#Cobblestone Jazz

[nightingale-prompts]

Just your average coffee shop AU-DCxDP prompt

What do you do when you've been blacklisted from every coffee chain in Gotham?

You have to find other sources.

That is Tim's current predicament but he put out a few messages out and an informant got back to him about a new café that opened on the outskirts of the city.

There wasn't much else on it other than the fact that it was located in an old cemetery. No details or anything.

Desperate for the black icker that made up his blood by this point Tim went.

Walking down the cobblestone path Tim began to doubt if the shop was real. The decrepit tombstones seemed to be the only people here but as he passed the mausoleums he saw a single stone crypt that had a sign.

Hours:

Tues-Saturday 12pm-3:00 am

Sunday: All day

Mon: Closed

(Vlad Masters is banned)

Tim opened the stone door and heard the faint sound of violins and saxophones. A staircase led deeper to an aged wooden door.

The rusty door henge screeched as he opened the door like a doorbell. The room was a lounge with plush seats and smooth wood tables. A dance floor was in the center currently occupied by well dressed patrons. The scent of fresh dark roast coffee filled the air. A band played live music, it was a blend of gothic folk and Jazz. The booths were filled with a few patrons cheering for the performers as they drank coffee and played cards.

The counter where he could order his drink was a bar. Despite what you'd assume they weren't selling alcohol at least not yet. The man behind the counter beckoned him over.

The barista dressed in a white dress shirt and a black buttoned vest embroidered with a ribcage design. He had fingerless gloves with matching skeletal hand design. The man's face was a pale bit warm tone with a blueish green hue on his cheekbones. His lips were a dark ashen black with a subtle shine. It was probably just the aesthetic.

"Evening, traveler." His voice practically purred as he greeted the weary young man"The rhythm's alive, and the spirits are waiting—how can I make your afterlife?"

"Coffee. Black." Tim said gruffly despite to get it in his system.

"Oh, you got it bad, don't you? Let me get you something that will actually help." The bartender said turning to brew a cup.

Tim's eyes scanned the chalkboard menu that hung above the bar.

Hot Coffee Drinks:

Graveyard Brew – A rich dark roast with a hint of smoked caramel. (Tucker's pick)

Phantom Flat White – A smooth flat white with ghostly foam art. (Danny's pick)

Latté of the Damned– A spiced pumpkin latte with black cinnamon dust. (Jazz's pick)

Eternal Espresso– A bold, double-shot espresso.

The Velvet Casket – Mocha with dark chocolate and a touch of vanilla.

Sepulcher Spice – Chai-spiced coffee with a hint of nutmeg. (Val's pick)

Necromancer’s Nitro – Nitro cold brew with a dash of maple syrup. (Dan's pick)

Iced Coffee Drinks:

Cold-Brew Crypt– Smooth cold brew with a splash of sweet cream.

Chilled Cadaver– Iced coffee with coconut milk and a shot of hazelnut. (Dani's pick)

The Frosted Requiem – Blended mocha with chocolate drizzle.

Soulful Swirl– Iced latte with caramel and a swirl of blackcurrant syrup.

Moonlit Macchiato– Vanilla macchiato with activated charcoal. (Sam's pick)

Tim definitely sensed a theme here.

"I added a few shots of expresso and some dark chocolate liquor. It should get you right and some minor heart palpitations. I think I'll call it 'The Black Veil'." The barista smiled very cat-like.

"Am I getting my name on the board?" Tim quipped without thinking as he sipped the hot coffee. Actually, it was cooler than he thought it would be. It was the perfect temperature. And the taste was amazing.

"Only if you're a regular and I think your drink might be too much for anyone else." The barista laughed softly.

"So...this place is pretty um...gothic?"

"This place used to be just for the dead but we've recently over up to the living."

"Heh, I get it."

"Get what?"

Tim coughed awkwardly. He didn't want to stop talking to the goth barista yet and the quality coffee was convincing. Maybe it was the environment. It was like walking into a different world.

"So what's this place called? So I know what Im coming back to." Tim tried to sound cool but let's face it, he's been beat.

"This is the Catacomb Club. Where the spirits swing and the night never sleeps. You should come again soon, cutie. I think I got a good surge of inspiration just looking at you." He purred in delight as he leaned over the bar tapped Tim's cheek.

Tim felt his face burn, the touch felt like electricity tickling his skin. A string of babbling seemed to come out of this mouth as he tried to respond.

"Heh heh, don't keep me waiting dear," he laughed "Oh, and by the way. My name is Danny. Catch me in the early shift. My brother works the late shift mixing the alcohol. But if you want you can catch me on the stage or on the dance floor. I might even make you an extra cup or two." Danny said.

Tim found his footsteps on the way up lighter and only when he made it back the cematary gate did he notice.

He never paid.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

No one mourns the wicked

Synopsis: No one mourns the wicked except it’s Alastor and his loving wife after he dies and the people realize he was in fact the killer terrorizing New Orleans

A/n: i was listening to this song after watching the movie and it kind of reminded me of multiple characters, one of them being Alastor, so here we are :)

Warnings: timeline tweaked to fit the storyline, Major character death, grief, obsession, dark themes, implied past violence, mourning, religious elements

Navigation

The bells tolled for Alastor.

The sound rang out over New Orleans, a slow, deliberate chime that echoed off the cobblestone streets and wrought-iron balconies. A funeral procession wound its way through the city, black-clad mourners moving with somber grace, their eyes cast downward—though not for grief.

There was no grief.

Only fear.

Alastor, beloved radio host, lively entertainer, and charming presence in every parlor and ballroom, was dead. But the man the city had adored was not the man they had buried.

The real Alastor—the one with blood on his hands and a smile on his lips—had been unmasked at last.

And now, no one mourned the wicked man.

No one except her.

She stood apart from the rest, a lone figure swathed in black lace, her veil obscuring the grief-stricken expression beneath.

His wife.

The word felt hollow now, as though spoken from another lifetime. What was she now, if not the wife of the man they cursed? The whispers had already begun—how could she not have known? How could she have laid beside a man with the devil’s grin and never seen the hellfire in his eyes?

But she had known.

She had known from the very beginning.

She had met Alastor on a summer evening when the air was thick with the scent of magnolias and the sound of jazz curled through the streets like smoke. He had been charming, so very charming, his voice warm like the whiskey he poured her, his laughter infectious.

She had loved him immediately.

Perhaps that had been her first sin.

He had taken her hand and led her into a world no other woman dared enter. His world—one of secrets and shadows, where the missing never returned and the wicked were punished not by law, but by him.

It had frightened her.

And yet, she had stayed.

That had been her second sin.

And now, she committed her last: grieving a man the world had condemned.

The funeral was held in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, beneath a sky choked with heavy clouds, as though even the heavens refused to shine upon the dead man’s final resting place.

The priest spoke in measured tones, his voice a thin veil of piety stretched over the weight of judgment beneath. There were no kind words, no lamentations for a life lost too soon—only the murmured prayers of a man who feared for his own soul in speaking them.

She knelt at the grave as they lowered him down, her hands clenched in the folds of her dress. Her breath hitched, but she would not cry.

Alastor had never liked tears.

That night, the city rejoiced.

The terror was gone, the Monster of New Orleans put to rest at last. Music poured into the streets, the living celebrating while the dead turned in their graves.

She sat alone in their home, the ghost of his laughter still lingering in the walls, in the floorboards that creaked beneath her as she walked. The gramophone sat silent, its usual melody absent.

She could not bear to play it without him.

She could still hear them outside—people whispering his name, cursing it, spitting it into the dirt.

Had none of them loved him? Had none of them seen the brilliance in him, the fire that burned so hot it could only consume?

No.

Only she had seen.

And now, she was alone in her mourning.

The city moved on quickly, as cities often did. Another scandal would come, another name would replace his in the papers. Soon, he would be nothing more than a ghost story, a hushed warning spoken to children who strayed too far after dark.

But she would not forget.

She could not.

Late at night, when the streets fell silent and the candlelight cast long shadows against the walls, she swore she could still feel him.

She would wake to the phantom press of fingers against her wrist, the faintest trace of a breath against her ear. The scent of cigar smoke lingered when she had not lit one. The record player clicked on in the dead of night, playing a tune she had long since stopped hearing.

He was still here.

And oh, how she wished he wasn’t.

Because if he was here—if his soul still roamed these halls—then he had not found peace.

And she could not bear the thought of him suffering, not even in death.

The knocking began three nights after the funeral.

At first, she thought it was the wind, rattling the shutters in its restless wail. But then she heard it again—sharp, deliberate.

Three knocks.

Like a gentleman at a parlor door.

Like a husband returning home.

She hesitated only a moment before crossing the room, hands trembling as she reached for the handle. The air was thick with something unspoken, the kind of quiet that sat heavy in the chest.

She opened the door.

Nothing.

Only the dark, stretching out before her in endless silence.

And yet, as she closed the door, she swore she heard it—

The low, familiar hum of a tune.

A tune only he would sing.

It continued.

The soft shuffle of feet behind her when no one was there. The sudden flicker of candlelight when the air was still. The radio tuning itself to static, then settling on a voice she had not heard in days.

His voice.

“Did you really think I’d leave you all alone, my darling?”

She gasped, the breath stolen from her lungs as cold fingers brushed her cheek.

Not a trick of the mind.

Not a dream.

He was here.

He was with her.

She pressed a hand to her lips, a sob choking its way free. “Alastor?”

His laugh curled around her, warm as the summer nights they had once shared. “Who else would it be, dearest?”

She shuddered. “You—”

“I know.” His voice was teasing, affectionate. “A terrible shame, isn’t it? I had such plans for us. And now look—stuck haunting my own home! How embarrassing.”

She swallowed thickly. “Are you… are you in pain?”

A pause.

Then, softer, “No, my love.”

She exhaled, her body sagging with relief.

If he was still here, still him, then perhaps there was justice yet.

Perhaps the city had not won.

She no longer feared the voices outside, the ones that spat curses at his name.

Let them speak.

Let them call him monster, murderer, devil.

He had been all those things, and more.

And yet, he had loved her.

Was that not proof enough of his humanity?

So she loved him still.

Even in death.

Even in whispers.

Even as she sat alone, her fingers tracing the cool wooden surface of his coffin, her lips parting to hum the song he had so often sung.

The melody drifted through the house, carried by the wind, by the dark, by the presence that lingered just beyond sight.

And somewhere, just behind her ear—

A voice joined in.

Laughing. Loving. Hers.

Always.

[jzprncess]

threads of the past ౨ৎ

pairing : charles leclerc x reader

face claim : various people

main summary : Y/N and Charles grew up together in Monaco, sharing a close bond until her mother took her away after a family conflict. Many years later, after a loss she had to endure, Y/N returns to Monaco to fulfill a promise. There, she unexpectedly reunites with Charles, now a successful Formula 1 driver

part 2 previous

word count : 4,874

warnings: some designers do not exist in this au since i might take their fashion pieces!

note: my writing motivation is back. i honestly have the next part written out in my head. i hope you guys enjoy this one like you did the last. you may think this one is lacking unlike the last one but its the simple lore that was needed to build the story.

────୨ৎ────

Y/N sat frozen, her mother’s words from the letter echoing in her mind like a whisper she couldn’t ignore. Her fingers clutched the edges of the paper, creasing it as tears blurred her vision. She felt an overwhelming mix of emotions—grief, confusion, and a deep ache for a past she had buried but never truly let go of.

Go back to Monaco.

The words hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her carefully constructed life in New York. She stared out the rain-speckled window, the city streets below buzzing with the endless motion of taxis, hurried footsteps, and life moving on. Her mother’s absence left an unbearable stillness, a void that no amount of city noise could fill.

New York was home now. It had been her mother’s dream to build a life here—a dream she had passed down to Y/N like an inheritance. It was where they’d built their routines, their traditions, their tiny world above the deli. It was where her mother had taught her to sew late into the night, where they’d baked cookies on Christmas Eve, where they’d danced in the kitchen to old jazz records on lazy Sunday mornings. New York was more than just a city; it was their sanctuary. How could she leave it behind?

But then, Monaco…

The memories were so vivid they felt tangible, like the scent of saltwater and fresh lavender carried by a Mediterranean breeze. She could see her father laughing as he helped her balance on a bike for the first time, hear the distant hum of the harbor as she and Charles raced down cobblestone streets, their carefree giggles echoing in the air. The warmth of those moments wrapped around her like a long-forgotten blanket, stirring something deep in her chest.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, guilt creeping in. She had tried so hard to move on, to create a life that didn’t revolve around what was left behind. But her mother’s words reopened wounds she thought had healed, forcing her to confront the parts of her life she had deliberately ignored.

Her thoughts wandered to her father. She had spent so many years trying not to think about him—about what they could have had if life had been kinder. There were pieces of him scattered in her memories, fragments of love and laughter that had faded over time. Now, her mother’s letter made her wonder: had she spent too long running from his memory? Had she missed out on understanding who he really was, or who she was because of him?

But it wasn’t just about him. It was about everything she had lost. The years she could have spent in Monaco, the friendships she could have nurtured, the life she could have had with Charles if things had been different. It all felt like a distant dream, one she wasn’t sure she could return to without breaking herself all over again.

And yet… what if her mother was right? What if Monaco was the missing piece of the puzzle?

The thought scared her. She had spent the last ten years building something here, something her mother had been proud of. She had grown roots in this city, and tearing them up felt impossible. Could she really pack up everything she had built, everything her mother had worked for, and leave it behind?

Her gaze fell to the letter again. Her mother’s handwriting, once so familiar, now felt like a message from a world that no longer existed.

“I don’t want to leave you, Mom,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. Her chest felt tight, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She knew that going back to Monaco would mean facing everything she had avoided for so long. It would mean confronting her grief, her regrets, and the pieces of herself she had tried to bury.

But it would also mean honoring her mother’s wish, fulfilling a promise that had been made before Y/N was old enough to understand it. It would mean reconnecting with the parts of her that she had left behind, no matter how much it hurt.

Her tears fell freely now, landing on the letter in her lap. She took a shaky breath, her hands trembling as she folded it carefully and set it aside.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “But I’ll try. For you.”

The decision wasn’t final—not yet. It would take time to gather the courage to face everything waiting for her in Monaco. But for the first time, Y/N allowed herself to imagine it. To picture the streets, the harbor, the life she had left behind.

She wasn’t ready to pack up and leave just yet. But in her heart, she knew the first step had already been taken.

Y/N tucked the letter into the top drawer of her desk, her fingers lingering on the handle for a moment before she pushed it shut. Her room felt smaller now, like the weight of her memories had made the walls press inward. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, her mind still racing.

Hours passed in a haze. She busied herself with tasks she didn’t need to do—organizing her closet, rearranging the kitchen shelves, watering her plants even though she’d done it yesterday. Anything to avoid the gnawing ache in her chest.

By the time the sun began to set, Y/N found herself on the fire escape outside her window. She sat there with a mug of tea, the metal cold beneath her as she looked out at the city she loved so much. The skyline was painted in hues of orange and pink, the soft hum of life below serving as a constant reminder of why she had stayed.

Her phone buzzed beside her. She hesitated before picking it up, half-expecting a message from someone from Monaco who had heard the news. Instead, it was a simple text from her best friend in New York.

gracie : Hey, just checking in. You good? Let me know if you want me to bring over some food or just sit and scroll TikTok with you. Love you.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. Gracie always had a way of knowing when she needed a little grounding. The thought of her best friend showing up with her oversized hoodie, a random array of snacks, and the determination to turn any bad mood around made Y/N’s chest ache in the best way.

She glanced back at the letter, then at her phone.

y/n : I’m okay. Just… processing. But thank you. I love you, too. 

It was a lie—she wasn’t okay, not entirely. But how could she explain the turmoil in her chest? The memories of Monaco tugging her one way and the life she’d built in New York pulling her another? How could she tell Gracie that her heart felt like it was caught in a game of tug-of-war with itself?

The truth was, she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to face the idea of returning to Monaco, a place she hadn’t called home in years.

Her gaze fell on the letter again, her mother’s handwriting looping across the page. The words “find your way back” seemed to glow, as though they were written just for her, meant to haunt her in this moment.

Gracie would understand—she always did. But this? This was something Y/N wasn’t sure she could explain to anyone.

Y/N stared at the stack of stationery in front of her. She hadn't written a letter in years—texting, emailing, and social media messages had long replaced the old-fashioned art. But this time, there was something different. Something final.

She had made her decision, but that didn't make the weight of it any easier to bear. She needed to say goodbye. To all the people who had made New York feel like home, who had helped her heal, and who had been there for her in the quiet moments of grief.

The pen felt heavy in her hand as she began writing.

Dear Leo,

I don't even know how to begin this, or if it will even do justice to how much you’ve meant to me. When my mom and I first moved to New York, we didn’t have much. You let us rent that apartment above your deli, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful. It wasn’t just the rent you helped with—it was the kindness, the way you checked in on us, and the warmth you always offered with your sandwiches. You were like family to us, Leo.

I remember the way you’d smile when I’d sneak into the deli just to say hello, how you’d ask about my day as if you had all the time in the world. I’ll never forget those moments. You became a part of our life in ways you may not even realize.

I’m writing this because, with everything happening, it’s time for me to say goodbye. I’ve made the decision to return to Monaco to deal with the past. It’s hard to leave New York, especially with all the memories of my mom, but I know it’s time to face what’s waiting for me.

I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you did for us. Your generosity and the way you opened your door to us—it meant more than words can express. I’ll always cherish those memories.

Wishing you all the best,

Y/N

⋆

Dear my fashion connections,

First off, I just want to say how incredibly thankful I am for all the opportunities you’ve given me. Working with you, learning the ins and outs of the fashion world, and seeing my designs take life has been a dream come true. From the custom pieces to the small fashion shows, you’ve helped me grow as a designer in ways I never expected.

I’m reaching out because, as difficult as this is, I’ve made the decision to return to Monaco. The decision has nothing to do with my passion for design—it’s about facing my past and moving forward with the pieces of me that I’ve left behind.

I want to reassure you that I’m not stepping away from design. Fashion is part of who I am, and that won’t change. I’ll still be working on my pieces, growing, and pushing my creativity.

I hope we can continue to stay connected, and who knows what collaborations the future might hold. I’ve learned so much from you, and I’m excited to see where our paths may cross again.

With gratitude,

Y/N

⋆

Dear Gracie,

I don’t even know where to start. You’ve been my best friend for so long, and the thought of writing this letter makes it all feel so final. But here we are. I’ve made the decision to return to Monaco. I know it’s hard for you to hear, and it’s probably hard for me to say, but it feels like the right thing to do.

It’s been over a week since I opened the letter from my mom, and I’ve been battling this inner war—do I stay in the place I’ve built for myself here, or do I go back to the place I left so long ago? It’s not that I want to leave New York. God, New York has become my home. But Monaco has always been there, lurking in the back of my mind, and after my mom’s passing, I realize I have to face it. There are things there, pieces of myself, that I’ve left behind. I need to reconnect with them, and with the life I thought I’d never return to.

I’ve spent so many years here, with you by my side, making memories that I’ll carry with me forever. From all the late nights working on sketches to those impromptu trips to get ice cream, it’s all been a part of my journey. And now, as hard as it is, I have to say goodbye for now.

You’ve been my rock, Gracie. You’ve been my person when I needed someone to laugh with, someone to cry with, and someone to remind me that life keeps moving forward even when it feels like it’s falling apart. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve been to me. You’ve made New York feel like home, and you’ve made my life better just by being in it.

I can’t imagine what life is going to look like without you by my side, but I promise you that this isn’t the end of our friendship. It’s just a chapter closing. I’ll miss you more than words can express, but I know that we’ll find a way to stay in touch, even if we’re miles apart. Maybe one day, I’ll bring you to Monaco, and we’ll share the life I left behind with you.

Thank you for being the best friend I could’ve asked for.

With all my love,

Y/N

Y/N had sealed the last envelope and taken a moment to breathe. The letters were sent—her goodbyes were final, and soon, the people she loved would know that she had made her choice. The cab ride to the airport felt almost surreal, like it was happening to someone else. She couldn’t quite believe she was leaving New York. Her home. Her memories. Gracie and Leo, even her fashion connections... everyone would soon understand that she was gone, but they wouldn’t get the chance to say goodbye to her in person.

She had made her peace, but the reality of it all hadn't fully settled in. The taxi sped through the streets of New York, her favorite spots flickering past the windows. Would she miss this? The city felt like it had become a part of her, yet she knew deep down that she had to leave.

At the airport, everything moved in a blur. Checking in, passing through security—it all felt so automatic. She wasn’t ready to face it, but she had no choice. Her bags were already packed, her mind made up. As she walked toward her gate, the weight of the goodbyes started to feel heavier, especially as she glanced at her phone, now filled with messages she wasn’t ready to read.

As the plane began to taxi down the runway, the thoughts of leaving New York began to catch up to her. She hadn’t told Gracie, not fully. The letter would speak for her. She had said everything she needed to in it, but the truth of her leaving felt too raw to say out loud.

It wasn’t just the city she was leaving behind. It was the memories of the life she built with her mom. The deli. The quiet mornings with Leo. The late-night baking sessions that had become so familiar. Those pieces of her life, the ones she had woven so carefully, felt like they were slipping away, but there was no going back. She had made her decision.

Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it for just a moment before turning it face-down in her lap. It was too late. She wasn’t turning back.

By the time the plane reached cruising altitude, the weight of the decision hit her in full force. The moment to reflect had come and gone, and now there was only moving forward. No more doubts. No more goodbyes.

Gracie would get the letter soon enough. The others too. She knew they’d be shocked, maybe even upset. But it was the right thing to do.

The next chapter had already begun, and Monaco awaited her.

Back in New York:

Gracie, completely unaware of what Y/N had been planning, sat at her desk in the quiet of her apartment. The envelope was plain, just like any other. When she opened it, she smiled, thinking it would be one of those notes from Y/N she always got—something lighthearted and full of her usual sass.

But when she read the words, her stomach dropped.

"Dear gracie," the letter started. "I don’t even know where to start. You’ve been my best friend for so long, and the thought of writing this letter makes it all feel so final. But here we are. I’ve made the decision to return to Monaco. I know it’s hard for you to hear, and it’s probably hard for me to say, but it feels like the right thing to do."

Gracie blinked at the letter, her heart racing. She stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. Back to Monaco? What did that even mean? Gracie couldn’t believe it. Y/N was just... gone? No warning? No final hug?

She read it again. And then again. But the words still didn’t change.

Y/N was leaving. For real.

Elsewhere in New York:

Leo stood behind the counter, wiping down the marble as he always did when the last of the customers had left for the evening. His gaze flicked to the envelope that had just been slid under the door.

It wasn’t unusual to get letters, but this one was different. He recognized Y/N’s handwriting immediately.

When he opened it, the familiar warmth of her words filled him with a strange ache. She was leaving. She didn’t say goodbye in person. Just... a letter.

“Dear leo,” she had written. “I’m writing this because, with everything happening, it’s time for me to say goodbye. I’ve made the decision to return to Monaco to deal with the past. It’s hard to leave New York, especially with all the memories of my mom, but I know it’s time to face what’s waiting for me. I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you did for us. Your generosity and the way you opened your door to us—it meant more than words can express. I’ll always cherish those memories.”

Leo set the letter down slowly, the quiet of the deli suddenly feeling heavier than it ever had before. He knew it had been coming, in a way—Y/N was always so restless. But this was still a shock. A final goodbye he hadn’t been ready for.

Y/N stepped off the plane, the familiar scent of the Mediterranean air hitting her senses immediately. She hadn’t been back in Monaco since she was a child, and everything seemed both the same and completely different. As she walked through the airport, her mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts—some exciting, others overwhelming. She had chosen not to rent the house her family used to live in; it felt too much like stepping back into a past she couldn’t fully reclaim. No, she needed a fresh start. A new place. A clean slate.

She made her way to the car rental desk, the keys for a small, sleek car handed to her without a second glance. The driver in her could appreciate the smooth engine and the way the car hugged the curves of the roads leading up to her new apartment.

Her new apartment was on the quieter side of Monaco, away from the busy tourist spots, but still within easy reach of everything she might need. The building itself had an old charm, the kind of elegance that came with age. But inside, it was a modern mix of comfort and style. A space to breathe. A space to start over.

Her things were already waiting in boxes, ready to be unpacked. But before she dove into the routine of arranging her life, she stood by the window, gazing out at the panoramic view of the harbor below. The water shimmered under the midday sun, the yachts gliding past like fleeting memories.

It didn’t feel real yet. She had made her decision to return, but everything felt like it was in the air, just waiting to fall into place. With one last sigh, she headed toward the boxes, determined to start making this new chapter her own.

Y/N spent the next few days getting settled in. The apartment felt like a blank canvas, and she knew it would take time before it felt like home. The first thing she did was get the essentials—groceries, toiletries, some clothes to unpack—but there were no rush to make the space feel permanent. It was strange, but there was a certain comfort in taking her time.

She spent a lot of time staring out the window, lost in thought. She couldn’t help but wonder about all the things she had left behind in Monaco—the memories of her childhood, the friends she’d lost contact with, and the family she’d once known. It wasn’t easy to push aside those feelings of nostalgia, but she wasn’t here to relive the past. She was here to move forward.

She got to work organizing the apartment, focusing on small tasks to keep her mind busy. Her walls would eventually be filled with art, her shelves with books, and the space would come to life in a way that felt uniquely hers. But for now, it was quiet. Too quiet.

She hadn’t made many plans yet—apart from figuring out how to balance her life in Monaco with the projects she’d started in New York. A little bit of the old Y/N mixed with the new. She still wasn’t sure about everything, about what exactly she was supposed to do next, but she’d figure it out. Like she always did.

Y/N was sitting on her new bed, the unpacked boxes scattered around her, when her phone buzzed. It was Gracie. Her stomach dropped a little—she had hoped the goodbye letter would be enough of an explanation, but now Gracie was calling, and that only meant one thing.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N answered. “Hey, G.”

Gracie’s voice came through quieter than usual. “Y/N... what’s going on? I got your letter, but... I don’t know. I don’t understand. Why didn’t you say goodbye? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She had known this call would come. “I’m sorry, Gracie. I thought it’d be easier this way. I didn’t know how to say it out loud... that I was leaving.”

“Leaving?” Gracie repeated, her voice small. “But... why? You—everything was so good, Y/N. You were... you were happy, I thought. You always told me New York was your home, and now you’re... gone? Just like that?”

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the distance, both physical and emotional, that was growing between them. “I wasn’t happy, G. Not the way I should’ve been. I had to leave. I needed a change. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure I could. Not yet.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Gracie finally spoke, her voice a little shakier than before. “I don’t get it. Why Monaco? After everything? After everything you built here, Y/N...”

Y/N leaned back against the wall, trying to find the right words. “Because... because it’s where I started, G. It’s where I was happy when I was little. It’s where I’ve always felt a connection to, even if I left. It’s... complicated, okay? But it’s where I need to be right now.”

Gracie let out a small sigh. “I just—why didn’t you let me in? Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling? I would’ve been there for you. I could’ve been there for you.”

Y/N swallowed hard, guilt weighing on her chest. “I didn’t want to burden you. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. You’re doing so well, G. You have everything going for you.”

Gracie’s voice cracked. “But you were my best friend, Y/N. I would’ve done anything for you.”

Y/N blinked back tears, her hand tightening around the phone. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Gracie said softly. “I just... I don’t know. I don’t understand. I don’t know how to feel.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered. “I’m not asking you to understand. I just—this is something I had to do. I can’t change it. I wish I could’ve been more honest with you, but I didn’t know how. I still don’t.”

Gracie was silent for a few moments before she spoke again, the sadness still lingering in her voice. “I just... I don’t know what to say to you. I feel like I’ve lost you.”

Y/N’s heart ached. “You haven’t lost me, G. I’m still here. I might be in Monaco, but I’m still the same person. I’ll always be your best friend. I promise you that.”

Gracie took a deep breath, her voice steady but soft. “I want to believe you. I just... I didn’t expect this, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded, even though she knew Gracie couldn’t see her. “I didn’t expect it either. I wish I could explain it better. But I promise you, I haven’t forgotten about you. I’m still here, even if it’s from a distance. I’ll write, or even better, i'll spam you with emojis everyday. I won’t disappear.”

Gracie was quiet for a moment before she responded, her voice calmer. “Okay. I get it. You had to do what’s best for you, right? I understand that. I’m sad, but I get it.”

“I’m sorry it had to be like this. I didn’t want to leave without telling you everything,” Y/N admitted.

Gracie gave a small, soft chuckle. “You’re y/n. You don’t have to explain everything. If you need to go, you need to go. Just... make sure you take care of yourself, okay?”

Y/N felt a sense of relief wash over her. “I will. And thank you, for understanding. You’re the best, Gracie. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I know,” Gracie replied, her tone light but sincere. “I love you, and I want the best for you. Just don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” Y/N said, her heart warm. “Love you too. I’ll be in touch soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Gracie agreed softly. “Take care, Y/N. I’m here whenever you need me.”

It had been a few days since Y/N had arrived back in Monaco. The shock of the decision had started to wear off, leaving a quiet sense of resolution in its place. Her boxes were unpacked, her clothes neatly hanging in the closet, and the apartment—though still unfamiliar—had started to feel more like hers with every passing hour.

The mornings here were different—brighter, lighter. It wasn’t just the sun, but something else in the air. There was a strange peace in being back, despite the swirl of emotions that still threatened to overwhelm her. It wasn’t like New York. It wasn’t the same life, the same chaos, the same pace. But there was a stillness to Monaco that made it feel like the right place to slow down for a while, to figure out what she truly needed.

Y/N stretched on the couch, the cool air from the open balcony window brushing against her skin. She had spent the morning walking around, reacquainting herself with the streets she hadn’t walked down since she was little. Nothing looked quite the same, but everything felt just as familiar. The places she remembered in bits and pieces—the ice cream shop with the blue awning, the park with the old stone fountain—had all changed. But that was to be expected. Time did that to places.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She picked it up, seeing a message from Leo, the deli owner downstairs.

“Hope you’re settling in okay! Let me know if you need anything or just want to chat.”

She smiled at the message, grateful for the familiar kindness. Leo had been like family to her and her mom during their time in New York, always there with a warm meal or a quiet word when they needed it most.

Y/N had planned on responding, but the sound of a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She set her phone down and made her way to the door, her heart picking up just a little. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

She opened it to find a small package on the doorstep, tied with a simple twine. There was no note, just the box. A gift, perhaps?

Curiosity piqued, Y/N brought it inside and sat on the couch, carefully untying the string. Inside was a small plant—an olive tree sapling, delicate but full of potential. A simple, yet meaningful gesture. She ran her fingers over the leaves, feeling a small sense of comfort.

The city had been welcoming her back in its own quiet way.

She glanced at her phone again, then typed a quick message to Leo: "Thank you for the plant. It's perfect."

With a deep breath, Y/N leaned back into the couch. She was still figuring out how this new chapter would look—how long she’d stay, what she’d do next, and whether she’d ever truly feel at home again in Monaco.

But for now, she was here. And that was enough.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

taglist: @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey @alex-wotton @ssarqhxo @rainy-darling @mymilkshakefun @hs2016 @linnygirl09 @coral7161

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Arcane had me in such a chokehold I couldn't pick- so just hear me out... through out all of it. LET. ME. COOK.

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape. Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here) This is also a slight AU.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/n: Reader is masc cause this was typically just for me to read but i decided to share it with you all so. Enjoy. It has she/her but just let your imagination soar cause i wrote this like two weeks ago and been invested since to go back and change it-

The Piltover sun was unrelenting, casting its harsh light across the cobblestone streets as you strode briskly, hands shoved deep into your pockets. Your family name weighed heavy, like chains wrapped around your shoulders. Born to a small family of tinkerers, You had spent your entire life feeling the gap between their modest contributions to Piltover's progress and the grand inventions that propelled others into fame. The Junior Enforcer Program had been your one shot at proving yourself, but rejection came swiftly, accompanied by sneering remarks about your family’s "lackluster pedigree."  

Today was no different. The square was buzzing with the usual afternoon crowd when a familiar voice rang out, dripping with derision.  

"Hey! Heard you got booted outta the program. Guess they only take people with real talent, huh?"  

It was Garett, the golden boy of the Junior Enforcers. He and his cronies flanked him, their uniforms spotless, badges polished to a mirror sheen. You froze mid-step, your jaw tightening.  

"Ignore them," You muttered to yourself, but your feet betrayed you, stopping as Garett took a few steps closer.  

"What’s wrong? Family tinkering business not enough to get you a recommendation? Or maybe they saw through that temper of yours." His grin was razor-sharp. "Guess being a second-rate scrapper runs in the family."  

The taunts weren’t new, but something about his tone—mocking, pitying—made your blood boil. The crowd had begun to gather, eyes darting between you and Garett like spectators at a boxing match.  

"Watch your mouth," you growled, fists curling.  

"Oh, what? Gonna cry about it? Or maybe punch your way into the program?" Garett took a deliberate step closer, his voice dripping with mock concern.  

You snapped. The punch came faster than anyone could react, your knuckles connecting with his jaw in a sickening crack. Garett staggered back, his smirk replaced by wide-eyed shock.  

"You don’t talk about my family," You hissed, your voice trembling with rage.  

But You weren’t done. Your training—unrefined but raw with potential—kicked in. You swept his legs, sending him crashing to the ground, then landed a sharp blow to his ribs. The crowd gasped, the whispers turning to murmurs of disbelief.  

When Garett’s friends tried to intervene, your stance shifted, your body low and coiled like a spring. One step closer, your glare seemed to say, ‘and you'll regret it’. They hesitated.  

By the time the enforcers arrived to pull you off, Garett was barely conscious, clutching his side and groaning in pain. You, meanwhile, were hauled to your feet, breathing heavily, a black eye forming from a well-placed blow Garett had managed to land. The crowd was silent now, staring at you like you were some kind of wild animal.  

Above the commotion, on a rooftop cloaked in shadow, a pair of bright, manic eyes gleamed. Jinx crouched, her lips curling into a delighted grin as she watched the scene unfold.  

“That one,” she muttered, pointing at you.  

Beside her, one of her goons—an imposing Zaunite named Clagg—shifted uneasily. "Her? She’s a Piltie. What d’you want with her?"  

Jinx turned her gaze on him, her smile widening. "She doesn’t even know what she’s capable of," she said, her voice a sing-song melody laced with chaos. "That strength, that rage... It’s wasted here, wasted on them."  

Clagg scratched the back of his neck, clearly unconvinced. "You sure she’s not just another uptight Piltie brat?"  

Jinx snorted, hopping to her feet and pacing along the edge of the roof with feline grace. "Oh, Claggie. Don’t you get it? She’s perfect. She just doesn’t know it yet."  

"Perfect for what?"  

Jinx twirled her finger beside her temple, her grin widening into something almost predatory. "For making the Undercity known, silly. For showing Piltover we’re more than scraps and fumes. She’s strong, she’s angry, and she wants to make a name for herself."  

"And you think she’ll just... switch sides?"  

Jinx leaned closer to Clagg, her tone suddenly deadly serious. "They’re gonna throw her away, like they always do. All we gotta do is pick her up and show her who she can really be."  

Clagg frowned, glancing back down at you, who was now being dragged off by two enforcers. The crowd had parted, murmuring about the ferocity you’d shown.  

"You sure she won’t turn on us?" he asked.  

Jinx tilted her head, her grin returning. "If she does, it’ll be fun. If she doesn’t... well, imagine the chaos we can cause with someone like her on our side."  

She turned away, her voice drifting like a song on the wind. "Bring her to me. I want her."  

Down below, as you were led away, you caught a glimpse of something on the rooftops—a flash of blue hair and a pair of wild, glinting eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, but you shook it off. 

You didn’t know that your life was about to change forever.  

The holding station wasn’t much—just a cobbled courtyard with heavy iron cells stacked against the walls, open to the unforgiving Piltover sun. You sat slumped against the bars, your arms draped over your knees, still nursing your bruised eye. The static buzz of the enforcer station echoed in the air, but you barely noticed. Your knuckles throbbed, but it was a good kind of pain—the kind that reminded you, you weren’t powerless.  

"Well, well. Look who’s behind bars."  

Your gaze snapped upward. Garett stood on the other side of the bars, his jaw tightly wrapped in bandages, one arm cradling his ribs. His smirk was weaker now, but his words carried the same venom. "Guess that temper finally landed you where you belong, huh?"  

You leaned back, letting out a low chuckle. "Still standing, aren’t I? You’re the one who looks like they got hit by a train."  

His smirk faltered. Your grin grew. "What do you want, Garett? A rematch?"  

"You’re lucky I didn’t press for worse charges," he sneered, stepping closer to the bars. "Your kind doesn’t belong in Piltover. Should’ve left you to rot with the Zaun rats."  

The word hit you like a slap, but you hid it behind a sly grin. "Bold words for someone on the wrong side of these bars," you said sweetly. "But hey, come a little closer. Say that again."  

Garett narrowed his eyes, but pride—and maybe stupidity—drove him forward. You shifted subtly, the muscles in your arms tensing like coiled springs.  

When Garett was close enough, you struck, grabbing his collar and yanking him hard into the bars. His head slammed against the iron with a sickening thud, and he yelped in pain.  

"You little—"  

Before he could finish, a sharp jolt of electricity coursed through your body. Gasping, you collapsed to your knees as the enforcers stepped in, tasers crackling. Garett stumbled back, holding his head, his curses drowned out by the ringing in your ears.  

When the shock subsided, you dragged yourself upright, your vision blurry. You caught movement in your peripheral vision—a figure stepping out from the shade of a nearby fountain.  

Caitlyn Kiramman.  

Her uniform was immaculate, her posture poised, but her curious gaze lingered on you like she was trying to solve a puzzle. She approached slowly, stopping just outside the cell.  

"You don’t hold back, do you?" Caitlyn said, her voice even but laced with faint amusement.  

You shot her a glare. "What do you want? Here to lecture me about ‘proper conduct’ too?"  

"Not exactly." Caitlyn crossed her arms, tilting her head. "You’re... different. Strong, capable, but reckless. That’s why you weren’t accepted into the program, isn’t it?"  

Your fists tightened, but you didn’t respond.  

Caitlyn continued, her voice softening. "You don’t have to waste your potential. I’ve seen people like you—people who think strength alone is enough. But without control, you’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you."  

"And what? You think you can fix me?" You snapped, your voice edged with bitterness.  

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "That depends. Do you want to be fixed?"  

The question hung in the air, heavier than you expected. For the first time, you were at a loss for words. Caitlyn stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I can get you another chance. The program needs people with your skill. But you need to show me you can handle it."  

Your jaw tightened, your pride clashing with the flicker of something you didn’t want to admit—hope.  

"I don’t need your help," you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.  

Caitlyn studied her for a moment, then stepped back, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Think about it. I’ll be around." She turned and walked away, taking a seat by the fountain, her gaze flicking back to you occasionally.  

From the shadowed alley across the square, Clagg watched, his massive frame blending into the darkness. His brows furrowed as he observed Caitlyn’s interaction with you, the faint tension between them. When the conversation ended, he slipped away, heading back toward the Undercity.  

Jinx was perched on a rickety table in her lair, tinkering with a new gadget, when Clagg arrived. He cleared his throat, and she looked up, her blue hair a wild, tangled halo around her face.  

"Well?" she asked, her voice sing-song but sharp. "Is she ready to join the fun?"  

Clagg hesitated. "Not exactly. They’re holding her until morning. But... there’s a complication."  

Jinx’s eyes narrowed, her hands stilling. "What kind of complication?"  

Clagg scratched his neck, looking uncomfortable. "The Piltie—Kiramman. She talked to them. Seemed like she was trying to... recruit her."  

Jinx’s expression darkened, her grin disappearing. "Recruit her?"  

"Yeah. Something about the Junior Program. She said she needed to ‘control her anger.’"  

For a moment, Jinx was silent. Then she laughed, a sharp, grating sound. "Control her anger? Control it? That’s what makes her amazing!" She hopped off the table, pacing erratically. "That’s what makes her... Why would she want to be some boring, uptight enforcer when she could be so much more?"  

Clagg shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe she doesn’t see it that way. Not yet, anyway."  

Jinx stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing. "She will. Because I’m not letting her waste herself on those Piltover snobs." She spun on her heel, her grin returning, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  

Clagg watched her carefully. "You jealous or somethin’, Jinx?" he asked, half-joking.  

Jinx froze, then shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. "Jealous? Please. I just don’t want her to turn into another boring Piltie pawn." She turned away, her voice quieter but filled with determination. "She belongs with us. She just doesn’t know it yet."  

Clagg nodded slowly, stepping back as Jinx returned to her tinkering, her hands moving with restless energy. But the look in her eyes—sharp, calculating—told him she wasn’t done with you yet.  

Not by a long shot.  

The morning came with a harsh jangle of keys and the scrape of boots on stone. You stirred at the sound, every muscle in your body stiff and aching. The cold floor beneath you offered little comfort.

“Breakfast, rat,” an enforcer barked, tossing a dented metal bowl through the bars of your cell. It clattered to the ground, its contents sloshing dangerously close to the filthy floor.

You dragged yourself up, peering into the bowl. The so-called “meal” looked more like paste than food—a gray, lumpy porridge that smelled faintly sour. Your stomach churned, both from hunger and disgust. You hadn’t eaten in days, too consumed by work before your arrest to even think about food. Now, the gnawing hunger clawed at your insides, but even desperation had its limits.

The enforcer sneered. “What? Too good for Piltover’s finest cuisine?”

You glared at him, your lip curling, but before you could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

“That’s enough.”

Caitlyn Kiramman stepped into view, her commanding presence making the enforcer stiffen. She gave him a pointed look, her voice firm. “Dismissed.”

The enforcer muttered something under his breath but left without further protest. Caitlyn waited until he was gone before turning back to you.

“That doesn’t look particularly appetizing,” she remarked, her eyes flicking to the bowl.

You snorted, pushing the porridge aside with your boot. “You could say that.”

Without a word, Caitlyn stepped away, returning moments later with a small bundle. She crouched by the bars and slid it through—a cloth-wrapped package that smelled… amazing. Your stomach growled audibly as you unwrapped it to reveal fresh bread, cured meat, and cheese.

You didn’t bother with gratitude or manners, tearing into the food like it might disappear if you didn’t finish it quickly. Caitlyn watched you, her expression unreadable, though there was a faint flicker of something in her eyes. Amusement? Concern?

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” she said after a moment, her tone softer now. “It’s not just hunger I see in you. You’re worn down—physically and… otherwise.”

You didn’t respond, focused on the food. It wasn’t until the last bite was gone that you leaned back against the bars, letting out a slow breath. Caitlyn still stood there, studying you.

Her gaze lingered on your arms, and you realized too late that your sleeves had slipped up, revealing the ink etched into your skin. The tattoos were simple, clean lines that twisted and turned across your arms, forming an intricate pattern that, to the untrained eye, might have looked random.

But Caitlyn’s sharp eyes picked up on the subtle symmetry. “Those tattoos…” she began, her voice laced with curiosity. “They’re a map, aren’t they?”

You tugged your sleeves down, your eyes narrowing. “It’s personal.”

For a moment, she looked like she might press further, but instead, she nodded, stepping back. “Fair enough,” she said simply, though her curiosity didn’t wane.

Above the holding station, hidden among the rooftops, Jinx crouched in the shadows of her hooded cloak, her bright blue hair tucked away. Her manic eyes tracked every movement, every word exchanged between you and Caitlyn.

“She’s just sitting there, acting all… proper,” Jinx muttered to herself, her voice dripping with disdain. “Thinking she can just swoop in with her fancy bread and—”

Her head snapped to the side, as if addressing someone who wasn’t there. “Oh, I know what she’s doing. Acting all high and mighty, trying to make her into a little Piltie puppet.”

Clagg shifted uncomfortably behind her, glancing between her and the interaction below. “You sure this is worth it, Jinx? If Kirraman’s sniffing around, it’s gonna be a lot harder to grab her.”

Jinx didn’t seem to hear him, her hands twitching as she began pacing along the rooftop. “Why does she even care? She doesn’t see it—doesn’t see what I see. The fire, the chaos, the… the art.” She giggled, then stopped abruptly, her expression twisting.

“But she will. Oh, she will. When I show her.”

Clagg hesitated, his voice low. “Maybe we should back off. Let her cool down first.”

Jinx spun around, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him close, her manic grin returning. “Back off? Claggie, darling, that’s not how we do things. I said I want her, and I always get what I want.”

Her grip tightened, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Now, bring me Sevika. If Caitlyn wants to play games, we’ll give her something to think about.”

Clagg nodded quickly, retreating as Jinx released him. She turned back to the scene below, her grin fading into something darker.

“She doesn’t need fixing,” Jinx murmured to herself, her voice soft but tinged with something almost… vulnerable. “She’s perfect just the way she is.”

The afternoon light bled through the iron bars, a dim and indifferent reminder of time passing. You sat curled in the corner of your cell, your knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped around them. The stone was cold against your skin, but the tension in your body made you oblivious to it. The hum of enforcers’ chatter in the distance felt like white noise, and you closed your eyes, trying to block it all out.

The metallic rattle of keys pulled you back to reality.

You glanced up sharply as Caitlyn appeared, a brown satchel slung over one shoulder. Her polished boots echoed against the stone as she approached, stopping just outside your cell.

“Still sulking, I see,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of observation that made your jaw clench.

You shrugged, lowering your gaze. “What do you want, Kiramman? Here to throw me another pity sandwich?”

She ignored the jab and reached into her bag, pulling out a folded bundle of clothes. “Actually, I thought you might want something clean to wear. You’ve been in those for days.”

The gesture caught you off guard. Your eyes flicked between her and the clothes, suspicion prickling in your chest. “What’s your angle?”

Caitlyn smirked, leaning casually against the bars. “You’re really determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

You scoffed, your sarcasm kicking in as a defense. “Wow, you figured me out. Guess those fancy detective skills weren’t wasted after all.”

She didn’t rise to the bait, her calm demeanor frustratingly unshakable. “I pulled a few strings,” she said simply. “Instead of transferring you to the main detention center, I convinced them to let you out under my supervision.”

Your head snapped up, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. The shock must’ve shown on your face because Caitlyn’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly.

“You… what?” you managed, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she replied. “I figured you deserved a second chance. It’s not every day I meet someone who can take down an enforcer and still have enough fight left to make sarcastic remarks from a jail cell.”

Her comment wasn’t just a tease; it was understanding. You felt an unfamiliar heat rise to your face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt… seen.

You blinked, looking down at the floor before mumbling, “Thanks.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Did I just hear you say something nice?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. It was fleeting, but Caitlyn caught it, and something flickered in her expression. It wasn’t obvious—just the faintest spark of warmth—but it disappeared before you could question it.

“Don’t make me regret this,” she said lightly, sliding the bundle of clothes through the bars. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. You can shower at my quarters.”

You hesitated, but the thought of a hot shower and clean clothes was too tempting to resist. Rising to your feet, you grabbed the clothes, your curiosity about Caitlyn growing with each interaction.

The walk to her place was surprisingly quiet at first, the buzz of Piltover’s streets filling the silence. Caitlyn walked beside you, her steps measured and her presence steady. Eventually, she broke the silence.

“So,” she began, glancing at you. “Recklessness seems to be a theme with you. Always been like that?”

You shrugged, adjusting the bundle of clothes under your arm. “Guess you could say that. I’ve always been… protective. Didn’t like seeing people get pushed around, so I did something about it. Got me into trouble more times than I can count.”

Caitlyn nodded, her expression thoughtful. “You don’t strike me as the ‘follower’ type.”

A dry laugh escaped you. “Not really my style. I don’t do well with rules. Never have.”

Her curiosity deepened. “Where did you grow up? Before Piltover, I mean.”

You hesitated, the question stirring something uncomfortable in your chest. “I don’t really remember,” you admitted. “Had an accident when I was a kid—eight or nine, maybe. Lost a lot of memories. My parents said we had to move here, and… well, that’s about it.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t press further. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah,” you said simply, your gaze fixed ahead.

The conversation quieted, but the air between you felt less tense now, a tentative connection forming.

The sun dipped low, casting Piltover in hues of amber and gold as the streets grew busier. The walk to Caitlyn’s quarters was quiet for the most part, the city’s hum filling the space between you. You clutched the fresh clothes she’d given you, your mind racing with questions about why she’d gone out of her way for you. The warmth of gratitude mingled awkwardly with the stubborn edge of your independence, and you kept your thoughts to yourself.

Caitlyn finally broke the silence, her voice steady but probing. “So, do you plan to keep punching enforcers, or was that a one-time thing?”

You smirked despite yourself. “Depends on how annoying they are.”

Her laughter, soft but genuine, caught you off guard. You glanced at her, unsure if she was mocking you, but her expression was amused rather than judgmental.

The conversation lulled again, and you turned your attention back to the crowd ahead. That’s when you felt it—a strange pull, like a string tightening in your chest.

Your eyes scanned the bustling square, and there she was.

A figure cloaked in shadows, her hood low but not enough to hide the faint glow of blue strands peeking out. Her posture was loose, almost lazy, but her eyes… her eyes burned with a wild, electric intensity. They locked onto you, and for a moment, everything else faded.

Your heart twisted in a way you couldn’t explain. Something about her felt dangerous, chaotic, and yet… you couldn’t look away. You were trapped, rooted to the spot by the sheer force of her gaze.

“Are you alright?”

Caitlyn’s voice broke the spell. You blinked, tearing your eyes away to look at her. She’d stopped walking and was now watching you with a raised brow.

“What?” you asked, your voice slightly hoarse.

“I asked if you were planning to clean up your act,” Caitlyn said, tilting her head. “Or should I prepare for another arrest in the near future?”

You huffed a laugh, trying to shake the lingering unease from your chest. “Not really my style to plan ahead.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a small smile. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

As the conversation ended, you instinctively glanced back toward the spot where the hooded figure had been. But she was gone.

The space she’d occupied now seemed impossibly empty, as if she’d been a mirage. The strange tightness in your chest lingered, though, a reminder that what you’d seen was very real.

Caitlyn resumed walking, unaware of the moment you’d just experienced. You followed her, your thoughts muddled. Whoever she was, that look… it wasn’t something you’d soon forget.

      Caitlyn’s quarters were surprisingly modest for someone with her family name. The space was neat, furnished with clean lines and muted tones, though it lacked the lived-in warmth of a true home. You stepped inside cautiously, taking in the surroundings as Caitlyn moved toward a small desk, gathering some scattered papers.

“You don’t get a lot of company, do you?” you teased, running your fingers along the edge of a shelf lined with books and trinkets.

She glanced over her shoulder with an arched brow. “What makes you say that?”

You smirked, gesturing vaguely to the room. “It’s… a little too perfect. Like you’ve been trying to convince yourself you’re comfortable living alone.”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched into a faint smile as she continued tidying up. “Some of us prefer a bit of order in our lives. Not everyone thrives in chaos.”

You chuckled softly, continuing to wander. “Order’s overrated.”

Eventually, she stopped and turned to you. “Shower’s this way,” she said, leading you down a short hallway. She opened a door, revealing a clean bathroom stocked with neatly arranged towels and toiletries.

She gestured toward the counter. “Towels are here, soap’s in the shower. Let me know if you need anything else.”

You stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to phrase what you wanted to say. “Hey, uh…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks. For everything. You didn’t have to go out of your way for me.”

Caitlyn leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I’m starting to think gratitude doesn’t come naturally to you.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, well… I mean it. But about this whole program thing…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t think it’s for me. I don’t… fit into neat little boxes. I never have. And I don’t want to disappoint you. Or your name. You’ve got a reputation to uphold, and I’d just ruin it.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, and for a moment, you saw the same person who had defended you earlier. “You’re selling yourself short,” she said. “You don’t have to be perfect to make a difference. Everything you’ve done… maybe it wasn’t by the book, but that doesn’t make it wrong.”

Her words caught you off guard, a flicker of doubt stirring in your chest. You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ll think about it.”

As she spoke, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it off without thinking. Caitlyn froze mid-sentence.

Her eyes widened, fixating on the tattoos that adorned your skin—a network of minimalist lines and shapes that seemed to map your body. You glanced over your shoulder, catching her staring.

“See something you like, Kiramman?” you teased, a sly grin tugging at your lips.

She stammered, her usual poise momentarily shattered. “I-I wasn’t— I just—”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you stepped into the bathroom. “Relax, Commander. I’ll be out in a bit.”

The shower was a welcome relief, washing away days of grime and tension. You lingered longer than you probably should have, letting the heat soothe your aching muscles. When you finally emerged, dressed in the fresh clothes Caitlyn had given you, the scent of something… burning hit your nose.

You walked into the kitchen to find Caitlyn in a state of controlled chaos. She was at the stove, fumbling with a pan that was clearly getting the better of her. Smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling as she muttered under her breath, poking at something that might have once been food.

“Need a hand?” you asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

She jumped slightly, spinning to face you. “I was trying to make something for you. But it’s… not going as planned.”

You smirked, stepping forward to take the pan from her. “Let me handle this before you burn the place down.”

With practiced ease, you salvaged what you could and whipped up a simple but hearty meal. Caitlyn watched from the side, her arms crossed but her expression amused.

“Didn’t expect you to be good at cooking,” she remarked as you set two plates on the small dining table.

“People like me have to learn how to take care of ourselves,” you replied, sitting down across from her.

The meal was quiet at first, but Caitlyn eventually broke the silence. “You’ve been in a lot of fights, haven’t you?”

“More than I can count,” you admitted.

“Do you ever think about how you could’ve avoided them?” she asked, her tone curious rather than judgmental.

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. “That’s just who I am. I see someone getting pushed around, I step in. It doesn’t matter if it’s smart or not.”

Caitlyn studied you for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. Then you decided to turn the tables.

“What about you?” you asked, smirking. “What’s your love life like? Got a boyfriend waiting somewhere?”

She stammered, clearly caught off guard. “I—no, I don’t—”

You raised an eyebrow. “No boyfriend, huh? Girlfriend, then?”

Her face turned slightly pink, and she fumbled for a response. Before she could come up with one, you grinned. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

The tension broke, and both of you ended up laughing harder than you had in a long time.

Later, as you stood at the door ready to leave, there was a strange tension in the air. Caitlyn handed you your belongings, her expression unreadable.

“Thanks for… everything,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

She nodded, watching you closely. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

You stepped out into the cool night air, the streets of Piltover feeling oddly oppressive now that you were alone. Something gnawed at the edge of your awareness, a sense of being watched.

A voice called your name from the shadows, low and gravelly. You spun around, your posture instinctively defensive.

A tall woman emerged from the darkness, her metallic arm glinting faintly under the streetlights. “You’ve caught someone’s eye,” she said, her voice laced with menace.

Your heart raced as you tried to place her, but before you could respond, another voice echoed through the alley—high-pitched, teasing, and almost sing-song.

“Aw, Sevika, don’t scare her too much.”

Your head snapped to the source of the voice, but all you saw was the faint outline of a figure perched above, her laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice sharp.

Sevika didn’t answer. She lunged forward, her cybernetic arm moving faster than you anticipated. You tried to dodge, but the impact was overwhelming, the world spinning into darkness as you hit the ground.

The last thing you heard before everything faded was the faint sound of laughter echoing in your ears.

___________

well… i personally like the next part (like i said i wrote this a little while ago like 2 weeks ago- it’s everywhere and 80k words-)

Apologies if there is any mistakes😔

[librababe99]

Ashes of Desire

CW: emotional manipulation, violence, danger, angst...

Summary: On a humid New Orleans night, you’re drawn to the dangerously magnetic Remy LeBeau, despite every warning. His red eyes and easy charm pull you into a whirlwind of stolen kisses and whispered secrets. Word Count: 1548

AN: Last post for the night y'all and I swear I'll leave your timelines alone😂❤️ I feel like I've been writing a lot of angst? But I honestly love it LOL---I hope you enjoy and as always comments/feedback are appreciated! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

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The humid New Orleans night clung to you like a second skin, the air heavy with the scent of rain and the whispers of secrets lurking in every shadowed corner. Bourbon Street was alive, pulsing with the vibrant energy of the city—jazz music spilling from open doors, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses, the occasional shout cutting through the noise. But none of it reached your ears. Your focus was singular, unwavering, fixed on the figure leaning casually against the brick wall just beyond the reach of the neon lights.

Remy LeBeau.

He was every bit the enigma you’d always known him to be—cool, composed, with an air of danger that clung to him like the night itself. His red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, a predatory gleam that set your nerves on edge and made your pulse quicken. You knew better. You knew the stories, the warnings whispered by those who had crossed paths with the infamous Gambit and lived to tell the tale. He was a thief, a rogue, a man with more blood on his hands than you cared to think about. But there was something about him, something dark and magnetic that drew you in like a moth to a flame, even when you knew you were going to get burned.

He pushed off the wall with a lazy grace, his smirk deepening as he sauntered toward you, each step deliberate, measured. The slick cobblestones beneath his boots barely made a sound. The narrow alleyway you had cornered him in felt suddenly too small, too intimate, the walls pressing in on you as the space between you dwindled.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he drawled, his voice thick with that unmistakable Cajun accent that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze flickered over you, a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. His eyes were unreadable, a storm behind a veil of indifference, and yet, you couldn’t look away.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the alleyway, crowding out everything else. You had come here tonight with a purpose, but now that you were face-to-face with him, you weren’t sure what that purpose was anymore.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that curled around your insides like smoke. “Always de stubborn one, ain’t ya, chère?” he said, closing the distance between you in two strides. He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, and the contact sent a shock through your system. Your skin tingled where he touched you, a stark contrast to the cold fear creeping up your spine.

“Chère, you keep playin’ dis game, but you don’t even know the rules,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words a warning and a promise all at once.

Your breath hitched as his hand lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his skin making you acutely aware of just how close he was. You wanted to pull away, to put some distance between you, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch instead, craving the warmth and the danger that came with it.

“I know enough,” you whispered, though the words felt hollow, even to your own ears. What were you doing? What did you hope to achieve? This man was danger personified, a storm wrapped in charm and lies, and yet, here you were, drawn to him like an addict to their poison.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place passing through them—something that made your chest tighten painfully. “Maybe,” he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “But sometimes, knowin’ ain’t enough to save you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and ominous, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of regret in his eyes, a vulnerability so fleeting you almost doubted you’d seen it at all. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar mask of nonchalance that he wore like armor.

“You think I’m gonna save you, chère?” he teased, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending another shiver down your spine. “’Cause I ain’t no hero. Never been, never will be.”

“I don’t need saving,” you snapped, finding your voice again, even as your heart hammered in your chest. “Especially not from you.”

The smirk that curled his lips was sharp, dangerous, and it made something inside you twist painfully. “Dat’s where you’re wrong, ma belle. I’m the one you should be runnin’ from.”

But you couldn’t run. Not now. Not after you’d come this far, not after everything that had led you to this moment. And that’s how you found yourself tangled up in his arms, lips crashing together in a kiss that was more desperation than passion, a collision of need and fear and something else you couldn’t name. It was a mistake. You knew that. But in that moment, with the world spinning around you and the taste of him on your tongue, it was the only thing that felt real.

He kissed you like he was drowning, like you were the last breath of air he’d ever have, and you let him. You let him because for once, you wanted to be the one who made him feel something, anything. Even if it was just for a moment.

But it wasn’t just a moment.

It was a series of stolen kisses, whispered words in the dark, and nights spent in each other’s arms, pretending that this—whatever it was—could be something more. You told yourself it was just a fling, just a game, but deep down, you knew it was a lie.

You were falling for him. And it was going to destroy you.

Because Remy LeBeau was not a man who could be saved. He was a storm, wild and unpredictable, and you were caught in the eye of it, helpless to do anything but watch as everything you knew was torn apart.

He warned you. He told you to stay away. But you didn’t listen. You thought you could handle it, handle him, but now you were drowning in the mess you’d made, and there was no one to pull you out.

And Remy? He was still there, still holding you close, but you could see the cracks in his façade, the way he looked at you like he was waiting for the inevitable. He wasn’t going to save you. He was going to drag you down with him, and there was nothing either of you could do to stop it.

“Remy,” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain pattering against the window. The city outside was alive, but in that quiet room, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. “What are we doing?”

He didn’t answer right away, just held you tighter, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, as if he could memorize the feel of you beneath his touch. “Survivin’, chère,” he said finally, his voice rough and tired. “We’re just survivin’.”

But you both knew it was more than that. You weren’t surviving—you were burning. And sooner or later, there would be nothing left but ashes.

But even as that truth hung heavy between you, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t walk away. Because as much as it hurt, as much as it tore you apart, you needed him. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

So you stayed. You stayed even though you knew it was killing you, even though you knew that every kiss, every touch, was another step closer to the edge.

The nights grew longer, the days more unbearable as the weight of your choices pressed down on you. Remy was a constant presence, always there in the shadows of your mind, a reminder of everything you were trying to escape and everything you couldn’t bear to lose. The more time you spent with him, the more you felt the edges of your sanity fray, the more you felt yourself slipping further into the abyss.

You began to notice the small things, the things that only someone who was hopelessly entangled would see—the way his laughter never quite reached his eyes, the way his hands would tremble just slightly when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he would watch you when he thought you were asleep, his expression soft and almost…broken.

But those moments of vulnerability were fleeting, gone as soon as they appeared, replaced by the mask you had come to know so well. He was still Remy LeBeau, the charming, dangerous thief who could steal your breath with a smile and break your heart with a whisper. He was still the storm you had foolishly decided to weather, even as it tore your world apart.

And when the end came���because it would come, you knew that now—it would be on his terms, not yours.

Because Remy LeBeau was a thief, and he had stolen more than just your heart.

He had stolen your soul.

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Taglist: @venssu

[demonic0angel]

The brainrot is eating at me, pls feed me a piece of talia and Jazz coparenting damian🫶😔

(Ofc pookie 😌)

Damian began looking at his outfit in the mirror. At this moment, Timothy poked his head into his room without knocking. Before Damian could react and stab a knife between his eyes, he already began talking.

“Hey, Damian, can you— what are you doing?” Timothy’s gaze sharpened immediately. “Where are you going?”

Damian scowled. “Out of my room, Drake!”

“Not until you tell me where you’re going,” Timothy said with a frown. “You usually never dress up. What’s going on?”

Damian huffed and smoothed out his shirt before patting his hair down. His collar was still messy, but he did nothing about it. “I’m going out to see my moms.”

“…. Your what.”

Damian put his hands in his hips. “My moms? My mother and my mom? Are you deaf as well as in need of intelligence?”

Timothy groaned. “What do you mean by two moms?? I thought you only had one mom? Talia??”

Damian rolled his eyes. “No, I have two. Mother married Mom and I’ve received news that she finally arrived back in this world, so she is taking me out and she will also meet Father. Do you want to come see?”

Timothy stared at him. Then he said, “Fuck yes.”

Damian waited eagerly for his mom to arrive. Everyone in the household had now heard of their oncoming guest and were now congregating around the entrance, eyes trained on the door. Damian ignored them, even as Richard tried to ask him questions. Father was looking at him not very subtly, but Damian did not answer.

The doorbell rang and Alfred walked up to open the door as everyone immediately hushed up. The door opened and Stephanie gave a shocked, “Holy crap.”

Jazz stood in front of the door, tilting her head and scanning the room until she spotted Damian. “Damian!” She called, immediately breaking into a radiant smile.

She was as beautiful as Damian remembered. There seemed to be more age in her eyes, but she was still as lovely as the day that she left.

Damian immediately ran to her, jumping into her arms enthusiastically. “Mom!” He responded cheerfully and she beamed, kissing him on the head. He could almost physically feel the disbelief coming from his siblings and the shock from his father.

She put him on the ground again and fixed his collar, as she said, “Look at you! You’re so tall now! I’m so sorry that I missed so much, Dami. How have you been settling well in here? Has American school been difficult? I can give you my notes and I’d love to help you study if you’d like! I also heard that your father is here….?”

She looked up and tilted her head. “Wow, there are a lot of doppelgängers here…”

Damian reached up to hold her hand. “Mom, these are my siblings and Father and Alfred. This is Richard, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Timothy. Jason is hopefully dead in a ditch.”

Everyone looked at him with eyes of horror, but only Jazz tilted her head back and burst into laughter. Damian smiled proudly as Jazz reached down to pick him up again. Her hugs were just as he remembered, safe, comforting, and very high from the ground.

“… you’re dating Talia?” Bruce suddenly asked. The look on his face was very strange, almost sulky. Damian rolled his eyes again and clicked his tongue.

Jazz tilted her head. “Yes. I’ve been dating her for quite a while. I’m pleased to meet you, but I’m afraid we’re pressed for time. Tally is waiting in the car and I have plans to spend the whole day with Dami today.” She patted his hair and kissed him on the cheek. Damian immediately hid his face to hide from the coos from Stephanie and Richard. “I hope we can make introductions later. Thank you for taking care of my Dami, see you later!”

And with that, she quickly strode away without another word or any hesitation.

As Jazz bounded away on the cobblestone road away from the Manor, she remarked, “Wow, there were so many blue eyed people in the house, huh?”

Damian burst into laughter. After a while, he finally added, “I missed you, Mom. It was different without you…. And difficult too.”

Jazz cooed. “I’m so sorry, dearest. But don’t worry, it’ll be okay. I’m here now, alright? And I won’t leave you again, promise.”

[thevillainswhore]

Read Between The Lines

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: There shouldn’t have been anything unusual about your routine visit to the local bookstore. Your life was simple and mundane, even if you were a daydreamer at heart. But you were pleasantly surprised when this time you met a handsome stranger between the shelves.

Warnings: Pure fluff, meet cute, meddling bookstore owners, lets also pretend that walking someone home after you’ve only just met is fine 😅🤣

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics and dividers by @rookthorne 💜 hope you enjoy your gift my love 🥰

It was an early morning in Brooklyn as you walked down the cobblestone path — a light dusting of wind had you wrapping your coat tighter around you while a chill tingled your cheeks. 

Finally, a free day marked out in your calendar meant you had the opportunity to spend some time to yourself and of course, that had to include the cutesy, tucked away bookshop — fittingly named Hidden Treasures — found in an unplanned outing; a true secret gem you held dear to your heart. 

Weekly stops to your new bookstore soon became routine in your life. A daydreamer at heart, you were always on the hunt for a new fairytale or fantasy to delve into; best friends to lovers, soulmates bound to fall in love, a bump in with a handsome stranger — a girl could dream. 

Modern dating had proven disastrous for you when plenty of first dates arranged online had turned sour fast. That embarrassment was enough to have you swear off real romance for life. 

So, you had always kept your head in your books. Yes, your days might have been a little stale. And yes, you could have used a little more excitement in your life. But, you were more than happy to stick to your safety net of fictional men — they would never disappoint you.

The chime from the store bell rang as soon as you opened the door and stepped inside. Shimmying your coat and scarf off, you hung them on the rack and sighed happily. By the counter as always was Teddy; the sweet, old man who had greeted you with a beaming smile and an enthusiastic wave since your first visit. “Morning, darlin’!”

“Good morning, Ted.” It was impossible to contain your wide grin as you stomped the dirt off your boots onto the mat, happy to see the bookstore owner and your now good friend. “I’ll catch you when I’m finished, okay?” 

As usual, Teddy gave you the go ahead with a nudge of his head to get on with your weekly haul, already expecting you to jump into your adventure of fiction and find him after. 

The feeling of being transported into another world each time never disappeared. The floor to ceiling oak bookshelves wrapped in green vines, towered over you like castles and the bumps and ridges of variously sized books you ran your hands over reminded you of their stone walls. Fairy lights were strung between the exposed wooden beams of the roof and streams of daylight casted in through the window that brightened the shop.

All your responsibilities vanished for the time being and a blissful peace clouded the stress and anxiety of the week. It was magical.

Endless coves and hideouts hid around the shop — the amount of times you had gotten lost, even in such a small space, never failed to amuse Teddy. You would always find your way back to the counter, a stack of books overflowing in your arms with a sheepish expression. You were still finding secrets to this very day. 

After idly walking around the cozy bookshop for a while with no real goal, you eventually decided to stroll towards the romance section. You were on a mission to find the next installment of the series you were currently reading, browsing from A-Z and trailing the tip of your finger along the coffee stained, worned spines.

The rustic smell you could only find between the pages of written stories were deeply breathed in as you hummed along to the calm jazz song that played from the speakers. You scoured through the endless selection until you reached exactly what you were looking for. Finger coming to a stop, you were about to carefully pluck the book from the shelf. 

Now, you believed you were a cautious person — a healthy amount of awareness of your surroundings never hurt to keep you safe. However, instinct seemed to fail you when a figure brushed your back. They were directly behind you, light on their feet and quiet. 

The tiny hairs on your arms stood up, alert with the presence close by and before you could have spun around, a thick arm stretched over the top of your head and into your vision.  

The feel of ringed fingers gently brushed against yours as they landed on the book you planned to take. You looked at both of your hands, transfixed at the difference in size between you. The staccato of your heart was sent into overdrive, thumping wildly against your chest. 

You watched in real time as the cold silver against your warm skin thrummed all the way through your body, a bolt of electricity tingling your nerves — never had you felt more alive.   

Following a path from the stranger's hands all the way up his arms, the pattern of colourful tattoos screamed out at you. Beautiful, intricate designs with immaculate detailing bursted over his olive skin and decorated his frame perfectly. 

There was no doubt this stranger heard the small gasp you let loose. But you couldn’t have helped it. Those arms taunted you — the devil on your shoulder poked its sharp tail against you and whispered delightful sins into your ear. 

Down girl. You didn't even know him yet.

“Oh!” The stranger exclaimed. “My apologies, Doll. Looks like we were reaching for the same book.” The deep voice that rumbled above caused a shiver to run down your spine — pure heaven in your ears. 

You gained the courage to turn around and look up at his face, and you were utterly mesmerised at the ocean blues staring straight into your soul, reaching into the deep valleys of guarded secrets you kept close to your heart. Everything you wanted to keep hidden started to unravel in one look. You were unsure whether you loved it or hated it.  

Your mouth fell agape as this tattooed stranger with a dreamy gaze smirked, watching you take his appearance in. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you racked your head for something to say as your eyes darted over his features — desperate to take in his beauty. 

However, you failed to realise this man had also been basking in your beauty too, obsessing over every detail of your face. You watched him slowly lick his lips, flitting his eyes up and down your figure before he summarised, “Huh — I guess you do look the type for a good romance.” 

As much as you tried to remain composed, your mind apparently had decided that was the time to throw your filter out the window. “I can’t say the same for you.” 

Your mouth instantly fell open in shock, mortified at your audacity. The embarrassment of your own awkward nature forced you to slap your hand over your mouth. 

Quick to want to rectify your mistake, you stuttered, falling over your own words as you attempted to say your apologies. “Oh my god. I didn’t— I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! Just— just with the tattoos and— and the— the um…” your words trailed off as you gawked at his nose ring in awe.

You were too busy lost in this man’s invisible spell to notice the laugh he tried to keep in. All you paid attention to was his teeth biting into his plump bottom lip. 

However, it was the sudden realisation of the position the two of you hadn’t moved from that shook you out of your haze — now hyper aware of the proximity against each of your chests. The way this walking, tatted sin on legs, plucked straight from your dreams held eye contact astounded you. Your legs were almost forced to cross over each other, to stop the flutter between them as his breath tickled your neck and the scent of mint and leather permeated your senses. 

Outwardly shaking your head to snap out of your brain fog, you stepped back to lean against the bookshelf, out of this unusual hold of a stranger so you could actually think properly. 

You undoubtedly expected him to bid you farewell, for him to take offense to your quip (rightfully so)  and never see him again — your chance flushed down the drain already due to your own inability to socialise like a human being. 

The world would be that cruel to you, you figured. To dangle the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in front of you only to rip him away because of your lack of grace. Why not after your so called luck with dating? 

So it was to your pleasant surprise that instead, this stranger wasn’t repelled by you and in fact took a step closer towards you, eyes homed onto yours intensely with a glint of mischief. “While my looks may be deceiving,” he rested his hand on the shelf beside you and leaned down to your height. “I sure don’t mind the element of surprise if it captures the attention of a pretty girl.”

The charm and the charisma that seeped from his pores had you releasing a giggle. And the delight of being the cause of that twinkle in his cerulean eyes was unlike anything else.

Testing the waters, you teased him, praying you didnt mess up the second chance you had been graciously gifted. “Do you normally pick up girls in bookstores?”

The bewitching stranger didn’t let up on his allure though. “This is actually my first time, is it obvious how bad I am at this?”

“You’re not doing so bad.” You shrugged, a smile edging its way into your face. 

“Well, thank god for that.” He dramatically clasped his hand to his heart, blowing out a breath. “I was hoping that would work because I had no more pick up lines to win you over.”

Your laughter filled the aisle. His endearing nature — just the right balance of wit and appeal — attracted you even more. 

A calm broke over the two of you as your joint amusement naturally settled. You both continued to gaze at the other before your companion introduced himself. “I’m Bucky.”

Bucky. You finally had the stranger’s name and it suited him, you figured. Hearing it gave you a warm feeling in your chest and an itch to test it on your tongue. 

“Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name too?” he asked smoothly.

The subtle cock of his head and that damned sparkle in his eye, finished off with a tongue in cheek smile almost had you giving in. Bucky was patient as the tension brewed in the air and he looked at you as though all of his problems would have been answered if he knew what to call you. 

However, a sudden defiant nature within you wanted to test him. Make him work for something so personal. “I think I’ll stick with keeping it to myself for now,” you granted him instead.

Bucky was visibly surprised with your comeback, eyes widening the slightest as he stood tall and slid his hands into his jean pockets, but the glint in his eyes told you he liked your sass — a mystery stood in front of him that he was desperate to unravel. 

“Elusive, I like it.” He cocked his hip and grinned, giving you an appreciative once over before he declared, “Doll it is then, sweetheart.” 

Your heart swooped. Like you were on a rollercoaster, about to drop from the highest point. The rush you experienced from one small interaction was addictive and you wanted more. 

“So,” Bucky said. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut and winced as a flush crept up his neck. 

Discreetly, you covered your mouth with your hand to hide the laughter lodged in your throat. You actually thought his dorkiness was adorable, but you wanted to let him suffer for a little longer. “Is that really what you’re going with?” You sniggered. “I knew you said you were out of pick up lines, big guy, but you’re scraping the barrel with that one.”  

Bucky squinted his eyes open and sighed. “I know — I know — that one was awful.” Surprisingly, he managed to pull you back in with his dreamy smile. “I swear I got better game than that.” 

“Oh really?” You challenged, crossing your arms over each other. “I don’t believe it.”

But as quick as a whistle, he retorted. “Go out with me and you’ll soon know how I could win you over.”

It was your turn to stifle the heat rising to your cheeks. There was a hopefulness in his gaze, desperately pulling you in. The hopeless romantic in you could have fallen in love with him right there and then, but you knew that wasn’t at all reasonable or realistic. 

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” you laughed. Turning on your heels to pluck the very book that had been the cause of your bump in with your beautiful stranger, you waved the book over your shoulder, “But I think I better go pay for this.” 

“Ah, you beat me to it, Doll.” He clicked his tongue, a bout of sadness to his tone. “Would you mind if I walked with you? I’ve already got everything I hoped for.” Bucky’s eyes never left yours as he reached over the top of your head, once again trapping you, and taking a book from the shelf. 

Had your mind been any less fuzzy, you would have noticed he hadn’t even looked at which book he was reaching for, picking one at random to gently wave in the air between you, too.

You cleared your throat. “Y—yeah, of course! Not a problem whatsoever.” 

After Bucky had stepped back, he gestured for you to go first and the two of you silently walked over to the counter. You tried to discreetly glance over your shoulder, unable to resist looking at him. But your cheeks heated up when he met your gaze and winked. 

Once you reached the counter, you offered a bright smile to Teddy, who was already grinning back at you. Placing your chosen book on the wood between you for him to scan, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Just the one for you today, little one?” 

“Just the one this time, Ted.” You confirmed. 

“That’s unlike you.” Teddy hummed in thought. “Didn’t find anything else you like back there?” 

You mumbled under your breath, quiet enough that Teddy struggled to hear, “You could say that.”

Aware that Bucky was literally right behind you, you swiftly changed the subject. “How’s that husband of yours getting on anyway?”

George, said husband of Teddy, had been away for a trip overseas to collect rare editions of books on his wish list (along with a few surprise items for Teddy that you knew of) and as much as Teddy loved to keep up his beloved, bubbly personality alive in the shop, you knew he missed him deep down. The pair of them were two peas in a pod — incomplete without the other. 

So, you were shocked to see a grin crawl on his face as he scanned your book. “You can ask him yourself.”

You were confused until another figure popped their head around the doorway of the back room with a flourish. You gasped and ran towards him, throwing your arms around his neck for a hug. “George! I wasn’t expecting you back so soon!”

George rocked you side to side with a big squeeze before he held you at arms length with fondness to check you over. Your face scrunched up when he booped the tip of your nose. “Yeah well, you can’t keep me away for too long, sweetheart.” Playfully side eyeing Teddy, he brought you closer and whispered loud enough for his husband to hear him say, “Besides, someone has to keep this troublemaker in check, don’t they?” 

“Haven't got the slightest idea what you could mean, Georgie.” Teddy overheard and put on his most innocent face. You giggled into George, amused by his husband’s antics. “I’m an angel.”

Their love encompassed everything you wanted from a life partner. You longed for their banter and their care and the passionate fire that was still raging all these years later between them. 

Looking over to Bucky, you were caught off guard to find him gazing at you already, a smile on his face that slightly scrunched up his nose. 

You stepped back to the counter, heated under the spotlight just as Teddy rang you up with a price. Though, you didn’t miss the seemingly casual glance he made behind you. “Mornin’, Buck. Got any nice plans for today?” 

You frowned, surprised that they were familiar with each other. Bucky cleared his throat before he spoke from behind you, “Just a small visit here today I’m afraid, Ted.”

Teddy still continued to speak over your shoulder as he took a suspiciously long time to bag up your book. “Right,” he murmured. “No plans for the rest of the day then?” 

“Nah.” Bucky's voice rumbled at your back, as if he had taken a step closer to you. “Nothing else, unfortunately. Can’t go anywhere without a pretty date now, can I, Teds?”

Almost immediately, Teddy looked at you, a glint in his eye of excitement before he innocently offered, “I may know someone.” 

You choked, causing all three men to look at you; Teddy had a shit eating grin on his face, while George tried to hide his laughter in his hand — unsuccessfully. You could even feel Bucky’s stare locked in on you from behind. 

“Don’t you dare,” you muttered under your breath to Teddy. 

But you knew by his wicked smile your threat wouldn’t stop him from meddling. “Why don’t you walk little one home after this? Get to know each other,” he said to Bucky. 

Amazed by the man’s audacity, you scolded him. “Teddy!”

“Nonsense, girl,” Teddy rounded the counter to you and slid his arm around your shoulders, turning you towards Bucky before he continued. “Besides, you heard the boy. He needs some company and I know for a fact you’ve got no plans apart from locking yourself at home.” Teddy looked proud of himself as he shrugged. “Problem solved.” 

He wasn’t lying. Although you were a little embarrassed he would out you like that, you in fact did not have any other plans. Traitor. 

“As lovely as Bucky seems, I don’t know him, Ted.” Quickly you glanced at Bucky and shyly uttered, “I mean no offense by that.”

“Don’t worry, dollface,” he said and you just knew by the grin on his face he was about to tease you. “I think I’m used to it by now.” 

Bucky snorted at your mouth falling open in shock.  Cheeky bastard. 

“Oh, dating back in my day was so easy.” Teddy sighed. “You liked the look of someone? You speak to them. You want to get to know them? Great! Ask them out.”

You shook your head in exasperation. The complexities of modern dating weren't as simple as Teddy’s reasoning. Respectful, charming men didn’t just fall from the sky, unfortunately, and fairytales didn’t just happen. 

Looking at Bucky, you gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about him.” You threw a lighthearted glare at Teddy while you admonished him. “Someone doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut.”

Bucky waited until you looked at him and shrugged with a lopsided smile. “Eh, I don’t mind the old man so much.” Scratching the back of his head, he admitted, “Especially when he sets me up with pretty girls in bookstores.” 

Okay, maybe a few charming men fell from the sky. 

You clasped your hands together tightly, repressing the urge to squeak from giddiness.

Bucky stepped forward and placed his single book onto the counter before he offered his arm to you. “What do you say, Doll? Fancy humoring me?” 

While Bucky was still technically a stranger, Teddy knew him and one thing you were sure of was that he would never let any harm or danger come to you — you would be safe. 

Sighing lightheartedly, you stepped out of Teddy’s hold and stood before Bucky. You observed the slight bob of his Adam’s apple, taking pleasure in the small victory of his nerves and decided to put him out of his misery. “I guess you wouldn’t be the worst company on my way home.” 

Hooking your arm through Bucky’s, the glee that overtook his adorable face was worth your decision alone. He looked over to Teddy and gave him a single nod. “I'll take good care of her, Ted.”

“You better boy, because now I’m in trouble.” 

You grabbed your book from Teddy, already bagged and paid for. “Me and you will talk next time,” you warned. 

Teddy tightened his lips, hiding his laughter as he saluted you. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Rolling your eyes, you looked to Bucky, “You’re sure you don’t mind? Please don’t feel as though you have to do this.” 

But he just smiled earnestly, subtly pulling you closer towards him. “Believe me when I say I absolutely want to do this.”

Your cheeks warmed, flustered beyond belief. You were relieved as he started to usher you towards the coat rack, helping you pull your coat over your shoulders and wrapping your scarf around you.  

With a departing wave, you said goodbye to both George and Teddy as you began to exit the store. Teddy’s shout of, “Have fun kids, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” was the last thing you both heard before the door closed.

George rounded the counter, having witnessed the whole exchange and curled up to his husbands side. He squinted his eyes in suspicion. “What are you up to, mister?”

Teddy continued to watch the two of you walk into the distance out the window, both jittery, arm in arm and a joint hidden excitement to be together. He just smiled as he shrugged. “Oh, nothing much, dear.”

“Little one, huh? Very cute.”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, ducking your head in embarrassment.  

Bucky wasn’t deterred by your timidness, however as he gently nudged your shoulder and playfully whispered, “Almost suits you as much as Doll, sweetheart.” 

Your huff of breath froze over in the cold air and you looked up at him with a shy smirk before shaking your head. “You’re good, you know. The women must love this — you stealing them from their daily life and whisking them away on dates.”

Bucky just laughed before he brought you closer to him, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he said, “Oh, so you're admitting this is a date, Doll?” 

You couldn’t help gazing into his stormy blue eyes that lit up in the sunrise above you. He was carved by angels, you swore by it. 

Walking forward, you detached yourself from Bucky’s hold, letting his arm drop, and spoke over your shoulder, “Play your cards right, handsome and we’ll see what this is by the end of the walk.”

You caught the redness creeping up Bucky’s face before you turned your head forward, though you did miss his goofy fist pump in the air. 

The thud of his heavy footsteps neared as he caught up to you and you decided to play dumb when he sneakily snaked his arm through yours. 

“So, Bucky,” you began. “Since we’re still practically strangers, let’s get to know each other.” 

He quickly recovered and nodded in agreement, “Great idea, Doll. What do you wanna know?”

“Tell me what you do for work,” you said. 

Bucky cheekily smiled before asking, “Any guesses before I tell you? No offense will be taken.” 

“Wow,” you laughed. “You’re really making me work for forgiveness aren’t you?” You hummed in thought before saying aloud, “Okay, I have something.” 

He raised his eyebrow. “Hit me with it, Doll.” 

You hesitated a second before you muttered, “A drummer.”

“What?!” Bucky laughed in shock and stared at you, eyes wide. “A drummer?”

Giggling, you held your defense. “Oh, come on! You can’t blame me with the tattoos and the jewelry.” You gestured to his form before shrugging. “You just have this classic rockstar look to you — nothing wrong with that of course.” 

Bucky held his free bare hand out, red from the cold and decorated with black ink. With a smirk, he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “The tattoos doin’ it for ya, Doll?” 

His Brooklyn drawl caused a shiver to run down your spine and you lightly gasped. He chuckled, overly satisfied to have made you flustered while you attempted to keep your dignity in tact. 

You bumped his hip with yours, ignoring his laughter. Brushing his flirtations off to try and keep your composure, you asked, “What is it you do then?”

A proud smile on his face, he answered, “I’m the owner of a vintage bike shop.” 

You turned to look at him, taking in his appearance for the umpteenth time and cocked your head. “Hm… I can see that actually. You got the whole biker aesthetic going for you.” 

You were pleased to see a small dust of red coat his cheeks. “Thanks, Dolly. Got anything else for me?” he asked, squeezing your hand. 

“Do you have any family?” you asked tentatively, worried it may be a sensitive topic. 

But Bucky’s face lit up at the mention and he turned to you, resembling an excited puppy. “I have the best family, Doll. My mom—Winnie, she raised me and my sister, Becca. They’re both amazing women and—“ 

As he went on, you stared at him and admired the way he spoke about the two most important women in his life — so full of love and awe for them that you felt like you knew them yourself. Your own mother had always taught you to take notice of a way a man speaks about other women in order for you to know how he would treat you. You were happy that Bucky did not disappoint. 

Along your walk, you had learnt how Bucky had a secret passion for pottery, something that allowed him to create beauty and art from his calloused and worn hands that years of oil and mechanical work had damaged. You were also over the moon to hear he was an avid reader. Of course you knew he must have a knack for reading if you met him at a bookstore. But, his detailing of certain stories he enjoyed and quotes that had stuck with him from authors he loved had your heart melting even more. 

The two of you continued to ask questions back and forth, learning more about the other as you walked together.  

“So,” Bucky started. “Hypothetically speaking of course, since this isn’t our first date, what would your perfect one look like?” 

You looked at him from the corner of your eye, watching as his eyes suspiciously darted around — whether he was digging for key information or not was a mystery to you. But you decided to answer the question anyway. 

“I think,” you began. “I think I’d enjoy an active date — maybe like a trip to Coney Island? You know the one with the—“

“The cyclone!” Bucky said enthusiastically. “Oh man, I haven’t been there since me and Stevie were kids.” 

“A good friend I take it?” You smiled, secretly enthralled by the way his eyes lit up. 

“The best,” he nodded. “Sorry, Doll. I got a little carried away there.” Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck with the hand that was free. “Carry on.” 

“Don’t worry about it, it was cute.” you assured, before quickly clearing your throat once he started to smirk. “Anyway —  after a couple of rides and games where my date wins me a stuffed bear, a romantic little trip on the ferris wheel would be next and he would pay to stop at the top so we can see the whole of Brooklyn.” 

You feel Bucky’s stare on you as he said, “And then?” 

“Then he would walk me home and kiss me goodnight.” You finished quietly. 

“Interesting,” he mumbled. You didn’t miss the tone of his voice, one that made you skeptical of his antics. “So, kinda like I’m doing now?” 

Smartass, you thought internally. 

“Don’t be getting any ideas, Bucky,” you scolded lightheartedly. “This isn’t a first date, remember? You’re just walking me home.” 

He thinned his lips, trying to contain his smirk. “Of course, of course.” A moment passed in peaceful silence before he muttered, “There’s still time though, right?” 

Bucky ran away and out of your reach before you could land a playful whack to his arm. 

“Come on, Doll — I’m a dateless man!” he shouted. “Are you really gonna leave a poor man high and dry?” 

You scoffed, unable to contain the growing smile on your lips. “In your dreams, Bucky!” 

In hindsight, you should have known his retort wasn’t going to be anything other than cheeky — especially, with his sinful grin that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. “That you will be, Doll.” 

Beams of light from the sun, breaking through the clouds of the cold day, casted down over Bucky, creating the most heavenly glow over his features. Those ocean blue eyes that starstruck you from the very first look shone bright as ever and his piercings and rings that glistened had you entranced, wondering how they would feel against your body. 

The walk home, while not long, had given you a fair insight to this man you had met not only an hour ago. Bucky was unlike anyone you had met before — sweet but mischievous and the biggest flirt you had ever known. 

Not that you were complaining. 

The two of you were shortening the distance to your apartment. Admittedly, you felt a small ache in your chest, disappointed that the walk had to end so soon. However, the steps to your apartment that you reached signified the end of your time with him. 

Your hands twitched in anticipation. Was it inappropriate to want to see him again? Would you look desperate if you asked for a real date with him? An array of thoughts rushed through your mind until Bucky spoke over the scrambled mess in your head. “Okay. I have a confession to make.” 

You looked up, frowning to witness him twirling the rings around his fingers, dare you say looking as nervous as you felt.  

He had been making you stumble over yourself since your first bump in with his shameless flirtations and smooth moves. But now he was reduced to a man on edge. 

Intrigued, you wished for him to keep talking, curious to know the cause of his unease. “Go on,” you urged, softly.

Bucky nodded and took a deep breath. “I may have seen you. In that same bookstore. A couple of weeks ago.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing at his inability to formulate his sentences coherently. “I um—found it after wandering around one day. I was in the far corner when I saw you walk in for the first time.” 

Your mouth fell agape, and your eyes widened while you listened intently. Though the shock of his confession rendered you speechless, you were rooted to the spot, hanging onto every word he said. 

Then, he gazed straight into your eyes, stepping closer and you gulped. “I swear I had never seen someone so beautiful in my life. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, Doll.” He shook his head and laughed earnestly. “You’ve had me in a chokehold for the longest time.” 

“But— But earlier?” You tried to get the words out to explain your confusion regarding the way he acted as though you met for the first time. 

Bucky closed the distance between you, tentatively closing his hands over yours. “I’ve seen you every week, walking into that store with your bright eyes, taking in everything like it’s the first time all over again. And every week I found myself in that far corner, obsessing over you and falling for you a little more each time.” He sighed before finishing, “I’d been building up the courage to come up to you until I finally did — Today.”

You could only imagine how you must have looked — a deer in headlights most likely, about to run away. Honestly, you were floored and you weren’t quite sure your mind had caught up yet. 

Attempting to settle your nerves, you cleared your throat. “You’re telling me,” you paused. “You’re telling me you planned on reaching for the same book as me? How did you even know which one I was going for?”

Bucky looked ultimately relieved that you hadn’t slapped him across the face just yet. His fingers twitched against yours while he laughed apprehensively. “Actually, I may have had a tiny bit of help with that one.” 

The cogs turned in your head and after a while the realisation struck you from his suspicious antics this morning. “Teddy!” you gasped. 

“Guilty as charged.” Bucky sheepishly smiled. “I asked him if he thought I had a chance with you the first time I saw you and he gave me some pointers.” 

You couldn’t help the huff of laughter that spilled from your lips. The whole situation was incredulous, something that would never happen to you. 

The tension slipped from Bucky’s shoulders, but his eyes still held on to some hope. Easing his worries, you grinned. “That was brave of you.”

Confidence visibly returned to him as he cockily shrugged, lips curving into his familiar smirk. “It was a risky move to take.”

Placing your hands on his chest, over his black leather jacket, you gave Bucky a run for his money as you caught his shudder with your eagle eye and decided to play him at his own game. “Some might even say creepy.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky licked his lips and smoothed his hands over your hips. “Is that why you’re grinning like you’ve just found your future husband, Doll?”

This man, you thought to yourself. “You’re cheeky,” you replied aloud while you gripped his jacket. 

“And you like it.” He squeezed your hips.

There was hardly any distance between you; eyes glued to the others like neither of you could bear to look away. 

His eyes hooded as he joked playfully, “You gonna invite me up?” 

You smacked his chest, watching the crows feet by his eyes crinkle with amusement in the sweetest way. “I don’t put out on the first date,” you batted back. 

You weren’t prepared for the sudden shiver that rippled down your spine as he whispered, “Clever girl.” 

The charged air heightened your senses, you could feel every minute movement his fingers made, the way his thumb rubbed back and forth over your waist. 

“Can I have your name now?” Bucky disrupted the silence between you as his gaze flicked between your eyes. 

The rebellious nature from earlier had only come back tenfold. Coming within a hair's breadth away from his lips, you daringly muttered, “I’ll give it to you on our next date.”

His eyes lit up, like a kid on Christmas. “Next date?”

Pushing him away with a smirk, you held your hand out while he dazed at you longingly. “Phone,” you said confidently. 

You held in your laughter as Bucky quickly fumbled over himself, patting each of his pockets to find his mobile. Once located, he quickly slid it out of his leather jacket and into the palm of your hand. 

The glow of his screen lit up your face while Bucky tried sneaking a peek. But you shoo’d him away and carried on typing into his phone. 

Finally, you were finished and handed the phone back to him. With eagerness he grabbed it and instantly smiled with joy once he saw the screen. “Your number?” 

“Use it wisely, handsome,” you purred. Leaving him staring at you in his own haze, you walked up the steps to your apartment, a sway to your hips. You couldn’t be completely sure whether you heard Bucky stifle a choke from behind you, but you ignored it for the sake of his ego. 

Reaching the door to the lobby, you spun around on your feet and raised an eyebrow in question. “See you soon?” 

Bucky grinned from ear to ear. “Absolutely, Doll.” 

With that, you waved him goodbye and swung the door open, missing his besotted stare following you until you were out of sight. 

You raced up the stairs, holding in your excitement while you entered your apartment. As soon as your apartment door was shut behind you, you released the squeal that had been trapped in your throat while you danced on the spot. 

And at midnight, as you laid in bed thinking about Bucky, your phone chimed and you instantly grabbed with haste. The bright screen stung your eyes but once you saw who had texted you, they shot open — a thrill causing you to bite your lip and squeak.

Unknown Number: I was supposed to be asleep by 12 but you’re still on my mind. 

A few weeks later…

Teddy and his husband, George were readying the shop to open again after closing because of maintenance. The early morning was quiet yet peaceful; the only thing to be heard were the birds singing their song as the sun rose and shone into the shop windows. 

George leaned his elbow on the counter and sighed with nostalgia as he reminisced back to the beginning of their relationship. “Do you remember our first date, honey?”

Teddy spun around from his task of shelving the newly released books and smiled lovingly. “How could I forget?” 

The two gazed over the space between them, lost in their own bubble of harmony when the chime of the bell above the door snapped them out of their reverie. They both knew it was the usual time you would visit the shop, precise to a fault. 

With bright smiles, the pair looked towards the door, ready to greet you as was routine. But George gasped loudly when they found something a little extra glued to your side. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Teddy, however, kept quiet — no vocal response to be heard, only the visible large grin on his face once he caught you looking at him with a sheepish smile. 

“Well, good mornin’, little one,” he said teasingly.

You hid behind the tall frame next to you, embarrassed from being the center of attention. “Hi, Teds. Hi George,” your mousy voice spoke up. 

Easing the attention of you, Teddy glanced to your side and raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Bucky.”

Your new boyfriend smiled and nodded his head in greeting to both men. “Good to see you, fellas.” Gently, Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he began to lead you away. “Catch up with you shortly.”

Giggles and laughter echoed through the shop as you followed him down the closest aisle of books and away from prying eyes. 

George rounded the counter and came to his husband’s side, looking at him with a sneaking suspicion. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that would you, honey?”

Teddy thinned his lips, hiding his smile as he glimpsed at the two of you disappearing from his sight before getting back to shelving the books in his hand. He spoke over his shoulder, with all the innocence he could muster. “Me? Not at all, George — That’s nothing but a little bit of magic from Cupid.”

[domm1etae]

My Good Boy

f!reader x yunho

oneshot | mdni

2.8k

Yunho is always eager to please his noona, Y/N

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, subby yunho, dominant reader, pet names, slight begging, little age gap, oral sex, handjob, mommy kink, needy, and moooore...

Yunho stepped out of his architecture class, checking his phone for any messages from his girlfriend, Y/N. Even though they’d been dating for nearly a year, he still felt his heart race every time he thought about her. Y/N wasn’t like anyone he had ever met—she was older, bold, and carried herself with a quiet confidence that Yunho admired. She was in her final year of her literature program, and while they were both busy with their studies, they always made time for each other.

Today, Y/N had texted him that she’d be working on her thesis at her favorite coffee shop, the one tucked away in a quieter part of town. It had become their little spot—a cozy, vintage café with bookshelves lining the walls and the soft sound of jazz playing in the background. He smiled, already excited to see her.

When he arrived, he spotted Y/N in her usual corner, sitting by the window. The light streaming through the large glass panes made her look like she was glowing, and Yunho’s breath caught for a moment. Her signature style was as striking as ever—dyed purple hair falling in soft waves around her face, a loose, oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder, and a few silver rings on her fingers as she scribbled in a notebook.

Yunho quietly approached, setting a coffee down in front of her. "Hey, beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Y/N looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile when she saw him. “Hey, babe. You just saved my day—I’ve been staring at these pages for hours, and I’m losing my mind.”

Yunho chuckled as he sat down across from her. "I figured you could use a break. How’s the thesis going?"

Y/N groaned dramatically. “It’s coming along, but I’m starting to feel like I’ll never be done. I’m rewriting this one chapter for the third time, and it’s still not right.”

Yunho admired her dedication, even if he worried that she pushed herself too hard sometimes. “You’re going to nail it, noona. You always do,” he reassured her, gently squeezing her hand across the table.

She gave him a small smile, appreciating his words, but Yunho could see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Why don’t we get out of here for a bit?” he suggested. “There’s this new art gallery downtown I’ve been wanting to check out. What do you say? Let’s take a break, just the two of us.”

Y/N tilted her head, thinking it over before she grinned. “Alright, deal. But you have to promise to help me with my project afterward.”

Yunho laughed. “Anything for you.”

After quickly packing up her things, they stepped out into the crisp fall air, hand in hand as they walked down the cobblestone streets of the old part of the city. Yunho loved these moments—walking side by side, talking about anything and everything, with no one around to interrupt. Y/N had such a relaxed vibe when they were together, and she brought out a more carefree side of him.

“So, how’s architecture treating you?” Y/N asked as they strolled.

“It’s… a lot,” Yunho admitted with a chuckle. “I’ve been working on this huge project, and I don’t think I’ve slept properly in a week.”

Y/N smiled sympathetically. “Sounds like we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

They made their way to the gallery, a small, intimate space with local artists' work on display. Inside, Yunho took Y/N’s hand and led her through the various exhibits. She was always so thoughtful when it came to art—commenting on little details that Yunho hadn’t even noticed. Her passion for creativity was one of the things that drew him to her in the first place.

At one point, while they were standing in front of a large abstract piece, Yunho turned to her, watching the way her eyes studied the painting. “You know,” he said softly, “sometimes I think you’re the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N’s face flushed at his words, and she rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re so cheesy, Yunho.”

“I’m serious,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “You’re like no one else, Y/N. I’m really lucky.”

Y/N’s teasing expression softened, and she reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispered before leaning in to kiss him softly.

Yunho felt his heart soar as their lips met, the world around them fading away. There was something magical about moments like these—just the two of them, no deadlines or stress to worry about. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his.

“I think I needed that more than I realized,” she said with a small laugh.

Yunho smiled, his hand gently tracing the curve of her jaw. “Then I’m glad I dragged you out of that café.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon at the gallery, completely lost in their own little world. By the time they left, it was already getting dark, and they walked back toward Y/N’s apartment together. The streetlights illuminated their path, casting a warm glow as they walked in comfortable silence.

When they reached her door, Y/N turned to Yunho with a mischievous grin. “You’re staying over, right?”

Yunho’s cheeks turned pink at the suggestion, but he nodded. “If you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” she said, opening the door and pulling him inside.

Once they were in the privacy of her apartment, Y/N dropped her bag on the couch and turned to him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, about that project help you promised…”

Yunho chuckled, his hands sliding around her waist. “I didn’t forget.”

She smirked, leaning in to whisper against his ear. “Good. Because I’ve got a few ideas.”

Yunho’s heart raced as she led him toward her bedroom, her boldness always leaving him breathless. Even though he tried to act cool around her, Y/N’s confidence and forwardness never failed to make him feel shy and flustered, which only seemed to amuse her more.

Once they were inside, Y/N gently pushed Yunho onto the bed, straddling his lap as she leaned down to kiss him again. Her hands roamed over his chest, sending sparks of heat through his body.

“Noona…” Yunho whispered breathlessly, his hands gripping her hips.

“Shh,” she murmured against his lips. “Just relax, babe. Let me take care of you.”

Yunho's breath hitched, eyes wide with anticipation as she slid her hands up his chest. A teasing smile played on Y/N’s lips, her gaze darkening with intent as she leaned back slightly, giving him just enough space to breathe before she whispered, “Stand up. Pants off. Let noona show you how much of a good boy you've been.”

Yunho’s heart pounded in his chest, and he didn’t hesitate for a second. He quickly stood, his hands trembling as he fumbled to unbutton his jeans. Once his pants and boxers slid down to the floor, he kicked them away, his hard length standing at full attention. His cheeks flushed, feeling both exposed and utterly captivated by the way Y/N’s eyes roamed his body.

She let out a breathless laugh, the sight of him so eager making her insides tingle with excitement. “Good boy,” she cooed, leaning forward and running her hand along his thigh before lightly tracing her fingers over his cock. Yunho gasped, biting his lip to stop a moan from escaping, but Y/N didn’t let him hold back for long. Her other hand wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly as she pulled him down into a rough, messy kiss.

Yunho whined into the kiss, his lips moving desperately against hers. His hands fisted the sheets beside them, but Y/N didn’t stop, not even for a moment. “N-noona,” he whimpered, his voice shaky. “I-I can’t hold it. It’s too much…”

Y/N pulled back just enough to meet his teary eyes, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “You don’t have to hold back, baby. Just let go for noona.”

His eyes fluttered closed, her soft voice melting him into submission. She pumped him harder, her thumb teasing over the sensitive head as Yunho gasped and whimpered. “You’ve been such a good boy,” she praised, “and good boys get rewarded, don’t they?”

Yunho nodded frantically, his body trembling with need. "Y-Yes, noona… please—please let me cum… I’m so close…”

“Then cum for me, Yunho,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck as she stroked him faster, her grip firm and unrelenting. “Make a mess for noona.”

It didn’t take long for Yunho to unravel. His body tensed, his breathing quickened, and with a low moan, he spilled over her hand, his hips jerking forward as he came, the intense pleasure leaving him shaking. Y/N watched him intently, her own arousal building as she guided him through his release, her strokes slowing but not stopping until she knew he had nothing left to give.

Once he was spent, Yunho collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. Y/N smiled down at him, wiping her hand on a nearby towel before leaning over to kiss his forehead. "You did so well, babe," she murmured, her fingers brushing through his hair softly. "So perfect for me."

Yunho blushed at her words, still coming down from the high, his body limp and satisfied. "Th-thank you, noona," he mumbled, voice hoarse from the intensity of it all.

But Y/N wasn’t quite finished yet. Her hand moved down between her own legs, teasing herself as she whispered in his ear, "Now it's my turn, puppy. Show me how well you can use that mouth of yours."

Yunho's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded eagerly, his body still buzzing with the desire to please her. He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, ready to give her the same pleasure she had just given him.

Yunho lowered himself between Y/N's legs, his heart racing as he settled into the new position. The scent of her arousal filled his senses, making his mouth water with anticipation. He glanced up at her, a hint of nervousness in his wide eyes, but her encouraging smile was all the reassurance he needed.

“Good boy,” she murmured softly, her fingers running through his hair in gentle strokes. “Now, show me how much you want to make me feel good.”

Yunho leaned in slowly, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh, making her gasp as he got closer. His tongue darted out to trace a line up her folds, tasting her for the first time. Y/N let out a low moan, her hips arching slightly off the bed as her fingers tightened in his hair. That simple reaction spurred him on, the praise from earlier still echoing in his mind as he worked to please her.

“Just like that, baby,” she breathed, her voice laced with pleasure. “Keep going.”

Her approval sent shivers down his spine, and Yunho became bolder, his tongue exploring her eagerly. He teased her entrance, then flicked his tongue over her sensitive clit, drawing a soft gasp from Y/N’s lips. The sound made him growl softly against her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure as her hands tugged harder on his hair, pulling him closer.

“Y-Yunho,” she moaned, her breath hitching as she felt the heat build inside her. He was so eager, so willing to do anything to make her feel good. His mouth worked over her with increasing confidence, alternating between sucking gently on her clit and plunging his tongue inside her wet heat. The combination of his movements had her toes curling in no time.

Yunho glanced up briefly, eyes dark with lust as he watched her reactions closely. He loved the way her face twisted in pleasure, how her thighs trembled around him as she tried to hold herself together. It fueled him to do more, to be better for her.

“Noona, you taste so good,” he groaned, voice thick with desire as he pulled away just for a second. “I want more.”

Y/N moaned at his words, her fingers digging into his scalp as she pushed his head back down. “Then don’t stop, baby,” she commanded breathlessly, her voice needy. “I’m so close… don’t you want to make me cum?”

That was all Yunho needed to hear. He dove back in, his tongue lapping at her feverishly while his fingers dug into her thighs, holding her steady as he brought her closer to the edge. He focused on her clit, flicking it with precision until Y/N’s breathing became erratic, her moans higher-pitched, her body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck—Yunho, I’m gonna—”

Her words dissolved into a loud, broken moan as the pleasure finally crashed over her like a wave. Her hips bucked up against his mouth as her orgasm hit, her body shaking as Yunho continued to work her through it, his mouth never leaving her until he felt her body start to relax beneath him.

When she finally came down, Y/N’s chest was heaving, her entire body limp from the intensity of her release. Yunho pulled back slightly, his lips and chin glistening with her wetness, and he looked up at her with a proud, almost shy smile.

“Did I do good, noona?” he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and hesitation.

Y/N chuckled breathlessly, her eyes heavy with satisfaction as she gazed down at him. “You did amazing, baby,” she whispered, reaching down to cup his face in her hand. “Come here.”

Yunho crawled back up the bed, and as soon as he was close enough, Y/N pulled him into a deep, slow kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, and it only made her kiss him harder, her hands roaming over his bare skin as she pulled him on top of her.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she murmured against his lips, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You still owe me one more round.”

Yunho’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He was still sensitive from the earlier release, but the way Y/N looked at him made his cock twitch in anticipation. “N-noona… I don’t know if I can…”

Y/N smirked, her fingers trailing down his chest until they wrapped around his half-hard cock, stroking it gently. “Oh, you will,” she whispered, her voice a seductive promise. “Trust me, baby. I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Yunho whimpered, already feeling himself harden under her touch. He knew he was in for it, but he couldn’t deny how much he craved it—the way Y/N took control, the way she made him feel both vulnerable and desired all at once. He would do anything for her, and she knew it.

With a teasing grin, Y/N shifted her hips and guided Yunho’s cock to her entrance. She bit her lip, holding his gaze as she whispered, “Now be a good boy and fuck your noona like you mean it.”

Yunho groaned, his resolve crumbling as he pushed into her, feeling her warmth envelope him. It was slow at first, but Y/N wasn’t patient. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go faster, harder, until their bodies moved in perfect rhythm. The bed creaked beneath them, their moans filling the room as they lost themselves in the pleasure of each other.

It didn’t take long for Yunho to feel that familiar tightness building in his gut again, but this time he didn’t hold back. He thrust into her with everything he had, his breath ragged, his hands gripping her hips as she moaned his name over and over.

“Yunho,” she gasped, her nails raking down his back as her own pleasure built again. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum again—don’t stop!”

Yunho gritted his teeth, doing everything he could to hold on for her. He wanted to last, to make sure she came first, but he was so close. “N-noona, I—”

“Cum for me, baby,” she moaned, pulling him down for a kiss. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you.”

That was all Yunho needed to hear. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, spilling his release with a low, guttural moan. Y/N came with him, her body tightening around him as they both reached their peaks together, their moans mixing as they rode out the high.

Finally spent, Yunho collapsed on top of her, their bodies tangled together as they panted, trying to catch their breath. Y/N chuckled softly, running her fingers through his damp hair.

“You’re so perfect,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “My perfect boy.”

Yunho smiled tiredly, his heart swelling at her words. He felt safe, content, and utterly loved. "Only for you, noona," he murmured, closing his eyes as sleep slowly overtook him.

[urdreamydoodles]

Remy LeBeau (Gambit) x Fem!Reader (Smut)

Remy checking you out (Smut)

You and Remy LeBeau enjoy a flirtatious night in New Orleans, filled with playful banter and undeniable chemistry. As the night progresses, the tension between you both reaches its peak, leading to an intimate and passionate encounter.

Warning: public sex, oral sex fem!receiving & fingering

The early evening sun bathed New Orleans in a soft, golden light, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets as the city began to transition into night. You could hear the distant sounds of jazz filtering through the air, the lively hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter from nearby cafés and bars. It was the perfect night for what you had planned—meeting Remy LeBeau for a date.

Remy was late, of course. But you were used to that by now. He never seemed to be in much of a rush, always moving with that signature lazy confidence that made him impossible to stay mad at. And even now, as you waited, you found yourself smiling, the anticipation of seeing him again fluttering in your stomach.

Tonight was special. You had picked out an outfit that you knew would catch his attention, something that hugged your curves in all the right places and emphasized your natural beauty. You knew Remy would appreciate it—he always did. But tonight, you wanted to leave him speechless. You had spent more time than usual on your hair, your makeup, and everything else, wanting to see the look in his eyes when he saw you.

As you waited on the corner of a quiet street, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your purse, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Instinctively, you turned, and there he was—Remy LeBeau, the infamous Gambit, strolling toward you with that same lazy grin that could melt hearts from across a room. His long coat billowed slightly in the evening breeze, and his hair, tousled and wild as always, fell into his face, giving him an effortlessly roguish look.

“Chère,” he drawled as he got closer, his voice dripping with that familiar Cajun accent, “ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You felt a surge of warmth rush through you at his words, but it wasn’t just what he said—it was how he was looking at you.

Remy’s red-on-black eyes raked over your entire outfit the moment he laid eyes on you, starting from your heels and moving slowly, deliberately upward. You could feel the heat of his gaze as if it were a physical touch, his eyes taking in every detail of your outfit with unspoken admiration. He didn’t try to hide it, either. Remy had never been shy about letting you know exactly what he thought, and tonight was no exception.

His gaze lingered on your legs for just a moment longer than necessary before moving up to your hips, his eyes narrowing slightly as if appreciating the way the fabric of your outfit clung to you in all the right places. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you watched him watching you, the tension between you building with every second that passed.

When his eyes finally met yours again, there was a spark of something darker, something more intense, behind his usual playful smirk. “Mon Dieu,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice a little rougher now, “if I’da known you’d be lookin’ dis good, I’da shown up early.”

You laughed softly, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “Late as usual,” you teased, your voice light but filled with affection. “I was starting to think you forgot.”

He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped even closer, the scent of him—cigarettes and something darker, like leather and spice—filling the space between you. “Forget a face like yours? Non, ma belle. I been thinkin’ ‘bout nothin’ else all day.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself instinctively stepping back, your back pressing against the wall of the building behind you. Remy followed, his tall frame towering over you as he placed one hand on the wall beside your head, effectively trapping you between him and the wall. But you didn’t mind. In fact, the way his body was so close to yours, the way his gaze never wavered from your eyes, only made your pulse quicken.

“You lookin’ too fine t’night, chère,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with that teasing edge you knew so well. “Can’t blame a man for wantin’ t’take his time, no?”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry as his gaze flickered down to your lips, his own lips curling into a wicked smile. He was enjoying this—enjoying the effect he had on you, the way your breath hitched when he got too close, the way your heart seemed to race whenever he looked at you like this.

“Remy…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow, his hand still resting on the wall beside your head, his other hand now reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your skin, the touch sending another shiver through you. “Oui, ma chère?” he asked, his voice teasing but with a rough edge to it that sent your heart racing.

You tried to keep your voice steady, but it was hard when he was looking at you like that—like he wanted to devour you whole. “We’re supposed to be going to dinner,” you reminded him, though the words came out weaker than you intended.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “Dinner can wait,” he murmured, leaning in just a little closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. “I’d rather enjoy de view right here.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand slid from your ear down to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly against your pulse point. You were sure he could feel how fast your heart was beating, how your entire body seemed to be reacting to his every touch, his every word.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the world around you fading into nothing as the tension between you crackled like electricity. Remy’s eyes were half-lidded, his gaze heavy as he looked down at you, his lips barely an inch from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the closeness of his body making it difficult to think straight. Your whole world had narrowed to this one moment, this one person. He was all that mattered.

You weren’t sure what would have happened next if someone hadn’t coughed loudly from behind him.

Remy turned his head, glancing over his shoulder with an annoyed expression, though it only lasted a moment before softening into a smirk. “My apologies,” he drawled with a chuckle, glancing back at you, “looks like we got us an audience.”

You peeked around his body to see an older man and woman standing a little ways down the street, both of them eyeing Remy suspiciously. The older man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders, and they both looked like they were trying to get somewhere. But it was clear that they didn’t want to get any closer as long as Remy was in their way.

Remy watched them for a moment before turning back to you. He had a mischievous look in his eye, his grin curling up at one corner. “Guess we better get outta here, no?” he murmured.

Without waiting for your response, he reached down, sliding a hand behind your knees before scooping you up into his arms. You yelped in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep yourself steady. And then he was walking, moving down the alley toward the next street.

But he didn’t stop at the end of the alley. Instead, he kept moving, bringing you further and further into the deserted alleyway.

“Remy, what are you doing?” you asked, your brow furrowing with confusion.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering around the alley, looking for something. After a minute or so, he found what he was looking for—another side alley, this one completely deserted and lined with tall walls on either side, the only way out at the very end. Remy turned, striding toward it with purposeful steps.

You squirmed in his arms, looking around the deserted alley. “What’re you doing?” you demanded, frowning.

“Give me a minute, chère,” he drawled, still walking, his eyes on the path ahead. “Promise you’ll like it.”

A moment later, he stopped and set you down against the wall. And before you could open your mouth to complain, he was kissing you.

Remy knew how to kiss. He’d always known how to kiss. But this was different. There was something deeper to it, something more urgent. He pressed against you, pinning you to the wall as his lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss that left your head spinning. You clung to him, gasping as he drew back for a moment before claiming you again.

His hands skimmed up your thighs, slipping beneath your skirt with a quiet rustle of fabric. You gasped at the feeling of his calloused palms against your bare skin, but before you could catch your breath, he was moving again, his hands sliding up your back to slip beneath the waistband of your panties. He cupped your bottom in a firm grip, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of your lips.

You were breathless, dizzy from the kiss and from the feeling of him holding you so close. Your legs were trembling, your mind swimming with sensations. All you could think was "yes". Yes to whatever he wanted.

Remy seemed to sense it, his lips curling into a triumphant smirk against yours as his hands began to slide downward, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt once more. He broke the kiss, trailing his mouth along your jaw and down to the sensitive skin of your neck, the words "Mon dieu" escaping him in a low groan as his fingers brushed against the damp fabric of your panties.

“Remy,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, “Remy, wait—”

“I ain’t waitin’ no more, ma belle,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your panties to tease lightly at your entrance. You gasped again, your head falling back against the wall.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Like you been waitin’ all day for this.”

You swallowed, a whimper escaping you. “I have,” you admitted.

He groaned softly, the sound sending a shiver through you. And then his mouth was on you, his teeth scraping against your skin as he dragged his lips down to your chest, pausing only to claim one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your top.

You gasped at the sensation, your whole body trembling with need. And Remy seemed to know exactly what you needed, his touch becoming more insistent, his teeth biting lightly at your nipple through the fabric before his hands moved downward, his fingers teasing at your entrance before sliding in to the hilt.

You moaned, your body bucking against his hand as he began to pump in and out of you in a slow, torturous pace that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You could hear your own ragged breathing echoing in the deserted alley, feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Remy broke away from your chest with a soft groan, his red-on-black eyes flashing up to yours as his fingers continued to work you. “God, chère, you look so fuckin’ good,” he murmured huskily, “you like this? You like when I finger you like this?”

“Mmhm,” you whimpered, your head falling back again, your eyes fluttering closed. “Feels so good.”

He chuckled low in his throat, his hand slowing as if savoring the way your muscles clenched around his fingers. “You feel so good, baby,” he muttered, his voice low, “so good…God, I could stay here all night.”

It wasn’t what he said that got your attention, however. It was what he did next.

With one smooth movement, he dropped to his knees, his hands withdrawing from your panties before reaching up to hike your skirt upward. His eyes were half-lidded as he looked up at you, his gaze heated. “Don’t wanna rush things, chère,” he muttered. “Want to enjoy it.”

And then he was leaning in, his lips brushing against your inner thigh.

You gasped, your eyes flying open as his breath washed over you, the sound of your own panting echoing off the alley walls. Remy’s mouth felt hot against you, his lips moving in gentle, teasing kisses against your inner thighs as his fingers moved back to your panties, easing them down to mid-thigh before grasping one of your legs to drape over his shoulder. You could feel your cheeks flush, the feeling of being exposed so completely sending a thrill through you.

Remy glanced up at you, his red eyes flashing with something dark. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “I love lookin’ at you. Can’t wait t’taste you.”

His mouth was on you again before you could even register his words, his lips brushing lightly at your clit before his tongue came out to swipe at it in a featherlight touch.

You cried out, your whole body shuddering as his mouth began to move against you in slow, deliberate strokes. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced. Remy’s tongue was wickedly talented, the way it danced against your clit and the rest of you sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as your body began to tremble. He groaned softly against you, his mouth moving faster, his tongue circling against your clit before beginning to flick rapidly back and forth. The feeling was exquisite, a feeling like you were on the very edge of something incredible.

“Remy—oh god, Remy, I’m going to cum,” you gasped.

His mouth never stopped, his tongue still working magic against you as one of his hands slipped back beneath your panties, his fingers beginning to thrust inside you in time with his tongue. You cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as your entire body began to shake, pleasure coursing through every cell in your body. You came hard, gasping his name over and over again as you shuddered against him, his tongue never stopping as he brought you to the very edge and then pushed you over.

You were still trembling when he finally pulled back, his red eyes burning with something dark as he leaned in to kiss your thigh again. He stayed there for a moment, his face pressed against your inner thigh as you caught your breath, your mind still reeling from the orgasm that had just rocked your entire world.

When he finally stood, it was with an unholy grin on his lips. “Mm,” he murmured huskily as he pulled your panties back up, his fingers trailing up over your bare thigh to the hem of your skirt, “I knew you’d taste like heaven.”

You blushed, unable to stop it, though his words sent another shiver of pleasure through you. It wasn’t often that Remy got serious with you. Most of the time, he treated you like you were both kids, teasing you mercilessly and treating everything like a big joke.

But in this moment, he didn’t look like he was joking. In this moment, the look in his eyes was dark, his face closer to yours than it had been in a long time. You could see every fleck of color in his eyes, every eyelash, every line on his face. And when his mouth brushed against yours in a soft kiss, you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, breaking the kiss. “Mon dieu, you’re incredible.”

You swallowed, feeling another blush rise up your cheeks. “So are you,” you murmured back.

His smile faltered for just a moment, something darker flashing behind his eyes. But then he smirked again, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “Dinnae frett, chère. I ain’t never gonna forget dis night.” And with that, he stepped back, offering his arm. “Shall we go t’dinner?”

You blinked, your mind still half-dazed from everything that had happened. But as you took his arm and let him lead you from the alley, you realized that it didn’t matter. As long as you were with him, anything was possible. Anything at all. And right now, that was all that mattered. The world could wait. The only thing you wanted was more of this, more of him, more of the way he made you feel. And you knew he could deliver, every time, without fail. He always did. He always would. And as he led you out of the alley and back into the bustling streets of New Orleans, you knew that this night wouldn’t be one you’d ever forget, either. Not in a million years. Not with Remy LeBeau on your arm.

[autisticadult]

Right where you left me

Warnings: literally non, slip zero nada!

A/n: I got inspiration from this from @nmikaelsonimagines and their Taylor swift series <3 I got hella hyped about this and have been working on this for a hot minute ;) enjoyyy

‘Friends break up, friends get married

Strangers get born, strangers get buried

Trends change, rumors fly through new skies

But I'm right where you left me

Matches burn after the other

Pages turn and stick to each other

Wages earned and lessons learned

But I, I'm right where you left me’

‘Help I’m still at the restaurant’

The café had changed over the years. New owners had come and gone, repainting the walls and replacing the furniture, but the small corner table by the window remained. It was a quiet little space, tucked away from the world, where time seemed to bend and stretch, where moments froze and refused to move forward.

‘Still sitting in the corner I haunt’

Y/n sat there now, as she had for years, her fingers absently circling the rim of an empty wine glass. The dim, golden glow of the candlelight flickered against her skin, illuminating the shadows beneath her eyes. She didn’t notice the way the waitress hesitated when refilling her glass, the way other patrons glanced her way before looking quickly back at their plates.

‘Cross legged in the dim light’

She was a part of the place now, a relic of the past, as if she belonged to the chipped paint on the walls or the faint jazz that drifted through the air.

It had been years since he’d left. The memory of him lingered like the ghost of perfume in a room long abandoned. Klaus Mikaelson, with his wolfish grin and sharp, knowing eyes, had once sat across from her in this very spot. His presence had been a storm—unpredictable, devastating, and intoxicating. Y/n had thought she could weather it, thought she could hold onto him. But he had walked away.

‘They say what a sad sight’

“I can’t stay, love,” he had said, his voice low and full of something she couldn’t name. Regret? Fear? He hadn’t waited for her to argue. His lips had pressed softly to her forehead, and then he was gone, leaving her to gather the shards of herself in the wake of his absence.

The years stretched out like a slow, mournful song. She had tried to leave, but the pull of the café, of this corner, was too strong. Every creak of the chair, every flicker of the candle reminded her of him. And so she stayed, frozen in the moment he had left her.

I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop

Klaus lingered in the shadows across the street, the vibrant hum of New Orleans swirling around him. The city was alive tonight, as it always was, the music and chatter spilling out from the bars and winding through the cobblestone streets. But Klaus heard none of it.

His focus was on her.

She sat in the café window, framed by soft golden light. Even after all this time, she still came here, to the same corner table where they had shared quiet moments and dangerous confessions. Klaus wondered if she ever considered leaving—if she had ever tried to escape the weight of the memories he had left her with. But she was still here.

‘Glass shattered on the white cloth’

Her fingers rested against the rim of a half-empty glass, tracing slow, absent circles as if the motion was all that tethered her to the present. Y/n’s hair fell in loose waves around her face, and her eyes—those eyes that had once seen through every piece of armor he wore—stared at the table, lost in thought.

Y/n was beautiful. Devastatingly so. But there was something different about her now, something heavier. The spark that had once lit her up from within seemed dulled, as though time and pain had worn it down. He had done that to her.

‘Everybody moved on’

The thought twisted in his chest, a familiar ache clawing at him. He had told himself he left to protect her, to save her from the darkness that always followed him. He had convinced himself that walking away was the most selfless thing he could do.

But now, watching y/n, he wasn’t so sure.

Klaus had spent decades trying to forget her. He had thrown himself into wars, alliances, and distractions, anything to drown out the echo of her laughter, the way she had once looked at him like he was more than the monster he knew himself to be. But no matter how far he ran, her ghost followed.

Every street that reminded him of her. Every quiet moment when his thoughts betrayed him. And now, this—the sight of her sitting in that same café, frozen in the life he had left behind.

He told himself he shouldn’t be here, that he should turn around and disappear before she noticed him.

But he couldn’t move.

Instead, he stood rooted to the spot, watching her like she was something fragile and sacred. The café’s soft light flickered against her skin, casting faint shadows under her eyes. She didn’t look up when the door chimed, didn’t glance at the strangers who passed her by. It was as if she was waiting—waiting for something or someone who would never come. For him.

‘I stayed there’

The realization hit like a knife, sharp and unforgiving. He had left because he wanted her to have a chance at happiness, a life free of his chaos. But instead, he had left her frozen, caught in a moment that refused to fade.

He thought about going in. The idea flickered in his mind, reckless and foolish. What would he say if he did? What could he possibly offer her now, after all this time?

His hand hovered by his side, the weight of indecision pressing down on him. The bell above the door jingled as another patron entered, and her head lifted slightly. For a fleeting second, hope flashed in her eyes before it dissolved into quiet resignation.

It was as though she had trained herself not to expect anything anymore.

Klaus clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to step forward, to take that hope and make it real, to tell her he had never stopped thinking of her. But he stayed where he was, hidden in the shadows, because that was where he belonged.

She had always been the light to his darkness, and he had no right to dim her further.

Finally, he turned away, his chest tight and his heart heavier than it had been in years.

As he tried to walk into the night, he tried telling himself that leaving her alone was the right thing to do.

But he couldn’t ignore the hollow truth gnawing at him.

She was still there, right where he had left her.

And so was he. Stuck watching her from the shadows.

Dust collected on my pinned-up hair

They expected me to find somewhere

She didn’t notice him at first. How could she? The café was always full of strangers coming and going, the bell over the door ringing endlessly like a cruel reminder of the passage of time. She had learned to stop looking up, to stop letting herself hope.

But tonight, something shifted.

The air seemed heavier, charged with an energy she hadn’t felt in years. It pressed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Her fingers froze against the rim of her glass, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if her heart was playing tricks on her again.

‘Some perspective, but I sat and stared’

Across the street, Klaus watched her from the shadows, his heart twisting at the sight of her. She looked the same and yet completely different. Her beauty remained, but the spark—the one that had drawn him to her in the first place—had dimmed, dulled by something he knew was his fault. She was a portrait of stillness, her eyes fixed on nothing, her body rooted in place as though the world outside this café no longer existed for her.

And perhaps it didn’t.

The years hadn’t been kind to her, though they hadn’t been cruel either. They had simply… passed. Slowly, painfully, as if every moment since he’d left was an eternity stretched too thin.

‘Right where you left me You left me no, oh, you left me no’

She glanced at the window, catching her own reflection in the glass. She hated the sight of herself here, night after night, trapped in the same chair, the same routine. People whispered about her now—about the woman who never left, whose fingers traced invisible patterns on her glass like she was drawing memories only she could see.

But they didn’t know. They didn’t know about him.

They didn’t know about Klaus Mikaelson, the man who had once sat across from her in this very spot, his presence larger than life, his voice curling around her like smoke. They didn’t know about his sharp blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, or the way he had kissed her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world.

And they didn’t know about the way he had walked away, shattering her in a single moment.

She hated him, She loved him. She hated herself for still loving him. The confusing emotions too much for her to bare.

‘You left me no choice but to stay here forever’

Klaus felt her pain like it was his own. He wanted to tell himself he didn’t, that the years had hardened him too much for something as human as guilt to seep in. But watching her now, he knew he had never truly stopped feeling anything for her.

He hadn’t planned to come back. He had stayed away because he thought it was what she needed. A life without him, without the chaos and destruction he always brought. But now he wondered if he had simply been selfish, too much of a coward to stay and face the consequences of loving her.

He thought she would move on. He thought she would leave this city, this table, this life. But she hadn’t. She had stayed.

And so had he, in his own way.

‘Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it’

The bell above the door chimed again, and she almost didn’t look up. She had trained herself not to, had told herself it was never him, it would never be him. But tonight, her heart betrayed her, and her gaze lifted, flickering toward the entrance.

Her breath caught.

She thought she saw a figure outside, lingering just beyond the glow of the streetlights. Her pulse quickened, her fingers tightening against her glass. But the shadow didn’t move, and she blinked, her heart sinking as reason crept back in.

It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t.

She turned her attention back to the table, staring at the flickering candle, the ache in her chest settling back into its familiar place.

‘Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it She's still 23 inside her fantasy And you're sitting in front of me’

Klaus had seen her glance up.

For a moment, their eyes almost met, though the distance and the window between them kept her from truly seeing him. His heart clenched at the fleeting hope that had flickered across her face, only to be extinguished a moment later.

He should leave. He knew he should.

But his feet remained rooted to the pavement, his eyes locked on her silhouette. He wondered what she would say if he walked through that door. If he sat down at the table across from her and apologized for every year, every moment he had stolen from her.

But then he saw the pain in her posture, the weariness in her movements, and he knew he didn’t have the right.

‘At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want. Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right’

She sat there for another hour, though she didn’t know why. The candle burned low, the patrons around her dwindling as the night wore on. The street outside grew quieter, the sounds of New Orleans retreating into the distance.

When she finally rose to leave, she didn’t glance at the window again. She didn’t let herself look for shadows or ghosts. She walked out into the night, her coat pulled tight around her, her head bowed against the chill. Stopping in the doorway to stop and take in the night sky for a moment.

Klaus didn’t mean to move, but his feet carried him forward before his mind could catch up. The bell above the café door jingled faintly behind him, and for a moment, he thought he might stop. Turn around. Let her go.

But he couldn’t.

She was already stepping out onto the street, her coat pulled tightly around her, her face half-hidden by the loose waves of her hair. The cold air made her shiver, and something about the sight of her, so small and fragile in the vastness of the city, made his chest tighten.

‘I'm sure that you got a wife out there Kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware, Cause I'm right where’

“Wait, y/n!” he called softly.

She froze mid-step, her breath catching at the sound of his voice. For a moment, she wondered if she had imagined it. If it was just another cruel trick her mind had conjured, like so many times before. But then she turned.

And there he was.

Klaus stood just a few feet away, his sharp blue eyes locked on hers. The streetlight above cast a pale glow over his face, softening the edges of his usually imposing presence. But his expression was raw—vulnerable in a way she had never seen before.

‘‘I cause no harm, mind my business’

Y/n’s heart stuttered. “Klaus,” she whispered, his name barely audible, as though saying it too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

He stepped closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as if to stop himself from reaching for her. “I… I didn’t mean to—” He paused, shaking his head. “No. That’s a lie. I came here to see you.”

The words hit her like a blow, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him. The years apart had changed nothing. He looked the same, his presence as overwhelming as ever. And yet, there was something in his eyes now—hesitation, regret.

‘If our love died young, I can't bear witness And it's been so long’

“You left,” she said, her voice trembling. “You left me.”

Klaus flinched, the accusation cutting through him. “I thought it was the right thing to do. For you.”

“For me?” Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Sitting here, day after day, waiting for someone who was never coming back?”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he said quickly, his voice low but steady. “Not for a moment.”

Her eyes burned, but she refused to let herself cry. Not here. Not in front of him. “Thinking about me doesn’t change anything, Klaus. You still left. You made that choice.”

“I did.” He took another step toward her, his voice softening. “And it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I thought… I thought it was what you needed. A life without me. Without the chaos I bring.”

‘But if you ever think you got it wrong I'm right where you left me’

She shook her head, her breath hitching. “You don’t get to decide what I need.”

“I know.” His voice broke slightly, and for a moment, she saw the cracks beneath his usual bravado. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I couldn’t stay away. Not anymore.”

The street was quiet around them, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. She stared at him, searching his face for something—an answer, a sign, a reason to believe him.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Klaus nodded, his jaw tightening. “I’m not asking for that. I’m only asking for a chance to try.”

The air between them was heavy, charged with years of unspoken words and lingering pain. She didn’t respond, didn’t move. But her silence wasn’t a no.

And for Klaus, that was enough—for now.

[et7432]

The Price of Immortality

(Klaus x Reader) (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: In New Orleans, Rebekah wants to defy Klaus's demand to introduce a human girl, (y/n), into their supernatural world. She invites her friend for a night out at Rousseau's, hoping for one last evening before revealing her vampire identity. As she navigates the streets, Rebekah meets a mysterious witch who knows her name, hinting at deeper connections. Despite her intrigue, Rebekah remains cautious, sensing the encounter is significant and potentially dangerous.

Words: 3,814

Rebekah stormed through the grand foyer, her high heels echoing sharply against the polished floorboards with each determined step. Elijah watched from afar, concerned, rippling through his usual composure. She didn't spare him a glance as she continued her unyielding march. Her face was a storm of anger, and her eyes blazed with unwavering determination as she headed for the exit, daring anyone to stand in her way.

"Klaus will not dictate my choices," Rebekah hissed, her voice a venomous whisper meant only for Elijah's ears. She didn't wait for a response—there was none to give. The door slammed behind her, vibrating with the force of her departure, a testament to her resolute defiance.

Life pulsed with an infectious rhythm under the vibrant New Orleans night sky. The streets buzzed with music, laughter, and the scent of Cajun spices drifting from every corner. In a city celebrated for its joie de vivre, there was no shortage of revelry.

However, Rebekah had no time for such frivolity as she stormed through the bustling crowds, her anger boiling. Her mind was a swirling whirlpool, each thought revolving around Klaus's non-negotiable demand: she had to introduce (y/n) to him. The idea of involving a human girl in their ageless games was unfathomable. This demand not only threatened to disrupt the delicate balance of power among supernatural beings but also posed a risk to their very existence.

Rebekah's fingers glided over her phone, a wave of anticipation coursing through her veins. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, casting a quiet aura over the eager lines etched into her features. With swift precision, she typed out a message, each word infused with a sense of sisterhood: "(y/n), let's break away from the norm tonight. Join me at Rousseau's."

Time seemed to sway in rhythm, with the jazz notes drifting in from outside as Rebekah awaited a reply. Suddenly, the cheerful chime of an incoming text broke the silence: "OK, I'll be there in 30."

"Looking forward to it," Rebekah replied, already feeling the comforting promise of their impending girls' night spreading within her. She tucked her phone into her pocket and set off toward Rousseau's, each step resonating with determination. Tonight wasn't just about camaraderie but about cherishing one final evening before (y/n) discovered the truth about Rebekah and her vampire lineage.

With a determined stride, Rebekah navigated through the sultry New Orleans night under the watchful gaze of a crescent moon. The gas lamps cast an erratic ballet of shadows on her path, flickering their light across the cobblestones. As she approached a roadside bar, something tugged at her peripheral vision—an unexpected pull that diverted her attention.

A figure was seated at a table on the sidewalk, its form shaped by darkness and intrigue. It wasn't just its sudden appearance that startled Rebekah; it was an invisible tether that seemed to draw her closer. She felt an irresistible force beckoning her, like a whispered secret carried on the night breeze, adding an unexpected twist to her evening.

Responding to this unseen call, Rebekah veered off course toward the solitary figure. Her footfalls echoed softly against the stone walkway as she approached, attracted by an undeniable magnetism.

When their eyes met, it felt as though fate had brought them together in this unforeseen moment. She closed the distance between herself and the mysterious figure.

"Hello, Rebekah," the figure said, her voice a blend of warmth and mischief.

Rebekah's heart raced as she suddenly stopped, her gaze locked onto the stranger before her. How did she know her name? The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she regarded the woman with wary eyes, ready to defend herself if necessary. She couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that this encounter was no mere coincidence.

Rebekah studied the woman's clothing with narrowed eyes; it consisted of layers that seemed to embody ancient wisdom and hidden strength. The silver pendants hanging from her neck shimmered in the dim light.

"How do you know who I am?" Rebekah demanded, her curiosity sharpening. There was an edge to her stance, a graceful readiness that belied her calm exterior.

The witch held her gaze unwaveringly, unafraid. "Names hold power, especially yours. It resonates with the very foundation of this city." A sly grin spread across her lips.

Rebekah's eyes narrowed as she considered the woman before her. She could feel a power emanating from her—a familiar and foreign force. This was no ordinary witch; there was something ancient and primal about her.

"In that case, you must truly be a witch," Rebekah replied, a sense of unease settling in her stomach. She recognized the supernatural presence before her: a kindred spirit but not an ally.

The woman gave a low chuckle, her gaze intently on Rebekah's face. "I am more than a witch, my dear," she replied cryptically. "But I am not your enemy."

Rebekah raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

"Your mistrust is well-placed," the woman conceded with a nod. "After all, we both come from powerful bloodlines with long histories of conflict."

Rebekah studied her carefully, trying to decipher the hidden meanings in her words. Something about this stranger piqued her curiosity and stirred an unexplainable connection within her.

"What do you want from me?" she finally asked.

The woman leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table and intertwining her fingers before her face. "I have been watching you for some time now," she said quietly, her voice laden with mystery. "I have a proposition for you, Rebekah. A way to break free from Klaus's control and forge your own path."

"And what would compel you to do such a thing?" Rebekah challenged her voice firm despite the unsettling revelation. Anxiety wove itself into her words. "Who are you, exactly?"

A cryptic smile crept onto the woman's face as the night enveloped them in darkness. "I am many things, Rebekah," she began, her voice reaching out like tendrils in the fog. "Some call me an enchanter. Others call me a spirit walker."

"But you," her gaze wandered over Rebekah's form. You may refer to me as Odette," she revealed, her name adding another layer to the mystery that surrounded her.

The witch gestured to a small, rickety table nestled between two overgrown ferns. "Sit," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Rebekah hesitated. A part of her rebelled against the command, her instincts screaming at her to turn and walk away. But curiosity had always been her weakness; tonight, it seemed to be prevailing.

With slow, deliberate movements, Rebekah followed Odette's instructions and sat across from the witch, mindful of the distance between them. The table creaked under her weight as if burdened by the tension in the air.

"Let's get one thing clear, Odette," Rebekah started, her eyes never leaving the witches. "I don't take kindly to being observed without my consent."

Odette merely shrugged at her words, though a glimmer of amusement lit up her eyes. "Your initial journey brought you here to meet (y/n). The vampires you know will soon reveal their true nature to her," she said almost nonchalantly.

How did she know...? Shock prickled through Rebekah's spine as she absorbed the woman's words. Secrets she had held close were suddenly laid bare before this stranger. A chill ran through her veins as a new realization dawned: this was no ordinary witch.

"Why are you telling me this?" Rebekah demanded, fighting back a swirl of emotions.

"A storm is brewing," Odette replied calmly, idly running her fingers over the worn surface of the table. "And it is drawing closer than you think."

"What kind of storm?" Rebekah asked cautiously; there was something about Odette that unsettled her.

"One that threatens to topple all your carefully laid plans," Odette answered cryptically.

"Is that a threat?" Rebekah's voice sharpened like a blade beneath the nebulous warning.

Odette shook her head, strands of silver-grey hair catching the dim lamplight. "Not a threat, dear heart... but a prophecy."

The word hung between them: "prophecy." It held such weight and dread that Rebekah's thoughts churned around it, a cold fear gnawing at her insides.

"You're trying to frighten me," Rebekah accused, her voice a low growl. But her heart hammered in her chest, betraying her bravado.

Odette sat back in her chair, the beginnings of a smirk playing on her lips. "Even immortals fear what they cannot control," she said softly, holding Rebekah's gaze unflinchingly. "You, Rebekah Mikaelson, cannot control what is coming."

Rebekah bristled at the ominous declaration, silent as she judged the witch. From her mouth came prophecies and threats, a swirling tempest threatening to swallow her whole.

"I have weathered many storms in my lifetime," Rebekah finally replied, her voice carrying an edge. She stood tall against Odette's words, a bastion of defiance amidst fear's troubling whispers.

Odette nodded, her eyes glinting with a strange kind of knowledge. "As have I," she agreed, almost sympathetically. "But each storm is different."

The sounds of the French Quarter filled the silence that had settled between them. The pulsating rhythm of jazz blared from a nearby bar while tourists and locals bustled down the cobblestone streets. Amidst it all, Rebekah felt strangely isolated.

"Why should I listen to you?" Rebekah finally asked, skepticism lacing her voice.

Odette paused for a moment, considering her response. "Because, like me, you're bound to this city... and its fate."

An icy chill ran through Rebekah's veins. Fate was a fickle mistress; she had witnessed it first hand throughout her countless years of existence. It often spelled doom for those who dared to interfere. Still, there was something about Odette's words that captivated her.

"How do I prepare for this storm you speak of?" Rebekah found herself asking, despite her reservations.

"Speak your questions to the cards," the witch instructed, laying out the intricate designs face down.

Rebekah's voice trembled slightly as she replied, "My only goal is to uncover the truth. I'm trying to protect a friend from my own family."

Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the witch flip over the first card: The Lovers. It seemed an apt metaphor for her turbulent relationships, both past and present.

"A bond of passion, intertwined fates," Odette murmured, her eyes meeting Rebekah's. "But danger lurks."

Rebekah's pulse quickened at the mention of danger. She had faced many threats in her long life, but this one felt more ominous than any she had encountered before.

"What kind of danger?" Rebekah asked, unable to hide the concern in her voice.

Odette shook her head, refusing to elaborate. "The cards will reveal what they will," she said cryptically.

With a shrug, Rebekah turned her attention back to the cards spread out before them. She watched with rapt interest as Odette turned over another card – The Tower.

"The Tower represents upheaval and destruction," Odette explained, tapping a finger on the card. "Something big is coming that will shake your world."

A shiver ran down Rebekah's spine at the witch's words. She knew all too well how quickly things could change and how fragile even immortals could be in the face of catastrophe.

"What can I do to prevent it?" Rebekah asked, hoping for some guidance or solution.

Odette's lips quirked into a small smile. "That is for you to determine," she replied mysteriously. "But beware – actions have consequences."

Rebekah nodded solemnly, understanding the weight behind those words all too well.

As Odette turned over more cards – Death, The Hanged Man, and The Fool – Rebekah couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settling over her like a heavy cloak. Each card seemed to speak of impending doom and chaos.

But then there was one final card – The Star—a ray of hope amidst the darkness.

"The Star represents hope and guidance," Odette said, her voice softer now. She laid a gentle hand on Rebekah's shoulder. "It shows that despite the coming storm, there's still a chance for redemption."

Silence filled the room again as Rebekah mulled over Odette's words. Hope was a dangerous thing - it could build empires or bring ruin just as quickly. But right now, it was all she had.

"I'll prepare myself then," she murmured, more to herself than to the witch. "I'll face this storm head-on."

"And may the wind blow in your favor, Rebekah," Odette responded. Her hands began to clear away the cards, each sliding softly against the worn table.

Rebekah watched her thoughtfully, appreciating the witch's wisdom yet dreading what was to come.

She rose from the table and looked down at the witch. "Thank you. Odette for whatever this was."

Odette merely nodded, her dark eyes watching Rebekah with patient wisdom. "Stay safe, child."

Rebekah turned on her heel and headed towards the bar.

"And so, it begins," the witch murmured as she watched Rebekah disappear into the crowded street.

Rebekah entered the busy bar, feeling the powerful energy pulsing in time with her own heartbeat. The air was heavy with a tantalizing mix of bourbon and spices, dancing to the beat of jazz and animated conversations.

Amid the bustling crowd, she scanned the faces for one she recognized. And there it was, a familiar face in the sea of strangers. She maneuvered her way through the crowd towards her friend.

She found (y/n) sitting at the bar, a half-empty glass in front of her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glinted with mischief as she raised her glass in greeting.

"Rebekah, you're just in time," (y/n) said, a teasing grin on her face. "I was starting to get bored."

"I'm surprised," Rebekah replied, her voice laced with wit. "You never struck me as someone who would get bored of a stiff drink."

(y/n) chuckled and sipped her cocktail, the ice clinking in the glass. Rebekah watched her for a moment, feeling anxiety prickling at the back of her neck. She needed to tell (y/n) about the impending danger, but how could she do so without frightening her?

"(y/n)," Rebekah began, her tone serious. The shift in her demeanor did not go unnoticed; (y/n)'s grin slowly faded as she turned her full attention to her friend.

"You look worried," (y/n) observed, concern etched on her features. "What's happened?"

Rebekah hesitated. How could she possibly explain? She had seen things that were invisible to humans — fates laid out like tarot cards, cryptic warnings from centuries-old witches, and danger sketched across the night sky.

"Nothing's happened. We're having a Mardi Gras party at my place tomorrow night," Rebekah lied, her voice steady despite the tumult inside her. "My family... they've been asking to meet you."

(y/n)'s look shifted from surprise to excitement, the looming danger momentarily forgotten. "A real Mardi Gras party? I'd love to!" she responded eagerly. The prospect of joining an authentic Cajun tradition excited her enough to dismiss Rebekah's sudden seriousness.

A warm smile spread across Rebekah's face, masking the true terror that gnawed at her insides. "Great! The festivities will begin after sunset."

"With real gumbo and jambalaya?" (y/n) asked, her eyes sparkling in anticipation.

"All authentic," Rebekah assured her. She sipped the remainder of her drink, feeling it burn a hot trail to unsettle her already-roiling stomach.

"You're quiet tonight," (y/n) interrupted, jolting her back to reality. "Is everything OK?"

Just then, as Rebekah was concocting another elaborate lie to distract (y/n) from the ongoing subject, an all-too-familiar figure came into her line of sight, leaning against the bar.

Her brother raised the crystal glass to his lips, the amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. He took a long sip of his usual whiskey on the rocks, attempting to drown out the insatiable hunger clawing at his insides. He swallowed the burning alcohol, using it to numb both his urges and his conscience.

Slowly, he turned to face Rebekah, a cruel smirk painted on his lips. With a sharp gesture, he taunted her, daring her to make a move against him.

"Just my bloody luck..." Rebekah muttered through gritted teeth.

(y/n) glanced at her, confused. "What is it, Rebekah? Seriously, something is off with you tonight."

"Can we just leave? Now?" Rebekah nearly pleaded, forcing half-hearted smiles and nods.

Before (y/n) could respond, Klaus' cold voice pierced through the lively chatter of the bar. "Why are you so quick to leave, Rebekah? We are just getting started."

His gaze traveled from his sister's petrified expression to (y/n), oblivious to her companion's bloodline. For a moment, Klaus hesitated as he caught sight of (y/n)'s innocent radiance under the dim lantern light.

The unexpected softening of his ice-blue eyes surprised even him. A warmth bloomed within him that had no place in his life—a dangerous attraction to this human woman that resembled something other than hunger for blood. It was something unnerving yet thrilling.

Rebekah watched in shock, perceiving this transformation happening within him—the mighty original vampire displaying an alarming vulnerability, not provoked by violence or manipulation, but by sheer fascination with someone seemingly insignificant in their immortal existence.

Bitter resentment burrowed deep within her at this paradoxical display of feelings from Klaus, who had previously been indifferent to anything even remotely humane. How could he be drawn to her delicate friend of all people?

"Is everything alright?" The question, seeping out uneasily from (y/n), draws both siblings back into reality.

"All good, darling," replies Rebekah with feigned cheerfulness. She locks her eyes menacingly with her brother as if she's confronting a predator who is helplessly exposed.

"All well indeed," Klaus echoes, his gaze still fixed on (y/n). His voice carries an undercurrent of something unidentifiable, even to him. He quickly shakes off the strange sensations clouding his thoughts and proceeds with a forced smile that does little to calm Rebekah's brewing anger.

(y/n) leans in close to Rebekah, her voice low. "Who is this guy?" Klaus responds with a charming smile.

"Oh Rebekah, darling, it's not very polite to keep me a secret from your stunning friend," he teases, giving a playful wink.

Bitterness flares in Rebekah's chest. "Klaus," she spits out his name like a curse, barely concealing her hostility, "is my brother."

"Your brother?" (y/n) utters, her voice laced with disbelief. His eyes flicker to meet hers, and for a moment, she sees a glint of amusement dancing in them, which sends an unsettling feeling deep within her stomach.

"But—" her voice trails off under Klaus's intense gaze before she gathers enough breath to whisper, "You don't seem anything alike."

"No wonder," Klaus retorts, his smile tinged with a hint of cruelty as he continues this dangerous game, seemingly at the whim of Rebekah, who has hidden her feelings from him until now.

Rebekah interjects like an approaching storm cloud—dark and foreboding. "(y/n) was just mentioning our Mardi Gras party tomorrow night," she declares boldly. Looking at her brother, she silently pleads for him to play along.

Klaus pauses before answering, smiling at (y/n). "Yes, of course, our family's annual Mardi Gras party. How could I forget?" He clasps his hands together.

"Is this your first Mardi Gras, (y/n)?" Klaus asks, his gaze unwavering from her face. The weight of his attention causes a slight blush to color her cheeks.

"Yes," she replies, smiling slightly under his intense stare. "Is it as wild and fun as they say?"

Klaus smirked at her question. "Oh, even more so," he replied, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes.

"Wild enough to awaken the beast within us all," he added cryptically, his gaze piercing into (y/n)'s as if offering a whisper of a challenge on the edge of his smirk. Rebekah glanced sharply at her brother, catching the double entendre. She shifted nervously in her seat.

(y/n), however, just laughed at his words, the sound a soft, tinkling contrast to the simmering atmosphere at their table. "I've heard rumors about supernatural elements spicing up the nightlife here. Are you confirming them?" she asked playfully.

Her innocent question sparked a glint of amusement in Klaus's eyes. He let out a low chuckle that echoed through the dim bar and sent a shiver crawling up Rebekah's spine.

"I'm confirming nothing more than our city's uncanny ability to unleash hidden desires," Klaus answered cryptically, his gaze still holding hers as if sharing an intimate secret.

Rebekah's heart pounded in her chest; she needed to divert the conversation before Klaus took it any further—before (y/n)'s life took an unexpected turn down the supernatural rabbit hole. "(y/n), I think we should head home. I need to start preparing for tomorrow's party with my brothers," she hastily interjected.

(y/n)'s smile faded from her face. "Oh, sure thing, Becca."

Klaus remained silent as Rebekah made excuses and pulled (y/n) up from the table, his eyes lingering on her. The intensity of his gaze unsettled her, making her heart pound in rhythm with the jazz music drifting in from the streets.

(y/n) took slow, confident steps as she walked away, her hips swaying with each movement. She turned back to catch Klaus's eye, flashing a charming smile that made his heart skip a beat. "It was nice meeting you," she purred, her voice dripping with allure. 

Klaus couldn't resist smirking at the thought of seeing her again tomorrow. "I can't wait for our next encounter," he replied smoothly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. The flirtatious tension between them crackled in the air as they went their separate ways, unable to shake thoughts of each other from their minds.

As the two women left the bar, Klaus watched them go, his cold smile fading slowly into the shadows. His thoughts swirled like a tempest—both treacherous and exciting. He lingered on the door even after they had disappeared from sight.

Behind him, a dark figure emerged from the bar's shadows. Elijah's face was unreadable as always, yet a hint of concern creased his features as he observed Klaus brooding.

"We shouldn't involve mere humans in our affairs, especially not her," he warned, his voice heavy with disapproval yet tinged with an unusual edge of worry.

Klaus turned to face his older brother, a smirk on his lips. "Worried that I can't behave myself for one evening?" 

Elijah ignored the taunt. "This isn't about me," he replied. "This is about you and your dangerous fascination."

Klaus considered Elijah's warning for a moment before brushing it off with an air of indifference. "What's life without a bit of danger, brother?" he mused aloud. His eyes held an eerie calm as he looked away, his thoughts already lost in the enticing prospect of tomorrow's Mardi Gras festivities.

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@rcarbo1

@giaevans

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Hi hi I was just wondering if ur taking requests could u do a 97!Remy LeBeau x fem!mutant!reader headcanon list of going on a date in New Orleans 👉🏼👈🏼

I don't think I've ever done a headcannon list before so I'LL TRY.

Remy, ever the charmer, surprises you with an invitation in true Cajun fashion—leaving a handwritten note with a single red rose at your doorstep. The note simply reads, "Dinner à New Orleans, chérie? Pack y'self a lil' dress, we gon' have some fun."

Remy picks you up in a sleek black convertible, the engine purring as music plays softly in the background. He's dressed in a tailored dark suit with a hint of his usual flair—a red silk shirt peeking through. He gives you a once-over, eyes sparkling as he says, "Mon dieu, chérie, y'lookin' like a dream come true."

He takes you on a leisurely walk through the French Quarter before dinner, guiding you by the hand through cobblestone streets. Remy points out little historical tidbits and shares colorful local legends, his arm occasionally brushing yours. He loves showing off his city, and his accent grows thicker the more excited and animated he gets. His pride in his roots is infectious, and you can’t help but feel enamored by his passion.

Remy makes sure you stop for a moment to enjoy the vibrant street performers—a lively jazz band plays under the glow of old-fashioned street lamps. Without warning, he spins you into a playful dance right there on the sidewalk, leading you in a few smooth, flirty moves. He chuckles when you stumble slightly, pulling you closer and whispering, "Just follow m'lead, chère."

He takes you to a hidden gem restaurant known only to locals—tucked away, intimate, and filled with the aromas of Cajun spices. You’re seated in a cozy corner, candles flickering softly on the table. Remy orders in flawless French, his eyes never leaving yours. The conversation flows effortlessly between playful banter and deeper confessions, with Remy listening intently whenever you speak.

Remy insists on ordering a variety of dishes for you to try—gumbo, crawfish étouffée, jambalaya—each one more delicious than the last. He teases you about the spices, but when you handle the heat with ease, he raises an impressed eyebrow. "Didn’t think y’could keep up wit’ a Cajun’s palate, chère. Guess y'full of surprises, huh?"

At one point, Remy uses his powers in a subtle yet impressive display. With a flick of his wrist, he charges a small card, letting it glow softly in the dim light before tossing it away, harmlessly discharging the energy. It’s his way of showing off, but also a reminder that beneath the charm and the smiles, he’s got an edge that’s both thrilling and dangerous.

After dinner, Remy whisks you away to a riverboat cruise along the Mississippi. The boat is old-fashioned, with a big paddlewheel and a lively jazz band playing on the deck. He takes you out onto the balcony where the city lights glitter on the water. As you lean on the railing, he wraps his coat around your shoulders and stands close behind, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs about the sights.

Near the end of the night, Remy takes you to a little antique shop that’s open late. He insists on buying you a small keepsake—a delicate locket with a tiny flower engraved on it. He fastens it around your neck, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he gazes into your eyes. "Now y’got a piece of New Orleans wit’ ya, wherever y’go."

He walks you back to your door, the night air still warm and filled with the faint scent of magnolias. Remy leans against the doorframe, smirking as if he’s in no rush to leave. When the moment finally feels right, he steps closer, tilting your chin up gently. His kiss is soft and slow at first, filled with unspoken promises of more nights like this. As you part, he whispers, "Bonne nuit, ma belle. This ain’t gon’ be our last rendezvous."

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Must Be A Full Moon 🌕 (Nico x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Nicolas “Nico” Brown x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been dating Nico for about five months now and you couldn’t be happier with him. He’s big, he’s sexy, he’s protective, and he listens! He’s the perfect boyfriend…except for one thing: you haven’t had sex yet. Every time you come close to it, he always makes an excuse and leaves your apartment before anything more than kissing can happen. What is it, you wonder? Is he not sexually attracted to you? Is he nervous? What could it be? One dark night, while the moon is high in the sky after a costume party, you get your answer…and everything you’ve been craving from your big, strong, sexy boyfriend.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Boyfriend!Nico; Established Relationship; Transformation; Monsterf*cking; Dom!Nico + sub!Reader; Black-Coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Spanking; Biting; Marking; Scent Play; 69; Knotting; Doggystyle; Sex Against The Window; Voyeurism; Creampie; Reader Cums 3x; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I haven’t something for my baby daddy Nicolas in a minute now. I just adore him. Enjoy & HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 🎃🖤 -Jazz

***********

It is dark tonight, this Halloween. Very dark. The darkest it’s ever been, the newspapers said.

But not even the tiniest bit of fear runs through you. Not with your big, scary man at your side.

You giggle under the glowing gaslamp illuminating the cobblestones and darkened windows of the barren town. You turn on your heeled Mary Jane that goes with your Red Riding Hood costume, smiling shyly at your boyfriend.

“I had a really good time tonight, Nicolas,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Seductive. You hope he catches on, glad that the alcohol from the party earlier has emboldened you. The many vodka shots, sweetened with chocolate, candy corn, and sour apple, have also softened the edges of your vision, making everything look softer, rosey, and nice…including your boyfriend.

The corner of his lips lift into a small, sexy smile that makes your stomach and lady parts flutter. “I’m glad,” he mutters.

But he always looks nice. Nice and sexy. You could barely keep your hands off of him at the costume party tonight, your hands stroking his chest, arms, or anywhere else you could that wasn’t his cock. He, on the other hand, had no issue putting a hand on your thigh under a table or placing a hand on your ass if someone even looked at you and your cute costume.

Worick and Alex had invited you out for the party about a week ago, something they do every Halloween in your small, shitty town. Every Halloween-lover, drinker, and young, dumb person in town came to your favorite bar/nightclub to dress up and party. You’re usually weary about large crowds in condensed spaces, but Nico being there made you feel 100% better.

You can’t explain how his presence makes you feel. You love him near you, even when you’re just sitting on the couch or cuddling in bed. He makes you feel so safe. So protected. Despite his bigger size, you love feeling so small beside him. Plus, the fact that he’s big enough to pick you up and break you like a toothpick turns you on more than words can say.

You have a thing for big men, hence why Worick and Nico caught your eye when Alex introduced you to them at a bar once. But it’s Nico who grabbed your attention…sweet, attentive, quiet, shy, awkward, and slightly terrifying Nico.

You’ve been dating him for five months and they’ve been the best! The dates are exciting and romantic. The kisses are electric. You find yourself falling deeper and deeper for him every day you talk to him or see him which he often does when he’s passing through your neighborhood for a mission. You can’t ask for a better partner.

Except for one thing: the sex is nonexistent. While yes, you don’t have to be sexual with EVERY man you date, you want to be sexual with YOUR man now. You can’t help it! Nico is too delicious to not be in your bed or on your couch completely naked and buried in one of your holes.

For the past month, your nights have been filled with hot dreams of the two of you locked together, Nico fucking you stupid. You often daydream about what his cock looks like or how he’d taste. What do his moans sound like? How does he look when he cums?

In addition to the past month, you’ve been trying in vain to get him to come into your apartment after date nights with promises of more wine or a cup of tea. You’ve tried other things too: wearing tighter dresses and low-cut tops to show off your ample chest and shapely figure; sending him flirty, late night voicemails; kissing him just a little longer than usual when he or you have to go home.

But alas…nothing has happened. It’s disappointing and disheartening, but you won’t give up. Not until your stud of a boyfriend is buried in your sheets AND in you. Hence why you invited him out tonight.

“I hope you had fun too,” you say, taking his bigger hand in your smaller, daniter ones. Even his hand is bigger than your wrist. God, why won’t he just fuck you already?! “I know you’re not much of a party person, but I appreciate you taking me.”

You give him a shy, loving smile that he returns. To anyone watching, you look like two lovebirds falling deeper for each other under the lamplight. “I hope Worick didn’t scare you off too much,” he signs, momentarily dropping your hands to do so.

You’ve been studying sign language for years now having someone in your family who is deaf. Not to mention that you’ve had deaf patients as a nurse working at your local hospital. Nico has also been teaching you other signs, his eyes brightening when you sign back to him. You love seeing that bright look of joy and pride in his gaze.

You sign a little bit now, only doing what you know. “Please! He’s annoying sober, so him acting up off theBourbon is nothing. I just hope Alex knows what she’s in for.” Nico laughs and you laugh with him, knowing that Warwick is loose monster when he’s drunk and will no doubt want to roleplay with Alex tonight in her cat costume.

The laughter dies now and you’re soon left with the sounds of the night: a lone owl hooting, a dog barking, a crisp breeze blowing in the trees. “Oh!” you say just because you want him to stay. “And thank you for, uh….dressing up. I knew you weren’t gonna wear that fursuit.”

Nico smirks as you play with the furry tail that he attached to his back pocket just for you. Strangely, it fits well with his black jeans, tight black V-neck, and leather jacket. “Glad I didn’t disappoint you,” he signs. His soft brown eyes roam over your hood and frilly, velvet dress that you paired with some white thigh-high stockings, Mary Jane heels, and a corset that pushes your breasts enticingly up in his face.

“You?!” you scoff, your eyes widening at him. You wave a passive, freshly-manicured hand. Your nails are shiny and blood red. Pretty…probably prettier wrapped around your man’s cock.”No way! I’m just happy you went along with my costume for tonight. Alex helped me pick it out.”

You begin to swish your hips in your dress, making the red and white frills sway around your thighs. Nico watches, transfixed by your legs and the way your titties jiggle in your corset. “Cute,” he sighs, his voice deep and raspy. It makes something tingle in you.

Your heart pounds against your chest, somehow making your ears ring. “Really?” you whisper. “You think so?” You fill the gap between you, just a mere inch that you fill with only two steps towards him.

You wrap your arms around Nico’s thick neck while he ropes his around your waist, nearly lifting you up off of the ground. You giggle, your nose brushing with his. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums. “So pretty.” Then he’s kissing you, his soft, juicy lips tasting of whiskey. He smells faintly of smoke from the bar and his favorite Irish Spring soap.

God, this man! He seduces you with one mere touch. One whiff of him. One kiss. You want him so badly. Your nipples harden under your costume and your panties are already soaked. You deepen the kiss, hoping he can understand just what you need.

But just as quickly as the kiss happens, it ends and Nico slowly lowers you down onto your feet. “I should leave,” he signs, looking wearily down the road. He gets anxious around this time of night as anyone would.

Your heart droops like a wilted flower at the mention of his departure. “Oh,” you say, disappointed. “You don’t wanna come in and stay awhile? I-I mean, it’s so late and you pounded as much as Warwick.” You recall the whiskey shot challenge he had with his longtime friend and the apple vodka he shared with you by pouring it into your mouth from his. You were so horny after that.

“Nah,” he signs. “Tired. You need rest too.” He pats your head, only disappointing you further. You want that hand on your throat or spanking your ass till it stings.

The alcohol works its damned magic and soon, you’re spilling out the words you’ve been keeping in: “Nicolas,” you say, swallowing hard. “Why don’t you wanna sleep with me?”

Nico’s brown eyes widen at you, stunned into silence. The only sounds are of a distant owl hooting and your blood pumping in your ears. “What?” he says, too shocked to sign.

You gasp, covering your mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did you say that?! “I-I’m sorry!” you squeak. “It’s the booze! I-It’s just that we’ve been dating for months and you only come over during the day….a-and you don’t stay the night! I want you to stay the night!”

The truth comes tumbling out, unable to be bottled up anymore. Nico stands there in silence, mouth parted in shock. He had no idea you felt this way and of course, he didn’t. You never told him till now. “Is it me?” you blubber, nervously playing with the tie to your hood. “Are you not sexually attracted to me?”

“No,” he immediately says, his voice gruff and low. He closes the gap between you, his hand on your cheek. “I’m fuckin’ crazy about you, Y/N.” His words are so passionate that they make your face grow hot. He steps back, looking gutted. “I’m sorry,” he signs. “I didn’t mean to make you feel this way. It’s not any of that.”

“Then what is it?” you gently push. He looks away from you then, staring off to the side at a street lamp. “I need you so much, Nico,” you whimper, pressing your hands against his hard chest. “I hug my pillow at night thinking of you next to me….which I wouldn’t have admired without the booze.” Your face feels like it’s on fire, but so does your body. You’re alight with need.

Nico’s eyes switch back to yours, interest and a small flame in them. “Really?” he asks. You nod and he uses his big hands to sign for you: “I think about you too. All of the time.” You smile at this, hope fluttering in your breast. “There’s just something I couldn’t tell you before about me.”

He looks down at his shoes, biting his plump lower lip. You scowl at him, confused and a little scared. Is it something bad? From the way he looks so anxious, it must be. “Something about you?” you parrot. “Then what is it? You can tell me.”

Nico looks back up at you and you can see the moon in them. “I’ll show you,” he says. “C‘mon.” He suddenly takes your hand and leads you to the front door of your apartment building. “Where are we going?” you ask, unable to hide your excitement.

“To bed,” he grunts. You wrench your hand out of his grasp, gaping at him. “What?!” you exclaim. “B-But you’re supposed to show me why you’re not…”

You pause, a sudden yawn escaping your lips. Your boyfriend leans against the doorframe, smirking at you. “M’not tired,” you whine with a cute little pout.

He nods, snickering to himself as you get your key out to unlock the door. “Uh-huh,” he chuckles. “Upstairs.” He presses a hand to your waist as you walk inside with him. You believe you feel his hand trail down to your behind, but you’re not too sure.

“But are you gonna show me what you needed to show me?” you tiredly ask as he leads you up the steps to your floor. “Soon, baby,” he softly says. “Bedtime.”

Bedtime, it is. You don’t fight him as he leads you up to your floor and helps you into your tiny apartment. And you don’t fight him when he helps you out of your costume, into your PJs, wipes your makeup off for you, and then tucks you into bed. Sleepily, you watch as he strips down to his briefs before he climbs in next to you, his hard body curled up next to yours.

You want to touch him, feel him, make him feel as hot as you are. But sleep takes you before you can even think about reaching over to grab his cock and stroke him through his briefs. The alcohol and the long night take over, leaving you sound asleep. Nico falls asleep soon after, his soft snores filling the tiny, dark bedroom.

But somewhere in the night that is creeping towards morning, you awaken to a sudden noise. You sit up straight out of your hot dream of you and Nico in a hot tub somewhere, hands roaming and lips caressing, reality crashing down onto you. Immediately, your eyes catch the sliver of light coming from across the room where your private bathroom is.

You hear the sound of running sink water, but also something else. It sounds like…breathing. Harsh, distressed breathing. You look to where Nico should be in your bed, but you find the space empty and warm as if he just got up. Worried, you swallow the lump in your throat to call to him. “Nico?” you tentatively call. “Honey? Is everything okay?”

He grunts in response, making your heart leap in fear. Is he hurt? “Nicolas!” you call, seriously now. “What’s going on?”

“Stay away!” a deep, rasped voice calls from the other side of the door. “Don’t come in!” He grunts again, his breathing becoming more ragged. You press a hand to your mouth, fear gripping you. That didn’t sound like Nico at all. This voice is much, much deeper. “N-Nico?” you whimper, confused and scared.

He doesn’t answer you anymore. He continues to grunt and snarl as if he’s an animal. ‘He must be sick,’ you think and quickly toss the duvet covering you away to tent to your boyfriend.

But before you can get out of bed, the bathroom door opens. Suddenly, you are faced with the silhouette of Nico, but all you can see is black. You can’t see his face nor any of his other features. He might as well be a shadow. You’re not sure anymore if you’re even awake. “Nico?” you whisper, fear crawling into your veins. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he instantly replies, but he sounds…wrong. His voice is even raspier and deeper as if it dropped an octave in the time he was in the washroom. “Are you afraid?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, unsure of how to answer him. You press the duvet to your chest, covering yourself. “N-No,” you stammer.

Nico then steps forward and you see that his eyes are nothing but slits with gold irises in the moonlight. “You should be.”

And right before your very naked eyes, your boyfriend’s shape begins to change. He grows bigger and larger in size, growing in muscle mass. He lowers over you so much that you have to tilt your head up to look at him. As the moonlight cuts into your bedroom, creating a silver spotlight on him, he begins to grunt and snarl to himself, his face scrunched in pain.

His clothes grow smaller on his bigger body and suddenly rip off of him, tearing to shreds and fluttering to the floor. His skin disappears, replaced with fine black fur that coats his entire body. His ears elongate and point. His nose forms a dripping snout. His nails sharpen and his teeth grow bigger and longer, sharpening into fangs that gleam like knives at you. But the kicker it seems is the big, furry, wagging tail that drops between his furry thighs.

Finally finished, he falls to his knees in the light before you, heaving from whatever energy his transformation took out of him. You gape at him, all kinds of emotions swimming in you, but fear is the number one. “N-N-N—“ You can’t even get his name out.

Slowly, he looks up at you and somehow, you see your sweet boyfriend in the eyes of the wolf staring back at you. “This is me,” he growls out. “The real me.”

You continue to stare, wide-eyed and alarmed. You’re dreaming. You have to be. You pinch yourself, hissing at the sting. No…this is real. Nico stands but doesn’t come near you, too afraid to do so. “I won’t hurt you,” he signs and you almost laugh at the sight of his big, clawed paws signing for you. This is Nico!

“I’d never. But the moon makes me like this.” He motions over his new form, looking absolutely ashamed…and horny. You can see his cock bulging from his briefs that have just managed to cling to his groin despite his bigger size.

Slowly, you creep out of the bed and tentatively walk over to him. He stands firmly still, afraid of spooking you. Once you’re near him, you first gently touch his snout and then move your fingers over his soft, thick fur. He sighs at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Then you move farther down, getting on your knees to move his briefs out of the way.

There, you gasp at the sight. His cock has swollen at least four sizes up from his original size as a human…which is pretty thick already judging from what you’ve seen in his pants. He is thicker, longer, and flushed red. “My knot,” he raspily explains, sounding embarrassed. “I…can’t help it.”

And you can’t help the way your pussy throbs staring at it. Despite how strange it looks, it also makes you hotter than you’ve ever been in your life. Gently, you wrap a hand around it, trying to see how thick it is. Your fingers can barely fit around the base!

You begin to stroke your boyfriend up and down, getting used to his size and eventually using another hand to hold him. Nico hoarsely moans above you, staring down at you through hooded eyes. “Baby,” he hoarsely says. “W-What are you—“

You silence him by taking a kitten lick of his tip, making him groan. “Take me, Nico,” you whisper, staring up at him through your lashes. “Take my mouth. Fuck my face as much as you need.”

Then you take him into your mouth, first sucking gently on the head. Nico watches on, unable to fulfill your request…yet. He lets you take the reins, watching with clenched fists as you take him deeper with every slow second, his cock sinking between your soft lips. He can’t believe what he’s witnessing. His beautiful, hot, cute girl on her knees for him taking his werewolf cock in her mouth.

“F-Fuck, darlin’,” he groans, unable to keep his sounds of pleasure back. He trembles under your wet tongue and soft, little hands stroking up and down his length. His big, heavy balls swinging like pendulums grow heavier with cum at the sight of you.

You pop his cock out of your mouth to smile up at him. “Feels good?” you purr, your heart exploding with pride when he frantically nods. “Good. Just relax for me, Nico. I’m right here.”

You continue to take him in your mouth, gradually growing bolder and more relaxed to take him deeper. He is much thicker than normal, stretching your mouth out to the point where your jaw aches. You alternate between eagerly stroking and eagerly sucking, bobbing your head up and down as you moan, sending vibrations throughout his thick, red cock.

“Shit!” Nico hisses, watching through slits as you give him a long lick from base to tip like a lollipop. Unable to take anymore, he gently grasps the back of your head and pushes you back down. You moan in joy, letting him thrust in and out of your mouth at a slow, gentle pace, obviously afraid of hurting you.

But that doesn’t last long. Feeling your soft, hot, wet mouth wrapped around him tears Nico’s self-control to shreds. Quickly, he pulls his cock out of your mouth and scoops you up as if you weigh nothing. You squeak in surprise as he carries you to the bed, carrying you like you’re a precious jewel.

And he takes care of you like you are one. Once on the bed, he lays down first before he places you on top facing his cock. You feel his clawed hands on your ass, cascading down your panties, and then rrrrrip. “Nico!” you whine, pouting at the sound of your lace panties tearing. “Those were my favorite!”

“Sorry, baby,” he says, but you can tell he isn’t. You’re not even that mad once his hands grasp your ass and spreads your cheeks apart. You hiss at the cool air hitting your puckered asshole and sobbing cunt. “Fuck,” Nico shudderingly says, his hot breath hitting your quivering pussy lips.

And there’s his tongue. His tongue. You’ve never felt anything like it. It is so big, fat, and long. It reaches every part of your pussy outside and in when it slides between your wet folds, caressing every sensitive spot. He fills you up in a way your fingers can’t, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body.

For this to be the first time he’s ever eaten you out, it’s fucking magical. You can’t help but toss your ass back and grind against his face which Nico happily invites. He moans and growls into your cunt, messily eating and lapping at your juices. “Oh, Nico!” you moan. “Nico, fuck yes, that’s so good! Keep going, baby! Keep—“

You’re silenced by his cock suddenly popping you in the lip as it lurches forward, standing up at attention. “Sorry,” he chuckles, but pushes his hips up towards your inviting mouth. “Go ahead.”

He doesn’t even have to tell you. You’re salivating at the chance to have him in your mouth again. You proceed to bob your head up and down as he thrusts up into your mouth, shoving his knot a bit deeper each time down your throat. Saliva drips from your mouth as Nico fucks your face, using your mouth as a toy. You love every minute of it, causing your pussy to grow wetter in his mouth.

The lewd sounds of moans and wet licking fills the air that is thick with sex. The moonlight hits your brown skin and body, illuminating both of your beautiful features as Nico stares up at you. He adores the way you throw your ass back into his face. Loves how you look riding his tongue, twerking that soft, luscious ass of yours as you do. He grips and spanks it to his heart’s delight, growing rock at the sound of your pretty moans that bounce off of the bedroom walls.

He eats you faster, becoming more determined to bring you to orgasm with his tongue strokes. He uses the flat of his tongue to lick up your slit while one of his thick fingers toys with your pretty rosebud, rolling the needy button around in semi-circles. He has wanted to know your body for so long and now that he does, he wants to know more.

You ride his face like a stolen car, chasing your own high. “Fuck, Nico, I’m gonna cum!” you whine, your voice loud and squeaky. “Y-You’re gonna…I’m gonna!” Nico gripped your ass, giving you a bite of pain as his claws nearly dig into your flesh. “Cum, baby,” he growls into your cunt. “Cum for me!”

You continue to ride him, stroking his cock with both hands as you do to give him pleasure too. Finally, you feel yourself tumble off of that hill and into a sea of bliss. Your orgasm is intense and overwhelming, drawing all kinds of high-pitched moans and gasps out of you. Nico hums “mmm-hmm” into your pussy, lapping up all that you give him like a grateful dog would for water. He even licks along your asscrack, catching the droplets that fell there.

By the time he finishes, you are absolutely drained and shuddering above him. “Oh. My. God.” You gasp out each word. That was the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your life!

Nico chuckles below you, pressing a kiss to your clit that makes you shudder. Looking down, you find his bobbing knot has grown a lot harder and redder, practically flushed. “You’re still hard,” you giggle, slowly stroking up and down his shaft. He moans in response, fucking your hand without abandon. The poor baby is desperate. “Guess you still need more too.”

You look back at him, seeing the need in his piercing gaze. “Do you?” he asks, a question in his golden eyes. He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to. You know exactly what he means: do you want him to fuck you?

Is the sky blue and the grass green? You giggle, positioning yourself so you’re now turned around and facing him. You press your hands against his furry chest, your fingers burying in his fur. “Yes, honey,” you coo, nuzzling your nose with his. “I want you too. Fuck me right here, right now. I’m all yours.”

That is all Nico needs to hear. Minutes later, you are on all fours, face down in the pillow with your ass hiked in the air, receiving the deep dicking of your life. Nico mounts you from behind, one clawed hand pressing you down into the bed while the other is on your ass, spanking you here and there and making you wail.

His strokes are slow but deep and hard, stealing the breath from your body with every thrust. It sends your clit into a pleasured frenzy, leading you to frantically rub it in time with his thrusts, and your brain turns to mush. His cock fills you up in a way you’ve never been before, his balls swinging against your clit.

“Oh, my God!” you practically scream. “Oh, my God!” Your moans are broken and loud as your boyfriend fucks you like an animal, bullying your pussy into taking his cock…and then eventually his knot. “Take it,” he growls, pressing a hand on your back. “Take me, darlin’.”

Embarrassing squelching sounds mingle with the creaking of the bed springs as he ruts into you, making your pussy wetter. And it isn’t just his cock. It’s him. It’s the way his fur tickles your skin. It’s the way he smells. It’s the way he sounds. Your pussy belongs to him, your velvety walls squeezing around him with every slow, deep thrust.

“I-I am!” you whimper out. “I will, Daddy, I promise!” You gasp as you feel him slide in deeper as he hooks an arm around you, drawing you closer to him. A loud, desperate whine escapes you at the feeling of him pistoling into you, making your tits and ass jiggle with every thrust.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his tongue caressing your earlobe and neck. “My good fuckin’ girl.” His teeth nibble on the tender skin of your neck, leaving little love marks of him. Something to let anyone know that you are his. The idea of being his, of being owned by him….fuck, you’re about to cum. You can feel it building again.

“Oh, Nico, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob to the heavens. “You’re gonna make me cum! O-Oh, f-f-fuck!”

Nico doesn’t stop even as you orgasm, your body bucking and writhing in his arms and underneath his big, furry body. He toys with your neck with his tongue and teeth, stimulating each sensitive part of you which only makes your orgasm that much more intense. He groans into your sweet, coconut-scented hair as your walls clench around him, pushing him to cum too.

But not yet.

When your orgasm finally fades, you snuggle back into his furry chest that pillows the back of your head. “Nico, I…” Your mind, sluggish from the two intense orgasms, can’t process the words quick enough.

Even if it could, Nico doesn’t give you a chance. He is suddenly turning you around, scooping you up, and taking you over to the window where the moonlight is bright and beautiful. He hooks his big paws underneath your thighs, keeping his cock inside of you as he pushes you against the wall, your thighs pinned open for him.

You weakly moan as you feel his fingers toy with your clit, your eyes fluttering at the intense pleasure. Your pussy shudders and throbs from the stimulation despite just orgasmic. You don’t know if you can take anymore of it. “Look at me,” Nico softly growls.

You open your eyes, staring into his. All you see is yourself reflecting back like two golden mirrors. “Beautiful,” he sighs. “So beautiful.” He thrusts deeper and suddenly, his knot is pushing inside of you. You let out a broken moan as he groans, nuzzling his face into your shoulder.

“N-Nico,” you whimper, gripping his back. Your nails dig into his skin littered in fur, no doubt leaving your own marks. But he embraces it, enjoying the bite of pain as your soft, velvet pussy squeezes around his knot. He begins to fuck you pinned against the wall, rutting as deep as he can go. Your breath comes out in short puffs as you take his knot, your mind briefly thinking about if he is to get stuck.

Would you even mind that?

Your boyfriend begins to thrust harder, faster, fucking you up and up and up against the wall in the moonlight. Your body is forced to near another orgasm, your pussy gripping around him tighter than a vice. “Nico,” you whine. “N-Nicolas, it’s too much! I-I can’t take much more!”

Nico pulls away to stare at you, his canine eyes filled with unshed tears. His teeth are bared and his jaw is tight. He, too, is holding back. You cup his face in your hands, your fingers caressing through his thick, coarse fur. “I need you to cum,” you beg. “Please fuck me and cum deep in my pussy. Fill me up. Make me yours.”

You’ve never wanted anything more than you want his cum…well, maybe sex with him. And now you’re getting it. You couldn’t be more blessed to get dicked down the way you are now. Little Red Riding Hood with her big, bad, sexy wolf.

Nico’s eyes flash with a fire that is almost animalistic. Untamed. It thrills you yet frightens you. This isn’t your Nico anymore. This is a beast. A monster who needs his fill. And you’re more than happy to give it to him.

He grips you to him as if you’ll vanish if he doesn’t and proceeds to fuck your brains out. “Gonna fill you,” he groans. “Gonna fill my baby up.” You frantically nod, locking your limbs around him to trap him against you. “Yes!” you moan. “Do it! Cum with me, Nico, baby, please!”

You can feel his knot swelling up inside of you, begging to be released from its torture. “I love you,” he growls into your ear. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too!” you sob, the throws of your third orgasm taking over. “C-Cumming! Nic, I’m cumming!”

And finally, you do. Like a spray of champagne shooting out of a corked bottle, you explode all around Nico’s knot. The feeling is so intense that your fingers and toes cramp. You toss your head back and moan to the skies, letting the Gods above know of the ecstasy you feel. Nico frantically pistons into you, chasing his own orgasm until he finally cums with a low grunt that gradually grows louder.

He begins to roar, the sound muffled by your breast as he nuzzles his face into your chest. You gasp at the steady warm stream of cum that enters you, filling you to the brim. There is so much that it drips down your thighs, sticky and wet. You are now officially, unmistakably his.

Once your highs fade, Nico’s body relaxes against yours and his roars of pleasure die down to soft growls and grunts. Exhaustion soon takes over and he crashes to the floor with you still in his arms. Gently, after giving you a nimble squeeze of your tit, he gently pulls out of you and rolls onto his back beside you. You moan at the loss of his cock, your pussy feeling sore yet tingly.

Together, you lie on your bedroom floor side by side, panting, sweating, and absolutely drained. You’ve never felt this way before. You feel like you just ran a marathon! But the ache you feel is so delicious that you almost want to go again. “Oh, Nico,” you sigh, tired yet satisfied.

You turn to stare at your beast of a boyfriend only to find that your beast is now a human hunk again. “Oh, you’re back!” you joyfully exclaim. He wordlessly stares at you, his tan skin and toned body slick with sweat. His cock, no longer knotted, is soft and flaccid from his intense orgasm between his thick, muscular thighs. It’s still thick but much smaller compared to his werewolf size and a beautiful shade of tan.

Unable to keep yourself off of him, you snuggle up next to him, laying a hand on his toned stomach. “You feelin’ okay now?” You softly ask.

“Mmm,” he hums, looking absolutely energized now. He has a glint in his eye and he is almost glowing from the inside out. He tilts his chin down to kiss you, his lips soft and supple. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile, giving him another chaste kiss. “It was my pleasure…seriously.” You both laugh at his, the tension in the air thick with sexual chemistry. Only the two of you will know of this night…and maybe the neighbors too. You yawn, feeling exhaustion grip you again. “Now, let’s—“

“Uh-uh,” he interrupts, a crooked smile on his face. He points down at his now-human cock that is now semi-hard.

“Again?!” you gasp, ogling at him. “What, are one of the symptoms of a full moon being increasingly horny too?!”

Nico smiles at you, playfulness in his eyes. “Don’t answer that,” you sigh, already hooking a leg around his waist. You press your tits up against his hard chest, feeling his dog tags against your heated skin. “Just fuck me again.”

And your boyfriend does just that. Again and again again, making you cum your brains out in every position you can think of. That night, you get exactly what you’ve been wanting for months now.

You don’t get much sleep until dawn, but you don’t complain. Not a bit.

THE END.

[snowseasonmademe]

Under the lights

word count : 2,914

warning ‼️ : smut

pairing : aurelien x black fem reader

summary : an evening out by yourself turns into a romantic, steamy night with your…..good friend.

note: lets just act like his house isn’t designed badly and it looks like how it’s described :) anyway, i hope you all enjoy and tell me what you think!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paris was alive with its usual magic—glittering lights, cobblestone streets kissed by the faint glow of streetlamps, and the hum of evening conversations spilling out from the cafés. You stepped out of your favorite bistro in the Marais, the evening air cool against your skin. You adjusted your scarf, glancing up at the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance. The sight always managed to steal your breath, even after living in the city for two years.

“Y/n” a deep voice called behind you.

You turned, your pulse quickening as you recognized the tall, striking figure approaching you.

Aurélien Tchouameni.

The star midfielder for the French national team and an international sensation. His face—sharp jawline, piercing brown eyes, and an effortless charm—was a regular on billboards and magazine covers. But here, in the intimate glow of the Parisian night, he was just Aurelien. No flashing cameras, no roaring stadium crowds.

“ Aurélien,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “What brings you here?”

“I was hoping to see you.”

His words were simple, but the intensity in his gaze made your cheeks warm. You met him months ago at a gala you’d been covering as a journalist. Since then, he had found ways to linger in your life—chance encounters that never felt entirely accidental.

“You were hoping to see me?” you repeated, an eyebrow arching.

He smiled, that slow, devastating grin that had charmed millions but seemed crafted just for you in this moment. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little,” you admitted, folding your arms as you leaned against the lamppost. “Big-time football stars don’t usually frequent neighborhood cafés.”

“Maybe I wanted to try something new,” he replied, stepping closer. The space between you shrank, and the cool air suddenly felt warmer. Your heart raced, but you masked it with a smirk. “And you thought you’d find excitement here?”

“I’m finding it now,” he said, his voice lower, softer. His gaze dipped briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Let me take you out tonight.”

You hesitated. You weren’t immune to Aurélien’s charm, but you weren’t the type to swoon over fame or flashy gestures. Still, there was something about him—something genuine behind the confidence.

“Where?” you asked, tilting your head.

“You’ll see,” he said, offering his hand.

You stared at his outstretched palm, the smooth tone of his skin contrasting against the dark fabric of his coat. Finally, you took it, letting his warmth spread through you.

An hour later, You found yourself seated at a small, candlelit bistro tucked away in one of Paris’s quieter streets. The restaurant was intimate, with soft jazz playing in the background and couples scattered at tables, lost in their own worlds.

“How did you find this place?” you asked as you sipped your wine.

“A teammate told me about it,” Aurélien said, leaning back in his chair. “Said it was perfect for nights when you want to disappear.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Disappearing isn’t something I’d imagine you’d be good at.”

He chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate through you. “You’d be surprised. I’m not always looking for the spotlight.”

“And what are you looking for now?” you challenged, meeting his gaze head-on.

“You,” he said simply.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced herself to play it cool. “That’s a bold answer.”

“I’m a bold man,” he replied, his lips curving into a grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Do you always say exactly what’s on your mind?”

“With you, yes.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. For a moment, you forgot where you were, lost in the way his eyes seemed to see right through your carefully constructed walls.

“Tell me about you,” he said, leaning forward. “The real Y/n. Not the journalist with the sharp wit or the woman who keeps dodging my calls.”

You smirked. “Dodging your calls? I prefer to think of it as… being selective.”

“Selective, huh?” He chuckled, his hand brushing yours on the table. The touch was brief but electric. “Then I feel even more honored to be here.”

“You should,” you teased, though your voice softened.

You talked for hours, the conversation flowing as effortlessly as the wine. You found herself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected—about your upbringing in New York, your move to Paris to pursue journalism, and the struggles of balancing ambition with vulnerability. Aurelien listened intently, his gaze never wavering.

“And you?” you asked, curiosity finally getting the better of you. “What’s it like being… you?”

He shrugged, a hint of vulnerability flashing across his face. “It’s not as glamorous as people think. The pressure, the scrutiny—it can get overwhelming.”

“But you love it,” you said, studying him.

“I do,” he admitted. “But it’s nights like this that remind me why it’s worth it. Meeting people who see me for more than just the headlines.”

Your chest tightened at his words. You’d spent so much of your career dissecting public figures, analyzing their every move. Yet here, sitting across from Aurélien, he felt disarmingly real.

By the time you left the bistro, the city had quieted. You strolled down the cobblestone streets, your footsteps echoing in the stillness.

“Thank you for tonight,” You said, glancing up at him.

“I should be thanking you,” he replied, his hand brushing yours as you walked.

The silence between you was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. When you reached a small park near his apartment, Aurélien stopped, turning to face you fully.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low.

“Depends on the question,” you replied, your lips curving into a smile.

He stepped closer, the space between them evaporating. “Do you want to come inside?”

Your breath hitched. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—made it impossible to say no.

“Yes,” you said softly.

The smile that spread across his face was radiant, his eyes lighting up with a boyish charm that made her chest ache.

Without another word, he cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm against your chilled skin. His lips met yours, gentle at first, as if testing the waters. But when you responded, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his intensity grew.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his coat. He pulled you closer, one hand tangling in your curls, the other resting on your lower back.

When you finally broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

As you took his hand, your lips still tingling from his kiss, you couldn’t help but smile. For once, you felt like the walls you built around yourself didn’t need to stay so high. Maybe, just maybe, you were ready to see where this could lead.

The soft hum of jazz filled the air as you stepped into Aurélien’s apartment.

You weren’t sure what you had expected when you agreed to come inside, but the cozy, understated elegance of his home surprised you. Warm lighting, minimalist decor, and a wall of bookshelves gave it a personality you hadn't anticipated.

"You live here?" you teased, setting your coat on the arm of the sofa.

"Disappointed?" he asked, stepping into the open kitchen.

"No," you admitted, walking toward him.

"I guess I expected something flashier. This is... nice."

He smiled as he poured two glasses of wine.

"I don't need flash at home. It's the one place where I can just be me."

As he handed you a glass, your fingers brushed, and that familiar spark ignited. You tried to focus on anything but the way his presence seemed to fill the room. You talked and laughed as easily as they had at the bistro, right now felt different. More intimate. By the time you moved to the couch, your nerves were buzzing. Aurélien sat close, your knees brushing, his scent— earthy and clean-pulling you in.

"You know," he said softly, "I've been thinking about you all week." Your heart skipped.

"Oh I’m sure you have" you say slightly joking

He leaned closer, his voice dropping." And now that you're here, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to let you leave."

You laughed, but the sound was shaky. "You’re a bold man."

"I am bold man." he murmured, in agreement, brushing a curl from your face,

The air thickened, charged with unspoken desire. His hand slid to your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he leaned in. When your lips met, the world seemed to tilt. His kiss was slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second. You melted against him, your hands finding his shoulders as he deepened the kiss. The soft hum of music faded, replaced by the sound of your breathing, the gentle rustle of fabric as his arms circled your waist. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours once more, his eyes searching yours for permission to go further.

"Y/n," he whispered, your name a question and a promise all at once.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as you nodded, your breath hitching. "Yes."

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom. The space was just as warm and inviting as the rest of his apartment, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls. Aurélien set you down gently, his hands never leaving you as he kissed you again, slower this time. His lips traced a path down your neck, his touch reverent as he explored your skin. Your head tilted back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you let herself surrender to the moment.

Aurelien's strong hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. He whispered your name "Y/n” his French accent making it sound like a secret. You unbuttoned his shirt, revealing chiseled abs and broad shoulders.

Your fingers traced the defined muscles, feeling the power that made him a force on the soccer field. Aurélien’s hands explored your curves, marveling at the beautiful mix of your bronze skin tones. He unzipped your dress, letting it pool at your feet, leaving you in black lace.

The dim light caressed your curves, making you look like a dark goddess. He stepped back to admire you. His breath caught in his throat. You moved closer, pressing your body against his. His lips found yours- hungry, possessive.

His hands moved to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around him as he stumbled forward onto a plush love seat near an open window. The night air was cool on your bare skin, contrasting with the heat generated between you.

Aurélien broke the kiss to trail kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone. Your head fell back, exposing more of your throat to his hungry mouth. He gripped your hips tightly, grinding his hardness against your core. You whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"I need you," Aurélien growled, his voice rough with desire. Your response was to squeeze your legs tighter around him, trying to get closer. He reached between your bodies, fumbling with his belt before tearing open a condom with his teeth.

As he kicked off his pants, you wriggled out of your underwear, leaving you bare before him. Aurelien paused, taking in your form - the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips, the softness of your thighs.

“Si beau" he murmured. He slowly lowered you down onto him - easily sliding into you due to how you’ve secretly wanted him badly all night- his hands splayed possessively on your hips. He kissed you softly, his thumb stroking your cheek as he guided himself inside you.

You inhaled sharply as he filled you, your back arching to take him deeper. He wrapped your legs around his waist, his large hands supporting your ass as he began to move. The chair creaked under your movements, the room filled with your heavy breaths and soft moans.

Aurelien's strong arms lifted you up and down on him, his hands roaming over your curves possessively. He broke the kiss to look down at where you joined, his eyes darkening as he watched himself enter you.

"Tellement parfait" he growled, his voice strained with desire. He pulled out almost completely before slamming back into you , the force of his hips making you bounce on his lap. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Look at me chérie” he commanded, his voice deep and demanding. You opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze. He slowed his pace, moving deliberately now, making each thrust count. His thumb found your clit, circling it gently in rhythm with his hips.

Your eyes rolled back as pleasure overwhelmed you. "Aurélien" you whimpered, your voice barely audible. He smiled, his heart swelling with love and desire. He picked up the pace again, his thumb pressing harder against your sensitive clit as he fucked you mercilessly on the lounge chair.

He wrapped his arms around you , pulling you flush against his chest. "Wrap your legs around me," he ordered, his voice strained. You locked your ankles at his back, allowing him to go even deeper. He grunted, his face a mask of concentration.

Aurélien stood up, still buried inside you, and carried you to the bed. He sat down, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist, and leaned back against the headboard. Your back arched as he sank deeper into you, the change in position hitting your g-spot perfectly.

"You like that?" Aurelien asked, smirking as you whimpered and clung to him. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, opening you up even wider as he pounded into you. The bed creaked loudly, keeping rhythm with your bodies slapping together.

Your nails dug into Aurelien's shoulders once again as you tried to pull him closer, needing more of him inside you. He hissed at the sharp pain, but it only seemed to fuel his desire.

"More?" he growled, thrusting harder. You nodded, unable to form words as pleasure coursed through you. He reached between the two of you, finding your sensitive clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts.

"Tell me you want it," he whispered harshly against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Tell me you want me to make you cum all over my dick." His fingers continued their maddening dance on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"I want it," you choked out, your voice desperate. "I want you to make me cum so bad." Aurelien grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "That's what I like to hear" he said, his thrusts becoming even more brutal as he drove into your gushing pussy.

"Your pussy feels so good around me," he groaned, adjusting his angle to hit just the right spot, triggering waves of pleasure through you. You could feel your orgasm building, intense and inevitable. "Not yet," he commanded, slowing his pace slightly despite her desperate whimpers.

"I'm going to count to three," he said, his voice low and commanding. "And when I reach three, I want you to cum for me. Hard." He started moving again, his thrusts long and deep, each one pushing you closer to the edge. "One,"

... "Two..." His pace picked up, becoming more urgent as he felt your muscles clutching him tighter. "Three..." A surge of pleasure rushed through you as he hit that perfect spot, and with his command, you shattered completely, your body convulsing around him in a powerful orgasm.

grunts "That's it... cum all over this dick" he growled, his own pleasure building as he felt you pulsating around him. "Don't stop... ride through it" he commanded, continuing his punishing rhythm.

As you rode through your release, he wrapped his hand around your neck. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice rough with barely contained passion. He wanted to see your face as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your pleasure.

Your eyes locked, he picked up his pace, slamming into you as he gazed into your dilated pupils. "You're going to cum again, and again, and again..." He punctuated each word with a hard thrust, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

Needless to say, it was a long night. Time seemed to blur as you came together, your movements tender yet passionate. Your touch was a mixture of strength and care, his attention to your every reaction making you feel seen in a way you never had before. When you both finally lay tangled in the sheets, your breaths mingling in the quiet, you traced lazy circles on his chest.

"I wasn't expecting this," you admitted, your voice soft.

"Neither was I," he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "But I'm glad it happened."

You smiled, closing your eyes as you rested against him. For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace-wrapped in the warmth of something that felt like it could be real.

“Goodnight, Y/n” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before closing his eyes.

“Goodnight, Aurélien” you whispered, slowly drifting off to sleep.

[anonziesssz]

Pumpkin Lattes & Autumn Glances.

✦- Authors Note: Posting a Blue Lock fic after this 🙈

✦- pairings: Yuki Tsunoda x reader.

✦- summary: Yuki Tsunoda Takes the reader to a cafe and teases them

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It's a perfect autumn afternoon, with the streets colored in warm hues of amber and crimson, with golden leaves drifting down to cover the cobblestone path outside. Yuki holds the door open for you, pink coloration on his cheeks as he gets the chill in the air, smiling softly at the corners of his mouth.

Inside, the café is comforting and inviting, the scents of cinnamon and coffee filtering through the air. There are old posters on the walls, strings of fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, and, somewhere way in the back, a soft humming of jazz music. You slide into a small table by the window-the kind where you can watch the world walk by outside-and it feels like you stepped into a warm bubble off a cold outside.

So, the pumpkin spice latte here? A masterpiece. Not too sweet, not too spicy. Perfectly balanced." Yuki says with such great authority

"Didn't know you were such a latte connoisseur."

"Hey, it's a big deal." Yuki grins, leaning in, and for a second, the two of you just look at each other, caught in that quiet, unspoken moment.

Your drinks arrive just then, in oversized, excellently crafted mugs. Yuki takes a huge sip, barely waiting for it to cool down. Immediately he scrunches up his face and pulls back from the cup.

"Ah! Hot, hot, hot-too hot. But worth it." Yuki fans his mouth, laughing at himself while you chuckle along with him.

He pulls his phone out and snaps a quick photo of you in under a second.

"Caught you. Looking cute." He says

"Hey! Warn me next time."

Yuki (texting you under the table):

tooltips But then I'd miss all the best parts, like the way you look when you laugh <3

You feel a warm flush rise to your cheeks, and you sneak a glance at him, catching his soft happy smile as he waits for your reply.

You (texting back):You know, for all your teasing, you look kinda cute with that scarf all bundled up like that.

Yuki (still texting):Oh, so you like the scarf look? Noted for all future dates. ????

You laugh, and your smiles melt into your cups as you take another sip of lattes. It's rich, it's warm, with just the right amount of spice to remind you of everything you love about fall.

Outside the window, the street bustles with people, but somehow, you seem to be both in a world of your own as your conversations flow as effortlessly as the falling leaves while you chat about everything and nothing.

After a while, Yuki turns towards the window, his gaze pensive.

"Personally, it's really felt like my favorite season lately." He catches your eye with a soft, upturned smile. "Kinda makes everything feel… softer, you know? Like the world's giving us a little break."

"Yeah… And it's cozy. Like, we could sit here for hours and just watch the world go by."

Yuki just texts back, his fingers flying across the screen:

We really could. Just me and you. Bottomless lattes. We could act like no one else exists.

You read his message, the warmth settling further in your chest. And you text him back.

You:

Deal. But only if you promise to keep ordering lattes, and pretending they're not too hot for you.

He chuckles, peering over the rim of his cup with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Deal. And every time I burn my mouth, you owe me one more date. Think you can handle that?"

"Oh, easily. I'll bring aloe vera for you next time." You answer

"You're thoughtful, aren't you? But I wouldn't mind a kiss as a cure either."

You both laugh, but his words hang between you, filling the silence with a little spark of something more.

Yuki lifts his phone again-this time, holding it up for a selfie. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, and you both smile as the camera clicks. He looks down at the photo, nodding approvingly.

"Great, this is going to my wallpaper. Can't believe I finally found someone who tolerates my love for pumpkin lattes."

"Hey, someone has to keep you humble." You chuckle

You both keep sipping your drinks, sending each other silly comments via text despite sitting only a few inches apart. Every now and then, Yuki bumps his knee against yours or leans over to steal a bite of your pastry, his face lighting up at every tiny, simple joy of the afternoon.

The café around you feels like it bathes you in a golden glow; with Yuki there, it feels like this moment, just the two of them present, wrapped in the warmth and laughter of autumn-might be one you could remember forever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[lilyway]

Icarus {Alastor x Reader} Part 1

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Death and canon-typical violence. Please be aware of these warnings going forward.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Sequel

Part 1: The Road Back to You

The town was cloaked in a dimly lit embrace as a young woman emerged from the confines of the jazz club alongside her coworkers. Their rising star, a vision of elegance and charm, illuminated the night with her radiant smile, her presence akin to that of a belle of the ball, her heart as vibrant as the melodies she sang.

As they stepped onto the cobblestone streets, the camaraderie among them blossomed into animated chatter, punctuated by laughter that danced upon the evening breeze.

Tonight was special, a rare occasion when the jazz club closed its doors early to commemorate the birthday of their esteemed boss. The air buzzed with anticipation, the promise of celebration lingering in every corner as they made their way through the labyrinthine streets.

Their songstress was quick as she pulled her purse to her side and started walking away while saying her goodbyes. She had some very important plans with her husband, perhaps she was too excited as she practically skipped her way down the street. 

As she traversed the dimly lit street of New Orleans, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of caution that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. The presence of a serial killer, a phantom lurking in the shadows, cast a long shadow over the once-vibrant city. 

Each night, as she tuned in to her husband's somber voice on the radio, recounting the grim details of yet another victim claimed by the darkness, she couldn't help but wonder if she, too, danced perilously close to the edge of danger.

The danger that would come and soon claim her own life to their ever-increasing number of victims. But, there would be nothing in the world to stop her from returning to her husband. Her husband said he had something planned for their anniversary and that she would need her best dress. 

She was beyond excited.

"(Name)! Sugar, are you sure I can’t give you a lift home?" Rowan's voice called out from the doorway, his Southern drawl carrying the warmth of a bourbon-soaked evening. (Name) turned, her smile as dazzling as a string of pearls, her curls bouncing with the rhythm of a Charleston beat.

"Thank you kindly, Rowan! My husband will be meeting me halfway," She replied, her words dripping with honey. With a graceful wave, she turned on her heel, the click-clack of her heels blending with the syncopated melody of the night as she made her way toward the radio station.

The dim glow of the radio station beckoned in the distance, the building was a beacon of safety amidst the dark empty city streets. With each hurried step, (Name)'s heart quickened, the anticipation of her husband's waiting embrace urging her onwards. 

As she rounded the corner, her gaze caught sight of the alleyway, a narrow passage veiled in darkness, where the plaintive cries of a woman pierced the stillness of the night. Without hesitation, without a second thought, she veered from her path, drawn by her concern for the unknown woman.

There, amidst the shadows, she found them – a young girl, trembling with fear, and her mother shielding her from a group of thugs that loomed over them. 

She should have turned away, and retreated to the safety of the main street, where she could’ve asked for help. Her husband knew his way around self-defense and they would have a phone to call the police.

But (Name) had a terrible feeling in her gut. If she left them now, these women might not be alive when help arrives. 

"What do you gents reckon you're up to?" That seemed to get their attention as they turned to face her. As she walked towards the two women, she couldn’t help feeling so small as the men dwarfed her in size.

"Turn back, doll," one of the men jeered, his tone dripping with menace. "We ain't lookin' for trouble."

(Name) positioned herself between the two trembling women and the menacing thugs, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. "Leave these poor dames be! If it's coin you're after, I can see you compensated," Her declaration must have seemed like a bluff. Her voice quivered as she placed one hand on her purse. 

The thugs, their laughter echoing in the narrow alley, closed in on her, their intentions clear as the moonlight filtered through the darkness. "This ain't about the scratch, sweetheart," one of them sneered, the glint of malice dancing in his eyes. (Name)'s breath caught in her throat as she took a cautious step back, her resolve tested by the looming threat that surrounded her. "This is about settlin' scores."

"Please, just let them be," (Name) pleaded, but her words fell upon deaf ears, drowned out by their laughter. Their leader pulled out a blade as he approached the crying women. 

Before she could react, one of the men seized her arm in a vice-like grip, wrenching her aside with a savage force. "Just watch, my dear," Another man sneered, his voice dripping with malice as (Name) struggled against his hold. 

With a surge of adrenaline, (Name) pushed his hand toward her mouth, her teeth sinking into flesh with a ferocity that seemed downright foreign to her. As he howled in agony, she wrenched herself free from his grasp, her heart was beating loudly in her chest and she wasn’t thinking straight. 

With trembling hands, she lunged toward their assailant, her fingers grappling for purchase upon the blade. The metal bit into her skin, drawing blood, but she was beyond desperate, driven to protect the helpless young women. 

“Run!” (Name) shouted as they stared at her like deers in headlights. 

Even as she fought with every fiber of her being, the odds stacked against her, (Name) refused to yield. She could feel the sharp sting of pain as the blade cut into her hands, but she pressed on, fueled by sheer determination and the fierce resolve to survive.

Meanwhile, the two women forced themselves to their feet and ran, their cries for help echoing through the alleyway. (Name) couldn’t help but feel a smirk on her lips, before another man pulled her hair back trying to claw her hands away from the blade. 

With every ounce of strength she could muster, she battled against the relentless onslaught, her hands slick with sweat and blood as she grappled for control. But in the end, it was a futile struggle, a desperate fight that meant nothing. As the assailant's blade found its mark, plunging deep into her flesh. 

As (Name)’s body fell to the ground, there was the sound of fleeing footsteps and gunfire. All she could do was close her eyes and pray the pain went away. All she could do was lay there and feel her blood pool around her as she choked on the blade as her blood suffocated her lungs. 

She was so close to seeing her beloved radio host too. 

The sound of footsteps running towards her and her name came after. The voice was too distant to hear as she drifted off and prayed she’d see her beloved radio host when she woke up. 

💟

As (Name)'s eyes fluttered open, she found herself standing before majestic golden gates, their brilliance illuminating the ethereal surroundings with a celestial glow. A wave of disbelief washed over her as she pushed herself up, half-expecting to feel the sting of pain or the weight of wounds that should have marked her body. But there was nothing – no trace of blood, no lingering ache – only a sense of surreal tranquility that enveloped her being.

Clad in a flowing white dress reminiscent of the ones she wore during her performances at the jazz club, her hair cascading down her back like a river of silk, she realized at the start that this was no hospital. It wasn’t a place that could be built by man and that started to make her panic. 

"Where am I?" Her voice trembled with uncertainty as she spoke aloud, her eyes searching the expanse before her. And then, as if in response to her query, an angelic figure with a thick book turned towards her, his presence confirmed her fears. This wasn’t New Orleans. 

"You're in heaven! Congratulations, you're a winner!" His words, spoken with pride and joy, hung in the air like a gentle breeze, filling the space with a sense of awe and wonder. But for (Name), the revelation struck like someone poured ice water all over her. 

"No. No. No, no, no, no." Her voice cracked as felt her legs turn to jelly. This was not a dream, not a figment of her imagination – she was dead. She died saving those two women on the eve of her anniversary. “I wasn’t supposed to die like this! I have to go back! My husband! Good heavens, I’m not ready to leave him yet…” Her begging seemed to have no effect as the angel got up out of his chair. 

(Name)’s tears seemed to touch the man, but it didn’t faze him whatsoever. “This is the end of the road, miss. There’s only joy from here.” 

"Please, let me go back!" Her plea, filled with anguish and longing, echoed through the hallowed halls of heaven, a desperate cry for a second chance, for a return to the life she had been torn away from. As she crumpled to the ground, her hands pressed against her tear-streaked face, she grappled with the cruel irony of her fate – a life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

As (Name) crumpled before the gates of Heaven, her sobs seemed to never end. "Please, let me return to my old life," she implored, her voice choking on her despair of dying so easily. 

"Shh, my dear," came the gentle reply, a soothing murmur amidst the tumult of her anguish.

"I'm begging you. Let me go back," she persisted, her voice trembling with a fervent plea for a reprieve, for a chance for a rewrite, for her to choose something different. 

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible. This is the end of the road, the culmination of the life you were promised for all the good you've done in this world," the angel explained, his tone tinged with a solemn finality that brooked no argument.

"Let me see my husband! I haven't said goodbye!" (Name)'s words, tinged with desperation, hung in the air like a prayer unanswered, her heart aching for one last embrace, one final moment of solace in the arms of her beloved.

"Again, I'm sorry. But that isn't possible, "The angel replied, his voice tinged with sympathy. "But, may I ask your name?"

"(Name)," she replied, her voice barely a whisper as she pulled herself up off the floor. 

"Full name, please," the angel persisted, his gaze unwavering, as he started flipping through the book and sighed at all the names on the page. 

"(Name) Winters," she confessed, her last name was a reminder of happier days. The day she joined her husband's family and took on his last name. 

With a gentle rustle of pages, the angel consulted the book before him, his expression softening as he found her name inscribed upon its hallowed pages. "There you are, on the list," he confirmed, his voice tinged with reassurance. "Dry your tears, my dear, and come on in."

"But, my husband-" (Name) was quickly interrupted by the angel. 

"He might show up in heaven someday," the angel offered, “As long as he doesn’t end up in hell. There’s a chance he might come back.” 

As (Name) gazed upon the gates of Heaven, her heart was heavy, wanted to be able to greet him with a smile. “Okay.” 

💟

The celestial streets of heaven bustled with the vibrant energy of joyous winners, their laughter and song echoing through the golden expanse. Yet, amidst the revelry, (Name) found herself perched on her rooftop, a quiet observer of the lively scene below. Today, the usual melodies and dance numbers failed to lift her spirits. 

As she leaned over the balcony, the celestial breeze playing with her hair, (Name) contemplated the passage of time, and how meaningless it truly was. There was no sense of actual time in this place. She would’ve been here for a week or twenty years. 

How long had she been in this place of eternal bliss? The passing of time seemed to blur into an endless expanse of moments, each one blending seamlessly into the next. Her parents had found their way here, as had her little sister, their laughter and love echoing through the hallowed halls of heaven. 

And yet, her brothers remained conspicuously absent, their absence a silent ache that gnawed her. Enough time must have gone by for them to show up. They couldn’t have ended up anywhere else other than in heaven! They were around the same age as her husband and would come up around the same time. 

As she leaned over the balcony, the angels below danced and sang of pastries and delights, their voices like honeyed nectar amidst the gentle breeze. But for (Name), their songs felt hollow, their melodies unable to penetrate the veil of sorrow that pulled her under. 

Even in her sorrow, there was a little flame of hope that flickered brightly. Perhaps, she thought, a song could indeed work wonders, lifting her from the depths of her melancholy.

As (Name)'s voice trembled with emotion, her words carried her pain along the wind. "I never needed anybody in my life, " As the notes danced upon the wind, images flickered in her mind.

Her husband's brown fluffy hair, tousled by the gentle breeze, his charismatic smile lighting up the streets as they walked arm in arm. How her days were bright and simple back then. With the minor inconveniences and the small pleasures it held. 

"I learned the truth too late, " she continued, her voice wavered as the tears threatened to fall. With each verse, the distance between them felt like an impassable chasm, one that would pull her into its lonely depths. 

As she pulled herself away from the edge of the balcony, her eyes remained fixed upon the golden gates. How she was starting to despise herself and her self-pity here. 

Her words became a lament, a melody of longing and her pain as she wished for her old life back. " I close my eyes but he's still there, " Her voice trembling as the image of her beloved husband materialized before her. 

He was bathed in a golden light making him appear as a gift from God himself. She craned her neck up to look at him and there was a surge of hope. (Name) reached out to hold him and cry into his arms. Only to watch him vanish in the wisp of glowing smoke at the smallest touch of her fingertips. 

“Even as he fades from view,” Her voice quickly got louder with every passing syllable. 

You’re never fully dressed without a smile, my dear. His voice echoed loud and clear in her mind as she forced a smile on her face as the tears forced themselves out. "He will still inspire me, and be a part of everything I do," 

As she pulled herself onto the balcony railing, her wings unfurled and she jumped off the edge. She watched the other winners sing and dance below her as they enjoyed their eternal life. However, (Name) had another plan in mind. She set out for the gates as she stumbled her landing as she arrived. 

"Wasting in my lonely tower, awaiting by an open door," she sang, her voice rising like a prayer into the heavens above. And as she reached out towards the gates, her fingers brushed against the gilded bars, and her small flicker of hope died instantly. 

There wasn’t anyone at the gates and she was just being delusional. He wasn’t coming up here anymore. That her dear, Al was still back on earth and it was a place (Name) wished he stayed. 

"I'll fool myself and he'll walk right in," she whispered, her voice breaking as she tried to maintain some level of internal harmony. Her hands clung to the bars hoping the gates would open and let her out. Just five more minutes on earth and she would gladly join the rest of the winners.  “Waiting here for evermore…”  

But her solitude was shattered by the harsh voice of an angel, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. "You're pathetic," she sneered, her tone dripping with disdain. "If he isn't here by now, he's in hell."

"That was quite uncalled for.” (Name) spat as she walked past her. She could tell this woman had something up her sleeve and she wanted no part of it. 

“I call it as I see it,” the woman retorted, her voice dripping with disdain. No, that wasn’t right. This woman was downright looking down at her like she was a piece of garbage. 

(Name) scoffed as she tried to keep herself focused on just walking away. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” 

“Better than singing her problems,” The woman shot back, her words stabbed daggers into her feet and rooted her in place. 

(Name) crossed her arms, she was getting fed up and there wasn’t a point in picking a fight in heaven. “You're quite the piece of work, aren't you? Do you need something?”

The woman’s response was curt. “No.”

“Okay, I'll be on my way then,” (Name) replied, her steps quickening. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of the woman’s eyes boring into her back. “What do you want?”

But before she could receive an answer, the woman’s voice taunted her, sending a shiver down her spine. “With that obsession of yours, there’s only one place you’ll end up.”

(Name) wished that her voice didn’t shake and give her away. She didn’t want to kiss her place in heaven goodbye for her stupidity. “What are you saying?” 

“You look like you need a purpose.” 

“I don't need a purpose,”

The woman laughed as (Name) felt a chill going down her spine. "The rate you’re going, you won’t need one and burn with the rest of the sinners in hell."

"I earned my place here," (Name) countered, her voice trembling, as she tried to keep herself from shaking. She couldn’t ever go to hell and become a fallen angel. 

"Keep telling yourself that,"

(Name)'s mind raced with questions, her unease growing with each passing moment. "What are you getting at?" she demanded, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. She wouldn’t ever end up there. 

"I'm offering you a deal,"

"I don't want it,"

"Suit yourself, but you'll be back. Come and find me when you've run out of options," With her business done, the woman took to the skies and (Name) shouted for her to wait. 

She didn’t mean to yell her question at her. “If that ever happens. What's your name? So, I can find you.” 

“Lute.” 

💟

Another decade passed in heaven and (Name)’s search for her husband and some clue of his whereabouts were fruitless. Every passing year that she searched a small part of her died, first few years it was her hope and later it was her love. (Name) having to come up empty-handed every single time took its toll. 

In the quiet moments of solitude, (Name) grappled with the bitter truth that her love may never return to her side. The echoes of his laughter and the warmth of his embrace seemed like distant memories, fading into the recesses of her mind like whispers carried away by the wind.

In her solitude, came the truths she refused to face. That her soul was becoming consumed by her envy and prayers to see him again. She longed to feel his presence once more, to hear his voice echoing through the golden streets of paradise. There was something about being condemned to paradise without all your loved ones that was driving her insane. When did he become her world? When did she corrupt her pure unconditional love for him? Why was she so hung up on him even now? 

Alastor,  her dear husband. 

Her beloved husband and her world. He would never come, and her prayers wouldn’t be answered. Alastor would forever be beyond her reach and never be someone she could hold again. 

Alastor would never come, because he was in hell. As much as she refused to believe it or admit it. Deep down? She knew. Her husband was being tortured in hell for reasons that were foreign to her. 

Alastor would never be here. He would never come. (Name) would never hear him play his piano as she sang or snuggle up to him when he read the morning paper. Or touch his hair and wear his glasses. 

He was in the worst place now and that was final. The place that tortured those who lived vile lives. A pit with killers, cannibals, terrorists, and abusers. 

She wanted nothing more than to forget. 

Which lead her here, in front of the Exorcist’s main building with a meeting in place with Lute. She did her homework and quickly learned she was a fearsome fighter. But, more importantly, she was Adam’s right hand. 

She did exactly what Lute said she would do. (Name) would come back for that deal. She would screw everything she had ever hoped to do here. As long as Lute would give her a purpose and a method to prevent her from falling to hell. 

(Name) was going to take that damn deal. 

And so, with a heavy heart and a steely resolve, (Name) made her decision. She would embrace the deal offered by Lute, no matter the cost. She would forsake everything she had ever known, everything she had ever hoped to become, in exchange for a chance at redemption.

Her heart ached as she pushed the doors open and saw Lute and Adam awaiting her. Adam looked bored as she ate his lunch and Lute seemed to have a wicked grin on her face. 

"Took you long enough," Lute might have been grinning, but her tone was anything but one of joy. She seemed more annoyed than anything else.

(Name) straightened her posture as she held her hands tightly.  “You said you had a deal for me.” 

"The deal to prevent you from becoming a loser?" Lute sneered,

"No," (Name) retorted, her gaze narrowing. "Make a deal with me to forget him."

A wicked grin spread across Lute's face, sending shivers down (Name)'s spine. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you," she declared, her eyes glittering with malevolent intent as she extended her gloved hand toward (Name).

With a deep breath, (Name) reached out and grasped Lute's hand in a firm shake, sealing her fate. There was no turning back now, no retreat from the path she had chosen. She knew the road ahead would be fraught with peril and pain, but she was willing to endure it all if it meant escaping the clutches of damnation.

It was a price she’d pay willingly if she could avoid joining the ranks of the sinners. 

"Deal," Her voice was one of determination as her heart wept at her decision. 

"Welcome to the exorcists,"

(Name) offered a silent nod of gratitude as she clenched her hands into her dress for something to calm her nerves. She had picked her fate and would find herself in the care of these two sadistic angels. But, she wouldn’t let herself be down on the first step of her journey. 

“It’s a pleasure to be here.” 

There was no going back now,

No escape that she was willing to take. 

The only escape was forsaking her place in heaven. 

And she would rather have a permanent death. 

This was cross posted on A03!

The song she sings is Evermore from Beauty and the Beast from the live action.