smirk beginning to take form on your lips. At once, your hands came up to rest on his surprisingly sturdy shoulders, and you pushed him down into the chair behind him.

He could feel the way he was embarrassingly already straining against the fabric of his pants, making him shift skittishly in his seat.

“I-I do.” The sorcerer attempted to keep his voice level as you stepped between his spread legs.

“You’ll come back to visit, won’t you, Yuta?”

The heels of his feet dug into the ground as he pressed himself back against the chair, willing himself to pull it together with each dig of his fingers into his thighs. Nonetheless, he nodded quickly at your question.

“Yes, yes, I promise I’ll—” He cut himelf off with a stunned gasp, watching you sink to your knees before him. Not wanting to get ahead of himself, he only watched as your palms met his knees, trailing up tantalizingly before confirming his suspicions with a purposeful palm against his aching length. Somewhere between a choke and a moan, Yuta forced himself to sit up, grasping your hands gently in his. “Y-You don’t have to do that.”

The way you gazed up at him, pressing your cheek against his thigh, almost made him reconsider his stance as a decent, respectful man. Twisting your hand in his grasp, you laced your fingers in his.

“And if I want to?”

“You just— I wasn’t expecting anything from any of you.” He explained sincerely, toying absentmindedly with your nimble fingers. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yuta,” You drawled out, sitting up until you were at least level with his chest. His shallow breaths fanned out against your face as he hunched over to accommodate the space between you. “Let me be the one to choose for once, yeah?”

And he couldn’t possibly argue with you any further as you worked his pants down his legs. Any apprehension or semblance of restraint drained from him with the first daring stripe you tongued up his cock. Tossing his head back with a strangled whine, he missed the way you stared up at him. The sight of his stained cheeks and mustled hair had you unintentionally moaning against him, and you weren’t sure when blood-soaked clothing started ticking off boxes for you.

Your tongue lapped against his sensitive tip with every bob of your lips down his length. His fingers dug into his thighs once again, surely leaving scratches in their wake, but he was determined even in his lust clouded mind not to guide your movements as he so desperately wanted to do. Yuta wanted you to be in full control of the situation.

It was proving difficult though, much more than he’d anticipated as the hand that wasn’t clasped around the base of his cock creeped under his shirt to feel his lean abs tensing under your touch. Despite his best efforts, his hips seemed to buck up on their own accord to match your steady rhythm.

“Shit!” The uncharacteristic profanity slipped from his mouth as he panted up at the ceiling. Sparing a glance down at you, he resorted to crossing his wrists behind his chair, his fingers twitching to grasp at you.

You were almost surprised at the pitchy moans that continued to fly out of him, but they only encouraged your efforts. It was cathartic watching him fall apart beneath you after all the anxious smiles and respectful distance. Under all of it, this Yuta Okkotsu was hidden the whole time, waiting for his respective turn to snap— much like all the other parts of him, you’d gathered. There were no nervous laughs anymore, just frantic writhes against the already wobbling chair while his chest heaved dramatically.

As he spilled his release, perhaps a little too soon, but hell, it was almost endearing, you couldn’t think of any man more deserving of this part of you. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips, eyebrows drawn together as he attempted to collect himself. You snaked up his body, working to push his dark locks from his perspiring forehead. His wide eyes shot open at the sensation, and he found himself flushing under your tender gaze.

Hesitantly, his hands moved from their crushing grasp behind his chair to cup your cheeks, searching your face for protest. There were remnants of him pooling at the corner of your mouth, but he simply wiped at it haphazardly with his thumb before pressing his lips against yours with a boyish aim. Your eyes remained wide open for a moment, surveying the way his were shut tightly. You slowly allowed yours to do the same.

“I—uh,” Yuta’s lips were nearly still pressed to your as he stammered. Against you, you could feel him smile shyly. You pulled back a bit, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about now that he’d just practically licked himself from your mouth. He couldn’t help himself though. In his imaginary book of social norms and world fallacies, guys like him didn’t end up with girls like you. “I know this is a little backwards, but do you think I could take you to dinner sometime? Maybe?”

You smiled, that genuine smile he’d been dying to be on the receiving end of since the first time he saw it. Placing yourself comfortably in his lap, you pretended to hum in consideration.

“Hm, I don’t know, Yuta. I’m a business owner now— not sure I’ll have time for shady, ghost-buster characters.”

He laughed at your accusation, his once shy demeanor melting away with your playful banter. His hands slid around your waist to hold you steady as he tilted his head.

“Guess I’ll have to come every Friday night then, huh? Wouldn’t want to miss a dance.”

a/n: this song came on while I was driving, and I almost crashed the car when the inspo for this fic hit me

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

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veneerslipstick · 1 year ago

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Can you make a veneer x reader where reader is supposedly assistant but actually a super famous model/popstar? Velvet and Veneer only realize that their assistant was no ordinary person, (Veneer notices it first) but a celebrity more popular than them (Velvet only realizes when they go to reader's concert that Veneer begged Velvet to go with him) :3 (also reader took the job because they wanted to try having "a normal job" for once and for the possibility of making friends with other popstars) and can we choose our stage names ourselves?

my first request, thank u!!! i love this plot omg…, absolutely >o<

F/S/N : first stage name

L/S/N : last stage name

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　° ┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　° ┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚

• falling for fame •

veneer x FEM!reader

• one shot

• fluff

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .・。

“goodnight, Velvet and Veneer.”

you closed the door to their dressing room and

dashed down the hall. you had just finished helping

Velvet and Veneer get un-ready from their

performance, which was absolutely spectacular.

every time you watch them perform you’re taken

away by how they control an audience and how their

aura beams across the room. being their assistant ,

you kind of have to say things like that for appeal, but

you really meant it 99% of the time.

the other the majority of that percentage was from

what you took by watching Venner, though.

whenever you watched him dance and sing and

seem so relaxed, you can’t help but feel the urge to

start moving too.

maybe he was your inspiration when you decided to become your own star.

now out of the building, you hurried down a small

trail behind the overly large structure which led to an

underground neighbourhood that was lightened up

by old bulbs hanging from trees and cheap

streetlights. this place didn’t really have any

meaning , well, of course until you showed up.

you had finally made it to another building , where

you dragged yourself to your own dressing room.

after running up many stairs, you let your huge work

tote bag down and started undressing, throwing your

robe on as you waited for someone.

knock knock

there she was.

“come in,” you called and the door opened. Georgia,

your own assistant , came through holding clothes in

her arms and lots of small bags. she smiles brightly

at you.

“oh, y/n, thank goodness. i almost thought you

ditched on all of us.” she jokes, putting the outfit

down on your mini sofa beside your vanity which you

sat at. Georgia was a sweet woman, who was a

mother to a small boy, Finn, you had met one or

twice. she was a dream assistant to anyone who

wanted one that didn’t bark or bitch.

“i would never abandon you, Gia. the siblings were

busy today, Velvet wanted extra touch ups and such.”

you explained while Georgia set up curling irons and

laid out makeup brushes. you seen her smile slyly at

you.

“oh, really? it wasn’t because you got caught up

staring holes in the back of her brothers head? huh,

how strange.” she teased you, and you fought back a

huge smile that threatened to take up your whole

face.

“sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” you

murmur, trying to hide the embarrassment in your

voice, but obviously failing.

you sort of wished Veneer would show up, if only he

knew. you weren’t sure WHY he didn’t know,

Velvet either, considering you were popular enough

for plenty of people to know about.

you tried to shrug it off, but you still felt weird about

it. you guessed they had better things to worry

about, that wasn’t you.

( performance ref pictures for anyone that wants them, if not then imagine to your hearts content )

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧ ┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚

Meanwhile…

“goodnight, Velvet and Veneer.”

you closed the door, and Veneer bit the inside of his

cheek.

“i wonder where she goes after her shifts.” he

wonders out loud, crossing his arms. Velvet looks at

him like he said something out of pocket, and she

scoffed.

“hm, well, i don’t really give a shit. she can do what

she wants, can’t she?” she said in a snarky tone,

gathering her things together and throwing her now

free hair into a loose ponytail. you did an amazing job

with being able to get all of the product out of their

hair , and Veneer only noticed how flawless it was

now.

Velvet headed towards the door and looked back at

Veneer.

“i’m heading home, Ven. you following ?” she asked,

raising an eyebrow. Veneer was still staring at the

door from when you walked out, but he looked at

Velvet and smiled.

“yeah, eventually. go on, i’ll get a ride later.” he

replied. Velvet kind of gave a side eye to a fake

camera and shrugged. “mkay.. ciao.” she closed the

door on her way out.

Veneer waited a second. two. three.

he scrambled, threw on a pullover hoodie and bolted

out the door, following after you.

he panicked half the time, hoping that he looked like

a janitor on his way home from his shift , and frankly

he did. he followed you out of the building and down

the strange path that he didn’t even knew existed,

but he tried not to question it.

he made sure not to get too close , but also not too

far away, not because he was afraid of losing sight of

you, but also to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt.

now he saw what he walked into, a beautiful

underground neighborhood that almost looked like a

child’s dream treehouse. he was so taken aback that

he lost sight of you and began to panic. you

vanished in thin air, and he almost turned around to

run. but then he started hearing music, from a stage

from the middle of the grounds.

“what…” he whispered. he began walking towards it.

it took him a few minutes to get there, and when he

did, loads of people started flooding the ground, and

he became afraid of people recognizing him. he

pulled the hood further up but made sure to keep his

eyes on the stage. but it just got worse from there.

he could’ve swore the ENTIRE neighborhood was

flooded with people; 3x the crowd that Veneer and

Velvet get. Veneer began to over think.

‘Vel wouldn’t be happy about this…’ he thought to

himself, and he was about to leave again, when all

the lights on stage went off. people began cheering

and screaming as the sound of footsteps tapped on

the stage. the lights came back on, and Veneer seen

a tall lady standing at the front of the stage in a suit

holding a microphone

“you’ve all been waiting long enough! please welcome our loved, F/S/N L/S/N to the stage!”

more cheering commenced and Veneer was getting

confused. he certainly didn’t know that name. that

was until the lady left the stage and someone else

took the lead behind her.

Veneer froze.

“oh my god.” he said out loud. you appeared at the

front of the stage, backup dancers behind you. you

posed with confidence and gazed the crowd like you

owned it. he stood and stared like that’s what he was

born to do.

it was a magnificent performance.

As much as he adored Velvet and everything

she did was better than what anyone else

could do, he couldn’t say the same thing

right now.

he gazed and was lost in a trance; at the

way you danced, sung like you were holding

in a voice of gold since you were born and

controlled the audience with every striking

belt. this was probably the best show

Veneer has ever seen, and his heart

squeezed, wondering how this girl he swore

he knew ended up being someone

completely different.

after your performance, Veneer felt as if something

apart of him bloomed. that was all he needed to see

to feel complete. his supposedly normal assistant

was actually a pop star that he casually never knew

about ?

he wanted to go see you. he wanted to run backstage

and ask a million questions, but he knew he couldn’t.

not right now. instead, he ran off somewhere where

people weren’t and pulled out his phone and dialled

Velvet. she picked up after a few rings.

“what Veneer.”

“hi sis, uhm, were you AWARE that y/n, our

ASSISTANT, is a pop star???”

there was silence.

“…what the hell are you talking about? also where are

you??”

“listen, vel, i….i followed y/n here. i was curious of

her outside life and i accidentally discovered that

she’s super famous , and i kid you not that she’s

almost as famous as WE ARE. i’m bringing you here

tomorrow.”

“uhm. sure.” she sounded unsure.

“okay. i’m coming home.” he hung up and looked at

the stage one last time before leaving.

the next day…

after a long day of Veneer struggling to hide the face

that he knew about your “secret” , the time finally

came for Veneer to bring Velvet to your show. he

stood anxiously in their dressing room, picking at his

hands and clearing his throat repetitively. Velvet

noticed this as she was packing her things.

“uhm, what’s up with that? you’re the one that

wanted to bring me to her in the first place.” she

questioned, putting a hand on her hip as she

examined her brothers anxious gestures.

Veneer looked at her and suddenly stopped, running

his fingers through his hair.

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about. let’s go?”

he tried to change the conversation. Velvet would’ve

protested but she kind of wanted to get this over

with, but of course she had to throw in a remark.

“you like her.”

Veneers heart pumped furiously as the thought was

put in his head.

“no. well.. no! velvet.” he became embarrassed by her

comment and suddenly wanted to disappear. she

laughed.

“you’re really bad at hiding your feelings. i’m your

sister, i would know.” she smirked and opened the

door. “move it.”

he shook his head and went out the door, Velvet

closing it behind him.

Veneer guided his sister to the underground tunnel-

ish place and she grimaced with her voice.

“oh my god, it’s like, damp in here. ew.” she

complained, pulling at the sweater that she wore.

Veneer wasn’t really listening. he was eagerly looking

around, wondering if he would spot you out and

about, hoping to have a conversation before you

performed.

they made themselves to the pit of the arena,

ushering off to the side so people wouldn’t look at them.

“it’s off putting that no one has noticed us yet.

almost upsetting,” Velvet said.

“maybe it’s the fact we don’t have three tubs of gel in

our hair right now?” Veneer replied, not meaning to

sound like a hard-ass but coming off as it anyway.

Velvet scoffed. “shut it.”

that’s when the people started flooding in, and

Velvets face went shocked.

“holy shit,” she whispered , looking around

frantically.

“there’s no way this is for y/n. she has ten times more

people than we do! ugh!” she became upset and

veneer blew air in his cheeks.

“that’s..what i told you.” he whispered to himself and

looked to the stage.

when the hundreds of people finally stopped coming,

Veneer knew this was the time. he could barely wait.

he was basically shaking in his boots, eager to see

you. to see you dance and steal the shine of the

stars. he couldn’t help but see you as the moon.

then, the lights went off,and Veneer nearly shrieked.

he felt like a fanboy to his own assistant; and he

didn’t know how to feel about that.

the announcer came on again, and that’s when the

lights came back on and he could see you, there,

with a gorgeous outfit and stunning makeup that

made you seem intimidating. he could’ve cried at

how beautiful you were, his heart throbbed in his

chest as he just wanted to climb on stage and join

you; steal your own show but make you the main

attraction.

Veneer was getting caught up with his thoughts the

entire performance, and the look on his sister’s face

was priceless. he couldn’t really tell if it was jealousy,

admiration or a combination of both. but in this

moment, he didn’t care what she thought , all he

wanted to do was watch and admire you.

there was a split moment when you were near the

edge of the stage, singing effortlessly like you always

do, and made direct eye contact with veneer.

the whole world stopped for both of you. Veneer was

lost in your eyes, you were clueless of why he was

here, but that butterfly feeling started in the pit of

your chest. you kept singing , didn’t miss a single

word, and carried on.

Veneer felt his face flush as he continued to stare like

a fool.

after another ground breaking performance, the

applause roared across the entire plot and you gave a

bow, giving Veneer a final look and thanking

everyone in your mic. heading backstage , Veneer

held the urge to run back as well, but he looked to

Velvet.

she was already looking at him, and her expression

was…soft.

“go, Ven.” she said, motioning her head towards the

backstage entrance.

he smiled at her. “thank you vel.”

he ran to the backstage, being able to sneak past the

guards and past the red curtains.

he stopped to look around and saw you stepping off

the stage stairs. you looked at each other.

‘she’s so beautiful in the dark.’ he thought to

himself, walking towards you and your mouth parted.

“veneer,” you started, trying to get words out of your

mouth while shaking your head. “you..you knew?

how? you brought velvet ?? why…why?” so many

thoughts came blurting out and Veneer took your

hand.

“i always knew. i knew you pursued something,

you’re the type of girl to do that.” he looked at you

with kind eyes, and you swallowed with a dry mouth.

“i..” you stopped, taking a deep breath, looking away

and looking back. “thank you, for showing up. that meant more than you really know. i didn’t tell in fear of trying to out run you and Vel. i’m sorry,” you explained, a slight panic in your voice, but Veneer sealed your worries with a gentle kiss to your hand.

“let me support you y/n. i want this for both of us.”

his words had an effect on your heart and you smiled

warmly. you brought his and your hand to your heart.

“ yeah. just you and me. oh, well, Velvet too.” both of

you shared a laugh.

FLASH

a bright light came from the backstage entrance ,

and paparazzi and kid ritz stood there with shocked

expressions on their faces.

“oh.” you both said in unison.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦

a/n: AHHH IDK IF THIS WAS TOO LONG OR NOT IM CHARACTER FOR VENEER HELP 😞 i apologize if this sucks lol but i had fun making it 💗 tysm for the support lately i love all of you + my dms are always open if any of u need a friend ! requests are open always unless said otherwise <3

#trolls veneer #trolls 3 #trolls band together #trolls #veneer x reader #velvet and veneer #oneshot #fanfic #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #veneer fanart #anonymous #lexischocolatecoveredblueberries

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trampstampbrbie · 4 months ago

Text

Vanity

'It was rare to catch Keigo off of his witty and cocky persona, so you relished in every bit of him being a soft and loving sleepy bird.'

fem!reader x takami keigo | hawks tags: established relationship, one shot, minors dni, smut, piv s^x, or^al m!receiving, female body worship, c^m play summary: you're getting ready to go out and keigo wakes up...all sleepy...all sentimental on this glowing tokyo night...and he decides to do something about it...

masterlist

One of the things you loved most about living in Japan was it’s intoxicating nightlife; the rainbow LEDs emitting a retro-like filter to the world, with it’s fluorescence and humming. From distant terraces and penthouse rooftops, you could hear the thumping of the music they were surely partying to. The city at dark was euphoric, giving inspiration to artists, fueling passion among lovers and comforting even the most lonely as their silhouettes shadowed the busy streets.

It got you excited for your night out; a gaggle of your friends had been planning this for a while-- trying to sync up everyone’s schedules, seeing who was off from work on the same nights and such.

Staring back at yourself in a lighted vanity mirror, you could see the darkened marks beneath your eyes and how truly pronounced they were-- the rest of your room made dark, with just thick bulbs illuminating each weathered feature of your skin. You did nothing but work recently, long hours and consecutive days in a row, so this was a night you were looking forward to all month.

You would’ve primped and suffered over each inch that you didn’t like but, you wanted this night to be filled with nothing but positive energy-- and you wouldn’t deny just how sexy you felt with your hair done, naked under a petal-toned silk robe before the mirror like that.

A patchouli incense was lit across the room, wrapping you in its floral and musk scent, allowing you to relax forward against the vanity’s counter-top. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t getting ready for work: there was no need to rush. This was like self-care, yeah?

With your face only a few mere inches away from the mirror, you plucked and brushed at the hair of your brow, making sure they were tidy enough and framed to your face. You added a bit of concealer to the discoloration below your eyes, and to any other feature of your face that you wanted to enhance.

It wasn’t until you felt a soft tickling at the heels of your crossed feet, that you realised the figure next to you was stirring awake— a large crimson wing pulling away from underneath the round velvet stool you sat upon.

“Baby--” the voice was hoarse, like it was speaking tiredly for the first time in a millenia yet, all you heard was the sweet thickness of honey.

A hand outstretched in your direction, lazily hanging in the air and swatting for your attention. “Hi love,” you finally look over at Keigo, just having finished up your mascara. A tired smile spread across your partner��s face once you finally carried his fingers in your own.

“Goin’ out tonight?” he questions, rubbing his face against the pillow, not wanting to let go of you to merely scratch a tickling at his nose.

There was a small hint of surprise in his voice, hitching up at the end of his qualm and lingering with a raise of his brow-- a single citrine eye staring back at you. As much as you loved talking to Keigo, you really wished that he’d go back to sleep-- he was out all day doing hero-work and you knew just how tired he must’ve been. It took him forever to fall asleep that afternoon, too.

So, you quickly hum in response to him but, (to his dismay) let go of his hand to continue getting ready. “You’ve only slept for a few hours, why don’t you go back to bed?” you utter lowly, patting some blush to the soft flesh of your cheeks. The crackle of his voice is drowned out by the thick pillow he now lay face down on-- his hips moving into the mattress and catching your gaze for a split second as he got comfortable.

“And miss the show? Nah, I’m good,” he chuckles and holds a second pillow to his chest, as if it were you lying with him. He reaches out with a socked foot and rakes the tip from your elbow and up the sleeve of your robe. “Never seen you in this, baby bird...” Keigo breathes and you know better not to answer him; any entertainment to his buttery words and cute nicknames would result in you having to re-do your hair and makeup.

His leg finally relaxes and hangs off the bed, you notice him rutting slowly into the mattress once more from the corner of your eye.

Using your ring finger, you patted a small amount of a shimmery highlighter to the highpoints of your cheeks, and to the very tips of your nose-- rotating your head in the mirror to admire the glow it gave you. It was Keigo’s next few words that made you completely swivel in your stool to look at him.

“You look beautiful,” and it wasn’t what he said but rather, how he said it. There was no smirk, chuckle, or signs of coyness in the tone. His voice was completely serious. Apropos.

When your body was facing him fully, you caught sight of his figure: the grey sweatpants sticking out here and there from the messy duvet, his toned and shirtless torso stretched up towards the gathering of pillows by the bedframe. But, his face was what really drove the scampering sensation against your ribcage: his blond hair was tousled atop his head, loose bangs falling forward into his eyes. The expression Keigo bore was completely flat-- again, no smirk or even twitching of an underlying joke. Yet, you still waited an extra moment for him to bust out in chortle or in some lewd comment.

“Thank you,” your eyes like saucers, shining back at him before busying yourself with opening a side-drawer, in search for the perfect lip color.

It was Keigo who was now in awe of his partner. You really were just so damned beautiful and he was ashamed that he wasn’t more serious with you. Sure, you knew he loved you and everything there was about you but, he knew that when someone was a jokester, it was harder to believe the more significant things that they had to say. But boy, were you a sight. You deserved to hear it from him every moment of every day.

He now moved to lay on his side, resting an elbow against one of the pillows to sit up and really get a look at you; the way your eyes searched the mirror, to find an imperfection (as if there were any to begin with, he thought), the way your hair bounced a bit with how you swayed to the outside music. There was nothing not to love about you.

Keigo had finally palmed his hair out of his face and let out a content sigh. He never thought that life could be this good-- that he could be this happy, especially with someone else. You really bombarded your way into his life and made it all the better.

His thoughts were interrupted by a short breeze that came through the bedroom window, rushing the soft material of your robe away from your chest. The supple skin to your breast was now exposed and the shallow shadow to your collarbone now in perfect view for him. The blond stirred with an outward exasperation.

You, not even phased by the naked skin now in view of your lover, looked over at his sounds. “C’mere,” is all he had to say and this time, Keigo didn’t even attempt to hide the way he pressed one of the pillows against his groin. Again, you knew not to give in to him, “I have to get ready,” you flush and tie the robe tighter around your waist, synching yourself a bit in doing so.

“C’mon baby bird, I just want to love you,” he groans, throwing his head back down, peeking at you with a singular iris once more.

“You can love me from there!” with a stern tone, you hold your ground, applying some cherry lip balm to your lips and smacking them together-- ignoring the jesting comment about how mean you were being.

Along the mirror’s trim, you had all of your perfumes organized-- roller balls to the left, regular sprays in the middle, and jarred solids to the right. Upon picking out a floral, solid perfume, the bed creaked--relieved of weight.

Keigo’s wings had stretched along with his arms, some bones and joints audibly popping and cracking with the release of stress-- a feather or two falling down in his wake.

In the mirror, you saw his figure standing behind you from the belly button down. You surprised yourself with how well you were doing to not be phased by his words and continued on to rub a finger into the waxy perfume. You dabbed the warm oil behind either ear, under your chin, between your clavicle bone and finally, you loosened your robe a bit to apply some between your naked breasts.

Keigo’s hitched breathing could be heard clear as day and from the reflection, you saw his legs straddle a bit, lowering himself to kiss the top of your head. A stiff mound brushed between your shoulders as he placed two big hands at your shoulders. “Keigo…” you began with a sigh, “--ah, ah, I’m just admiring what I see here.. no funny business,” he breathes, rubbing the silk against your skin nicely. “I promise,”

You had to admit, it did feel good and as much as you wanted to love him, you had to leave in an hour-- and you still had things to do to get ready.

Keigo on the other hand, was plunged completely into overlooking every inch of you, clothed or not. In that moment, his narrowed gaze was completely focused on the pinched fabric at your chest. The cool breeze had perked your nipples and they were now prodding at your thin-wear.

“Look at you..” he breathes, both hands slowly moving your hair from off your shoulder and leaving the strands down your back-- giving him purchase to the no longer crowded-area. “..baby you are so damn beautiful,” he repeats and leans down, pressing a loud kiss to the nape of your neck. Through the mirror, your eyes soften at him, a small smile at your glossy lips. There was no way you could even pretend to be bothered by any of this…

His hands now cupped and moved down your bicep, smaller kisses led behind your ear, “I can’t believe I get to call you mine,” Keigo’s hands now lay flat against your stomach, swaying both of you to the loudening ambience outside. Your hands lie over his and entangle both of your fingers together. “I love you,” your voice is small but lingers-not in meaning. Once more do you sense his breath hitching behind you.

“Look at me,” the voice you heard, you had never heard before. It was a whisper, deep and yearning. Keigo’s large hand grips your much smaller jaw, turning you to do as he asked. His hunched over figure was searching your eyes, your face, for something other than the truth in what you had just said. You knew he had his struggles with accepting the love he deserves-- especially being a guy who’s been chased by so many money-lusting individuals who have forced him to wear rose-colored glasses for far too long. So, you repeated yourself, to make sure you got the message across. “I love you, Keigo,”

The kiss you two shared was slow, barely moving, even. But you can nearly feel him tremble against you as a soft smooching noise departs the exchange.

His arms wrap once more around you, even tighter than before and you moan out smally at the gesture. The thick digits of his fingers linger above the sides of your breasts, right against your armpit. You can’t help but to slowly guide them to hold and squeeze the plush mounds.

Keigo immediately grinds against you, a moan of his own following suit. You fully lean back against him, losing sight of his face and only being able to see his parted lips and stubbled chin in the mirror. The man you loved kneaded at your breasts for a minute or so, as you watched his eyeless reflection rut and quiver. The pink ties of your robe were slowly undone too, allowing for the part to open more and more. Keigo moved his hands completely out of the way, keeping the fabric clutching onto the very ends of your shoulders, daring to drop off your back completely.

There you were, chest out, belly exposed and hot core now subconsciously wiggling against the velvet that held you up. You arched your back and the spreading of your sweet thighs revealed your slick to him. The lips you watched shook a bit before being licked over by a pink tongue.

It was as if the man behind you was frozen in time, stopping in his motions and looking at your sex like it were the first time he’d seen a woman.

“Touch me, Keigo,” you encouraged, hiking your foot up to rest on an end table next to the vanity. You once more, guided his touch to your hot core, pulling him down and revealing more of his face in the mirror. The length of his nose and flutter of his lash now completely in view for you.

Soft kisses were placed at his cheek and soon explored their way to his dense neck. Your eye flickered back to the mirror, fixated on watching his reactions through there than merely looking to your side.

Curses were exhaled out of his throat as his fingers went to work at your wet folds, pushing past the outer lips, going right to the hardened bud that yearned for any sort of touch.

You moaned directly into his ear, using a lower canine to drag his pierced lobe into your mouth. The small flesh was sucked at and whimpered against as Keigo’s fingers pressed against you-- thapping aloud with your wetness.

“Baby..” he groans, feeling you nipping and suckling at any bits of his skin that you could press your mouth to. A hum is your only response, now being the one to turn his face this time.

The two of you share another kiss however, this one being much more hungry-- a leaning back and forth as you each moved with fervour. Just as the wetness of your mouths did, the moans and exhales from Keigo and yourself mixed together, creating a kind of tune better than any song that bumped against the city streets of Japan.

The vibrational touch at your core was stopped as Keigo swiveled you on your stool to completely face his lumbering height. His hands clutched at your face, a cool wetness smearing on your neck in the meantime from his fingers that were once pleasuring you.

“Stay with me, let me love you,” and you once more, did not know the voice that escaped and spoke to you. It was nearly a whimper upon you running your fingers along the inside of his sweatpants’ hem.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you utter quietly, eagerly-- nodding your head frantically while grabbing at his erection. Your head tilted up to him, craving for any sort of touch from him. There was no more getting ready to go out, it was just you and Keigo.

Rough hands brought you up to standing height, pushing the rest of the silk robe off of your shoulders, to gather in a heap at your feet.

“Look at this body,” the hero breathes, hands groping and running quickly along anything he could reach. You moaned through your bottom lip, sucked into your mouth with tears threatening to spill as he continued, “I love you,”

It was always a surge of electricity anytime you heard your lover say those three words to you; the rarity making the sounds feel like a delicacy to your ears, and a pang against your heart.

His lips caught and kissed the two, wet swells that dribbled down your cheeks, holding you close to him, like you were suspended in the air. Like with one wrong move, you’d plumet out of his hands.

Keigo lifted you with ease and walked to the side of the bed, plopping you down to lay on your back. “You deserve so much love, baby bird. You deserve every beautiful thing on this planet,” the hero went on and on, voice shivering with all the praise and poetic compliments of just how special he viewed you.

He knelt on the carpet, in between your hanging legs and felt your wetness once more with two teasing fingers. “You’re my divine feminine…” he breathes out, kissing the core of your sex-- pecking it like it was your precious face.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good… I’m going to make you cum over and over again.. just to hear you sing for me,”

Strong hands now gripped your ankles, placing said marks of affection all along your legs, higher and higher until your pussy was clenching with anticipation.

You hiked yourself to sit up and watch as Keigo dove right back in to lapping and sucking at your clit.

The sounds vibrating in your heaving chest sounded like the most rare of treasures to the hero between your legs--who then hummed in approval and wagged his head back and forth slowly, nose prodding your folds even further apart.

You gasped obscenities into the still air of your bedroom and could no longer support yourself on your shaky elbows so, the plush duvet caught your figure as you fell back in breathy moans.

Long digits entered your hole with no prior warning, causing your legs to spasm-- soft thighs knocking against your lover’s head. A slow chuckle bobbed in his throat, felt through your sensitive skin and shooting right up your spine.

Keigo’s fingers pumped in and out of you, all while his tongue still went to work. The flesh of your stomach dipped and your manicured toes curled with the airy feeling of an orgasm already building up inside of you. “I-- I-I---” you stuttered, blindly reaching down in search to grab his roots for some sort of purchase.

“Come for me baby bird, c’mon I know you can do it,” the blonde tuft between your legs encouraged and plowed his lips and the tip of his nose deeper within your slits.

You sang out like a choir for Keigo, legs vibrating and twitching with the godly orgasm he bestowed upon you. The muscle of your clit tensing as you sputtered all of your womanly juices onto his face and chest.

A gentle slap to your core was received in appraisal before gripping your hips and scooting your jittery body further back on the mattress.

The painted lashes of your eyes fluttered and struggled to stay open, feeling as though the blanket of sleep was wrapped cozily around you. It wasn’t until Keigo’s soaked mouth entranced yours in a kiss.

“Great job, baby,” you could hear the grin spread across his carnivorous mouth as he pulled away for a brief moment.

Your legs, which felt as though they were made of cement, were parted by a single knee. “You did so good, you came so good for me,” even in the heat of being post orgasm-- damp and lost for breath, he still found a way to make you squirm and moan and want even more.

Opening your eyes, you first you saw the blood-red wings stretch up and out into your view, each plume puffing out and acting as an umbrella over your naked form. Then the bed dipped and there Keigo was, looming over your still shaking form. His gaze, like two zircon gems glistening down at you, gazed into your own pupils so softly… so lovingly.

Your hands were placed next to your head on the bed and intertwined with your partners, thumbs grazing the outer skin of your hands in an effort to comfort you post-orgasm.

The waistband of Keigo’s sweatpants was found by your eventual searching fingers, tugging them down his hips and grunting once you couldn’t reach any further. So, you resorted to groping the hard bone of his hips that led right to the point of pubic growth.

Sensitive nubs rubbed against one another as the cages of your chests heaved in sync. Keigo’s breathing had turned into husky groans and growls--the intensity of his feral want dribbling at your inner thighs. The shadow his wings cast only made his gaze seem that much more illuminated, intense, eating you up from his position looking down at you.

“You want me?” you tried to replace the silk that lie on the floor with the drip of your words, biting at the plush of your bottom lip-- groping him as he once did with you. Your fingers still grazed the hard, exposed bone but, moved also to the tuft of feathers gathering between Keigo’s shoulders. The dense tissue sprouting from his torso now raked over with your nails, causing a few crimson pinions to cascade downward as the wings shuttered.

Like the blond did with the pillow prior, your core was rutted into--no entrance granted but the mere rubbing of his clothed length sending out unison moans. The expanse shuttered above you, some moonlight pouring over his outer curves.

“Yeah...” Keigo’s head hung down at you, nodding slowly, “...yeah baby, I want you.. all of you,” with each hesitant word and breath from your lover, you sat up--sprinkles of kisses all over his chest and neck.

With your skin cool and wet from his affection, Keigo had finally stood up to relieve his tortured length of his clothing. You scooted yourself back towards the headboard, watching his muscles jump and flex with each movement. It was an outward moan upon seeing his springing cock that made your blond love nearly pounce onto the mattress at you.

“Fuck, keigo..” you breathed in his tight hold, the sore skin beneath his thick, pressing fingers somewhere in the back of your mind.

He laughed against your lips, rutting into your core once more. “Wanna add to the music outside, baby, hm?” his teasing words only made you clench around nothing, “I’m gonna make.. you.. sing--” the hero moans at the grasp you held around his throbbing erection--leading its tip to your hole.

Keigo didn’t waste any time bottoming out within you, causing you to--as he put it--sing out for him. Sure, you had felt him before but, with his feral size, you were never prepared.

The small of your back abandoned the mattress for a mere two seconds before being forcibly pressed back down. His hands made quick work with holding your hips down to press as hard into you as he could.

In moments like this, you lost yourself. So overwhelmed with pleasure as Keigo thrusted against you that it was almost an outer body experience.

Your eyes always floated past his and landed on the mounds of feathers that danced behind his form; like the base of a sunset their color was so rich and their shine, kept so nicely. The best part was the way they flared and swelled up when Keigo surged with emotions--it was almost like he was an animal in the wild.

Keigo’s rough hand was at your jaw again, making sure you looked at him while he fucked inside you. Your knees began to fall away from his sides and bounced lifelessly near your chest. “Deeper.. oh please deeper,” you whined, holding your limbs in place underneath your knees.

His eyes absorbed the sight below him: your curves, the dew at your chest, your panting plea and nearly imploded right then and there.

There was no room to answer with wit, so he decided to grunt and let go of you completely--both hands grabbing at the headboard.

The blond’s hips moved faster than you had ever experienced, feeling the soft underside of his balls slap against your ass, and the tugging of your insides at each rut outwards.

You could no longer find Keigo’s eyes as his veined neck and chest were only in view. His lids were tightened and his head was thrown back--grunting with fervour and focusing on bruising the hell out of your wallowing cervix.

Your moans turned into a slurred mess, syncing with each slap of his hips against yours and the creaking of the headboard.

Fluttering joined the gaggle of sounds as Keigo was reaching his limit, his wings flapping and extending outward.

The headboard was let go of and the pillow was Keigo’s next area of hold--allowing you to experience his lemon gaze once more. His pinholes wetly fell down to your bouncing and heaving chest, hunching back over to suck at the bud of your nipple.

When he pulled back, it was in a cry--a whimper. You felt a warmth spread right where he was meeting your limit and suddenly, he pulled away.

Right before you had the chance to ask what he was doing, Keigo’s filthy mouth was right back at your core, raveging against your aching clit.

Your neighbors and any alley-dwellers probably thought you were being murdered at the cry you let out--at your legs being held wide open for your second orgasm and at the wetness you now felt beneath you, soaking through the duvet and satin sheets.

Keigo kissed your pussy through its throbbing aftermath once more, tongue lapping out and caressing your hardened nerve slowly--allowing you to ride out your agony against his face.

“Good job babe,” he utters, barely audible for you to hear while in your own world. His figure waddles up yours on his knees, stroking his now red length until his knees prodded your armpits.

With glassy eyes you looked up at him, brows quirked as he smiled lopsidedly at your expression: gloss rubbed clean off to reveal suctioned lips and the ebony smear of mascara starting at your bottom lashes.

Two shaky hands reached forward, arms resting on Keigo’s upper thighs, stroking his throbbing stiffness. “Make me cum little dove, you know what to do,” his voice was eager, watching you sit up a bit.

His hand went to the back of your head as you licked at his tip, causing his chest to deflate in exhale. He held you there for a moment as you adjusted to giving him the oral pleasure. “I know you can do it--” he starts off in a chuckle but is cut off in a moan as your head bobs, tongue pressing nicely against his underside.

The noises that filled the room this time were the squelches and gags emitting from your mouth against Keigo’s grinding hips. You’d pull away occasionally and watch as his lips purse or as his teeth would grit. The gift of orgasm was just outside of his reach and right in the palm of your hand.

But, he would grow tired of your teasing, even in the vulnerable state you were in and moved the strands of hair from your face. “Baby…” his voice was high, head shaking back and forth with a tut. “... you *know* I *don’t* like the *teasing*,” you winced and gagged against him with each grunted thrust.

Before you knew it, Keigo’s strong hands were wrapped over each of your ears, holding your head in place as he fucked your mouth, moaning even more curses and obscenities into the air as his will to cum built back up again. You’d utter small moans of thanks any time he’d pull away but, it just drove him to drive his cock further down your throat.

He would sometimes hold it there, at the place where your throat began to curve, where his balls would rest against your chin and where you’d be able to smell his musk-- just to rut against that smooth of your inner flesh.

It only took a few more minutes of thrusting into the spitty mess before the blond was fluttering and stretching his crimson plumes once more.

Your eyes were rolling in your skull, the post-wetness between your legs making your thighs slip together from underneath him as he breathed your name.

Just when his thrusts were building up and the airiness of a lack of oxygen to your brain became almost unbearable, was when Keigo choked out in moan, pulling completely from your throat and sputtering his hot cum all over your chin and chest.

The hero’s chest was heaving, thighs quivering and the bobbing of his cock stopped once he was done pumping his fluids all over you.

You, were moaning too, still not over the beating up your face took, or even the orgasm you had moments before all of this. Euphoria was spilling over you two and neither one could form a cohesive sentence at that point.

Keigo still straddled your waist after his orgasm, panting and looking down at you with some lost, googly-eyed expression. You however, with a grin, took your two long fingers and swiped the cum from your chin--expression not wavering once as you fed yourself the musky flavor. You hummed against your fingers and he went in for a kiss not long after your fingers fell back at your side.

He tasted himself against your tongue and you were still able to detect the past wavering of your own on him.

“That was great baby, thank you, so so much,” Keigo gives you one last kiss before hobbling over towards the bedroom bathroom, wings tucked tight against his back. He made sure to return quickly with a warm rag and cleaned you right up, a small smile at his face while doing so.

“I love you,” You spoke once more, head lolling over at him, mirroring his grin. After quickly wiping himself and tossing the rag in the general direction of a hamper, he laid on his stomach right next to you. “I love you too, dove,”

His strong arms pulled you in tight, legs weaving together and small shushed coming from him as he felt you still shivering and twitching. “You did so good,” Keigo would utter, pecking the top of your head. More and more comments of praise and admiration were whispered to you in the night… all leading you to have long forgotten about your girls’ night out and the frantic buzzing of your phone with missed calls and texts.

You didn’t care. Sure, it was a night you surely needed from work stress but, nothing would beat a night like this with the man you loved so dearly.

The two of you soon fell to slumber, in a warm embrace wrapped within the sheets-- the light of your vanity still turned on over to the side, joining in with the glow of Japan.

A/N: Hey! I don't beta read SHIT, but if you liked this, I would SUPER appreciate a like, reblog + comment (: I wanna know what you guys think

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks #takami keigo hawks #fanfic

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cher-rei · 11 months ago

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afterglow- pt 3 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

[wc: 2,5k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

genre(s): friends?? to lover, work romance, fluff

"do you have everything?"

charger. phone. apartment keys. suitcase. wait did I say charger?

"uh huh," you answered your sister and closed the trunk of the car, giving her one last hug before joining the staff on the bus that was parked outside of the main office building, along with the team bus.

you watched as she drove away into the early morning. 6:56 to be exact which meant that the sky was covered in hazy clouds, giving into the dusky look despite it being morning. you let out a breath and watched as the cloud of condensation formed.

you put in your airpods and shoved your free hand into your pants pocket. the drive wasn't long and you had to be on the field to oversee training for some clips so you dressed comfortably. a pair of navy blue nike parachute pants, a navy blue sweatshirt with a black shirt underneath and a pair of new balance.

the stroll to the bus was quiet, your mind elsewhere as you watched the staff members roll onto the bus after putting their luggage away. you sent a smile clara's way after she waved at you, and you were mentally preparing yourself to sit beside her during the ride when you were caught off guard by someone tapping your shoulder.

with eyes wide in shock, you whipped around to face the reason for your mini heart attack.

"oh," you sighed thankfully and paused your music when you saw klopp standing in front of you, an apologetic smile on his face.

"good morning to you too," he greeted with a chuckle and you returned it with a sheepish nod before falling into a brief conversation about today's match and it took a bit for you to realise that you had to get in the bus where everyone was waiting.

"jamie's watching the match today?"

you stifled a laugh at curtis' entrance, watching as the group's manager gave him a pat on the back. "she'll be watching most of our matches curtis. I told you this already."

curtis let out a knowing hum as the rest of his teammates piled onto the bus, making sure to greet you. he paid close attention to one person in particular however and suddenly had a light bulb moment.

"is she joining us on the bus?"

you quickly shut him down which caused klopp to let out a breathy laugh but curtis was adamant and didn't want to back down.

he took a few steps forward and swiftly took your suitcase out of your hand and gave it to the driver to put away before you could even fight him for it. "wouldn't you rather be accompanied by people your age? we don't want you to die of boredom the entire ride."

you narrowed your eyes at him, knowing very well what he was doing. "It's just an hour. I'll be fine."

you were about to take off when curtis shot his boss a look that took the older man a moment to register. "uh jaime," he called out after you. "you're more than welcome to join us. I think it'll be less of a hassle too, seeing as we'll get out at the hotel together as well."

you've got to be joking.

you let out an even heavier sigh. "no se--"

"--don't worry. you can sit next to me," curtis chimed in effortlessly and slung his arm around your shoulders as he led you onto the bus, talking about how much fun you two were going to have on the ride.

and to be honest. it wasn't a terrible experience.

when you got in it earned quite a few surprise looks considering that it was curtis of all people who got you on the bus.

when you walked over to the middle of the bus with him, you were met with a very confused alexis. "uhm?"

"well, give the lady her seat," curtis said and gestured for him to get up and you couldn't help but shoot alexis the most apologetic look you could muster up.

he stifled a laugh as he watched curtis point to the seat next to alisson. he reluctantly got up of course and pat you on the shoulder. "I should be the one apologising to you."

you sighed as you checked your uploaded Instagram story, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were out on a soccer field at 7 in the morning.

everyone had just gotten back from checking into their hotel rooms and to your luck you were sharing a suite with clara. she was only a year older than you were but she was the sweetest person you'd ever met.

she was rather soft-spoken and kept her life behind the camera. which was exactly what she was doing right now as she took some pictures of the practice session so that it could be uploaded.

practice had started slow but that didn't mean that it was boring. you watched with your lips pursed, eyeing one player in particular before turning to clara who was a bit further away. she shared the same expression as you, one of utter shock.

you put your hand in front of your mouth and mouthed something to her. "he looks so hot."

in return, she gave you an eager nod and waved you over to look at the pictures that she had taken. there were a lot of things that you wanted to say in that moment but you had to hold back for multiple reasons.

both you and clara had to pretend to seem like you were actually doing your job instead of fangirling. "It's illegal to look this damn good."

from beside you clara stifled a laugh and gave you a brief look to see you staring at the footballer, a glint of something in your eyes that she couldn't quite make out.

"he doesn't have a girlfriend," she said with a smile and turned back to the front and took a few more pictures.

it took a moment for you to register her comment. "what difference does that make?" you asked with a quirked eyebrow. "I mean at least I won't get jumped for looking at him, but still."

you hadn't expected clara to laugh as hard as she did. your joke really wasn't that funny but it had the girl doubling over, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter as well when she snorted. you tried your best to calm her down but it just made it worse.

"dude everyone's looking at us," you managed out breathlessly. "the joke wasn't even funny."

clara shook her head in disagreement and wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks that were blood red. "I'm sorry--" she apologized with a snicker. "I just imagined you getting into a fight with a girl and you would get bodied so hard."

your jaw dropped in offence and a slight blush rose to your cheeks. "we're done here."

clara watched as you jokingly stormed off and smiled to herself. "you can do more than just look at him though!"

you whipped around in shock at how loud she had said that. but luckily no one was paying any mind to your little argument and carried on with what they were doing. "clara stop!"

about 10 minutes later the videographers had gotten their cameras rolling and it had brought you back to your presentation that had to be ready by next week thursday. entertaining alternatives. how were you supposed to think of any entertaining alternatives?

as an influencer yourself you took into account that you hadn't posted anything in a while and spent most of your time twitch streaming. you started on tiktok in late 2021 and blew up not too long after. there wasn't much to it— you were pretty and people found you funny but it wasn't much of a job for you since you posted anything you felt like.

but your twitch career was something that you'd always wanted to take a leap into, so when you grew a big enough following you started your account with your now ex boyfriend who was still going about his career as per normal.

to the public your breakup was ended on mutual terms and it was stated that you felt that you were better off as friends. he cheated on you with your best friend. there was nothing mutual about that at all.

you dated for nearly three years before you found out, but you weren't even sure how long they had been seeing each other. and you didn't tend to find out. you needed to get away, so the second you got the chance you moved out of your mother's house in london and moved to liverpool since your sister was here.

and luckily she was more than happy to let you come and live with her for a bit until you got your own place. it was just her, her husband noah, and her 4-year-old son alex who were away visiting noah's parents back in london.

it's been a year now. a very quiet year at that seeing as you distanced yourself from your friends who had in fact known about your boyfriend cheating. but you were happy and that's all that mattered.

oh shit, I have an idea.

"ali. my man." you greeted with a smile and gave the goalkeeper a high five but it was obvious that he was either concerned or suspicious that you were standing in the net with him.

he chuckled at your sudden mood shift and continued to put on his gloves since everyone was getting ready for some shot practice. and frankly it was the viewers favourite segment to watch.

you slowly wandered through the net, taking a look around. "It's nice in here. you come around here often?"

the older man chuckled at your rather cute yet amusing joke. "yes I do actually. how about you?"

you shook your head to the side and took a deep breath. "I prefer to be on the pitch. I'm all for the action you know?"

you watched as he eased more into the conversation and played along, and you couldn't help but smile. "hm, you seem like the type. I heard that you played until you finished high school. center forward right?"

a smile drew to your lips at the fond memories, leaning back into the post as you nodded your head. "I was like if chloe kelly and leah williamson had a baby."

ali wasn't the only one to laugh this time. from the other side of the field you could hear jurgen laughing along with the videographers. you hadn't noticed that your interaction was being filmed but at least it was something new.

you turned back to the goalkeeper with a hopeful smile, "that's actually what I wanted to talk-- dude!"

harvey nearly hit you with the ball. well technically he did, but alisson was able to jump in front of you and catch it just in time. you stood behind him in slight distraught and tried to fully process what had just happened.

"let's switch up practice a bit and use jamie as bait," harvey exclaimed and raised his hand with a proud smile. "all in favour say I!"

you scoffed in disbelief to see everyone on the team raise their hands. you were so close to jumping that garden gnome but ali stopped you and told you to carry on talking. this was the equivalent to a trust fall to be frank, but you were desperate and tried to doge the ball everytime it was kicked so that he could save it.

"okay, so basically trent and I kind of have a bet going on right now."

a chuckle left the goalkeeper's lips as he sent the ball back drawin's way while harvey urged everyone to kick the ball a little harder. "a bet? are you two fake dating?"

you pulled a face at the accusation. "ew no."

as if.

"long story short— the garden gnome wanted to tussel but I said no and then he threw trent under the bus and I was like 'hey why not?' but he won't let me because he's obviously scared that I'm gonna beat him and the only way he'll let me is if I can get a goal past you."

you didn't even bother taking a breath in between anything you said and surprisingly ali got it all. he got up from the floor with a deep breath and handed you the ball to kick out, and you did so with ease and made sure to send harvey a look.

"so you want me to help you with this so you can beat trent, but I'm also assuming this has something to do with your idea for 'alternative entertainment'," he said as he ran through your rant again and you gave him an eager nod.

you probably looked like a child to him. oh gosh.

you took a step to the side and got ready to hide behind him as you saw trent get the ball ready. "how did you know?"

"you kept on mumbling 'alternative entertainment' over and over for like five minutes while you were standing behind the post."

you eyes widened a fraction and you gave an embarrassed smile. "oh. that's nice."

that earned another chuckle and a reassuring pat on the back. "I'm in. just tell me when your pitch is approved and we can start."

it was finally match time, and everyone had started filing out of the tunnel at molineux stadium. it was 4:50 p.m with ten minutes left till kick-off with the team was on the pitch for warm-ups.

you were sitting peacefully by yourself behind the barricade, your camera out as usual to take a few pictures of your own and checked on the tags on twitter for some feedback from supporters. the stadium was fairly rowdy but since it wasn't a home game the atmosphere wasn't anything in comparison.

it was a few minutes before kick-off when you felt someone slide into the seat beside yours. you glanced at trent from the corner of your eye before returning your attention back to your phone screen. "fancy seeing you here."

trent wasn't playing today due to a minor hamstring injury but he wasnt expected to come and watch the match. you heard him mumble under his breath, something about you being british but you brushed it off and got back to what you were doing on your phone.

neither of you said anything for quite a bit of time and kept your focus solely on the game in front of you which had taken a turn just seven minutes in when lee chan scored for wolverhampton.

"fuck," you muttered and sat back in your seat, trying your best to read the game.

from beside you trent couldn't help but glance over at you every so often. he watched as you bit your bottom lip in concentration which caused an unfamiliar feeling to swell up for him.

he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying his best to gain your attention. "I'm sorry about earlier. is your arm okay?"

you turned to look at him with a teasing glint in your eyes but your expression remained neutral. "yeah, I'm fine or whatever. i'm not the one with the hamstringy injury."

he nodded his head slightly and turned to the field once again half debating with himself over whether or not you were being sarcastic or not. silence took over for another 10 minutes before he mustered up the courage to say something again.

"were you serious about the whole 'if leah williamson and chloe kelly had a baby' thing?"

an amused smile drew to your lips. "well that's for you to find out when you're ready to play again."

trent stifled a laugh at your confidence and he felt the acceptance sink in. he didn't quite know what it was that intrigued him but he was willing to find out. he just found you strange that's all. and he was having quite the time giving into the banter and your overflowing confidence.

he couldn't lie and say that he didn't find it fun. the entire game he had to fight back the urge to laugh because of something you said or a comment you made about some of the players.

"do you think darwin would drop his hair routine if I asked?"

"£20 says that robbo tries to tussel with someone."

"I totally forgot that shorty was on the field. nah garden gnome suits him better."

"I just know for a fact that domi's face card never declines. I mean he's my lockscreen wallpaper for a reason."

it got to the point where he had to take a moment and sink into his seat anytime he wanted to laugh. at some point, jurgen came to join the two of you to rant about how you weren't scoring anything and it was near half time but you gave him some reassurance.

"we always come back second half though. just throw them all with some water to wake them up and you'll get at least two goals I'm sure."

were you right? of course you were. lightwork.

cody, robbo and an own goal.

there were eight minutes of added additional time so you took the time to relax, after 90 minutes of screaming and complaining. and you started to notice that trent was warming up to you and actually made conversation.

progress.

"you tagged me in your story? are you even allowed to do that?" he asked and you shrugged your shoulders, not seeing a problem with it.

you quirked your brow. "do you have a girlfriend?"

trent's lips parted in shock at the question, not sure how to respond or what you meant by it. he didn't know how long he spent looking at you lost in thought but it felt like eternity. "no."

"then yes, I am allowed to do that."

posts:

#trent alexander arnold fluff #footballer imagine #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold x reader #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer x you #liverpool x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #fanfic #cherrei writes

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vintagelasvegas · 3 days ago

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Construction of Fremont Street Experience, c. November 1994

Photo by Pam G.

Facing a stagnant economy and fearing that mega-resort projects on the Strip would further drain visitors to downtown casinos, Las Vegas City Council and downtown casino execs collaborated to create an attraction downtown which would become Fremont Street Experience.

Timeline of Fremont Street Experience

'91: Feb., Mirage Resorts chairman Steve Wynn suggests Venice-style canal attraction for Fremont St. Jul., City council forms committee to study downtown revitalization.

'92: Jan., Downtown Progress Association hears redevelopment proposals from three firms, rejects all. Apr., City begins purchasing property for future development use. Jun., Architect Jon Jerde presents plan for Fremont Street Experience.

'93: May, LVCVA approves $8M funding for FSE. Aug., City Council approves tax increase for financing the construction. Nov., City begins procedures to condemn property of owners who refuse to vacate on 400 block of Fremont St.

'94: Mar., Demolition of 400 block Fremont St. Sep. 7, Fremont St closed to traffic, and construction begins.

'95: Jul., Construction completed. Inaugurated Dec. 14.

2004: The canopy's 2 million incandescent bulbs replaced with 12.5 million LED lamps. The new light show dubbed Viva Vision debuts Jun. 14.

2014: Slotzilla zip line opened Apr. 27 (lower zipline) and Aug. 31 (upper zoomline).

2019: The Viva Vision display is rebuilt with 49 million LED lamps, competed Dec. 31. The new canopy can operate in daylight hours.

Demolition of Fremont & 4th (block 35), 1994. City of Las Vegas acquired the businesses on this block, partly through eminent domain, and demolished everything to make way for the Fremont Street Experience parking garage. Last building standing is Cornet 5-10-15 (401 Fremont). Photo taken from the garage of Fitzgerald’s Hotel & Casino by Roadsidepictures.

Section of scale model of Fremont Street Experience. Photographed Dec. 15, 1994, by Greg Cava. A 22-foot long scale model of Fremont Street Experience was built at the office of Atlandia Design, which supervised the creation of the attraction. Greg Cava Photograph Collection (PH-00399). UNLV Special Collections and Archives.

The “Vegas Vic” sign re-installed at Pioneer Club, December 23, 1994 - Photo by Las Vegas News Bureau. The sign was removed days earlier while the platform was extended from the building and the character’s hat was shortened, to accommodate the construction of the Fremont Street Experience canopy. The “Vegas Vickie” sign at Glitter Gulch casino was also lowered to fit under the canopy. Before the work was done on the two signs, a marriage ceremony was held on Fremont St for Vic and Vickie. Vic’s best man was Vaughn Cannon of YESCO. Guest of honor was Edna Sherrill who had played a “Vegas Vickie” character as a hostess at Pioneer Club in the 60s.

Sources include: Creative thinking needed downtown. Review-Journal, 2/25/91; H. Stutz. Wynn proposes Venice-style downtown project. Review Journal, 5/21/91; J. Gallant. Council, casinos plan revamp panel. Review-Journal, 7/18/91; C. Scarbrough. City, casino execs discuss three themes. Review-Journal, 1/30/92; C. Scarbrough. Megaresort projects threat to downtown. Review-Journal, 1/31/92; C. Scott. “Tourists to pick up most of project tab.” Las Vegas Sun, 4/17/94. S. McKinnon. “Downtown celebrates neon nuptial.” Review Journal, 12/17/94. Chris Jones. A vision of things to come. Review-Journal, 6/9/04.

#1994

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year ago

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Immortal Beloved - A John Shelby/Vampire OFC Story.

Well, guys. It's happening. Kinda happening. Testing the waters, yep. We'll go with that. I'm not convinced it's any good despite my best efforts, so I thought I'd see what you thought by sharing the prologue. Who knows? You might love it and then I could feel a little much-needed cheer when I'm going through a bit of a black spot at present, but if not then I know I have to go away and work harder on it. Either way, your feedback matters to me, and I thank in advance those kind enough to leave it.

The story will differ slightly from canon here and there, as you will notice, but not so much that's unrecognisable. Slightly AU, shall we say!

Here we go!

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 1,956

Warnings - Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

Prologue

He stumbled, muttering cusses that fluttered off to permeate the silence of the night, rooting his feet as he straightened, pulling his overcoat around himself more. The cobbles underfoot already twinkled with a smattering of frost, the air thick with winter mist and pungent coal smoke, John feeling his pale skin tremble. The bitter December cold greeted him with her usual sting upon that night.

“Don’t get so pie-eyed that you don’t know what’s what, John. That goes for all of us.”

John Shelby wasn’t always the most proficient at following orders, especially when a bad business day had led to his arrival at The Garrison, a decision to sink nine whiskies one after the other and six pints, thus leading to him sitting there sloshed and grinning.

His troubles had been far behind him as he’d revelled in merriment, loudly championing to his cohorts exactly what he would like to do to Clara Bow, for instance, should he have the screen siren within his lustful clutches for long enough. He’d heeded Tommy’s advice to begin with, but on that day, the loss of over a grand thanks to a horse who should have lost, and a jockey with other ideas, his elder brother’s words of warning had fallen on deaf ears.

“Fucking Rasmussen’s,” he muttered, sniffing as he at least attempted to walk up Watery Lane in a straight-ish line. “Bastards can fucking try and ‘ave me, but they won’t. Fucking Geordie cunts.”

The Rasmussen’s, of the family Rasmussen, were a definite thorn in the side of anyone with the surname Shelby at that moment, the Newcastle criminal outfit currently making their presence known, and loudly. Barges that moved through the canal systems anywhere close to their areas within the north had been firebombed, their cargo sunk, Shelby bookmaking stands ransacked at the races, and threats to the family delivered with malicious intent; stay out of the north, or else.

The Shelby’s were not the type to simply back off, though. They were the type to be on their guard against any reprisal attacks, vengeance against the kind of Shelby retribution the likes of which had - after quite the bloodied brawl - sent the Rasmussen’s scarpering from a race meet in Derby two weekend’s past.

The family would not simply roll over and take the threat lying down, and neither would the Rasmussen’s. They were great in number, and where hand to hand strength lay, perhaps the most formidable in force that the Shelby’s had ever encountered. That strength did not seem normal, more deity gifted than naturally arising.

They bred ‘em hard as nails in the north, apparently.

As he staggered, lying down was exactly what John wished to be doing, once again standing to root his feet upon the slippery cobbles, looking up at a streetlamp which had begun to flicker slightly, the bulb then suddenly popping with an audible bang.

First assuming a stray bullet had been responsible, it was just the sobering shock he needed to quickly take stock, his sky-blue eyes scanning the darkened street for any kind of movement through the thick fog, drawing himself up taller as his hand automatically hovered over the gun nestled within his ever-present holster. Bang, bang, bang, another three streetlamp bulbs all shattered, plunging the lane into darkness, John feeling the effects of the whiskey diminish as his senses prickled on high alert.

He stood statuesque, his ears pricked, eyes still darting from left to right while his hand curled around the thick handle of the gun, primed, ready. They wouldn’t get the better of him, oh fuck no. He blinked, and a figure finally came into view a couple of hundred yards ahead, seemingly appearing from nowhere. He blinked again and saw that the woman dressed in white and stained with blood had moved again, John shaking his head in confusion.

It must have been the drink. People did not move from one side of the street to the other at such a speed, seemingly vanishing and appearing once more within a blink.

She appeared to be on high alert, John watching as she sniffed the air, a deep, foreboding rumble sounding through the night. He wondered whose dog was out at that hour, until it hit him; the growl was coming from her. It was a noise neither of human nor beast, an eerie, echoless reverberation, his heartbeat amping up a notch as he watched.

Another blink and she was once again moved, a tearing sound filling the air, followed by a shrill cry, gurgling noises, spluttering. Looking to his right, he witnessed the woman dragging a man who had been concealed within the shadows out into the street, her mouth clamped upon his neck. John stood motionless, his eyes widening as he viewed the scene, a cold snap of horror shocking his bones as he witnessed her yank the man’s head clean from his neck with frighteningly swift finesse.

His jaw began to tremor, his grip upon the gun in his hand tight as she walked to him, her fingers tangled in the black hair of the severed head she carried, a shock of crimson painting her chin and neck from where she had gorged upon the blood of the now lifeless, headless body slumped upon the cobbles.

“Who the...” he began as she halted before him, changing track. “What the fuck are you?”

Her lips curled into a smirk, holding the severed head aloft, blood and sinew dripping onto the ground below. “I am the one who saved you from Samuel Rasmussen. He waited for you.” Her head jerked back a fraction in the direction of the darkened lane. “Same as his three friends.”

The silken purr of her voice was so alluring, it almost overrode the fact that John stood so terrified, he honestly did not know what on earth to say next. Had he truly seen what he saw? Was this merely a whiskey hazed dream? Surely, he was about to wake with a start, a thumping headache accompanying the morning that followed such peculiar dreams, for this couldn’t be real.

Could it?

Dropping the head to the floor, her hand reached for him, John’s shaking grip upon the gun solidifying as he thrust his arm forth, attempting to press the barrel to her skull. He found himself disarmed faster than he could comprehend, the Webley revolver landing with a clatter upon the ground.

“Shhh,” she soothed, her enchanting eyes flitting over him, her long nails gently trailing his cheeks as she viewed him intently. “I mean you no harm.”

Studying her up close properly, it was then that he noticed them, the two long, pointed teeth in place of where her canines should have sat, the smooth white smudged with red. His heart pounded like a war drum, his entire body feeling light. The lithe muscles of his form pinched tightly in fear, yet a juxtaposing sense of calm seemed to swirl through him at her softly delivered words.

“You can trust me. I wish nothing more than to instil that within you.” What on earth was that accent? He couldn’t place it at all.

How exactly, he could trust a woman who had just decapitated a man with her bare hands after drinking his blood, he didn’t know, but he felt on an instinctual level that he could. Unless it was the whiskey. Whiskey, of course, had the power to lie.

The woman, though, seemed to be earnest in what she had told him, her nails stroking her cheeks as she studied him, her blue eyes flitting, taking him in. Oh, how she approved of what she gazed upon. He was magnificently handsome. Her nails stroked a hail of goose bumps over his alabaster skin, reaching his neck as she leaned forward, sniffing him. A contented sigh fluttered over her lips.

“Your blood smells like earth and fire, honey and dark orchids.”

What?

He frowned, perplexed, opening his mouth to speak. No words came forth. He was so overcome by her that speech was beyond him. It felt like she was pouring soothing waves of calm into him, and little did he realise, but he was correct. Her kind could transmit energies to humans in order to placate their fears.

Staring down at her, it struck him sharply, how much she didn’t quite look like she belonged there. Striking she was, with her milky skin that matched his own, her throat and chest covered in tattoos, symbols and swirls he didn’t recognise whatsoever. He knew tattooed ladies existed, but he was yet to witness one up until then, the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman smiling, her nails like sensual daggers upon his neck.

She was unlike anyone else he’d ever encountered, a woman of distinct enigma.

There was something about her that didn’t fit, decapitation and blood drinking aside. She looked as if she’d come from another time, a different age. This yanked at his interest almost as much as her allure, her pale skin seeming to glow beneath the light of the moon, now unincumbered by clouds as it shone its rays down upon them.

“You are perhaps the most beautiful creature I have seen in a long, long time.”

No, it was not he who uttered those words. It was the woman, her statement one of parting, John blinking and finding her vanished once more into the night. She’d left him breathless, with every hair on his body feeling like it was standing on end.

Vampires tended to have that effect on the living.

While the third youngest of the Shelby men made his way into their abode, the vampire moved at speed, perching herself atop the roof of one of the opposing back-to-back houses. The dark slate tingled against her bare feet, but being a creature of zero body heat unless she was sitting close to a source of warmth, it was of no bother to her.

She sharpened her senses to the night, listening intently to every noise, every rustle. A bottle rolled over and tinkled over the cobbles a few streets away, a gentleman a few further on than that regurgitated the many beers he’d sunk in a nearby pub into the gutter, too, but other than that, all was quiet.

Well, mostly all.

Within the homestead she had been watching over, she heard the brand-new object of her desire being berated by the woman named Polly, as she’d gathered. Closing her eyes, she saw the one she knew to be named John there in her mind, a throb reverberating through her. Goodness, how handsome he was close up, perhaps the most divine man she’d encountered in a while.

He carried himself with such pride and confidence, being a member of a notable criminal outfit, of course he would. A vampire of her age could tell so much more about a person, though, just by studying them, as she had with him and his family from the shadows. For all his acts of violence and authority, of which she had witnessed a couple, she sensed a man a little less ruthless than his elder brothers, with a heart a touch softer.

It was the softness within him that pulled her in the most.

She had gone there that night with the view of a single-minded agenda, only to encounter John Shelby up close for the first time and realise that her plight was perhaps not going to be quite as polarised as she’d first envisioned. Confident that the family were safe from any further acts of violent subterfuge, the vampire took one last look at the house.

“Until next time, beautiful creature.”

She was gone into the darkness within a blink.

#john shelby #john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x ofc #john shelby smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic

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outsideratheart · 2 years ago

Text

Very Important Person (Stina Blackstenius x reader)

A/N: Based off this request. I hope you guys like it!

The Tokyo Olympics will be an unforgettable experience for more reasons than one. It was your first time representing Sweden in the Tennis and you had won gold after beating one of your best friends Paula Badosa in the final but it also led to you meeting your now girlfriend Stina Blackstenius.

It was the day after your game, and hers, when you met. Both teams were wandering around the Olympic village before going home. The coffee shop was busy but when she walked in you got tunnel vision, everyone else became irrelevant. You wouldn't say it was love at first sight but when she caught your eye you knew there was something about her that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Due to your hectic schedule, you haven't been able to see her play live but you would send her photos of you watching her game in your hotel room whilst wearing your Blackstenius shirt proudly.

As luck would have it Sweden were playing the Cup of Nations in Australia the same time of the Australian open in Melbourne. As far as Stina knew you had to go to Argentina to prepare for the next tournament straight after the final but that wasn't the case.

When you get back to your hotel room after winning the first Grand Slam of the year you only have one thing on your mind, Stina.

You send her a text asking her to facetime you. You would do it yourself but you didn't want her roommate to see your name on her phone and start asking questions.

"You're a champion!" Stina congratulates you as soon as her face appears on your screen. By the looks of it she is sat in the hallway with her earphones in "How are you feeling? It looked like a tough match"

"You watched it?" Even now you don't expect Stina to watch all of your matches especially ones like this. Due to the high heat your match didn't start till 9pm. It was a long time for anyone and with Stina having a game the next day you only expected to watch the first hour or so at most.

"I did. Frido even watched some of it before falling asleep. Now please answer my question, how are you feeling?" Stina can tell by the look in your eyes that you are tired.

"The fatigue is beginning to set in but I don't care, I have this" you hold your trophy up for her to see.

"I'm so proud of you Y/N" her tone is sincere, you loved that you had someone in your corner supporting you and not just anyone but you had found your person.

"Thank you. It almost makes being away from you for so long worth it, almost" She laughs when you wink at her.

"What time is your flight tomorrow?"

You have to think on your feet. As far as Stina is aware, you are leaving Australia tomorrow. Then it's as if a light bulb goes off in your head. You can tell her the truth, just not all of it.

"9am" what you don't tell her is that is the time your flight from Melbourne leaves to go to Sydney.

"That's in 5 hours, couldn't you get a later flight?" Another thing you loved about Stina is how much she cared for you. She always wanted to make sure you were resting enough when you were training or that you were eating enough when your schedule was at its busiest.

"I can't. I have a meeting with a very important person that I cannot miss"

Little did Stina know that the very important person you are referring to is her.

When you arrive at the stadium 13 hours later you are surprisingly nervous which you find absurd given that you have just played a grand slam final in front of 15,000 people.

Your still consider your relationship with Stina fairly new even though you had been dating for almost a year. After the Olympics you spent months talking over text and having nightly facetime calls but due to the lack of seeing her in person it took your quite a while to ask her to be your girlfriend because you wanted to do it in person. It was her wish to keep your relationship private due to your profile which you understood, it did however make getting tickets to games more difficult especially when you wanted to keep your attendance a secret.

Much to your annoyance a camera is pointed in your face within minutes of sitting down. The Swedish players are warming up when the sound of their fans cheering loudly grabs their attention.

"What's going on?" Filippa asks.

The team look around to see if is they can find the cause of the noise. At this point your face is on each of the big screens within the ground.

"No way" Stina whispers to herself in disbelief.

When you see that the team are watching you from the pitch you wink into the camera. Stina knew it was for her but her team mates couldn't help but speculate.

"Is that Y/N Y/L/N?" Magda says rather excitedly given that she considers herself a huge fan of yours.

"What is she doing in Australia?" Zecira asks.

"She has just won the Australian open! You should know this" the captain scolds the keeper.

"She's supposed to be in Argentina" Stina says to no one in particular.

"I didn't know you were a fan?" Magda asks the forward.

Stina freezes for a second, much like a deer does in headlights. She cannot help but feel like she has been caught when in reality this is nowhere near true.

"Oh, Stina is a huge fan. She has made us watch every one of her matches in our room. We stayed up till what 1am this morning?" Frido adds.

"You took a nap half way through the second set and I remember you cheering when she won so don't act like you didn't enjoy it" Stina playfully shoves her roommate.

The team watch you give a short interview on the screen whilst they passed the ball around, it was a feeble excuse of a warm up but you had their attention.

"She has one of our shirts on. Do you think she brought it with her?"

Stina knows the answer to this. You take a least one of her shirts with you whenever you travel. You said it gives you extra motivation on days when you didn't want to train.

"Looks like she has someone the back. Place your bets ladies?" Filippa jokes only to be met with a number of responses.

Whilst some players jokingly say themselves, most say Magda given that she is the captain and face of the team. Meanwhile anger starts to form in Stina's gut at the thought of you wearing a shirt with anyone's name on other than her own.

"Me" Stina's tone is confident and unexpected.

The girls watch in anticipation as you remove your thin Nike jacket so you can reveal the back.

BLACKSTENIUS 11

"That looks like a players shirt to me" Frido nudges the forward.

"Now where would she get one of my shirts from?" Stina teases.

"From you. You're taking mysterious phone calls and have been for quite a while. You're watching all of her matches and now here she is supporting you" the cogs start turning in Frido's head as she connects the dots.

"What a coincidence" Stina replies.

The atmosphere in the stadium is electric and even though the Swedish fans are outnumbered they are still cheering loud and proud. When Stina scores you are up on your feet cheering loud like the proud girlfriend you are. She looks straight towards you and blows you a kiss which you pretend to catch.

"And now you're dedicating your goal to her" Frido says as the pair run back to their positions.

At half time, after the team talk, Frido begins interrogating your girlfriend for more information making it clear that she knows that the two of you know each other.

When your phone goes off you expect to see a message from your manager with your flight details as you are due to leave Australia in the morning. Instead, it is a text from Stina which reads I'm ready to tell them and by me, I mean you. Meet me at my hotel.

You spend the second half thinking about how you are supposed to introduce yourself to Stina's team mates. You had done plenty of meet and greets but you know how much this team means to your girlfriend so you want to get things right. When the full time whilst gets blown, you desperately want to see her whether it's only a glimpse or a look that lasts just that little bit longer but a man dressed head to toe in Sweden national team gear taps you on your shoulder before you get the chance.

Both teams do a lap of the stadium to thank the fans for their support. Stina gets to your stand only to find your seat empty. She knows she said to meet her at the hotel but she thought you would stay to see her before leaving. Just as she is about to enter the tunnel, she hears two young girls talking about you and how they can't believe that you were the game. Suddenly your early exit makes sense. Knowing you the way she did, Stina knew you wouldn't want to risk getting spotted by the Swedish fans or it might take you a while to get out of the stadium.

The team gets showered and are relaxing in the locker room whilst waiting for the last of them to get ready.

"Ladies, is everybody dressed?" Magda asks as she scans the room "Good because we have a special guest"

With no further introduction you enter the locker room. The players who are fans are quick to meet you but the one blonde you are so desperate to see is nowhere to be found.

After taking a few photos you congratulate them on their win and they return the favour.

"Let me guess you're here to see your girlfriend?" Frido asks you. The look that is spread across her face let’s you know she doesn't need an answer.

"I am" just as you finish your short sentence your favourite blonde comes into sight "Hi baby"

The sound of your voice makes Stina turn on her heels. She didn't expect it but seeing you in person, up close, after only seeing you on a phone screen for the last 2 months is very overwhelming.

"Me?" Lina, Zecira and Fillipa say in unison.

A small chuckle escapes your lips but your eyes never leave the woman behind them.

"I've really missed you"

Madga orders the team to give you the room and that they'll meet you on the bus.

"I thought you and Paula were getting a flight straight after your game so you could have a day off before training starts" Stina says as she wraps her arms around your neck. You really wanted to tease her about how tight her hold is but you didn't want to risk her pulling away.

"We thought we'd stay an extra day. I needed to see you and us being in the same country was too good of an opportunity to miss"

Silence soon fills the room. A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth when you see Stina staring at your lips. Part of you loved how hesitant she was even though you had been officially dating for almost a year. When you lean forward, she meets you half way, the kiss is something you have been craving since you said you said goodbye to her back in November.

"I've missed that" Stina makes it known that she has missed the physical connection just as much as you have "I have missed able to do this and this" she trails kisses on your neck then down to your collarbone.

"I've missed a lot more than that but this is neither the time nor the place and I need to get you back to your team before you get in trouble" You get Stina's bag from her locker, take her hand in yours, lead her out of the locker room and to the team bus, where just as luck would have it is about to leave with the last few players getting on.

You steal one last kiss before giving Stina her bag.

"You can come back to the hotel with us, I cleared it with our coach" Madga appears at the top of the steps.

"I can't" your response causes your girlfriend to pout "Don't give me that face. Thank you Magdalena, but I was coming back to the hotel regardless, I booked a room there for the night but I drove her so I will have to drive back" you recognise the look on Stina's face "no, you go with your team. I'll see you soon"

You all but follow the bus back to the hotel which lets you walk in with the team. It turns out some of them came up with more questions on the journey which you are happy to answer. Stina on the other hand wants nothing more than to see goodbye to her team mates so she can have you to herself.

When you get into the elevator, she leans back into you and your arms snake around her waist.

"Be patient Älskling" your tone is low as you whisper in her ear.

When the lift arrives at the team floor, not all players get out. You hear Stina sigh which makes you think she knows something you don't.

"Magda wanted to take a photo with your trophy" upon hearing her name the Sweden captain turns to you.

"My family are huge tennis fans" Magda adds when she realises you have no idea that your girlfriend had made the offer.

You nod your head at the captain, letting her know that it is fine but you see a chance to tease the rest of them so you take it.

"And the rest of you? I knew Magda was a fan but you lot don't strike me as the tennis type"

Their eyes widen.

"Stina wasn't a tennis type till she met you"

"Yeah, you have the same effect on us"

"It's not the same!" Stina is quick to correct them.

"No, it's not" you tilt your head down to kiss her but it is short lived as the elevator arrives at your floor.

You watch with a sense of pride as Stina's team mates pose with your trophy. Stina on the other hand comes waltzing out of the bathroom, no longer wearing her team attire. Instead, she is wearing one of your hoodies and a pair of your joggers. She must have taken them off the bed when you were getting the trophy out its case.

She sits beside you on the bed and rests her head on your shoulder.

"Do you see that backpack over there?" Stina nods "That's is yours to take back to England. This" you pull at her, well your, joggers "are brand new and I planned on wearing them tomorrow"

"You can take them off me when they leave"

Stina's bashfulness catches you off guard but you remain quiet, your desired response is not appropriate given that you are not alone in your room.

"Does this mean you're ready for the world to know?" you move her shorts up slightly so that you can trace shapes on her bare thigh.

You feel her shake her head against your shoulder.

"I'm not ready yet" Stina admits.

"That's ok. Our friends and family know and if you ask me that's all that matters" you place a kiss to her hairline.

#woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #stina blackstenius x reader #stina blackstenius one shot #stina blackstenius imagine #swedwnt x reader #swedwnt one shot #swedwnt imagine #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc one shot

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