#the search bar is really important

[fallloverfic]

More people on this site need to pick tumblr themes with a search bar on them. I'm sure plenty of people have picked ones without one for a reason, but I'm sure there are also people who don't realize that's an option or how valuable it is, particularly in terms of accessibility.

I know there are fewer options for already made and free themes when looking for ones that have a search bar (though in my opinion the ones that are there look fine), but I'd rather have a less pretty tumblr theme that's at least accessible than a pretty one where visitors (and I) can't find anything.

[annoying--moth]

Silly Game Time: What was the most recent internet search you're comfortable with sharing?

"What is a bar exam"

I saw a video on Reddit of a single mother passing it and had no idea what is was-- looked it up and frankly I still have no idea what it is

[fingertipsmp3]

The last like 12 hours have been one disaster after another tbh and I think I am mostly to blame

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

A/N: A new smutty one-shot. I tried. I don't think it's good. But let me know what you think.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Avenger female reader

Warning: smut

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 4200+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

Tony Stark had invited Charles Xavier and his X-men to an annual gala he held in New York. There were many reasons for that. The Avengers and X-men worked together during difficult missions and unexpected alien threats. Also, he wanted to prove to regular citizens and high-profile politicians that mutants were not the enemy. This was the perfect opportunity for both groups to strengthen their bonds and work relationships. 

That’s how Logan had found himself, in a fancy all-black tux, standing at the bar with a drink in his hand. His glare could kill anyone who rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t fond of these gatherings, and yet here he was. His eyes were searching for any threat, ready to fight anyone who would seem too suspicious to him.

“You didn’t have to come here, you know,” Hank chuckled when he approached Logan at the bar. “Nobody forced you to come here.”

Logan rolled his eyes and sipped on his whisky. “I know how important these things are,” he growled. “Charles wanted me to be here, so I’m here.” 

“Uh-huh,” Hank rolled his eyes. He ordered a drink. When the bartender had given him the drink with shaking hands, he had to chuckle. Some people were spooked by his blue fur and beasty look. “Isn’t it because you are waiting for a certain someone?” 

Logan sighed, defeated. Hank knew damn well that his friend had built some connection with a certain female Avenger. There was no denying he was waiting for her. “You really wanna go there, furball?” He tried to avoid the question. 

“Oh, come on, Logan. Everyone can see how you are smitten with that woman,” he chuckled. “It’s kinda nice.”

“I am not smitten,” he denied. Fuck, but even Charles constantly made comments and teased him about it. “By the way, shut your mouth, McCoy. I don’t want to hear shit from you. You’ve been eyeing that reporter from News 1.” 

That made Hank roar with laughter. He sipped his drink and turned to the crowd, watching people mingle around, talk and drink. “I’m not denying that. She’s pretty, we like to talk about science. You, on the other hand, keep denying everything. But we are not blind.”

Logan wanted to throw the drink at Hank. He would, if they’d be back in the mansion. He opened his mouth to snap back at him. But the energy shifted to the grand stairs. Logan’s eyes travelled there, wanting to know what the fuss was about.

Yelena Belova and Y/N Y/L/N walked down the stairs with linked arms. Both looked beautiful in their evening gowns and perfect hair. Yelena had a green satin dress. Y/N chose a sparkling black dress that hugged her figure perfectly, with a slit on her left thigh. 

Oh, if he could, Logan would drool like a dog. It was one thing when she wore that damn tight suit during missions, but this made him hard instantly. Fuck. Maybe this was the day he would have a heart attack. And she’d be the cause of it.

His blood started to boil when many men gave her attention. Once the women left the stairs, they were surrounded by testosterone. Yelena was a pretty lady, too. He had to admit that. Y/N was something different. She felt like a dream, a secret naughty fantasy that he wanted to come to life. 

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a fly,” Hank said. 

Logan drank the rest of the whisky in one go, eyes never leaving Y/N’s figure on the main floor. Hell, even her teammates danced around her. Where did this jealousy come from? 

He thought about the day they met. It was an accidental mission, where the Avengers were also present. While Charles and Captain Amerika talked after the finished mission, Logan’s eyes were focused on the woman who caught his attention. 

Their first interaction was amusing. Y/N tried to save his ass when a group of soldiers surrounded him. Logan was on the ground, guns pointed at every piece of his body when she came out of nowhere, shooting down the soldiers, snapping their necks with bare hands. Her kicks were strong, her punches were deadly. 

Once the threat was eliminated, she turned and looked down at Logan. “Are you done napping?” she asked him with a grin. 

He huffed. “I had it under control,” he huffed. He got up on his legs, the adamantium claws had already retracted back to his skin. Y/N watched it happen like a hawk but didn’t comment on it. 

“Of course. You almost got killed by ten men. Yeah, you had it under control.” 

“I can’t die, princess,” he squinted at her. “It wouldn’t be the first time a firing squad would try to kill me. In the end, it would always just tickle.”

Y/N tilted her head. A smile played on her lips. “Well, if you are done bragging, let’s move. There is still more to come and I would like to be in bed with a book in my hand by ten.” 

That was just their first interaction. And with that, something bloomed between them. Friendship? Or was it something more? Every mission became exciting. He couldn’t keep the dumb smile on his face once he saw her in the field.

Logan ordered another whisky. A grin spread on his lips when he thought back to their first meeting. He learnt her name later. First, it was just her last name. Rogers barked orders when he said it. Her first name came at a different time when they all shared the same coms for better communication. 

“She’s coming here,” Hank warned him, which brought Logan back to reality. 

With every step, he could notice more details about her. The material of the dress, how deep her cleavage was, how her breasts popped out, the red lips, the earrings, the fact that she was like a fucking angel. All she needed was wings. And, she was coming to him alone. Fucking finally. 

“Wolverine,” she purred his name. “I can’t believe you are here. Who put a gun to your head and forced you to attend this magical evening?” There was a teasing smile on her lips. 

Don’t look at her tits, he thought. Don’t look at the tits that want to spill out of that dress. Fuck!

“I heard there was an open bar,” he said. “So I decided to come and drink Stark’s liquor.” 

She licked her lips, suppressing her chuckle. “No other reason?” I raised a brow. “See your friends, swoon ladies or play pool with the boys?”

See me?

He kicked in the rest of the drink and put the glass on the bar. His eyes noticed the crowd gathering in the middle of the hall. A slow music started to play, inviting everyone to dance. Logan’s hand reached forward. It was now or never. “Or I came here to dance with ya, princess.” 

One second and her hand slipped into his. “Oh, so you dance, you say? Lead the way.” 

Logan proudly walked her into the crowd of dancing people. One hand rested on her lower back, other held her right hand. He knew what he was doing. After all, this was the first dance of his life. Y/N was impressed by that. They started to dance to the string music. 

He sniffed her sweet perfume, the shampoo she used. That woman would be the death of him, Logan was sure of it. They kept dancing, not talking. His eyes were on her, locked in a gaze. He had been close to her before but not like this. She was like a magnet, pulling him closer to her. Her lips inviting, her touch soft. 

The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to spill out what was going through his mind. “You look beautiful tonight,” he admitted. “Fuck, you look beautiful every time I see ya.”

She chuckled. “Even in my suit during a fight?” she raised a brow. 

“Hell yes,” he nodded eagerly. “Princess, when you walk to the field in that suit, fighting fearlessly, I have trouble focusing. Once you did a trick with your thighs, choking an enemy with them, I almost lost it there.” 

Y/N’s hand left his. She brushed it up his arm and rested it on his shoulder. “Oh, so that’s the effect I have on you, eh?” she teased the Canadian. “Care to say more?”

Logan’s hand joined the other on her lower back. He pressed her closer to his body. The height difference was evident between them. Even with her high heels, she was shorter than him. “Fishing for compliments?” 

“From you? Yes,” she smiled. 

He moved closer to her, leaning. In his mind, he was ready to press his lips against her. He needed to kiss her like he needed to breathe. This was his chance to taste her.

A third hand landed on Y/N’s shoulder. “Y/N, Logan,” they heard someone say their names. The moment was ruined. He wasn’t able to kiss her like he wanted. On the other hand, he wanted to slash anyone who interrupted them.

With a growl, he pushed away, eyes finding Captain Rogers, accompanied by Hank. “What?” he asked them grumpily. He didn’t care it was rude. They ruined something special. 

“We need you in the conference room,” said Steve. “We have a situation.” 

Y/N sighed, stepping away from Logan’s hold. “What’s going on?” she switched to a work mode. She gave Hank a polite smile to acknowledge his presence. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted us about Trash industries,” said Steve. “Come, we’ll show you.” 

“Charles?” Logan’s eyes shifted to Hank. 

“Already with Stark,” he said. 

All four of them walked together from the grand hall. Yelena and Sam joined them on the stairs. The blonde woman was yapping about being taken away from a cute woman and a fine drink. 

“I just fucking got here. Already some shit is happening,” she kept cursing under her nose.

Logan kept close to Y/N. He missed her body being so close to his. He hoped they'd be able to continue. The conversation was intriguing. He remained by her side while walking through the hallway and to the upper levels of the compound. 

Her fingers brushed against his hand. It wasn’t an accident. No. Her fingers purposefully stroked the top of his hand. Instantly, his fingers moved. His pinkie hooked around hers for a second. It was a mutual sign. 

The group entered the conference room, meeting the rest of the Avengers and Charles. One by one they took a seat except Logan. He stayed on his feet, a step away from Y/N’s seat. A hologram appeared in the middle of the table. 

“We got a new location on Trask Industries, but this time, these fuckers had decided to work with some Hydra scums,” Tony started to talk, showing footage they managed to get from satellites. “Or so it appears. we are not quite sure.” 

“The public wouldn’t like that,” Charles commented. “They try to present themselves as a serious robotic corporation. Why would they jeopardise their public status if they start working with a public enemy?”

“That is trying to hunt down mutants and annihilate them,” Y/N commented. “Don’t want to imagine what’s going on behind closed doors. It can’t be nice.”

“Is it really Hydra?” Natasha asked. 

“It appears,” Steve chimed in. “Or something adjacent.” 

“So what? We’re just gonna sit here and wait for more details?” Logan scoffed. “The longer we wait, the more work they get done. I say to strike and kill them all.” 

Y/N licked her lower lip and grinned under her nose.

“We need a strategy, Logan,” said Charles.

“Not everyone can get sliced and heal with a snap of fingers,” Tony added sarcastically. “Chill, wolvie. Besides, we’ve sent Vision to have a look at the place. He’s a droid, a powerful one made out of vibranium.” 

Y/N turned her head to Tony. “That doesn’t mean he’s indestructible in this world,” she frowned. “New weapons are being developed every day to destroy mutants, to stop the Avengers. I hope Wanda went with him. They are stronger together.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course, she’s with him. Do you think I’d be able to stop her? I’m not crazy.” 

“Trask Industries are still working on the damn sentinel program,” Hank stepped into the conversation. “With Hydra’s help, who knows what they’ll be able to create together. The thought alone is scary.” 

Tony ended the hologram. Steve took the word. “I know we are supposed to be here at the gala, but I suggest a good night's sleep and be ready. If you’d like, we have spare rooms in here for you. You can stay here for the night if we need to leave.” 

When Steve said that, Y/N gently turned her head to the side, wondering what Logan would say to that. 

“I’ll gladly accept the offer,” Hank smiled. “At least I’d get to talk to Bruce for a little while and have a look at his labs. I’ll also alert the others at school.” 

“Howlett?” Tony raised a brow. 

Logan’s eyes moved from Y/N’s exposed shoulders to Hank and then to Tony. “Sure, why not? At least I don’t have to drive from place to place.” 

“I guess we are staying,” Charles smiled. “Thank you for your accommodation.” 

The meeting ended. Natasha and Yelena went back to the gala. Y/N talked to Hank for a few more minutes while he was waiting for Bruce. Steve and Tony took Charles back to the grand hall. Logan waited outside the conference room. Because no one was present, he took a cigar out of his jacket and lit it up. Three puffs later Y/N stepped out of the conference room with Hank. 

“Already smoking?” Hank sighed. 

“So what? Got a problem with that, bub?” 

“Always the charmer,” Hank shook his head. “Nice evening, Y/N. I’ll see you later,” he said once he saw Banner approaching the group. 

The moment Logan and Y/N were alone, they faced one another. “Are you heading back to the gala?” Logan asked. 

She hummed, thinking about it. “I’m not feeling like going back there. Honestly, those fancy parties are not my cup of tea. Wanna grab a drink in our lounge room? Stark has the fanciest shit there. You’re gonna love it.” 

Logan smiled at her. “Lead the way, princess.”

. . .

The lights were dimmed in the lounge room. Logan was nursing an expensive drink Y/N poured him. He made faces, eyed the liquid, humming and nodding. “This is some good shit,” said after a while. “Wealthy people can afford stuff like this. Also, Charles prohibited any alcohol at school.” 

Y/N chuckled, sitting in an armchair with her drink. “It makes sense. It’s a school. Of course, he doesn’t want any alcohol there. Does he let you smoke?” 

He huffed. “That he ain’t gonna do shit about it. No matter how much he threatens to turn me into a six-year-old girl.” 

“Aw, that’s adorable. I’d like to see that,” she put a wide smile on her face as she sipped her drink. “Maybe I’d brush your hair, put pink ribbons in it.”

Logan kicked the drink in and stood up from the couch. His eyes noticed a few photos around the place - from parties and group shots to professional photos of the team. They were like a family. What mostly caught his attention was Y/N. She was an Avenger, part of a superhero team. He huffed. Fuck, she was a damn Avenger. 

“What?” she questioned. A second later, she was by his side, eyes on the same photo of the team. “That was after Ultron almost annihilated the whole world. We celebrated our survival. Stark puked into his helmet,” she laughed. 

“Disgusting,” he frowned. “I must say, you look like one happy family,” he commented. 

Y/N hummed. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I love them all to death.”

“But?” he raised a brow. 

She shrugged. “Will I sound ungrateful if I say I hate being in the spotlight?” she made a face. “I can’t do photoshoots, the damn galas and shit forever. I hate attention. I’d rather be like you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “Teaching mutant kids, living life out of the spotlight. Even though it’s not easy, in my eyes, it’s simpler. Not have to deal with this shitshow.” 

Logan’s fingers found her hair. He brushed them away from her face. His mouth opened, ready to say something - anything - but instead, he grabbed her by the neck, pulled her closer to his body and crashed his lips against her. It was like an invincible string, pulling them together. He couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t slow, gentle. Quite the opposite. Logan’s tongue explored her mouth, tasting every corner he could reach. It was hungry, possessive. One hand held her tightly around her waist while the other slipped from her neck, down her back until it reached her ass, taking as much of her cheek into his palm. 

Both arms wrapped around his neck. A moan escaped her lips when the kisses moved to her jaw and down to her exposed neck. 

“I need to have you,” Logan growled between the kisses. “Fuck, pretty baby.” 

“My room,” she sighed. “We can’t give Stark or Rogers a heart attack if we do it here. Although, it would be funny.” 

Logan pushed away, staring into her eyes. He went back for her lips, only to bite her lower lip, pulling at it. “Lead the way, princess,” he growled. “And hurry, or I will take you here, where anyone can see us.”

Y/N grabbed him by the hand, taking him away from the lounge room. Logan moved her to his side and kept a hand on her smaller back. He needed to feel her, to be sure she was real and not a damn dream.

It took them a good three minutes to get to her room on the upper levels. The moment she closed the door, her hands were on Logan’s jacket, taking it off, letting it fall on the floor. Both of them stepped on it, not caring. His lips smashed against hers, all tongue and teeth. Grunts and moans echoed around them as they moved closer to the bed. 

“I wanna rip this dress off,” he said, hands grabbing both of her covered breasts into his palms, squeezing them. 

Y/N undid his tie. “No,” she chuckled, unbuttoning his white shirt. “Too fucking expensive. Here,” her fingers quickly found the zipper on her left side. She pulled it down and the dress loosened. That was Logan’s sign to pull down on it. 

“Fuck, princess,” his eyes rolled when she stood there in nothing but a black lacy thong. Her breasts were on full display, nipples stiff, just for his eyes. “Fucking perfect.” 

Before he could latch onto her hardened nipples, she forced the white button-up down off his body, hand grabbing onto his muscles, fingers brushing over some of the hair on his chest. She stood on her tiptoes to find his lips in another hungry kiss. 

His tongue dove into her mouth, caressing hers in the process. He felt her hands moving down to his belt, unfastening it. “Impatient?” his voice hoarse.

She pushed him onto her bed. He fell with a loud thud. The adamantium bones almost broke it in the process. “Shit, sorry,” she gasped, forgetting about his weight. But instantly, she climbed on top of him. Y/N pressed her breasts onto his chest as she needed to kiss him again and again. 

Logan switched it up, rolling them so she was under his body. “Now, let me ravish you before I give you my cock,” he said, lips already trailing kissed down her chest, over her breasts. His mouth took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, biting it. Her other nipple was teased by his thumb and index finger. 

“Fuck, Logan,” she whimpered. 

His mouth then travelled south. His tongue left a wet trail down her stomach to the hem of her thong. He kneeled on the edge of the bed, taking her leg up in the air, kissing it from the thigh up to her ankle. “I should leave these heels on, darlin’. So fucking sexy. Fuck, and I will.” 

Y/N huffed. “Logan, please, I want your mouth on me.” 

“Ah, already begging. I love it,” he grinned. He put her leg on his shoulder. His fingers brushed down down her leg to her clothed pussy. With two fingers he brushed her over her hidden folds and clit. She practically purred. “Pretty sound.” 

“Come on, Logan, do something.” Y/N was becoming frustrated. He kept teasing her, rubbing circles over her clit. “Don’t be a fucking tease. Not now.” 

A dark laughter escaped his throat. “Patience, darlin’.” He moved the thong to the side, exposing her pussy to the cold air. He saw her clench around nothing. “What a pretty pussy, princess. So wet and ready for me.” And he buried two fingers inside her heat. 

Y/N moaned once his two thick fingers penetrated her. “Shit. Ah.” 

He pulled them out and put them straight into his mouth, tasting her. “Delicious,” hummed. “I’m gonna feast on you. Not now. Now, I need to feel you around my cock, princess.” 

Logan grabbed her thong and pulled it off her legs, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes. He made sure to leave those heels on. “Fucking gorgeous.” He stood up to get rid of his pants. 

The moment he unzipped them, she knew he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Shit, Logan, commando?” she raised a brow. His length was already hard, ready for attention. The tip of his cock was angry red, already leaking precum. 

She was ready to reach for him, take his cock into her mouth and guide it into her mouth. Logan was faster. He pushed her back on the bed, shaking his head. “No, no, darlin’. I’m gonna fuck you now. And next time, I will let you have a taste of me.” 

“Next time?” she smiled. 

Logan leaned closer, his head above hers. “You think this a one-time thing? Oh, pretty girl. No, no.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Good,” she gave him a bright smile. 

He pumped his length a few times before he positioned his cock to her opening. Slowly, he pushed inside until her hungry pussy took him all in. He cursed, groaned when her walls clenched around him. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N sank her nails into his chest, leaving red trails down to his belly button. They immediately disappeared, healed.

“Feel so good, princess. So tight,” he moaned as he started to move. At first slow, enjoying every stroke, watching her face like a hawk. He loved how her eyes rolled, how she gasped for air with each thrust or how she squeezed her breasts. She was fucking perfect. 

His thrusts fastened. He watched her breasts bounce as she kept fucking her. His grunts were louder, more vocal. Logan’s right hand found her neck. He wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing it. And that move made her clench hard around his cock. “Shit, Y/N,” he called her name. “Keep doing that and I will fucking cum inside you.”

Logan’s other hand sneaked between their bodies and found her clit. He started to rub it slowly, changing the movements. 

“P-please,” she gasped. “I need to cum, Logan.”

He smiled. “Yeah, pretty girl? Gonna cum around my cock?”

Y/N nodded, moaning and shaking under him. “Please, please,” she begged. 

“Come on, princess. Cum around my cock. Squeeze me with your sweet pussy,” he demanded. “Wanna feel you when you cum. Shit… Ah… Fuck…”

A few more flickers of his finger was what she needed to reach her peak. Her mouth formed a perfect O, her voice suddenly gone when the wave of pleasure hit her body like a train. Her back arched as he helped her through her orgasm. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he grunted. “Milk me dry.” 

A few more thrusts and he spilt inside her. His hot cum painted her walls. He growled like an animal, trying to prolong his climax with every movement. His body shook and then he stopped, panting. 

His eyes found hers. There was a post-orgasmic haze in them. A smile played on her lips. She was perfect, beautiful. Logan quickly leaned down and stole a kiss from her.

“Damn, princess,” he chuckled. “Such a good girl.” 

Those words made her clench around his length again. He grinned. “You like it when I call ya a good girl? Good to know.” Slowly, he pulled her semi-hard cock out of her and rolled next to her, catching his breath. 

Y/N rolled to him, resting her leg over his body. Her fingers drew patterns on his chest, moving through the hair delicately. “This was fun,” she smiled. “It’s been a while since I had a good orgasm.” 

He raised a brow. “Next time, I’ll make you cum on my fingers,” he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips on her fingers. “Then on my tongue and around my cock,” he hummed. “I will fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

She grinned. “Is that a promise?” 

“Fuck yeah, princess.” 

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[alotofpockets]

Don't touch me | Alexia Putellas x Barca!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Don't touch me."

Woso masterlist | Words: 2k

-----

Never before have you had a relationship that lasted more than three years. Three serious relationships in the past all ended right around the three year mark, always being ended by your partner with some lame excuse like it’s not you, it’s me.

The three year curse you had started calling it in your head, no one seemed to want you after three years. While it was probably all in your head and just some big coincidence, it still lingered in your mind every time you thought about the fact that your three year anniversary with Alexia was nearing.

You wanted Alexia to be the exception to “the curse” with every bone in your body, but you knew it wasn’t only up to you. Alexia had to keep wanting you, and at the moment it felt like she didn’t.

It seemed like she was getting distant with you. Almost every conversation she had with you was about football. While the sport was important to the both of you, and you took your jobs very seriously, you were afraid that it was starting to be the only thing that was keeping the two of you together right now.

At first you thought it was just the stress of the season. You were busy too with the intense training sessions and the games being so close together. But even on your days off, she seemed distracted. You had never seen her on her phone this much.

When you’d ask her about it, she’d shake it off with a simple, “Oh it’s nothing, cariño.” A small smile sent your way, before she’d dive into her texts again. Each moment was added to a rapidly expanding list of signs that Alexia didn’t want you anymore.

It was during a team party when all the things on your list started to come together. You hadn’t wanted to go to the party with your teammates and friends, but Alexia had insisted it would be good to be away from football for once. You had taken that as a sign in the right direction, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The party was loud, music and laughter filled the space. It wasn’t really your scene in the first place, but you knew a lot of the girls on the theme thrived in environments like this, so you went along with it.

With a drink in your hand, you were chatting with Ingrid and Frido. Your eyes searched the bar for Alexia, who said she was going to get a drink like twenty minutes ago. When you finally found her in the crowd, your blood ran cold. 

She stood to the side with a girl you didn’t recognize. The way her face lit up as she spoke to the stranger made you realise that they knew each other. When Alexia leaned in to whisper something into the girl's ear, your stomach twisted.

You excused yourself from the girls and got up to go to the restroom. Once in the small space you looked at yourself in the mirror. Tears were welling up in your eyes, as all the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place.

The texts, distance, meetings outside of the regular football ones, and now watching her with this girl. She was seeing someone else? You’ve had shitty break-ups and stupid reasons as to why thrown to your face, but cheating? That was a new low. 

How could she? All the hope you had left for your relationship to beat your three year curse flowed away with the water you let run down your hands. You splash your face with the tab water before you enter the bar again. 

You wanted to go home, but you felt bad about just leaving, so you decided on just going back to Ingrid and Frido. That is until you saw that Alexia was walking towards you, “Hola cariño, I missed you.” She puts her arm around your shoulder but you’re quick to shake it off.

“Don’t touch me.” you say to gritted teeth. She moves her arm away quickly, but full of confusion. “What’s wrong?” You take a step back, “It’s fine, I just need some space.” Before Alexia could say anything, you had turned on your heels and ran out of the bar. You faintly heard her call after you, but you didn’t turn around.

You had called a cab and got them to drive you to your apartment to grab some clothes and gear you needed, and then drive you to your friend’s house. Luckily your friend didn’t ask too many questions when you showed up on their doorstep with a suitcase and a backpack slung over your shoulder. Your tear stained face combined with the time probably said enough. She simply stepped aside, offered you a hug, and said “Stay as long as you need.”

After slumping down on her couch, she let you be. Only coming back to offer you a pillow and some blankets. Grateful for her understanding, you got comfortable on her couch. 

As comfortable as you could be while playing what happened at the bar over and over in your head. Alexia’s confused face when you pushed her away sent a pang of guilt to your chest, but you had to remind yourself that seeing her with that girl hurt you. You tried fighting back the tears, but they came anyway.

The next morning you wake up to a note saying your friend had left for work, but that you were free to stay and take whatever you needed from the fridge. You pick up your phone to check the time to see your phone bombarded with messages. Amongst a few of your teammates checking in on you since they didn’t see you leave the bar, you saw Alexia’s name pop up.

Alexia: Cariño, what’s going on?

Alexia: Please talk to me

Alexia: I don’t understand what happened. I am worried about you

Alexia: Please just let me know that you are somewhere safe

As much as she had hurt you, you couldn’t leave her messages unanswered.

You: I’m staying at Lauren’s. See you at practice

It felt weird texting her, and you were definitely not feeling up to seeing her. But you had a job to do, so you got ready for training nonetheless. 

When you got to practice, you hid behind a fake smile. You sat down at your usual spot next to Alexia, to make sure nothing seemed off to the rest of the team, but you didn’t speak to her. 

“Where did you go last night?” Ingrid asks from across the room.“Oh, my friend texted me with an emergency so I had to help her out, all good now though.” Everyone seemed to buy your lie, besides Alexia of course.

“Can we talk?” She whispered so that only you could hear her. “Later.” You said without making eye contact. Knowing that if you looked at her, you would break. You tie your laces and make your way over to the pitch without another word.

If anyone noticed the distance between you and Alexia, they didn’t say anything. You were keeping up your fake smile and tried to be as positive as you could, so no one would question you about something being up.

Alexia on the other hand seemed less composed. You felt her gaze on you during the whole training session. She seemed hesitant with her interactions, wanting to approach you, but not wanting to over step. Which clearly she had done yesterday, even if she hadn’t known what caused that.

The training session seemed to go on forever and Alexia’s eyes on you weren’t making it go by any quicker. Once the session finally came to an end, you quickly made your way over to get out of there as fast as you could, but Alexia sniffed out your plan quick enough to interfere. 

She pulled you aside and kept walking away from the rest of the team. “Please can we talk now? If you need space, I will give you space, but I need to know what I did wrong.” You looked her in the eyes for the first time then and saw the hurt and vulnerability in them. 

“Fine.” You sighed, and stopped so you could talk properly. “What happened last night?” Her voice was soft, like she was on the verge of breaking down. You crossed your arms over your chest, “You really don’t know?”

“Cariño, please. If I knew what happened, I wouldn’t have stayed up all night worrying about you.” Her lip quivered, but she continued. “One minute we are fine, and the next you’re pushing me away. I don’t know what happened, I don’t understand.”

“The girl.” You said bitterly. “The girl you were so cosy with at the bar is what happened. Who was she, Alexia?” Her brows furrowed, trying to figure out which girl you meant. 

“Oh, cariño, no. That is not what you’re thinking. Lo siento, lo siento mucho.” Your arms were still crossed over your chest when Alexia took a small step towards you. “That was Maia, she’s been helping me plan a surprise for you.” 

“A surprise for me?” Alexia nodded instantly. “Sí, para ti. For our anniversary.” 

Tears started streaming down your face when it started to dawn on you. “The texts, and you being distant was all because you were planning a surprise?” Alexia nodded guiltily. “Sí cariño. But I am so sorry, I didn’t realise how it was looking from your end. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You finally uncrossed your arms and reached out for Alexia, who instantly pulled you in for a hug. “Lo siento.” She whispered into your ear over and over again as she held you close. 

While the comfort of her embrace was perfect, you still had to talk about what was going on in your head. “Alexia, I-” You stepped out of her hold. “I’ve been so scared. You know how I’ve never had a relationship longer than three years?” She nodded.

“Well, when you were starting to get distant, I thought the stupid curse was back to ruin us.” Alexia shook her head and brought you in closer again. “Cariño, no. I love you, and I don’t care about some stupid curse. I want you now and forever.” 

“But it felt like you didn’t want me anymore, like all we talked about was football. It was like there was no connection between us besides football.” Another tear rolled down your cheek. Alexia wiped it away instantly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I was making you feel this way. I was so focussed on planning the perfect surprise that I forgot to show you how much you mean to me everyday.”

“What can I do to make it up to you, cariño?” You let her pull you back in for another hug. “For starters, let’s pick up my stuff from Lauren’s so I can come back home. And then I need us to communicate better, and be more present in our relationship, even when our mind is elsewhere.” Alexia nodded along, “I promise. I never want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either.” You pecked her lips softly. “Come on, let’s get changed and pick up your stuff.”

She takes your hand and walks you back towards the training facility. “So, a surprise?” Alexia smiled and nodded, “Yeah, but I can totally tell you everything about it, if that will make things better. Just say the word.” You squeeze her hand, “I think it can stay a surprise, just don’t go all distant again, please.” 

She pulled your intertwined hands up to her lips and placed multiple kisses on the back of your hand, “Never again, cariño, never again.”

-----

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[sirfrogsworth]

sirfrogsworth please i am begging to know your boomer uncle’s thought process when he installed all those spam search bars what on earth was he TRUING to do

This was my Uncle Larry. He died in 2014 from a lifetime of smoking.

But while he was alive, he was what my grandma would refer to as "a character."

I feel like seeing his photo gives a partial explanation of the toolbar fiasco.

He was a man stuck in the 1960s but extremely curious about new things.

It was the early 2000s and I was trying to make some extra money. So when he was interested in getting a computer I offered to build him one from scratch.

What I didn't consider about this arrangement was that I was basically signing up to be my uncle's IT person. If something went wrong, it could possibly be due to a mistake I made.

He called me up complaining he couldn't see his websites and that the computer was running slower than normal.

I boot up his system and it takes 10 minutes to get to Windows. The desktop was filled with random programs he installed. And when I opened his web browser I was immediately greeted with a dozen pop up advertisements. Once I nuked them all, all of the different search toolbars were revealed. There was maybe a few inches of space for viewing websites and he had just been looking at photos a segment at a time for weeks before wondering if maybe it wasn't supposed to work like that.

I asked him why he installed all of this crap and he told me he didn't realize he had a choice. He just thought you had to say yes to everything that popped up on the screen. He also opened every spam email he received.

To make matters even worse, when he was searching for lewd pictures of Catherine Bell (aka the "JAG lady" with nice cans), he ended up on various softcore porn sites containing ever more dangerous pop up ads. And he clicked on all of those as well.

He loved the internet. It was a wonderland for such a curious person. He loved typing in random things and just reading and looking at pictures for hours. Aside from Maxim photos of TV celebrities, his searches were pretty innocent. He looked at old cars he used to own and lawnmowers he wanted to buy. He read old war stories and found websites helping him learn how to whittle walking sticks.

But he had no sense of danger. He had a Leroy Jenkins approach to life. He just sort of jumped into whatever without any fear or caution. Which is probably why my parents were so pissed at him when he offered 8 year-old me a ride on his new motorcycle. He immediately took me off-road and up a steep hill without a helmet or telling me to hold on. And it was a Harley, so not really meant for that terrain.

I tried a virus scan and it just said "You have every virus." So I had to nuke his Windows install from orbit. I then gave him computer lessons, which he paid me for, so that sort of worked out despite how frustrating it was to keep him from clicking on random things.

Uncle Larry taught me an important lesson.

Never tell your family you know about computers.

[cherubfae]

𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢𝔡 || {𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢}

tags: gn!reader, implied ftm!for Angie, established relationship, fluff, comfort, for anyone who has been too stressed or tired lately<3 let them carry you

Alastor

He lets out a deep sigh, staring down at you with slow blinks. "My love, surely that can't be comfortable for you" He has warned you time and time again not to spread yourself too thin with your tasks. Alastor appreciates how much of a good work ethic you have, but what is it worth if you don't have the strength to walk to your room? He picks you up as gently as he can, melding into shadow as he pops into your room. Carefully laying you down, Alastor will cover you up and with a gentle pat on your head before he takes his leave. Perhaps, next time he'll be tempted to rest beside you.

Lucifer

No wonder you hadn't answered him when he called your name. Here you were, fast asleep on his deep red chaise lounge using your folded arms as pillows. Lucifer picks you up bridal-style half-wishing you were awake so that you could see how strong he is! Another time, he thinks. Your rest is much more important than his ego (for now). "Sleep well, honey." He grins, wiggling beneath the sheets like an inch warm, his eyes sparkling with admiration. Placing a kiss to your head, Lucifer is quick to fall asleep.

Charlie

Honestly, she really does try her best not to squeal at the sight of you. You've been working insanely hard for the hotel-- it's no wonder you're so pooped out! She's careful with wiggling one arm beneath your back and hooking the other beneath your knees. She'll carry you to whichever room is closest: yours or hers. Maybe she'll be able to convince you to move into her suite soon. "Oh my gosh, aren't you just the cutest, honey?? I love you so much!"

Angel Dust

"Awww, sweets! Lookit ya! All tuckered out." He cooed in a hushed whisper, lightly booping your nose. His grin widens when it crinkles upwards. His middle set of arms pick you up, preferring to use his gloved ones to stroke back your hair softly. Leaning his cheek against your forehead, Angel carries you off to his room where an excited Fat Nuggets happily circles the bed in preparation for a lovely nap with his two favorite people.

Husk

Putting away the final glass beneath the bar's counter, his yellow eyes drift to your sleeping form at the end of the bar. You'd insisted on waiting for him to finish but all that work promoting the hotel on foot, searching for any sinners ready to be redeemed was a hard task. Husk fought back a smile. "You really do care about this stuff, dont'cha?" He asks despite knowing you won't answer. "Let's get ya to bed." Husk stretches his wings with a sigh before they fall slack. He lifts you into his arms and makes the trek up the stairs.

Blitzø

He'll bitch and groan about it, but he also won't let anyone else touch you when you're sleeping. Blitz will make some claims about how the person trying to touch you probably has cooties or a viral infection or something. Not happening. He's quick to scoop you up into his arms, eyes narrowed slightly, before scampering off to his room with you. "No, you don't get to fuckin' touch them with your gross unwashed hands, Moxxie-- yeah, that's right I saw you! We are living in post-Covid times, mister! Ack, no, leave 'em! I'll carry them just fine thank you!"

Loona

She smirks when she sees you. You look so sweet and cute, curled up into a ball. But that position can't be good on your spine, nor sleeping on Blitz's sad depression sofa. Loona bends down to lift you into her arms, pushing open her bedroom with her elbow and closing it shut with her foot. A nap with you sounded perfect. "You sure do look cute when you're tired, babe." She nuzzles your cheek with her nose.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[tofupixel]

uh. aseprite starter tips? i’m kinda lost

Aseprite Tips for Noobs !!

Get the software: Aseprite (the pixel software of all time) Video tutorial:

Aseprite Crash Course in 30 minutes by AdamCYounis If you already have it you can skip ahead to 'the workspace' timestamp in the video.

If you have ever used another art software, Aseprite will be familiar to you but all the keybinds will be messed up. You can go to edit > keyboard shortcuts, search what you're missing and rebind it to whatever you're used to.

Most important keybinds (to me):

Brush: B

Eraser: E

Undo: control + Z

Redo: control + Y

Quick colour picker: hold alt and click

New layer: shift + N

New frame: alt + N

Lasso select: Q

Quick outline: shift + O

Help! I pressed a button by accident and now I don't know how to fix it

These are a couple keybinds that are actually really useful for pros but a pain in the butt if you hit them while you're learning

Put the animation timeline back: tab

Undo snap to grid: shift + S

The window fills my screen and i cant see the pc bar: F11

The tools are gone: ctrl + F (might have to press it 2 times)

I can give some more advanced tips if anyone wants, but I dont want to overwhelm. If youre stuck there is official aseprite documentation where you can search for what you need. Or just ask me. Everything you have could possibly stuck on I have got stuck on it before 20 times.

Direct link to keybinds quick reference (keybinds are life

Take it slow and have fun! It will take a while to get used to everything but the software is amazing! Trust the process!

[moonstruckme]

May I request a dr Remus scolding reader for ignoring a broken toe?

I know it’s nothing major (which is nice sometimes). I often break my toe and just ignore it until it hurts a lot.

I think Remus would give a good little speech about taking care of things he love (reader)

Thank you!

I'm sorry, often??? Uhh hope you're doing okay lovely, thanks for requesting <3

cw: broken toe, no description

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 730 words

“Don’t touch it,” you hiss.

Remus looks over from where he’s holding your foot in his lap with a sardonic expression. “I thought it didn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t when you’re not touching it!” 

“Dove.” He wraps a hand around your ankle when you try to pull away, his touch one part soothing and two parts stern. “I’m going to have to touch it some, okay? Just breathe and let me know where it hurts.” 

You sit back against the couch cushions and try not to sulk. This is entrapment. Your know-it-all boyfriend hid the pain relievers just so you’d have to fess up to needing them when he caught you ransacking the bathroom, and now he’s making you submit to his know-it-all exam so you can have them. Entrapment and bribery. You should look into whether you can sue him for malpractice. 

“Ah!” You suck in a gasp. “There, it hurts there.” 

Remus stops touching your injured toe. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing the bottom of your foot consolingly. “I hate to tell you, but this isn’t a sprain. Sprains don’t hurt to the touch like this.” 

Oh, you’ll bet he hates to tell you. Told-you-so are Remus’ favorite words. 

“But it’s so much easier if it’s a sprain,” you whine. “It could still just be bruised. I read online that those feel almost indistinguishable from breaks.” 

“Oh, you read it online, did you?” Remus manages to get enough eye-roll into his voice that he doesn’t even need to follow through on the action. You must look even poutier than you intend, because he cracks, grinning at you indulgently. He beckons with a hand. “Give me your other foot.” 

You blink. Raise your eyebrows at him. “What do you want with it? I think you have enough of my feet there already.” 

“It’s for comparison, dove.” 

“Sure it is.” You lift your other foot onto his lap. “Pervert.” 

Remus’ tongue pokes into his cheek, suppressing a different sort of grin. He grasps your good foot and digs his thumb into the ticklish part cruelly, making you squeal and kick at him. “You’re the pervert,” he says placidly, pinning your foot until you settle down. “Look here, see?” 

You lean forward tentatively, the end of a giggle still fizzing in your chest. 

“The toe on this foot is a little curved, but that one’s definitely worse.” He tugs on your good toe as if to demonstrate. “They were probably the same before you broke it.” 

You sigh, resigned. “I don’t want it to be broken, though. Then it’s, like, a whole thing.” 

Remus makes a sorry face at you. He lifts your injured foot, kissing the side. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

“Well,” you say, eyeing him, “at least you can stop touching my feet now.” 

“This one, yes.” He unhands your good foot. “But this one, I think I need to keep an eye on.” 

You cross your arms, suspicious. Never mind that his lap is a very comfortable footrest. “And why’s that?” 

“Because I take care of the things that are important to me.” He cuts a look your way. “Some of us don’t seem to do the same.” 

“Ugh,” you laugh, ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks, “you’re the worst, you know that?” 

“Yeah, dovey, I know.” He smiles down at his phone, keeping one hand wrapped securely around your ankle while the other thumbs something into the search bar. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Making you an appointment for tomorrow morning. We have a podiatrist at my work, I’ll go with you.” 

You frown. “Do I really have to go to your office so someone else can tell me what you just did?” 

This time, Remus does roll his eyes. You poke him with your good foot to let him know you saw. “Yes, you do. They could help it heal faster, and I know you’ll listen better if they tell you to rest it than if I tell you.” 

“I listen to you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He looks over at you interestedly. “I told you to rest it when you hurt it two days ago. How’s it feeling now?” 

You look away from his gaze. “Coddled,” you mutter. 

Remus chuckles. He leans sideways, bumping your nose with his until you oblige him with a kiss. “If that’s what it takes, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m happy to coddle you.”

[secriden]

Wild take, but when Style says, "It's okay to love," I really don't think it's actually about love at all.

Let's consider the context leading up to this point: Fadel drives Style to an abandoned factory in the woods and leaves him alone to go and brood for a while. At least part of Fadel's goal is to scare Style, to give him a hint that Fadel is more dangerous than he seems.

But Style doesn't back down, doesn't go running, evidences no sense of self-preservation or worry; and at least on some level it's a clear sign that he trusts Fadel. Despite Fadel literally punching him in the stomach; despite Fadel mocking Style's honest and wanton desire; despite Fadel chasing him away, he still trusts Fadel to keep him safe.

Imagine how frustrated Fadel must be feeling. Style was only gone for one morning, but it was enough for Fadel to become painfully aware that he did not actually want Style gone from his life. He knows now that he won't have the strength to keep refusing Style's relentless pursuit, so he needs Style to be the one to walk away from him instead.

And I think this was a final, last-ditch attempt to make Style run away.

Notice that Fadel starts out rather threatening: "I don't like you messing up my life. My life has been planned out. You're disrupting it." At this point, Fadel could have still turned this violent; attack Style and leave him injured in an abandoned warehouse, and I'm not sure that wasn't still on Fadel's mind at this point. He's incredibly aggressive at first: shoving Style back against the bar, caging Style in between his rigid arms, rattling the metal frame behind Style to show his anger.

But oh, in the heat of the moment, the truth slips out. Fadel is admitting that Style has the power to bring change into his highly regimented and structured life. He's admitting that his desire to keep Style in his life has eclipsed his need for control and structure, in spite of himself.

The truth breaks Fadel open in ways that none of Style's machinations and schemes could. He finally recognises that it is his own feelings that are the true cause of his anger and frustration.

This is the point when Fadel finally gives up on the idea of hurting Style to chase him away. His voice softens (Joong's delivery of "I miss you" makes me weep), his shoulders finally relax, he stops caging Style against the bar and instead it's almost a tentative suggestion of a desire to hold Style.

And I think Style understood this on some instinctive level. Because if you watch Style very carefully, there's a moment of genuine fear when Fadel first shoves him against the bar and then he takes a grim breath like he's fighting off a sense of despair at the at the start of Fadel's rant. Like he could tell this one was going to be a 'make or break' kind of situation.

But when Fadel begins to unravel, when he admits that he was looking for Style when he was gone, there's this almost hopeful, anticipatory look that slowly blooms on Style's face. He's so hungry to see where this goes, and he's gets this intense almost wild look on his face when Fadel pauses to search for his words.

It's incredibly important that Style waited at this point. Style, who talks endlessly and without thought. Style, who demands that his story and his thoughts are aired first. Style, who has been telling Fadel this lie time and time again before Fadel’s feelings made it true... Stops. Waits. Stays silent. Because Fadel had to get there himself or not at all.

Dunk does something incredibly subtle here, but it blew me away: Style does not blink once throughout the entirety of Fadel's rant UNTIL he says "I don't like that I miss you". And that's when Style finally blinks as if it’s finally safe to take his eyes off Fadel. As if there's a wave of relief washing over him as the tension (and sense of danger) finally breaks.

He also does this incredible thing where he softens the look he's giving Fadel right before he drops his eyes down to Fadel's lips. (Joong has always been excellent at this, but Dunk didn’t really get that many opportunities to do this in previous roles). Style is treating this moment so carefully, and there's a purposefulness to this kiss that was entirely absent from the ones Style initiated in the locker room in episode 2.

I also think it's really important that Style was the one to kiss Fadel here. Not just because it juxtaposes the kiss in the store room, but also because Style has shown a strong preference for Fadel taking the initiative. He has been consistently creating opportunities for Fadel to lay hands on him, right from episode 1 when he put the Heart Burger pin on his chest and put his arms behind his head in welcome (and surrender).

But for this to be a functional relationship, Style has to take ownership of his own desire for Fadel. He cannot remain physically passive any longer, because this is the start of something bigger than just the thrill of being wanted. Style is looking beyond what he wants, potentially for the first time, to what his partner needs.

And I wonder, is this maybe the first time Fadel has allowed himself to be kissed since his ex left? There's something so fragile in the wide-shot. The way Fadel only has one hand barely touching Style's hip, while he's still got his other hand clenched tightly around the metal bar like he's desperately holding onto a lifeline. I have so many emotions about this.

Which is why I think this line wasn't really about love at all. This was Style responding to the vulnerability he sees in Fadel and offering reassurance in return. Because Fadel is strong and doesn't need protection, but oh yes he does, for it is his heart that is in danger of shattering.

There's an incredible line in episode 13 of Love In The Air, when Sky (in the aftermath of an extremely traumatic event and after finally revealing the full truth that he was sure would drive Prapai away) turns to Prapai and asks, "P'Pai, can I really love you?" Sky is asking if his fragile heart is really going to be safe in Prapai's hands.

And I think this is exactly what Style is getting at here: He's telling Fadel It's okay to love me. That Style is safe to love. That Fadel can take the risk to let Style into his heart because Style isn't going to take it lightly.

And it's this reassurance that finally allows Fadel to let go: both figuratively (as he starts to take control of the kiss and the encounter) and literally (as he transfers his hold from the metal bar to Style's body). Even the contrast in the wider shots between the kiss before Style says "It's okay to love" and after is startling.

This wasn't really a love confession, not in the conventional understanding of it. But for Fadel, who's mother "loves" Bison and himself for their utility and usefulness, perhaps the assurance of safety is more important.

And for Style, who seems so naive and inexperienced and ignorant of the way the world works in ways that suggest he's never truly had to grow up, this is far more significant. Because he's taking responsibility of someone else's heart for the first time in a way that I don't think he's ever allowed himself before. I said before that Style would be forced to grow up and I do believe this is what we are seeing here.

So no, I don't think this was the moment of "falling in love" but I do think this was the start of something real and meaningful and purposeful that could have eventually blossomed into love for the both of them.

[hopepetal]

This story is set in @applestruda's boatem knights au! I've wanted to write something with Gem for a while, so here it is!

Masterlist

Read on AO3!

It’s been so long since her last bounty, and Gem is itching for a fight. 

This much, she tells Cleo while watching the armorer work on their newest project. Gem’s frequent visits had allowed the two to grow close over the course of her bounty hunting career, to the point where it wasn’t always business that brought her there. Sometimes, it was just for casual conversation, or just because Gem was bored or passing through the area. 

Cleo raises an eyebrow, not looking up from her work. “Tell you what,” she begins, turning the chest plate slightly so that it could catch the light, “it’s all well and good that you want a fight until you get yourself caught up in one you can’t win.” 

Gem scoffs at that as she leans against the counter. “Oh, I never lose. You don't need to worry about me, Cleo.”

“That’s what Etho kept saying, before you chopped his damn head off.” 

Rolling her eyes, Gem flicks her braid behind her shoulder. “That was Etho. And, as you clearly haven’t forgotten, I was the one who did the chopping there. So thanks, but I think I’m good.”

Cleo chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Just return here in one piece, alright? I can’t be losing my best customer.”

Gem sets her elbows on the counter, leaning forward with a cheery grin. “Best customer and best friend?” 

“Get out.”

And so Gem finds herself wandering back to the kingdom of Dogwarts, in search of work and a fight. Maybe both. For her, it usually was. It’s why she chose this path of employment, of course– one didn’t just stumble into becoming a bounty hunter. Unless they were particularly skilled at said stumbling, of course. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s been in the bustling kingdom, and the stark difference between the outer lands and the kingdom always amazes her. She knew that the kingdom boasted the most prestigious redstone academy in the continent, but it’s another thing entirely to see that in action. 

Compared to the sparse population of the outer lands, the kingdom is a bustling city full of people. They continue to add on new developments each year, the construction drawing even more people to the kingdom for work on top of the people already moving in. It was certainly a far cry from the occasional village Gem stumbled upon in the outer lands.

The other difference that really stood out to her was the difference in how prevalent magic was. In the outer lands, magic is everywhere– from daily tasks to impressive feats, it was impossible to go one day without seeing some sort of spell. In the kingdom, it’s a lot more common to see redstone inventions being used in place of magic, though magic is still used. It was much more noticeable to Gem, who travels back and forth frequently between the two extremes. 

It wasn’t long before Gem ends up making her way into the local tavern, the place where she found most of the jobs she took. It’s rowdy as ever, and she finds herself missing the quiet of her friend’s tavern. Nevertheless, she quickly finds her usual seat and orders her usual drink, greeting the bartender with a tired smile. 

“Anything new?” she asks after a few minutes, when the bartender wasn’t so swamped with orders. 

The bartender shrugs. “Not really? But there was something that caught my eye.” They set down their glass for a moment and duck below the bar, grabbing a paper and placing it in front of Gem. “An older one, but it’s resurfaced recently with everyone cleaning out all the more urgent ones.” With that, the bartender gives her a pointed look, to which she responds with a laugh. “Anyway. A runaway who destroyed a very important lab of the king and escaped on foot with precious redstone and technology. He’s assumed to be armed and very dangerous.”

Gem pulls the paper to her, looking it over closely. It seemed to be an average bounty– especially for who had put it out. The man’s face is inked in an artistic depiction of him beneath his ‘WANTED’ notice and list of crimes. What most stands out to her is his incredibly sharp mustache and scruffy beard. “Mm… I see. And this was put out by the king’s advisor himself? I’m surprised it’s gone unclaimed for so long.”

The bartender shrugs, continuing to go about their job as they converse with Gem. “I think most people were daunted by the task. That, and those who tried to find this man simply couldn’t. He’s a slippery fellow, so I’ve been told.”

Gem laughs, her eyes not leaving the man’s inked face. “Well, I’ve been told I have quite the talent for catching those who hide in the shadows.” Quite literally, if she thought back to her last big job. Which, while it had technically ended in success, isn’t really something she wants to go through again. 

Gem had not signed up for magical creatures that revived when you cut off their heads. A simple redstone thief with a penchant for explosions? Yeah, she had this one in the bag. 

“I’ll take it,” she tells the bartender, folding up the paper and sticking it into her bag. “Sounds like a fun little job.” 

The bartender chuckles, shaking their head. “How long do you think this one’s going to take you?” they ask, already knowing Gem’s answer. 

“A month, tops.” She says this with the same confident smile that she always wears when going out on jobs. “Any more than that, and I owe you a drink.”

The bartender throws a towel over their shoulder, laughing. “Well, can’t wait for that to never happen. I’m sure you’ll be back even sooner than we expect as usual, with a story to tell.”

Finishing her drink, Gem stands back up. “I never disappoint,” she promises, sliding the payment for her drink over the table. “I’ll see you then! And thanks for the tip!” she calls, making her way out of the tavern.

It was time to go hunt down a redstoner. 

It actually isn't as hard as she thought. 

The man– Mumbo, his name is– has made a name for himself in the outer lands to the North. Gem can't help but be a little surprised. She's never had a bounty with such mixed public opinion; some people absolutely love him, while others want his head to roll. 

“That man?” Someone had scoffed when she asked, shaking their head. “Void below, I can't stand him. He's a genius, sure, but the noise he makes!” They had clicked their tongue disapprovingly. “And when I complained about it and asked him to be a little more quiet, he threw bricks through my window!”

Another person– a young woman– had a dreamy expression when Gem asked her about Mumbo. “He's such a cute knight! One time, he helped me get my cat down from a tree…” 

Her friend had raised an eyebrow. “Clara, he climbed up into the tree and fell off of it. Your cat got down all on her own.”

Clara hadn't responded, lost in her daydreaming.

The more she asks around, the more mixed answers she receives. 

Gem couldn't help but laugh at that. This bounty would be interesting, if nothing else. 

She finds the camp easily enough. All she has to do is ask where the knights are, and she's pointed in the right direction. It's almost a full day on foot– she leaves her horse at the nearest village to be more stealthy. 

It’s getting colder out. The leaves are beginning to shift from green to yellow and orange, sparks of red standing out amongst the others. Gem’s feet crunch against the ground as she travels down the path, hands stuck in her pockets to keep them warm. 

She’s been wandering around the area for about a week now, gathering intel on the group. From what she can tell, they’re a close group of four friends: Impulse, Grian, Scar, and her target, Mumbo. She doesn’t get close enough to really hear them talking. She’d heard of avians’ enhanced hearing and doesn’t want to take her chances with getting too close. If the stories she’d heard were true, she didn’t want to get caught by these guys. Especially given what she was here to do.

At one point, she got a little closer to the camp to listen in on a conversation. She had an extra invisibility potion, and she figured she could put it to use for this job. Though she knew enough about the so-called “knights”, more information couldn’t hurt. 

The one with brown hair and a very stabbable chest– his name is Scar, she recalls– leans against Grian, the avian of the group. “So, the plan is to head out tomorrow?”

Impulse nods. “Yep. You’re good to stay behind to keep Pearl company, Mumbo?”

Mumbo leans forward, his hands folded in front of him on the table. He looks so polite when he speaks that Gem can hardly believe he’s a hardened criminal. “Of course! I’ll make sure she doesn’t get too lonely.”

Gem frowns at that, but quickly shakes away the uncertainty. If there was another person here, she would’ve seen them by now. Pearl is probably the dog that was prowling around the camp.

Grian sighs and pushes Scar off him, standing up. “Well, I’m absolutely shattered, so I’m going to bed. We gotta get up early if we’re gonna be traveling tomorrow.” He looks up, gaze sweeping over the knights and then around the camp. 

At the same time, the wind shifts, and Scar stiffens. His eyes meet Gem’s. Gem sucks in a breath, and has to check to make sure her invisibility potion is still working. 

It is, but it doesn’t stop her from shivering as Scar’s gaze lingers, then pulls away.

After a moment, Scar stands, putting on a fake pouty face. “Aww, okay. Goodnight, G! Night, Impulse. Night, Mumbo!” 

A chorus of goodnights echoes from the group, and Gem slips away unnoticed. 

The forest is anything but quiet at night. Gem is safe up in the trees, and sleep comes easy to her after years of travel, but she remembers her first year of adventuring and the hellish noises that kept her up for hours.

A skeleton rattles below. Further away, a zombie groans. Gem leans against the tree and closes her eyes.

Gem rises with the sun and to the rhythmic sound of horse hooves against well-packed dirt. She exhales, breath turning to fog, before stretching. She turns her head to the side, tracking the sound of hooves. Only when it fades off into the distance does she untie herself from the branch and jump down, finally able to stretch fully.

She takes an hour or two to wake up and gather all her things. It’s almost midday by the time she sheathes her sword after warming up and begins her trek to the camp. It likely won’t come down to a fight, from what she knows about Mumbo, but one can never be too careful. She knows not to underestimate an enemy.

It is somewhat pathetic that she’s able to walk up right behind him without him even noticing, but Gem chalks that up to her being very good at her job.

“Hey there, Mumbo!” she greets, and can’t help but laugh as he shrieks and falls over backwards. “Oop, careful! Don’t hurt yourself.”

Mumbo scrambles back and to his feet, looking up at Gem with wide eyes. “What– what on earth– who are you?! How do you know my name?”

Gem tilts her head to the side, keeping the smile on her face. “I’m Gem. Nice to meet you.” She takes a step forward. “King Ren placed a bounty on your head, and I’m here to collect! Do you want to come with me willingly, or…?” She places a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Mumbo pales. “Well, look, okay, there’s been a misunderstanding!” He holds his hands up as he steps back, eyes darting around wildly. “There’s no need for violence! I’m a very peace loving guy! Peace, love, and plants, y’know!”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “By force, then! That’s cool!” She draws her sword.

Mumbo does what any average person would do– scream, then run away.

Gem, of course, chases. It’s easy enough to catch up to Mumbo and trip him, sending the taller man falling to the ground with another shriek. She quickly puts her sword to Mumbo’s throat, and he freezes.

“...please don’t kill me?” he asks after a moment, chest heaving as he stares up at her. “I don’t, I won’t lie to you, I don’t particularly want to die?” 

Gem laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not going to kill you. I just need to bring you back to the king so I can collect your bounty!” She pulls her sword away, twirling it in her hand. “Whatever happens to you after is on him, not me.” She tilts her head. “Also, didn't you have a beard?”

Mumbo blinks. “What? No, I– hold on, a beard?! I know they always get my mustache wrong, but a beard? And what do you mean, a bounty?”

Gem puts her sword back at Mumbo’s throat. “I think they have to hire a new portrait artist. Anyway! I need to take you to the King, so I can get paid, and you can be brought to justice, et cetera.”

“But we can talk about this!” Mumbo pleads. “Surely I could pay you or something, I have quite a lot of things, I–!”

The only warning Gem is given is Mumbo’s gaze darting to the side. Someone slams into her, sending her stumbling away.

Gem turns and sweeps her sword out in time to block the blade of a scythe. The impact jars both her and her attacker, giving Gem enough time to reorient herself.

The woman straightens up, and her fever-clouded eyes focus on Gem. Her wings are flared out, displaying eyespots that stare down at Gem. “Why are ya messin’ with my knights?” 

From where he’s fallen, Mumbo yelps, “Pearl!”

Ah. So this is the Pearl they had been talking about. Gem curses herself for making assumptions, then tightens her grip on her sword and grins. “You wanna fight? Fantastic!” 

Pearl lets out a sharp breath, and Gem doesn’t fail to notice how her hands tremble slightly holding her scythe. “Not very fair of you to attack Mumbo while he’s all alone, don't ya think?”

Gem laughs as she shifts into a fighting stance. “I’d say it’s more fair than a 2v1!”

“I’m staying out of this!” Mumbo interjects, continuing to back away. “Good luck, Pearl!”

Pearl tilts her head. “That fair enough for you?” She doesn’t wait for Gem to answer, folding her wings tight against her back and lunging for her. 

It’s been a while since Gem’s had a good fight. Since Etho, she thinks, though the fight with him had been made interesting by his strange abilities with shadows and ice. Pearl isn't using any magic– it's pure skill that Gem is fighting against, and it's been a while since she's fought anyone like this. 

As the fight goes on, though, it becomes more clear to Gem just how unfocused Pearl is. By the looks of it, she'd just rolled out of bed when Mumbo screamed. Gem shakes away any doubts about fighting someone who is clearly ill as she blocks a strike that would've taken her arm off. 

“Wow!” she exclaims, ducking and stepping to the side as Pearl's scythe sweeps over her, “you're really going all out, huh?” 

Pearl laughs in response to that, as if they were two friends sparring for fun. “You were attacking my Mumbo! ‘course I'm goin’ all out!”

Gem swings out with her sword again, catching Pearl's leg with her blade. “Your Mumbo is a wanted criminal!”

Pearl yelps and stumbles back. She holds out her scythe in a defensive position.

Gem takes a moment to catch her breath, staring at Pearl. “It'd be best if you just hand Mumbo over! I promise I won't hurt him!”

Pearl shakes her head. “Absolutely not, mate! Mumbo is family!” 

Gem shrugs. “Your grave, then!” 

She lunges. 

The fight has a sort of rhythm to it. Gem lunges, Pearl blocks. Pearl slices with her scythe, Gem dodges. The rhythm is only broken by Pearl occasionally stumbling– which Gem takes advantage of to strike out and nick Pearl. She's never able to make too deep a cut, and Pearl gets her back plenty of times, but she lands enough hits to start feeling much better about her chances of winning. 

...and then she's on the ground, dew soaking into her clothes as she lies there. Her sword is gone, fallen out of her hand in the struggle. 

She looks up at Pearl, who stands above her. Her cheeks are reddened by exertion and fever, her hair is cascading over her shoulders in messy waves, and most infuriatingly there is a smile on her lips even as she holds her scythe to Gem's throat. 

Gem doesn't move. She waits, with bated breath, for Pearl to kill her.

Instead, Pearl sheathes her scythe and bends down, holding out a hand. “There ya go, mate, let's get you back on your feet.”

Gem blinks. “What?”

Pearl tilts her head in confusion. “I'm helping you up. Did you hit your head?”

Gem frowns. “No, I just– why aren't you killing me?” She takes Pearl’s hand anyway.

Pearl raises an eyebrow, pulling Gem to her feet. “Would you have killed me if I lost?” She grins when Gem shakes her head. “Thought so.”

Mumbo peeks out from the tree he hid behind, giving Pearl a little wave. “You don't want to kidnap me anymore?”

Gem groans, grabbing her bloodied sword and wiping it on the grass before sheathing it. “I miscalculated. Thought you were alone and Pearl was the big dog I saw wandering around camp. Turns out, I was wrong.”

Pearl laughs. “Tilly! No, no, she's my lovely puppy.”

“Wolf,” Mumbo corrects quietly, “she's a wolf, Pearl.” 

Pearl shrugs, then looks over at Gem. “Well, if you’re gonna stick around, we have some soup I can heat up? You can tell us all about why you’re here, and maybe I’ll be able to give ya somethin’ for your time.”

Gem lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. Sure. Sure, why not. This day couldn’t get any more crazy, I think.”

Mumbo, who had slowly been inching closer to the two while they were talking, is quick to grab Pearl when she tries to walk and stumbles. “Pearl! Wait, hold on, I’ll help you over, but you have got to sit down after that. I’ll heat up the soup and get you some bandages.” 

“Alright, alright…” Pearl slings an arm over Mumbo’s shoulders, and gestures for Gem to follow them. “Oof, that took a lot out of me, actually.” She glances back at Gem. “You’re good. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Gem snorts, following them across the camp. “I could ask you the same question. You’re insane.” 

Mumbo helps Pearl sit down on the bench. Gem hesitates, then takes the seat across from Pearl, watching as Mumbo grabs a large covered container of soup. “Honestly,” he says, “Pearl’s one of the strongest people I know. Everyone here is, but Pearl and Impulse–” he laughs, putting the container on what looks to be a type of redstone warming gadget– “they’re incredible.” 

Pearl giggles. “Aww, Mumbo! You’re too kind, mate.” She closes her eyes and lets out a breath. “You mind gettin’ those bandages? I’m startin’ to feel a little hurt here.”

Gem grimaces. “My bad! You got me good in a few places too, though.”

Pearl nods, giving Gem a bright smile. “Dang right I did! Mumbo, can you get some extra bandages for our new friend here?”

Mumbo nods, bending down to open a different wooden container and pulling out some bandages and a dry towel. “Her name’s Gem, by the way. Introduced herself to me before chasing me down.” 

“That’s nice,” Pearl quips, “good to let your victims know who they have the pleasure of bein’ killed by, at the very least.”

Gem blushes. “I wasn’t going to kill him! Honestly! I was just going to bring him back to King Ren, and even then he was probably just gonna be put in jail or something!”

Mumbo sits next to Pearl and begins to dab at the cuts with the towel. “I don’t really want to go to jail?” He hands a roll of bandages and a towel to Gem, who begins to take care of her own wounds.

“We’d break you out,” Pearl assures him, then turns to look at Gem. “Right. This bounty, tell me about it? You said King Ren put it out?”

Gem glances at Mumbo. “Honestly, I think it’d be better hearing it from his side, first. I wasn’t there for the whole reason the bounty was placed.”

Mumbo looks up from where he was wrapping Pearl’s wounds. “Oh! Well, uh, you see. So, I guess, I accidentally blew up one of his labs? I was making something, can’t really remember what it was, and well. Kaboom! Blew it all to smithereens, unfortunately. And because I wasn’t really supposed to be there, they didn’t really have a lot of sympathy for me.” He grabs Pearl’s hand and pulls her other arm up so he can tend to the wounds on it. “So! I ran!”

“Are our things at risk of blowing up, then?” Pearl asks, looking pointedly at the redstone machine that was warming up the soup. Her wings flutter slightly. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Probably not. I mean, I’m much more careful now. I don’t use things until I’m like… 99% sure they won’t blow up.”

Gem raises an eyebrow. “That’s a whole 1% of uncertainty.”

Pearl laughs, pulling her arm back once Mumbo finishes bandaging up her cuts. “Better than 2%! I’ll take it.” 

Mumbo hands Pearl the roll of bandages and stands up to check on the soup. It must be done, because he carefully takes the container off the heating gadget and grabs some bowls and spoons from yet another wooden container. After rifling through the container for another minute, he pulls out a ladle with a triumphant sound and stands back up. “Soup’s ready!”

Once the soup is ladled into every bowl and placed on the table, Mumbo sits back down. “You alright, Pearl?” he murmurs, to which Pearl nods. 

“Just a lil dizzy,” she responds, “but that’s– probably fine. I should get back to bed soon, probably.”

“Eat your soup first, at least.” Mumbo looks up at Gem. “And, well, I guess we should hear your side of this whole thing, huh?”

Gem sighs, taking a sip of her soup before leaning back. “Well, I was looking for another job and yours came up. I figured it’d be pretty easy to grab you and bring you back to the King, and then I’d be set for the next couple months with the reward.” She laughs softly. “To be honest, I didn’t even think I was going to have to fight.”

Mumbo makes a sad noise. “I would’ve fought back!” he protests, “you just startled me!”

“Oh, I’m sure you would’ve!” Gem agrees. “You just would’ve lost.”

Pearl chuckles. “Be nice to Mumbo! He’s a very skilled tactician.” She has some more soup before leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table. “What are your plans now?”

Gem shrugs. “I wasn’t hired for this job, so it doesn’t really matter if I complete it or not. The money would’ve been nice, but my reputation won’t take a blow because of this.” She thinks for a moment, humming softly in contemplation. “Honestly, I might just spend a while up around here to see if any of the nearby villages have jobs for me, if anything. Or I might head to the city to look for more bounties.” She eats some more soup. It’s very good, made with potatoes and bacon and cheese, and it’s slightly spicy nature has her feeling warm despite the cold autumn weather.

 “Oh! Speaking of, you’re going to want to keep an eye on this guy–” She gestures at Mumbo– “for a bit, or speak to King Ren about his bounty. Otherwise, some other hunter who isn’t as nice as me might pick up his bounty.” 

Mumbo’s eyes widen. “Well. I don’t really want that to happen!”

Pearl nods. “Yeah, that makes sense… I’ll speak with the others when they get back and we’ll see about making a trip there. If that’s okay with you?” She directs the question to Mumbo, who holds up his hands and shakes his head.

“I dunno! Do whatever you think is best, mate. It would be nice to get the bounty off my head so we don’t have to worry about people coming to camp.” Mumbo looks a little downtrodden as he speaks, crossing his arms and looking away. “I mean, look at what happened. You’re hurt, and Grian’s probably going to rip my arm off for it!”

Gem inhales sharply. “I might want to head out then, if you have a friend who’s gonna react like that…”

Pearl laughs. “No, Mumbo’s joking– Grian can’t and won’t do that, not to Mumbo. And even if he wanted to do that to someone, I still don’t think he could.” She finishes her soup and leans against Mumbo. “It might be good for you to skedaddle before everyone gets back, though. We can introduce you at another time, when you haven’t just injured me while I’m ill and supposed to be resting.”

Mumbo chuckles nervously, letting Pearl lean against him. “Yeahhh… I can’t imagine that’ll go down too well with the others. Even if you are friendly now.”

Gem takes the last bite of her soup, and sets her spoon in the bowl. “I can’t imagine it would, I really can’t. Thank you for the soup and bandages, but–”

Before she’s able to finish speaking, Pearl jumps up from the table. “Wait! Hold on, I have something for you.” She takes a few steps away, then turns back and grabs Mumbo’s hand. “Sorry, taking this guy with me– still don’t really trust you. Stay right there!”

Gem waves her hand, slightly confused. “That’s fair! I’ll be here.” 

They return after a few minutes, with Pearl holding a few things in her arms. “Right! Here’s a pouch of some gold and iron coins, to cover at least a little of the bounty. And this–” She sets down a piece of parchment on the table– “this is moth mail. It’s a special thing I made a while back. Just write a letter, tap the little sigil drawn on the top corner, and it’ll get to me! You can use that to contact me if you need, or if you’re in the area.”

Gem blinks. “Wow! Oh, gosh, thank you? I gotta know, though, how come you’re being so nice to me? I was going to turn Mumbo over to the King.”

Pearl shrugs. “I mean, you’ve been chill after that, so why hold grudges? Gotta make friends where ya can.” She straightens back up. “Really! Feel free to come back any time, as long as you let me know first. If you don’t, I might assume you’ve come to collect some other bounty we don’t know about and fight you again.”

Gem laughs as she stands up, taking the pouch of coins and parchment paper. “Wouldn’t want that to happen, for sure!” She takes a step back. “Well, thank you both for the kindness… and entertainment, I suppose. This morning was certainly an interesting one.”

Mumbo smiles nervously. “Yeah, I agree. It was nice, uh, meeting you? And not getting kidnapped by you? And not being put in jail. Yeah.”

Gem only laughs louder at that. “Yeah, I’m glad I could contribute to things you’re grateful for.” She takes a breath, looking between Mumbo and Pearl. “Well. I’ll be heading out, then. Thanks for the coin and the paper.”

Pearl leans against Mumbo, who is doing his best to steady her. “No worries, mate! Have fun with… whatever you’re going to do!”

As Gem starts walking back toward the forest, she just barely hears Pearl mumble, “I need to pass out right now,” to Mumbo. 

Gem pays the stable manager for taking care of her horse with some of the money Pearl gave her. Honestly, she’s still a little shocked over how the whole ordeal went down, but hey; at least she still got paid. 

“And I got some new friends out of it, too,” she tells her horse as she rides off into the forest. “So that’s a plus!” 

She isn’t quite sure what she’s going to tell the bartender when she inevitably returns, but she’ll figure something out. For now, she’s good to look for her next bounty– wherever it might be.

[joansjusticiar]

Consecration | Grayson x F!Reader

Summary: Grayson gets needy after a certain someone flirts with you at a gala. Or, service top! Grayson with a breeding kink. 18+

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Finally finished my @arcanefans4gaza piece for @linbeifongismywife . Hope you enjoy!

Every annum Piltover holds a gala, inviting ambassadors and rulers from every nation; a way to enhance trade and strengthen relationships Grayson has told you once. Grayson was invited solely due to her status and sheriff and you, her wife, invited as her plus one. She had bought you a deep, sapphire blue dress for the occasion- a perfect complement to her suit of the same shade.

You had lost Grayson somewhere in the crowd a little while ago, it wasn’t as if your presence would be missed by the elite, so you enjoyed the moment of solitude by the bar. Your eyes watched the scarlet liquid swirling around in your glass, before raising to scan the room for your lover once more.

Although, your search was disrupted faster than it had started when a rich voice greeted you. You turned, then, to peer at the woman who had disturbed you. A burly woman twice your size towered over you, dark eyes watching you, sizing you up as if you were mere prey. She grinned at you, a lazy, wolfish grin that had you faltering slightly.

“Hello. And you are?” You questioned lightly, hoping she wouldn’t get offended at you not knowing her name.

“Medarda.” She replied, extending her hand towards yours. Although her hands were more like that to a bear's paws rather than human. “Ambessa Medarda.”

“Ah right. You must be Councillor Medarda’s mother?” How could she not be, they radiated the same energy.

“That’s right. And you?”

“Oh, nobody of importance really. I’m here with my wife.” You explained, hoping that the mention of your wife would get her to back off.

“I don’t see your wife anywhere. What kind of woman leaves a pretty lady, such as yourself, all on her lonesome?”

You glanced around the room once more, desperately trying to spot Grayson amongst the masses of people. Her eyes locked onto yours, smiling slightly before her gaze locked onto Ambessa. Grayson’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, not enough for anybody to notice, but you weren’t just anybody.

“Interesting.”

“What?” You replied, forgetting your manners for the time being. Your patience with the warlord was swiftly thinning. Why couldn’t she just take the hint that you weren’t interested?

She just hummed at you, the corners of her mouth lifting up into an all knowing smirk. You scoffed slightly at her antics. How could one woman be so insufferable? Grayson was making her way towards you, parting the sea of bodies that kept you separated with her presence alone.

You couldn’t help but smile softly at your wife’s approaching form; believe it or not, you had missed her dearly in the mere moments that you were apart. Her hair had recently been cut, falling just above her the tip of ears, the odd strand of grey contrasting against her mass of inky hair, in a way that somehow accentuated her handsome features even more.

“Gray.” You breathed in relief once she settled by your side, her hand snaking around you before it rested over your stomach. Her nose brushed against the side of your head in greeting, a smile of her own casted right back at you.

Ambessa cleared her throat to gain your and Grayson’s attention. Grayson looked at her then, her eyebrow raised in question. That sly grin contorting her mouth upwards once more.

“Sheriff Grayson,” she drawled, a hint of mockery underlying her saccharine sweet tone. “It’s always a pleasure to see you. Although, I’m afraid it is my first time laying eyes upon your sweet wife.”

Grayson chuckled lowly, a gravelly rumble that caused your cheeks to heat with a soft flush as soon as you heard it. Countless years married and her voice still had that effect on you. “Yes well, you’re usually too busy… what do you say? ‘Sampling the local cuisine’ to pay much attention at these events.”

Ambessa laughed at that, loud and boisterous. You cringed slightly as those near you forwent their mindless chatter in order to zero their eyes upon your group. Medarda didn’t seem to mind though and Grayson stood stoically at your side. Perhaps your lack of exposure to the public eye made you more vulnerable to the judgement of others.

You tuned out the rest of the conversation. Instead focussing on the steady beat of Grayson’s heart beneath your ear. Her hand unoccupied by her glass of whisky drew mindless circles into the flesh of your hip as she continued her, albeit unwanted, conversation with Ms Medarda.

A tug on your arm drew you back to the present. Steely grey eyes looked down at you through hooded eyelids, a pleasant smile curved upwards on her face. She whispered, low in your ear, her rumbling voice sending shivers down your spine. You found yourself agreeing, although you can’t exactly be certain about what you had just agreed to. But, Grayson was your wife and you would agree to anything when it came to her.

Her large hand clasped your own, grip firm but soft; pulling enough to get you moving but gentle enough not to harm you. Once again, the sea of bodies parted for her and you found yourself enraptured with the sheer confidence your wife oozed. Out here she was respected, feared even, the residents of Piltover quaked in her stead; her hard gaze was enough to shut anyone up instantly, but with you, with you she was stripped bare. Her emotions were yours to see, yours to cherish and the kind look in her eyes was directed at you alone.

If her officers saw how she acted at home they’d definitely consider her absolutely smitten with you- wrapped around your finger and unable to deviate from your will.

———

Grayson’s crisp shirt sleeves were pushed up, crumpling at her elbow as she kneaded the squishy blob of dough on the kitchen countertop. She had been oddly silent as you had walked home together- the event not being too far from your shared house. You figured she had to be tired after all that socialising … and that would probably be the truth if only she’d look at you.

You sidled up behind her, snaking your hand around her midriff, hugging her larger frame from behind. Short strands of hair tickled your face as you rested against her. She hummed lowly at your presence but made no effort to spark up a conversation.

“What’s made you so quiet?” You mumbled against her back, thumb brushing against her stomach in an effort to coax the answer out of her.

You squeaked in surprise as she suddenly turned around- the dough long forgotten on the counter. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly but soon, along with the rest of her features, schooled themselves into the indifferent facade she often wore around her officers. To say you were bewildered would be an understatement. “Grayson?”

“Would you have taken her up on her offer if I wasn’t there?”

“What?” What on earth was she talking about? You frantically wracked your brain, scouring it for any information that may help you in this conversation; ultimately finding nothing, rendering your search fruitless. “What offer? What are you talking about?”

Her hands grasped yours, thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Medarda. You never gave her an answer.”

Great. Very unhelpful. “Uhm- an answer to what exactly?” You trailed off, voice unsure. You had clearly missed something vital.

Grayson stared at you as if you had a second head. Her look incredulous. “What do you mean, what do I mean?” Her accent was getting thicker, the deep rasp poorly hiding the emotion that lay beneath. “You were right there!”

“Well- I must admit I wasn’t paying any attention after you saved me from her horrendous flirting.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

Her eyes fell to the floor with a soft sigh. You lifted your hands upwards, cupping heated cheeks in the palms of your hands. Oh… you realised, albeit foolishly late. Medarda must have said something that ignited your poor wife’s insecurities, and your silence must have given fuel to the fire. “What did she say?”

“Nothing important…” Grayson grumbled into your hand, pressing a quick kiss there before nuzzling her nose into it.

“It’s important if it’s upsetting you.” You whispered.

She said nothing more, instead opting to shut you up with a searing kiss. Her mouth slotted against yours, needy and desperate as she gripped your hips. Your hands left her face, following the sharp line of her jaw until you reached wisps of hair. She whined into your mouth, attempting to pull you even closer as you scratched your fingers through her hair. You huffed out a breath- half laugh, half sigh. You adored her like this; a whimpering mess desperate for your love and attention.

All for you and you alone.

“What do you want, baby?” You husked into her ear, biting its lobe before soothing over the area with your tongue.

“Please..”

You chuckled at her neediness. Not wanting to make her wait longer than she had to, you pushed her in the direction of the bathroom, ordering her to wash the flour off her hands whilst you got ready upstairs.

She finished washing up faster than you had expected her to. You watched, through hooded eyes, as she approached your form. She slotted herself between your thighs, pressing herself against you in a frantic attempt to get closer. Her mouth found yours once more, kiss after kiss pressed against your lips as she sought the comfort she needed.

The bulge in her trousers rubbed against your clothed core, fuelling your arousal even more. Multiple years of marriage had made this dance second nature. Her hands gripped your hips, vice-like in her desperation. You mewled into her mouth, hips gyrating against hers in an attempt to heighten the small amount of pleasure she is granting you.

She pushed you down with a firm hand resting on your sternum. Your dress rode up, exposing your soaked underwear to her lascivious gaze. You roped your arms around her neck, pulling her down so that her body weight rested on top of you, blanketing you in a comforting warmth that only she could provide.

Her hands moved down to your hips once more, stilling at the hemline of your dress. She looked at you, then, fingers playing with the fabric as she sought your consent. Your quick ‘Go ahead, baby.’ was the only confirmation she needed and her hands made quick work of your dress.

The speed at which she undressed both you and herself never failed to impress you. Although, her dedication to achieving what she wanted has always been one of her most admirable qualities- and so what if that translated well into the bedroom? Her boxers were the last to go, silicone cock springing free as she ushered them off.

You meandered your way backwards on the bed, blinding orienteering yourself so that you were in the centre; she soon followed you, her knees bracketing your own. She kissed you softly, the earlier eagerness melting away into an easy tranquillity shared between the two of you. Calloused hands, rough from years of manual labour, explored your body. Her lips followed in their wake, pressing kiss after kiss to anywhere she could reach.

You gasped in surprise as her mouth laved at your nipple, the other tugged and pinched between her fingertips. She locked eyes with you, that insufferable, cocky smirk she often wore when getting her own way shone up at you. You ‘tsk-ed’ slightly, pulling her head back up so that you could nip at her neck. Each suck and bite was soothed with a kiss, a firm hand in her hair kept her still while you had your way with her. You paused, eyes flicking to hers once you heard her whimper- a quiet sound, easily missable if you weren’t paying rapt attention.

“What was that, my love?” You teased, laughter bubbling as she hid her face in your neck in response. Your laughter was cut short, however, once her hips grinded sloppily against your thighs; whimper after whimper sounding out into your ear. Thank heavens for hex-tech and their straps.

You hushed her slightly, pushing her off you just enough so that you could grab her strap. “Shh, it’s alright, baby. You’ll get what you want.” You mumbled in her ear. A soft kiss was pressed to the top of her head, a slight apology for making her wait so long, before your hand stroked up and down her shaft. She pumped her hips against your hand, chasing the pleasure you were allowing her. It always amused you how awfully desperate she got.

You shushed her whining as your hand retreated. Re-adjusting your legs, so that they were opened wide enough for her to fit comfortably. Her cock was guided to your entrance, the cool material gliding through your slick folds a few times before she finally met her target, bottoming out into you in one thrust. The groan in your ear was heavenly, her arms that had previously been holding herself up hooked under your shoulders, hugging you close to her.

“Can I move?” She asked, voice higher pitched than usual and trailing off into a velvety moan.

“Just a minute, Gray.” You whispered, nails gently raking down her back.

A few moments passed in a comfortable silence, the quiet of the room disturbed by your shared breaths. You gave her the go ahead, causing her to pull away from your neck in order to position herself, and you, how she wanted. She smiled down at you, thumb brushing over your lip a few times. Silly woman, offering herself up for you on a silver platter. Your tongue, warm and wet, kitten licked at the pad of her thumb before drawing it into your mouth. A strong suck had her eyes blown even wider. Her breath hitched as she watched your hollowed cheeks, mind quickly turning to the gutter, thinking of other things you could wrap your soft, pillowy lips around.

Her hips grinded against yours, moving against you before she pulled out, inch by inch. She paused halfway before pushing her length back inside you. She continued like this for a few moments. In and out. In and out. Until she finally pulled out to the tip, shoving herself back into your velvety walls with a sharp thrust. Her pace is punishing and with each heavy punch of her cock, you’re gasping for air; moan after moan tumbling from your lips.

She always gets like this when she’s jealous- pleasure driven and wild with need. Her grunts are quiet. Her chest rising and falling rapidly with the amount of effort it takes to claim you so thoroughly. You made a keening sound, low in your throat, as you arched up into her, grasping at her hair so that you could address her. “Faster. Go faster, my love. It’s alright.”

Her pace picks up, sweat slick skin slapping against your own, the obscene sound of sex and your soaked cunt sounding out into the room. She kisses you, all teeth and tongue, as the tip of her strap nudged against the spongy spot deep within the walls of your inviting heat. You indulge her for a mere moment before pulling away from her, laughing as she chases your lips with a whine. Like a dog being denied a treat.

Deciding to placate her, you leant up to kiss her once more. The coil in your stomach tightened, and by the stutter of her hips you knew that she was close too. Your kiss was broken by her whimper, quickly followed by rope after rope of her seed spilling inside you, filling you thoroughly. She followed her release with a pump of her hips, keeping her come plugged inside you. The last rub against your walls sent you tumbling after her, moaning into her mouth as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through your body.

Her muscled back flexed beneath your touch, her face finding solace in the crook of your neck once more. “You did so good, so perfect for me. Are you feeling better now, hmm?”

An affectionate smile broke out on your face at her muffled confirmation. You pressed a soft kiss behind her ear, her body a comforting warmth blanketing your form. After a few sweet words whispered to her, you attempted to move her off you, wanting to run a bath for the two of you and change the sheets. A muttered ‘no’ was all it took for you to falter in place, deciding that it could wait a few moments. After all, how often was it that you could just cuddle with your beloved wife?

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV, Part V

Summary: By not telling Vi, you are betraying her. By telling Vi, you are betraying best friend. There is no winning here.

Warnings/themes : angst , trauma , mentions of death , smut , nsfw (+18) , face riding, fingering, swearing

Word count: 6.1k

You’d been obsessing over it for days now. The thought clawed at the back of your mind, refusing to leave you in peace. No matter how much you tried to push it aside, Vi’s story gnawed at you, whispering echoes of something you didn’t want to face. It was too familiar—too eerily close to what Faye had once told you. You tried convincing yourself it was just coincidence, that your imagination was running wild, but deep down, you knew you were lying to yourself. Not because you were paranoid, but because facing the truth meant making choices you weren’t ready for. You didn’t want to betray Vi. Whatever was growing between you two—it felt fragile, precious, and you didn’t want to lose it. But this… this discovery could destroy everything. It terrified you. Still, pretending everything was fine felt even worse. Every time you looked at Vi, guilt twisted in your gut. You couldn’t lie to her, not while the questions burned in your chest like a wildfire. You had to find out the truth about her sister, no matter how dangerous it was or what it might cost you.

But asking Vi outright? That wasn’t an option. She’d see through you in a heartbeat, and if your suspicions were wrong, it would shatter her trust. No, you had to do this alone. Someone in Zaun had the answers, and you’d find them—no matter how long it took. And so, you started to pull away from her. Slowly. Carefully. You told yourself it was better this way, that creating some distance would make things easier for both of you. But the ache of it nearly broke you. Ignoring Vi wasn’t just an emotional wound—it felt like a physical one, gnawing at you from the inside out. Every glance you avoided, every touch you refused—it all hurt like hell. Yet you couldn’t let yourself face her, not when everything about her presence reminded you of the truth you didn’t yet have.

The bar became your hunting ground. The smoky, dim-lit room was alive with murmurs and clinking glasses, the perfect cover for your search. You paced behind the counter, ears straining for any snippet of conversation that might lead you to what you needed. Every so often, you’d grab a tray and wander between the tables, serving drinks and feigning indifference. This was Zaun. Someone always talked too much if you gave them the chance.

It wasn’t until you set down a round of cheap whiskey at table five that you caught something promising.

“Now she’s acting all high and mighty, like she’s too good for us,” a burly man grumbled, puffing out a cigar.

“Bullshit,” his friend shot back. “She’s still one of us. Always will be.”

“She used to be everywhere, you know? Drinking, fighting, playing cards at every dive in Zaun. Now she’s just… gone,” the first man spat, as though the thought physically disgusted him.

The name stopped you cold. Sevika. You’d heard whispers about her before.

“She’s still a regular at Bordelle,” the second man added, smirking. “You think she’s really gone straight? Nah, she’s just playing a bigger game now.”

“From Silco’s muscle to some fancy council member. Talk about an upgrade,” a third man muttered, taking a swig from his glass.

“More like a downgrade, if you ask me,” the first guy grunted. His eyes flicked to you then, sharp and suspicious. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Forget something?”

You froze for a moment, but quickly plastered on a smile. “Oh, no,” you lied smoothly, tilting your head like you didn’t have a care in the world. “I’m just new around here, and I’ve heard that name—Sevika. She seems important. Thought I’d ask who she is.” Your voice was light, your smile flirtatious, and it worked.

The man chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Important’s one word for it. She’s a legend ‘round here. Used to be Silco’s enforcer, now she’s on the council. If there’s something going on in Zaun, Sevika knows about it. Hell, she probably started it.”

Bingo. If Sevika was as well-connected as he said, she’d know who Vi’s sister was—and maybe more.

“Thanks for the tip,” you said sweetly, flashing a quick smile before retreating to the bar.

Your mind was racing. Bordelle. That was your next move. If Sevika was still a regular there, you’d find her. But the thought made your stomach twist. Bordelle wasn’t just any bar—it was an underground den of vice, a place where no one asked questions and everyone had something to hide. How the hell were you supposed to find someone like Sevika in a place like that, especially when you didn’t even know what she looked like?

It didn’t matter. You had to try. For Vi. For what you had with her. For yourself.

No turning back now.

Just like that, an hour later, you found yourself standing outside the bordello. Your heart pounded in your chest, hands clammy from nerves. You had no plan—no strategy—just a goal that led you straight to this place. With a shaky exhale, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room swallowed you whole. It was dark, like walking through shadows, with thin strands of colored light spilling from the cracks of half-closed doors. The air itself felt heavy, thick with whispers and quiet laughter, distant moans blending with muffled music. It was quiet and loud all at once, a contradiction that somehow made sense here.You kept moving, your footsteps soft on the velvet-carpeted floor as you passed by room after room. For a moment, it felt like you were trespassing—each door you passed hid lives you weren’t supposed to see. But you couldn’t turn back. There was no other way.

“Need some help, pretty girl?”

The voice behind you made you freeze. You turned, heartbeat skipping as a figure approached. She was tall—almost unsettlingly so—her dark purple hair cascading down her back in soft waves. She wore a sleek black dress, the kind that hugged her frame and split high up her thigh, showing just enough to tease. Her blue eyes were striking, almost mischievous, as they roamed over you, taking you in. She didn’t stop until she was impossibly close, the scent of her perfume enveloping you.

“I do need help,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You leaned in just enough for your lips to brush her ear.

Her mouth curled into a smile, slow and knowing. “Whatever you need,” she purred, placing a hand lightly on your shoulder before trailing it down, the touch searing and deliberate. Then she dipped closer to whisper back. The low rasp of her voice sent chills down your spine.

“Not that kind of help, though,” you said with a sly smile, not breaking eye contact as her face hovered near yours. “I’m looking for someone.”

Her gaze sharpened, but her smirk remained. “Oh, darling,” she teased, “everyone’s looking for someone. That’s how they end up here.” She didn’t back away, didn’t make this easy.

“I’m looking for Sevika,” you pressed.

Something flickered behind those bright blue eyes. She recovered quickly, forcing herself into nonchalance, but you didn’t miss the pause.

“Oh,” she muttered softly before pulling back with another smile—still playful, though not as confident as before. “She is a regular of ours.”

Your chest tightened at her casual tone, as if Sevika was just another client rather than the person you were desperate to find. The woman tilted her head, inspecting you again, as though weighing her options.

“So,” she purred, circling you like a predator, “if I tell you where to find her, what’s in it for me?”

Your face fell. You didn’t have anything to offer—nothing valuable, anyway. Her expression said as much. For a second, you swore she enjoyed watching you flounder. Then, gathering what little boldness you had left, you took a half step closer.

“Come on,” you said smoothly, biting your lip just enough to sell the flirtation. “It wouldn’t kill you to help a pretty girl like me, would it?”The line usually worked on men—easy, predictable men—but her? Women were always harder to charm. Still, you watched her carefully as she exhaled, her shoulders dropping slightly, a wry smirk creeping across her lips as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” she finally said, her tone edged with mock irritation. She leaned in, her lips barely brushing your ear as she whispered, “Room sixteen.”

You shivered despite yourself.

Before she pulled away, she glanced around cautiously, checking the corridor for prying eyes or ears. Her voice dipped low, warning. “Be quick. And careful. Sevika could crush you with one hand if she feels like it.” She grinned, her chuckle both amused and taunting. “Wouldn’t want that, would you, pretty girl?”

You flashed a nervous smile, already turning toward the hall leading deeper into the building. “Thanks,” you whispered over your shoulder before heading straight for room sixteen. Each step you took felt heavier, anticipation thick in your throat. You didn’t know what to expect when you got there, but one thing was certain: Sevika was close.

You hovered outside the door, your heart hammering against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape. The hallway was dead silent, save for the faint hum of voices bleeding in through the walls around you. This was it. You’d come all this way, and there was no turning back.Steeling yourself, you lifted your hand and gave the door a light knock. Polite. Measured. Anything but hesitant. You swallowed thickly, fingers brushing your thigh to keep yourself steady.

"Come in.”

The voice on the other side made you freeze. Low, commanding, and as cold as steel. Shivers ran up your spine, and for the briefest moment, you considered walking away. But no—you couldn’t. Not now. You pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make it creak, and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, shadows lingering in the corners like silent sentinels. A faint curl of smoke filled the air, stinging your nose. Your gaze snapped forward—and there she was.

Sevika. She sat on the edge of the bed, her forearms resting casually on her knees, one hand holding a lit cigar. The smoke wafted lazily into the air, curling around her like it belonged there. She was everything people whispered about—towering, dangerous. Her short, dark hair framed a sharp jawline, and her piercing grey eyes locked onto yours the second you entered. Those eyes were unrelenting, like they could see right through you, dissecting you without her having to say a word. Her presence hit you like a physical thing, weighty and impossible to ignore. The door clicked shut behind you, and though the sound was soft, you still flinched. She noticed that. Of course, she did.

“Never seen you before,” Sevika said, her deep voice slow and deliberate, dripping with calculation. She leaned back slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Must be new.”

New? Of course. What else would she think, seeing you standing there in this place? Her tone was laced with an unspoken assumption that made the back of your neck prickle.You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Sevika shifted. She stood up—slowly, unhurried, like she had all the time in the world—and suddenly, she was there. The space between the two of you disappeared too quickly. Your instincts screamed at you to step back, but you couldn’t—not when your back was already pressed against the door.

Sevika loomed over you now, taller than you’d anticipated. The heat of her presence washed over you, oppressive and heavy, and you had to tilt your head up just to meet her eyes. Grey steel stared back, as sharp and unfeeling as a blade. You could barely breathe, though you forced yourself to hold her gaze. It wasn’t easy; nothing about this woman was easy. And then, her fingers brushed under your chin, catching it easily and tilting your face up farther. Her touch was surprisingly controlled—not rough or forceful—but there was no mistaking how dangerous it was. She was toying with you. Testing you.

And then she said it.

“Undress.”

The word hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped, and every nerve in your body lit up at once. She couldn’t be serious—right? But Sevika wasn’t someone who joked. The look in her eyes was steady and expectant.

Your heart raced, panic nipping at your composure, but you swallowed it down, forcing your face into something neutral.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” you said, your voice quieter than you’d like but steady enough to count as controlled. You forced a small, tight smile onto your lips. “That’s not why I’m here.”

For a moment, Sevika didn’t say anything. She didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared down at you in that suffocating silence, those sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if to cut right through you. Your pulse roared in your ears, your breath stuck somewhere between calm and barely calm. And then she exhaled. A soft sound escaped her lips—not quite a laugh, but close. Amused.

“Oh?” she drawled, pulling back just slightly, her fingers falling away from your chin. That smirk of hers tugged faintly at her lips, something dangerous dancing behind her gaze. “You’ve got some nerve,” she continued, and her voice was softer now, like she was teasing you—mocking you. “Acting so confident when you look ready to bolt.”

“Fake it ‘til you make it,” you shot back before you could stop yourself, your chin instinctively rising just a fraction. It wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but you couldn’t let her corner you any further. Even if the confidence you threw out was nothing more than a bluff. She regarded you carefully then, the faint smirk lingering at the edges of her lips, like she was trying to decide if she found you amusing or just stupid. Those grey eyes swept over you again, trailing slowly from head to toe and back up. Every second under that stare felt like walking barefoot on glass.

“You don’t look like you have much to fake,” Sevika muttered finally, amusement tinging her tone again as she stepped back. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she turned away, strolling lazily across the room like she hadn’t just rattled your composure to its core. She stopped near the edge of the bed, arms crossing over her chest, her back half-turned toward you as she spoke.

“You’ve got guts.” Her voice dipped lower, colder now, a warning curling around every word. “But guts don’t mean shit unless you back them up. So tell me—what makes this so important?”

It was an opening. Not much of one, but it was enough. You took a steady breath, forcing the last of your fake confidence to stick, even though your nerves still hummed under your skin like live wire. Sevika might have been testing you, sizing you up like an opponent in a fight. But this wasn’t a game you could afford to lose—not now, not with her.

“Talk fast,” her voice rang out, sharper this time. The message was clear—your time was running out.

“What do you know about Vi’s sister?” you asked, deciding it was best to cut to the chase. There wasn’t time to dance around the subject.

Sevika chuckled, her voice rough and amused, like you’d just dragged up someone from her past she’d rather forget—or maybe couldn’t. There was something bitter in that laugh, like the taste of smoke lingering too long.

“She’s dead,” she said sharply. No hesitation. No room for argument.

You shifted awkwardly, glancing around the dimly lit room. A chair in the corner caught your eye. You didn’t know why, but something told you to sit, so you did. Maybe it was her tone, maybe it was the weight of the topic. Either way, you settled in.

“Right.” You nodded as if that simple confirmation would somehow carry the weight of the dead. “Anything else?”

Sevika arched a brow, leaning back with an air of importance. “One more question, and then you’re out of here.”

Her words made it clear—she wasn’t in the mood for small talk. You hesitated but knew this was your chance.

“How did she look?” you finally asked.

Sevika tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “You sound real suspicious, you know that? What kind of question is that? You don’t know what Jinx looked like? What, were you living under a rock? Her face was plastered all over Zaun back in the day—wanted posters, graffiti. Hell, there’s even a damn memorial for her. People still dye their hair blue because of her supposed ‘heroic’ crap,” she scoffed, her lip curling. “‘Hero’ my ass.”

Blue hair. That was no small coincidence. You felt your heart start to hammer in your chest. Panic rose unbidden, and you shifted in your seat. Sevika noticed.

Her sharp eyes bore into you as she leaned forward, her voice laced with suspicion. “Why are you asking all this? What’s your deal?”

“I just moved here,” you said quickly, fumbling for the words.

“Moved here?” she repeated, leaning back with a laugh that had no humor in it. “Who moves to Zaun? You know there are better places out there, right?”

“It’s… complicated,” you murmured. “My friend is from here, so I decided to move after…” You trailed off, realizing the less you said, the better.

“Who’s your friend?” she pressed, her voice turning sharp again, demanding answers.

“Vi.”

It slipped out. You didn’t mean to say it. It was a stupid move, and the moment it left your mouth, you regretted it. Sevika’s expression twisted into something unreadable, a mix of disbelief and anger.

“If that’s true, why don’t you just ask her how her sister looked, huh? Why come here, of all places, bothering me with your sketchy little investigation?”

She was angry now, and you knew you’d worn out your welcome. Rising from the chair, you headed toward the door, your pulse pounding. You’d blown it.

“It’s hard for her to talk about it,” you mumbled, fumbling for an excuse. “Didn’t want to bring up old wounds.”

It was weak, unconvincing, but it was all you could muster as you reached for the handle. Before you could leave, her voice stopped you cold.

“She had blue flame tattoos all over her body.”

You froze, hand still on the doorknob, not daring to turn around.

“Thanks, Sevika,” you said softly, glancing over your shoulder before slipping out the door. Her eyes followed you until you disappeared down the hall. Blue hair. Blue flame tattoos. Your chest tightened, and your mind raced. Faye had blue hair. Faye had blue flame tattoos. Faye lost her parents. Faye had a sister.The parallels were too sharp, too specific to be coincidence. Vi thought her sister was gone—dead for good. Everyone thought Jinx was gone. But she wasn’t.

And now, you were the only one who knew.

Pacing through the dark streets of Zaun, your thoughts were eating you alive. The silence felt loud, your footsteps echoing as you walked in circles. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t gather a single clear idea of what to do. Every time you tried to make sense of it, the weight of your choice crushed you all over again. It was impossible—completely impossible—to choose. Faye made it clear. She was alive, but she didn’t want anyone to know. Especially not Vi—the one person she used to love most. Faye had looked you dead in the eyes when she said it: “Promise me.” It wasn’t a request. It was a demand, and you’d sworn to keep her secret, no matter what. You made that promise. You gave her your word.

And yet… Vi.

Vi, who had lost everyone. Vi, who carried the weight of every loss on her shoulders, burying her grief so deep you were surprised she could even walk upright. Her parents were gone. Her sister was gone. Her home, her life, everything had been taken from her, piece by piece, until all she had left was herself—and whatever scraps of hope she could hold onto. Vi never said it out loud, but you knew. You saw it. You could see how she still carried Jinx with her, like a ghost chained to her heart. How could you do this to her? How could you look her in the eyes knowing what you knew and not tell her? Keeping this secret was a betrayal in itself, wasn’t it? How could you watch her mourn someone who wasn’t dead? How could you let her suffer for no reason?

But on the other hand—

Faye trusted you. She was alive, but the only thing she wanted to do was walk away. To disappear completely. If you told Vi, everything would fall apart. Vi would go after her, of course she would. It didn’t matter what she wanted. Vi would never stop looking if she found out the truth, and God only knew what would happen when she found her sister again. Because Faye wasn’t the same person anymore. You knew that much. And you couldn’t predict what a reunion would look like—if it would heal them or shatter everything into even smaller pieces. Faye would see it as a betrayal. She’d hate you forever. Each step you took felt heavier than the last, like the streets of Zaun themselves were pulling you down, feeding off the storm of guilt inside you. Your heart raced; your mind screamed. You were in too deep. There was no clean way out. No matter what you did, someone would get hurt.

By not telling Vi, you were betraying her.

By telling Vi, you were betraying Faye—Jinx—your best friend. There was no winning here.

Somehow, while lost in your own thoughts, you realized you’d stopped moving. You were standing in front of your apartment door, blinking at it like you didn’t remember how you got there. Your hands shook as you reached into your pocket, your fingers fumbling against the keys. You just needed to get inside. To shut yourself in. To sit down and—

“Hello there, stranger.”

The voice hit you like a punch to the gut. Not now.

Your heart stopped in your chest. Slowly, you turned, and there she was—Vi—leaning lazily against the wall in the faint glow of the streetlight. Her crimson hair caught the dim light like fire, and that crooked smirk played on her lips, like she had just caught you sneaking out past curfew.

“Vi…” you barely managed to say.

She pushed off the wall, taking a step closer. “Out late, huh?” she said casually, but her voice lingered just a little too long. Her eyes—those sharp, piercing eyes—studied you carefully, probably noticing the way your shoulders tensed up or the way your hand shook just slightly against the keys.Your heart dropped like a stone, heavy and unrelenting. You could barely breathe. You couldn’t deal with this. Not now. Her standing here, looking at you like that, made everything feel so much worse.

“Could say the same for you,” you muttered quickly, trying to sound normal.

She tilted her head, her brows furrowing slightly. That was the thing about Vi—she always knew when something was off. “You good?” she asked, a hint of concern slipping into her voice.

The question nearly broke you. Were you good? No. Not even close. The world felt like it was closing in on you, squeezing every ounce of air from your lungs.

“Yeah. Just tired,” you said. It was a lie, but it was all you could give her without falling apart.

Vi didn’t look convinced. She stayed there, watching you too carefully, too silently, like she could peel you open just by staring long enough. You couldn’t take it—you couldn’t take the way she looked at you like she trusted you. You turned back to the door, shaking the keys in your hand until they finally slid into the lock. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you turned the knob, every movement heavy with guilt.

“Night, Vi,” you mumbled, pushing through the door.

“Wait, what?” Vi mumbled, confused, as her hand shot out to catch the door before you could close it. There was a crack in her voice, frustration creeping in. “You can’t be serious.”

“Vi, I’m tired,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, trying to choke back the tears building in your throat. “We can talk tomorrow, okay?”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s bullshit,” she said sharply. Her voice cracked just enough to make it clear how much this hurt her. “We both know that.”

Your chest ached as her words hit you like a blow. You couldn’t look her in the eye. You couldn’t even speak. “Vi…” you mumbled weakly, taking a step inside the apartment, your hand still on the door. You couldn’t shut her out, but you couldn’t let her in either. All you could do was stand there, torn apart, staring at her like the words you needed were caught somewhere unreachable.

Her brows furrowed, her frustration sharpening as her voice grew louder. “I’m not stupid, you know that, right?” she snapped. “Since that night. Since I told you about my past, you’ve been—” She exhaled sharply, cutting herself off. “You’ve been different. Like a completely different person.”

She was stepping closer now, and for the first time in a long time, you saw the Vi you’d met at first—the Vi who was angry at the world because the world had taken everything from her. But there was something else now. Beneath the edge, there was a raw sadness that hurt even more to hear.

“Everything was going great,” she continued, her voice breaking slightly, “and then suddenly, you pull away. You go cold. Distant. Ignoring me.”

She paused, searching your face, desperate for something—anything. It wasn’t just anger anymore. It was hurt. And that was what cut the deepest. Your silence only fueled her emotions, swirling wild and untamed. She took another step closer, and this time her words weren’t sharp; they were pleading.

“What the hell happened?” she asked again, softer this time, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back whatever storm was threatening to break. “Is it me? Did I say something wrong?”

You bit your lip so hard it nearly bled. Your head screamed at you to say something—anything—but you were frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. Every part of you was screaming to reach out to her, to close the distance, to show her somehow that you still cared, that this wasn’t her fault. That none of this was because of her. But how could you? How could you explain something she wasn’t ready to know? That she couldn’t know?

Her voice wavered, sadness bleeding into every word. “Is it something from my past? Is that it?” she pressed. “Does knowing what I’ve done make you think different of me now?”

The air felt heavy—too heavy to breathe. She was breaking right in front of you, and still, you couldn’t say a damn thing.

Her frustration boiled over again, her voice rising, desperate now. “Just tell me!” she shouted, her fists clenching at her sides before her shoulders dropped, exhaustion taking over. “Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me that you don’t want me anymore and—” She cut herself off, her breathing uneven as she wiped at her face. Then, quietly, heartbreakingly, she whispered, “And I’ll be gone. You won’t have to deal with me anymore. You’ll never see me again. Just… say it.”

And then it happened.

You saw it.

The tear you’d been so afraid to see, sliding down her cheek, clinging there for just a second before falling. The Vi who never let her guard down, who carried herself with strength and stubborn pride no matter what life threw at her—she was standing in front of you, breaking.

And you’d done it.

You’d broken her.

That single tear felt like it had taken a piece of your soul with it. Your chest constricted painfully, like every breath you took now was something you didn’t deserve. Your silence wasn’t protecting her. It wasn’t sparing her pain. It was tearing her apart. YOU were tearing her apart. Vi wasn’t just angry. She wasn’t just sad. She was devastated. And somehow, in all the mess of trying to protect her, you had done the exact thing you’d been terrified of from the start.

You were hurting her.

Your hands shook as they clung to the doorframe, your throat closing up tighter with every passing second. You were doing exactly what you feared most—letting her get too close only to rip her apart in the end.

But as much as you wanted to give in, to tell her the truth, there was still something holding you back. You couldn’t let her go now. Not ever.

Instead of speaking, instead of giving her the answers she so desperately wanted, you acted-your body moving before your mind could catch up. You crashed into her, pressing your lips against hers with a fire that had been bottled up for too long. The kiss was deep, desperate, and hungry, every bit of unspoken emotion spilling into it like a wave breaking over a cliff. Your hands flew to her face, holding her as if you were terrified she might slip away, as if this kiss was the only way to tell her that she mattered, that you couldn't let her go.

Vi didn't hesitate. She didn't hold back.

Her lips pressed into yours just as hard, just as greedy, as her rough hands roamed across your back and over your waist, clutching at you like you were the last thing keeping her tethered to this world. You melted into her, letting her take you, kiss you, own you in a way only she could. You broke apart for air, breathless and dizzy, but before you could blink, her lips moved lower, trailing their way across your jawline and then down to your neck. Each kiss she placed was slow but burning, leaving soft marks as if to claim every inch of you.

You shivered as her hands gripped you tighter, holding you close as if afraid you might slip through her fingers. She pressed her body closer to yours, and in an instant, her leg shifted between your thighs, pressing her knee into you just enough to send shocks of pleasure racing through you.

A small moan escaped your lips before you could stop it, and you felt her smirk against your skin. Her lips trailed back to your mouth, and this time, when she kissed you, her tongue slipped past your lips, exploring, tasting you, and making you all the more breathless. She was relentless-hungry-and you matched her, pulling her even closer as if trying to mold yourself into her. Before you could register what was happening, Vi's strong arms lifted you effortlessly, pulling you up against her as she began moving toward the bedroom. Your legs wrapped

instinctively around her waist, her neck becoming your next target as you kissed her with the same hungry desperation she gave you. Your lips nipped at her skin, leaving marks-a trail of red marks along her neck and collarbone.

"Fuck," she groaned softly, the word dripping with lust as she stumbled into the bedroom, her control breaking piece by piece. She threw you onto the bed with a mix of strength and tenderness, her body hovering over yours, her chest rising and falling as she stared down at you.

For a second, there was a pause-Vi's gaze burning into yours. Her expression softened as she took you in. In that moment, it was painfully clear how much she missed you, how much this moment meant. The corner of her mouth twitched into the faintest smile before she got to work, her fingers trailing to the hem of your pants.

Without breaking eye contact, she started unbuttoning them, taking her time, teasing you, making every second feel like torture. You couldn't wait. Your fingers went to the bottom of your top, tugging it off and throwing it somewhere forgotten. The cool air made you shiver y ther eyes on you set your skin atlame. Her gaze lingered on your chest for just a moment before she smirked, pulling your pants off with ease, leaving you exposed before her. Without missing a beat, you grabbed the her top, lifting it up and over her head. Vi grinned, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were, before stepping back just enough to slip off her own pants.

The moment fabric was no longer between you, the world seemed to fall away. Skin to skin, inch to inch, you could feel everything. Her warmth, her breath, her strength-it consumed you completely. She wasted no time, her lips pressing back to your neck, kissing, biting softly as she trailed down toward your chest. Vi cupped one of your breasts, her fingers rough but her touch tender. When her tongue met your nipple, you gasped, arching into her. She teased you-circling, flicking, sucking-sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You moaned, unable to stop yourself as she grinned against your skin.

You wanted her just as much, and you didn't plan to let her take control of everything. Shifting slightly, you moved your knee up between her legs, feeling just how wet she was for you. The sound that left her lips-a deep groan, filled with need-made your stomach tighten.

"Fuck," she breathed out, pressing herself harder against your leg as her hand slipped between your thighs.

"You're making me crazy."

Her fingers traced up your folds slowly, teasing you, spreading your wetness everywhere. A low whine escaped your throat, your hips tilting into her touch instinctively. She pressed down on your clit, circling it with care, her pace slow at first, almost tormenting. You moaned louder as pleasure coiled in your stomach, tilting your head back. Vi noticed, and that playful glint flashed in her eyes. Her fingers trailed lower, slipping inside you, cool against your heat. The way she moved was both gentle and rough, curling her fingers with precision, hitting every spot that made you gasp and squirm beneath her. Your body burned as she worked you up, her pace growing faster and rougher with each passing second. You could't take it anymore, digging your nails in her shoulders, desperate to hold on to something as you lost yourself completely to her touch. She suddenly pulled away, sitting back on her knees as she stared down at you-naked, flushed, and completely hers.

Her gaze was smoldering, and before you could move, she slipped her two fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean, tasting you. "You taste so fucking good," she muttered, voice heavy with want.

You couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Vi held out her hand, guiding you gently until you understood what she wanted. Seconds later, you were on top of her, her hands gripping your thighs, pulling you upward, and settling you over her mouth. The strength in her hands-the sheer need in her grip-made you dizzy. You didn't hesitate, spreading your legs and letting yourself settle against her lips. Her mouth was hot, her tongue pressing into you slowly at first, teasing you. You tilted your head back, gasping as she buried herself deeper, her tongue working fast and rough as her nose pressed perfectly against your clit.

"Vi," you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath. She groaned against you, holding you in place as you began to move, grinding slowly against her mouth. Your pace grew frantic as her tongue slipped deeper, her hands pulling you down harder, her groans vibrating against you.

It was too much.

"Fuck, fuck," you nearly screamed, your fingers tangling into her hair as your body tensed, pleasure hitting you so hard you nearly fell apart. You collapsed onto the bed beside her, your body spent, the room spinning around you. Neither of you said a word, breathing heavy and hearts racing as she wrapped her strong arms around you, pulling you close. She smiled, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes, but there was something more there. It wasn’t just playful teasing or a flirtatious look—it was deeper, raw, and real. Her smile, though teasing, didn’t quite reach the heaviness in her gaze, like there were unspoken words lingering between you two, words you both knew but hadn’t said aloud yet. You knew exactly what it was. You’d felt it too, though you hadn’t dared to admit it until now. The unspoken bond between you two wasn’t just desire—it was something deeper, something more complicated. It was connection, raw and undeniable.

Author's note : okaaaay this is a long chapter. What do you think about it? I have been thinking about this chapter for so long, it has been a hard one to write. Do you like how's everything turning out? Please let me know! Don't hesitate to dm me if you have something to say, I would love to listen to you. I love torturing lesbians lol

[taesansbeloved]

YOU ARE THE PERSON THAT COMPLETES ME.. JUST LIKE THE LAST PUZZLE PIECE. (엔하이픈)

synopsis: 1000 piece puzzle date with bf!enhypen. Warnings 🚨 fluff, skinship, petnames. Not proofread 👍🏻

(Hyung line)

Nova notes: HIHI ❣️ ..... I know I've been gone for a while BUT I HAVE MADE MY COMEBACK. This was based on this request! Thank you so much for requesting this anon! Maknae line coming soon! Also I've had some people tell me about some spelling mistakes in my korean so thank you so much for telling me because I truely had no idea. Enjoy my loves.

Heeseung (희승)

You have somehow convinced heeseung into solving a 1000 piece Venice landscape puzzle. He wasn't really opposed to the idea, he just had a shitton of work, but you worked up your girlfriend powers and got him put of his godforsaken work chair. "Okay, how do we do this?" He asked sitting opposite to you on your carpeted bedroom floor. "First things first, search for the corners then work our way inwards." You replied feeling giddy. You and heeseung got to work, searching for the corner puzzle pieces, losing some puzzle pieces, and heeseung throwing his usual flirtatious comments. "Baby, where is this piece~" heeseung sang out looking all over for one of the last pieces of the puzzle. "Well, crap. I don't have it." You said throwing your hands in the air. "This calls for a break." He said, pulling you by the hand and resting you on his lap. After a few moments of comfortable silent, you said "we're never gonna find that puzzle piece, are we?" Your breath hitting heesueng's ear shell as his face was buried in between your neck and collarbone. "Nope." He replied, popping the 'p'.

Jay (정성)

It was a random Tuesday night and you were bored out of your mind. Then, you heard the faint strumming of a guitar coming from Jay's office room. Making your way to his office, you spotted an abandoned puzzle set in the junk shelf. Now you were on your way with Jay's office with a mission. "Knock knock." You announced your presence as the strumming stopped. "Come in, my love." You heard Jay say from the other side. "Hello." You greeted, a soft smile on your face as you make your way to where he was sitting. "Hi, dear." He said as he put his guitar aside, gripping you closer by your waist, pulling you I'm between his legs. "So.... wanna build a puzzle with me?" You asked, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. "I would absolutely love to build a puzzle with you." He replied with a tender smile and starry eyes. You both spent the rest of your evening building the puzzle talking about everything and nothing.

Jake (재윤)

Let's be real, jake is the one who proposed this idea to you. And how could you say no when he's giving you these adorable puppy eyes. "Okay, baby, you work on the middle part and I work on the corners." Jake explained and he dumped the puzzle in between you two on the ground. "Why are you giving me the hard part?" You asked with a frown. "Baby, no. It's the important part." He winked at you as he gave you no room for more arguments. "And then she said- no!" Jake's story about the girl that was hitting on him at the bar was cut off by his dog, layla, running over your puzzle, ruining all of your hard work. "Layla! Come on!" You exclaimed as layla continued running around for her toy. You and jake stared at you decapitated puzzle, now strewn all over the living room floor. "Well, damn." Jake said as his eyes lit up all of the sudden. " Let's build a pillow fort!"

Sunghoon (성훈)

Sunghoon was sitting on the couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly when all of the sudden he felt warm air on the shell of his ear. He turned his head to the side and saw you watching whatever was playing on his phone. "Hi, there." He whispered as you looked at him with a playfully glint in your eyes. "Hi, love." You said with a tone he recognised oh so well. It's the tone you use whenever you need something from him. "What do you need, dear?' He asked with a soft voice. "Soo.." You stretched out while walking around the couch to sit beside him. "I spotted a poor abandoned puzzle sitting in our room and it was just calling our name." You exaggerated making him let out a small chuckle. "Bring it over." He said as you let out a squeal in excitement as you ran over to grab the puzzle. The rest of evening was filled with laughter and puzzle building. Until, "babe, where's the last piece?" You asked as Sunghoon was discreetly looking for said last piece for the last 5 minutes. "I hate to break it to you, but I can't find it." He replied as you stared at him with a wide open mouth.

Do not copy this post. Spam likes = blocked. Spaming and plagiarism are not tolerated. Respectfully follow these rules :)

[castielsprostate]

uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.