#Cobblestone Jazz

[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

[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.

[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."

[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.

[cera-writes]

A Bite of the Big Easy — A Remy LeBeau Vampire AU pt. 1 🩸

Hoooookay! Here's the first chapter of the Vampire!AU. Not gonna lie, this was fun as hell to write. FYI, This is set in a modern day setting>

Pairing: Remy LeBeau x F!Reader

Tags: alcohol, violence, swearing, mentions of infidelity, a bit of fluff

Prompt: Reader is spending her bachelorette weekend down in New Orleans with her bridesmaids. She meets a mysterious stranger with a Cajun flair that shakes things up for her. But will it be more than what she bargained for?

The rhythmic pulse of the music thrummed through the thick New Orleans air, vibrating the cobblestones beneath your dancing feet. It was your bachelorette weekend, and Bourbon Street was a sensory overload in the best way possible. The air hung heavy with the scent of spilled daiquiris and fried seafood, punctuated by the melodic wail of a lone saxophone from a nearby balcony.

You and your girlfriends, a symphony of tipsy laughter in too tight clothing, were jammed into a corner booth at Fat Catz, a legendary French Quarter nightclub. The stage was a riot of color, a burlesque troupe shimmying and swirling under the flickering red light. You were three drinks in, the potent sweetness of a Sazerac warming your stomach, when a slow, bluesy number began.

"This one's for the dreamers," the sultry voice of the emcee announced.

Your girlfriends squealed, grabbing your arms and pulling you towards the dance floor. But before you could join them, a deep, accented voice cut through the music.

You were blissfully unaware that there were a pair of eyes watching you. You didn't have time to really react until a smooth creole voice like velvet rang in your ears amidst the vibrating music.

"Mind if I cut in, cher?"

You turned to find a man standing beside you. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with somewhat long, pretty reddish brown hair that gleamed under the dim lights. His eyes, a startling hue of what looked like the color crimson, held a hint of something ancient, something that sent a shiver down your spine despite the humid night air bellowing inside the door as patrons entered and exited the bar.

"I, uh…" you stammered, momentarily flustered by his undeniable charm.

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Don't worry, mon ami. I won't tread on your toes, not literally. Name's Remy. Remy LeBeau."

He extended a hand, amusement dancing in his eyes. You hesitated for a beat, then placed your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, an electric current that left you breathless.

Wait. This shouldn't be happening. What would your fiance think? Hell, to be honest, he was probably with his buddies back home having the times of their lives... preferably at a strip joint. One dance couldn't hurt.

As he led you onto the dance floor, you stole a glance at his profile. There was something about him, an aura of mystery that you found utterly captivating.

"You seem like a woman with a story," he murmured, his voice a low drawl that sent shivers down your spine.

"Well, um, I'm actually here with my bridesmaids." You sheepishly smiled, nodding over to them as they swayed tipsy on the dancefloor across from the two of you. Remy was certainly beautiful in a strange sense. But there was something odd about him too. His touch was cool, almost like ice as he placed a hand on the skin of your back. You were just wearing a pair of skinny jeans, ankle boots, and a backless tank top. So when he'd placed his hand there, it nearly made you jump from how ice cold it was.

He made sure to spin you around, twirling you under the muse of the jazz band playing as they took the stage. You felt dizzy, like this was some sort of ritual.

—

Remy's POV

—

A flicker of amusement danced in my crimson eyes as you stammered, your cheeks flushed a charming shade of rose. The scent of honeysuckle and something altogether more intoxicating, a nervous energy perhaps, swirled around you. It had been centuries since I'd indulged in such a human pastime as dancing, but the way you moved, lost in the music, was a melody I couldn't resist.

"Ah, bachelorette festivities, cher," I murmured, my voice a low caress. These nights in the French Quarter were ripe with opportunities, mortals seeking a taste of something forbidden before settling into their preordained lives. But there was something different about you, a spark of defiance in your eyes that intrigued me far more than the usual bachelorette bravado.

"Your friends seem to be enjoying themselves," I continued, watching your gaze flit between me and your giggling companions.

The scent of guilt mingled with the honeysuckle as you bit your lip. This innocent flirtation, fueled by the music and the carefree spirit of the night, was clearly a delicious transgression for you.

"They are," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "But something about you..." The sentence trailed off, leaving a delightful space for unspoken curiosity.

A slow deliberate smile spread across my lips. This little dance had just begun, cher. And in the heart of the pulsating French Quarter, under the cloak of anonymity, I planned to savor every step.

—

Your POV

—

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket, yanking you out of Remy's gaze for a sec as you paused your little dance with him. Pulling it out, you saw a text from your fiance.

"Hey beautiful! Having a blast in NOLA? Miss you already! -A"

A stab of guilt hit you. You should be texting back excitedly about daiquiris and burlesque shows, not secretly flirting with a handsome stranger, nor entertaining him with a dance. But Remy's amusement was a delicious lure.

With surprising speed, you typed a reply to your fiance. "Hey hon! Havin' a great time! Dancin' the night away with the girls. Miss you too! See ya soon! 🫶."

Shoving the phone back in your pocket, you looked for a quick excuse to clear your head. Remy's lips quirked up in a knowing smile. "Someone important, cher?" he drawled.

"Hold that thought, I've drank too much and need to use the restroom," you waved it off, cheeks flushed from a rush of adrenaline.

—

Fiance's POV

—

The silk sheets felt like a decadent shroud around Alex, the remnants of their hurried encounter clinging to the air. A satisfied smile curved his lips as he reread your text. "Having a great time! Lots of dancing and fun with the girls. Miss you too! See you soon! 🫶". Everything seemed perfect. The carefully crafted response, the reassurance, the subtle reminder of your impending return. It was a well-rehearsed dance they performed every time you went out with your friends.

Alex tucked his phone away, the soft glow of the screen momentarily illuminating the woman sprawled languidly beside him. Her blonde hair, a tangled mess across the pillow, framed a face flushed with desire. A throaty chuckle escaped her lips, and Alex felt a pang of excitement shoot through him. This stolen moment, this secret affair, was a world away from the life he was about to return to – a life filled with your predictable smiles and picture-perfect expectations.

He knew it was wrong, a gnawing betrayal that twisted in his gut. But the illicit thrill, the intoxicating novelty of it all, was a potent aphrodisiac. Alex traced a finger down the woman's arm, the touch sending shivers down her spine. He reveled in the feeling of being desired, a stark contrast to the comfortable routine he shared with you.

Pushing the guilt down deep, Alex closed the distance between them, the woman's eager embrace momentarily erasing the echo of your name on his lips. Little did you know, the life you were about to return to wasn't nearly as picture-perfect as you believed.

—

Your POV

—

You squeezed your way back through the dense crowd, phone clutched tightly in your hand. The fleeting escape to the restroom offered a moment to clear your head, but the lingering guilt over your conversation with Remy gnawed at you.

Just as you rounded a corner, Remy, his back to you, was surrounded by your bridesmaids, their laughter a touch too loud for your taste. You shouldn't have cared who Remy was talking to, yet a strange possessiveness bubbled within you.

If anything, your bridesmaids had every chance to go home with him, but you were taken. You shouldn't be feeling any sense of jealousy. You literally had no cause to feel the way you did, yet you couldn't help it and it irritated the hell out of you.

You. Had. A. Fiance.

Then, as if sensing your presence, Remy's posture shifted. A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder, meeting your gaze directly. A silent excuse passed between your eyes, and with a smooth word to your bridesmaids, he excused himself.

The crowd parted for him as he effortlessly weaved his way towards you, a secret smile playing on his lips. "There you are, cher," he murmured, his voice a delicious caress. "Ready to pick up where we left off?"

"Um, actually, I think I better be retiring for the night. It's getting late and my hotel isn't too far from here." You replied, glimpsing back towards your bridesmaids. They were ordering even more drinks at the bar, like they hadn't had enough already. But who were you to tell them not to have a good time?

"Thank you for the dance. It was fun," you quickly flashed Remy a smile before turning on your heel to at least tell your friends that you were headed back to the hotel. It was only three blocks away. Surely you'd be fine making the walk back. You had your trusty pepper spray on you, tucked into your other back pocket just in case some asshole tried something tonight on your way back.

Guilt gnawed at you as you weaved through the throng of French Quarter partiers spilling out of the bar. You shouldn't have cared that Remy was surrounded by your friends, and yet, a strange possessiveness bubbled up. You quickly shook your head, ignoring that stupid thought away.

It really shouldn't have mattered to you. They were a bit too tipsy to really stop you from making the trip alone, but honestly you needed some peace and quiet after what had just happened. You were sure he'd resort to flirting with them after you left anyway. And that was none of your business if they wanted to go back to his place for the night. You all knew what you were getting into on this trip.

The fresh air would clear your head and the walk back to your hotel would help sober you up. Slipping out of the bar unnoticed, you felt a strange sense of relief when the throng of bodies thinned and the sounds of drunken laughter faded as you finally turned the corner from the ever so rowdy, raucous Bourbon Street.

The night was thick and humid, the dimly lit streets casting long, menacing shadows. New Orleans really did have a haunting feel to it late at night.

You quickened your pace, the rhythmic click of your boots echoing on the sidewalk. Lost in thought, you didn't notice the figure detach itself from a darkened doorway and begin to follow at a discreet distance.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure stepped out from behind a boarded-up storefront. "Hey, doll," he slurred, his voice laced with menace. "Looking lost. Mind if I walk you home?"

You froze, hand instinctively darting towards your back pocket. "No thanks," you replied curtly, voice laced with a tremor of fear. You backed up on instinct, making sure to keep a good distance from the strange man.

The man took a menacing step closer, a predatory glint in his eye. "Suit yourself, sweetheart," he sneered, pulling out what looked like the hilt of a knife from behind him.

Just then, a dark shape materialized beside you. Remy, his movements silent and swift, materialized out of the shadows, placing himself between you and the threat. But the night was so dark and everything was cast in an ebony shadow, that you couldn't make out the other person too well.

"Looking for someone to play with, mon ami? Consider lil' ol' me," Remy drawled, his voice smooth as silk.

The mugger scoffed. "This ain't your business, buddy. Move along."

Before Remy could respond, you whipped out your pepper spray, finger hovering over the trigger. "Get back!" you shrieked, aimlessly pointing the canister directly at Remy.

Fear clouded your judgment, and in a split second, you discharged the spray. A cloud of capsaicin erupted, momentarily obscuring both Remy and the mugger. You squeezed your eyes shut, coughing as the fumes reached you.

When you opened your eyes again, a horrifying sight met your gaze. The mugger had lunged forward, a glint of metal catching the dim light. He plunged the knife into Remy's side, a sickening thud echoing in the night.

Remy, momentarily stunned, stumbled back, a surprised look on his face. But to your astonishment, you couldn't tell there was any blood yet, no sign of a wound. Just a faint hiss escaping his lips as he swatted away the lingering cloud of pepper spray.

"Well, that was certainly interesting, cher," he muttered, his voice strained but oddly amused.

"Shit, Remy?!" You eyes went wide but before you could say anything else, he lunged at the mugger with unnatural speed, easily disarming him with a single, fluid motion. The mugger, wide-eyed with terror, crumpled to the ground with a groan as Remy delivered a swift blow to his pressure point.

Remy straightened, dusting himself off with an air of nonchalance. But you noticed a slight grimace on his face, and your eyes darted to where the knife had struck him. Seeing it finally, there was a small puncture in his shirt, a single red stain blossoming around it.

"Remy!" you gasped, rushing to his side. "You're hurt!"

He glanced at the stain, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. "Seems that fella managed to snag me after all," he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Don't worry, cher, it's jus' a mere scratch. But perhaps you wouldn't mind patchin' me up when we get back? I'd hate to ruin a perfectly good shirt."

Then it hit you. "You were following me weren't you?" You scoffed. "Jesus...how was I supposed to know you weren't gonna pull the same shit as him?" You scoffed, casting a glance over at the guy he'd just knocked out.

"Trust me cher," Remy winced, "If I hadn't have come you'd probably have just pepper sprayed him to death. Better to leave em' knocked out." He smirked.

You sighed, crossing you arms. "Dammit, okay...we gotta make this quick. You sure you don't need me to call someone? An ambulance?"

Remy shook his head. "Not necessary, cher. It's not that bad."

You glanced down at the red stain on his shirt. "Not bad? Your shirt is practically soaked with blood now. C'mon," you huffed, "it's the least I can do for you after you saved my ass and I pepper sprayed you."

Remy simply grinned. "Thanks cher."

"Don't mention it."

He followed you one more block to your hotel. It was over on Ursuline Street so things were much quieter in that part of town. "Hotel Villa Convento. House of the Rising Sun. You've got taste, cherie." He smirked, following you into the elevator.

"Bridesmaids booked it. They wanted the free parking." You shrugged. As the two of you made it to the king suite on the top floor, you made haste and ushered him inside quickly after sliding your room card through the slot.

"We gotta make this quick, okay? They'll probably be heading back any second. I don't think having a strange, rather pretty man in the room with me alone is a good look." You mentioned, pulling him into the bathroom.

"Heh, you think I'm pretty?" He teased. You cast him a look that said 'drop it'.

He took the hint and didn't press you any further much to his amusement. You left him leaning against the bathroom counter to go find your med kit.

"I have a first aid kit in my luggage. I'm always prepared for emergencies." You said, digging through your suitcase before you finally found it shoved underneath a pair of shorts.

"Got it," you quickly met back up with him in the bathroom and realized that you wouldn't be able to dress the wound without getting him to take off his shirt first.

You bit your lip, torn between frustration and a weird sense of exhilaration. Here you were, in a hotel bathroom with a stranger who was undeniably attractive, tending to a wound he got protecting you. This entire freaking night had been a whirlwind, and this situation was just the cherry on top.

"Alright," you started, forcing a business-like tone that you weren't entirely sure you were carrying off. "To patch you up properly, I'll need you to take off your shirt."

Remy, who had been watching you rummage through your kit with amusement, raised an eyebrow.

"Just the shirt, cher? No need to get hasty." A playful glint flickered in his eyes, a hint of his earlier amusement lingering.

"Seriously, Remy?" you countered, a touch of exasperation creeping into your voice despite the unexpected flutter in your stomach. "This isn't some kind of game. You've got a wound, and I need to see it."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "Alright, alright, cher. You win." He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a glimpse of toned muscle underneath. The red stain from the knife was more prominent now, spreading outwards with a concerning urgency.

You quickly averted your gaze, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. This was serious. "Hold still," you muttered, reaching into your kit and pulling out a pair of antiseptic wipes. "This might sting a little."

As you cleaned the wound, your fingers brushed against his cool skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You fingertips grazed one of many numerous scars that adorned his body. He winced slightly, but remained silent, a flicker of pain crossing his face. Despite the adrenaline pumping through your veins, your hands were surprisingly steady.

"You know," Remy murmured, his voice a husky whisper, "you mentioned not wanting a strange man in your room. Maybe I wasn't being very reassuring back there."

You paused, glancing up at him. His dark eyes held a hint of something...else, something that made your breath hitch. The implication hung heavy in the air, and a blush crept up your cheeks.

"That's one way to put it," you mumbled, focusing on applying a generous amount of antibiotic cream to the wound. You fumbled for a bandage in your kit, the white sterile squares suddenly seeming much too small for the situation.

"Look," Remy said, his voice softer now, "I appreciate you patching me up. You really didn't have to."

"Well, someone had to," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You secured the bandage as best you could, the awkward intimacy of the situation making your heart pound a little too fast. "There. All done."

You stepped back, suddenly very aware of the space between the two of you. The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Remy's gaze lingered on you for a beat too long, sending shivers down your spine. You cleared your throat, breaking the spell.

"I, uh, maybe you should get going," you stammered, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

"My bridesmaids could be back any minute."

Remy's lips curved into a slow, enigmatic smile. "As you wish, cher. But this isn't the end of our conversation, is it?"

The sheer motherfucking audacity of this man—

He'd waltzed in, danced with you, followed you, then gotten himself stabbed protecting you, and now he was leaving with a suggestive question hanging in the air? You should be relieved to see him go, to finally have a moment to catch your breath and process the chaotic turn your night had taken.

Instead, a strange sense of disappointment settled in your stomach. "I don't…" you stammered, unsure of how to respond. The truth was, you didn't know what this night meant. Remy was a stranger, a captivating enigma who'd saved you from a potential mugging or worse, but you were getting married in a few days.

Remy chuckled, a rich sound that danced along your nerves. "Don't worry about it, cher. Think of it as a…favor owed. You saved me from a dull evening, and I returned the favor. Consider us even." He took a step closer, his dark eyes gleaming with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"But," he continued, his voice a husky whisper, "perhaps you could offer a more…personal repayment sometime. Name the time and place, cher. I wouldn't dream of saying no." With that, he winked, a gesture that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

Before you could stammer out a reply, he turned and you soon heard the click of your room door, leaving you breathless and bewildered in the sterile confines of the bathroom.

You stared at the closed door for a long moment, the weight of his words pressing down on you. A part of you thrilled at the unexpected encounter, to the danger and intrigue and mystery that swirled around Remy. But another, more sensible part, reminded you of your impending wedding, of the life you'd built for yourself.

With a sigh, you forced yourself to focus on the practicalities. You cleaned up the supplies you'd used, shoving them back into your first-aid kit with trembling hands. The adrenaline that had been coursing through your veins began to ebb, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness.

Slipping out of the bathroom, you found your room empty. The faint sounds of laughter drifting from down the hall told you your bridesmaids were headed up, blissfully unaware of the drama that had unfolded just steps away.

Undressing and stepping into your silken night gown, you crawled into bed and pulled the covers up tight, as the events of the night replaying in your mind like a fever dream.

Sleep, when it finally came, was filled with fragmented images of blood colored eyes, a dangerous smile, and the echo of a question that hung heavy in the air: what had you gotten yourself into?

[katz-chow]

how time passes

a/n: domestic price is the only price i will take, thank you very much. my submission for @glitterypirateduck's christmas fics. song? "love to keep me warm” by dodie & laufey. why? you'll see :) merry christmas everyone 🎄

warnings: gn!reader, fluff, sfw, cold, snowy night, leading up to a smut ;)

For John, there’s a certain aspect of life that he isn’t all too familiar with. Domesticity seemed like a world away, hidden almost. Of course, he sees it all around him; in how young couples shop for decorations for their first Christmas, or how older couples shop for grandkid presents for their nth Christmas, how candles are rare to find nowadays, all the colorful ones taken by menorahs sitting on windowsills.

He remembers it clearly when he first realized how teasing a normal life can be. It was on the same cobblestone street that he finds himself on right now, right through the glass planes of a small cafe. In a way, domesticity found itself behind a China cabinet, displayed and just an inch away from his grasp, and yet the veil between them remained locked. The feeling of being a lover, a husband just right on the other side, staring back at him like window shopping. How frustratingly fleeting it is.

The wind blew a bit more wildly back then, snow caked upon the roofs of the many buildings that surrounded him, all occupied with families. He remembers the way his hands would go numb from the hours that he walked around the market square, just to avoid the rickety radiator in his flat.

But that was years ago and the heater of the cafe he’s sat in seems unbearably warm. John sat himself in the corner, two drinks on the table and a tiramisu that he knew he had to get as soon as he set his eyes on it. Unconsciously, he looked at the gold watch on his wrist, just to check the time instead of looking incredibly pitiful alone in a room of company. He cleared his throat, then looked around; a Christmas tree with paper ornaments of children’s drawings littered through its branches, the electric fireplace that changed colors, and the soft jazz that played through the speakers.

His phone buzzed next to him on the small round table. He looked at the notification with a dash of his brow, a storm’s approaching. More snow. A chuckle bubbles up in his throat as he thinks of the irony of his first Christmas back in town almost 5 years ago, the same cold but not the same emptiness.

Almost as if on cue, the jingle of the bell at the door rang out and there you were to greet him. Still in your work clothes but with a long overcoat and a much too big scarf around you. If John could say it to you, he would say you look swaddled up like a baby. But he’s a gentleman and he knew that if he did say that, you’d refuse to put on the much-needed layers and opt to freeze to death.

He waves you down when he sees the way you stand there, hands in your pockets as your eyes wander around. He sees your eyes land on him and you bright up as you waddle over in your snow boots. He stands to pull the chair out for you, scooting you in.

“You look toasty.” He compliments, sliding the warm mug of a mocha latte over to you. He smiles even more when he sees you take off your coat and scarf, quickly grabbing the mug and holding it close to your nose. “Don’t burn your nose off.”

You glare at him playfully as you take a whiff of the chocolate goodness presented to you. “Maybe then I don’t have to smell you and that detergent you accidentally bought.”

John throws his head back, exasperated. Did he buy the wrong detergent and does it smell so obnoxiously strong you have to dilute it with an unscented one? Yes. Will you let him love it down? No, unfortunately.

He watches as you take a sip, sinking your shoulders down as you let the warmth fill you up. “This is really good, I’m glad you picked this place.”

“Saw it a few years ago, thought it’d be nostalgic to be back.” He replies simply, taking a sip from his own.

You place the mug down and narrow your eyes at him, “Nostalgic? You took your ex here or something?” You say accusatively as you place your hand into his palm on the table.

He winces at how cold your hands are compared to him. “Something like that…”

The last time he was here, he ordered one tiramisu and one latte. He then stayed for hours, watching people walk in and out, taking advantage of the buy one get one half off promotion that the young cafe had to offer. He thought about how unfair it was that even drinks came in pairs during the holidays and he’s still painfully alone. So, something like an ex.

“Your hands are freezing, Baby. Where’d you put your mittens?” He asks as he holds your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb over your fingers.

You smile cheekily towards him, opting to stuff your mouth with a spoonful of tiramisu instead of answering. This caught his attention as he pressed on, a small chuckle following his words.

“I forgot them…” You mumbled, obviously, you did! You squeeze his hand back and look around the cafe, avoiding his gaze entirely.

You see him shake his head as he laughs, and you look back at him, laughing and smiling sheepishly along. The scene was unreal, music in the air, warmth filling every bone in your body, and your favorite person ever, holding your hand.

He lays out both his palms in front of you, signaling for you to take advantage and settle your own hands on his. You do and he cups them together, rubbing some heat into them. Softly as ever, his beard tickles your knuckles as he gives them a small kiss on his lips. You feel your cheeks heat up just a bit, stinging from the cold they were previously in. You slip your hands out from under him and place them on each side of his neck, he grumbles, annoyed.

“We’re so cringe…” You muttered quietly, now hyperaware of the public setting the two of you were seated in.

He grasps your hands again and holds them close. Deciding to completely ignore the comment you made, he switches over to pepper your knuckles in kisses instead. “Wanna get outta here then?”

You nod and he lets go off your cold hands, which you promptly stick in between your thighs to warm up. John waves to a barista, pointing out to the snowy scenery. She seems to understand as she gives the two of you two paper cups and a box for your cake.

The two of you link arms and he pulls you out of the cafe, bundled up even more than when you came in with his beanie on your head. His other hand holding the bag of your little treat.

Snowflakes gently and steadily fall on your shoulders and head as he leads you back to his car, you having taken a cab over from work. John looks around at the nearly empty streets, most people taking shelter within the shops or in the comfort of their homes. He looks at you, a content smile painted your face even if the tip of your nose was turning pink and your hands still cold in his coat pocket and in his own hands.

You didn’t seem to complain about the how Jack Frost nips at your cheeks. And even if you did, he knows it’s not all too serious as you still down the packed streets full of cars.

“You cold, Darling?” He leans down a bit to whisper in your ear.

You look at him, your eyebrows raises in the cutest way. You shake your head and continue to watch the way the two of you were headed.

John didn’t think much about anything else, just the way your thumb rubs over his hand in his pocket, the crunching of score under your boots. He didn’t even think about his movements as he turned and backed you into the nearest wall, his body shielding you away from the world as you felt his breath on the tip of your nose.

“You’re so beautiful…” He grins down at you. The to-go bag now hook onto your arm as your hands found solace in his pockets.

You giggle at him and kiss his nose, then both his cheeks. John’s hands find either sides of your face as he cups it. His thumbs rubs and pinches the apples of your flesh.

He leans down and gives you one good kiss on your lips, you quickly melt into it and your hands escape to wrap around his waist under his coat. The kiss rushes through your veins, your body not feeling so cold anymore.

He pushes your head back a bit more with the force of his kiss. Fingers sliding back into the locs of your hair and into the back of your head, cushioning it from the hard, cold bricks.

“I’m warm now…” You giggle as he pulls away from you. Your teeth makes in contact with your bottom lip and your eyes big and glossy to draw him in.

He laughs and gives you a kiss on your forehead for good measure. John gives out a shaky breath as he leans to the side of your face, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “How about we hurry home and I warm you up more effectively?”

A breath hitches in your throat as you nod just a bit. He chuckles and kisses your cheek, pulling you into a u-turn when he realized y’all meant to take a right at the cafe.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Must Be A Full Moon 🌕 (Werewolf!Nico x Black!Fem!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.

[hyperfix-wip]

Webbed Together

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Credit goes to @the-kr8tor for their original characters Ramona and Billie. I also want to thank @pinksugarscrub as my beta reader!

Tags: Parent Trap!AU, Dad!Hobie AU, Twin!AU, Billie and Ramona!AU, Older!Hobie, Mom!Reader, Older!Reader

Chapter 3: First Meetings

Laughter echoes against the cobblestone walls as campers rush into the mess hall and line up at both sides of a large central buffet table. Tides of hands reach out to piles of food lined up along the long table– plates of hamburgers and hotdogs, containers filled with chicken nuggets and fries, cling-wrapped sandwiches and burritos, and everything in between. Sweet treats also await for the hordes of children– fudgy brownies, frosted sugar cookies with rainbow sprinkles, custardy pudding cups– while platters of fresh fruits and vegetables remain barely touched in the sidelines. 

A beaming Billie eagerly grabs at a plastic-wrapped sub sandwich before stacking it along the small mountain on her plate, carefully balancing the heavily growing tray with one hand while her free one wiggles her fingers in anticipation for another morsel of food to pique her interest. Annie stands right beside her with her own tray, staring at Billie’s behemoth of a plate with a mix of disbelief and intrigue.

“Are you seriously going to eat all that?” Annie blurts out as she looks up at the taller Billie, who only grins wider as she snatches a brownie.

“Oh c’mon, I’m Hank Marvin!” Billie giggles, her eyes lighting up as her nimble fingers grab at a sugar cookie. “Haven’t eaten in hours since I got here! My dad always told me to tuck in and take advantage of all the all-you-can-eats whenever we have the chance to go out–”

Billie’s eyes nearly bulge out when she sees a lunch lady set down a tray of the most immaculate macaroni and cheese she’s ever seen– creamy, bubbling yellow cheese hiding underneath the golden-browned breadcrumbed top, steam wafting from the tray with the baked cheesy smell tantalizing her nostrils– and a shuddering gasp hitches into the poor girl’s throat at the sight.

“Bloody hell, I’m in love.”

“Jesus Christ, dude–”

While Billie nearly floats towards the middle of the buffet table with Annie following along with a snicker, Ramona approaches from the opposite side. Her long fingers reach out for a chocolate pudding cup before another set of fingers accidentally brushes against hers. Her hand flinches away as she glances up to her side, and her eyes meet a frantic boy quaking before her.

“Uh, I– uh…”

Ramona stares at the boy with a furrowed brow before grabbing the pudding cup and sets it down on his tray.

“You can have it,” she reassures him with a sheepish smile. “I can get something else.”

The boy’s pale face flushes red as she looks away from him before he snaps out of his stupor and follows her lead. “You’re, uh, you’re in the jazz ensemble program here, right?”

Ramona glances back at him with a quirked eyebrow before nodding along self-consciously. “Uh yeah, for bass.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Ramona furrows her brows at the boy, who flushes harder and panics. “I-I mean– I mean, I know be-because I’m in the program too! I just– I’m in the brass section, and I just happened to see you at the front with a bass, and I didn’t think this year’s bass player would be a girl– Not that I think it’s weird! I was just surprised, ‘cuz it’s normally one of the counselors playing, and…”

The boy shrinks down in front of the taller Ramona as he trails off, fingers fidgeting with the indents on the plastic tray. “I’m sorry, I swear I’m not trying to be weird or an asshole…”

A soft huff of laughter slips through Ramona’s lips while she grabs a water bottle from the table. “It’s okay, I get it,” she quietly waves him off with an understanding smile. Her face then scrunches up slightly for a moment, hesitation flickering in her eyes, before she glances back at the boy.

“...I’m Ramona, by the way.”

Ramona struggles not to squirm as the boy stares at her with a dropped jaw, but he soon relaxes with a relieved smile. “I’m Arnold.”

The two finally relax around each other as they start to talk and continue down the line, with Ramona slowly approaching the middle of the table. At the same time, Billie heads to the same direction from the opposite side, her eyes dead-set on whatever else is available while her hand grabs for a carton of apple juice. Both girls continue to shuffle along the table until they stand directly next to each other, unaware of each other’s presence. Just as they are about to turn their heads and see each other, one of the counselors steps between them with a plate of her own.

“Excuse me, girls!” The chipper elderly counselor chuckles as she grabs a large spoon. “I just got to have a scoop of these pineapple pieces.”

The counselor carefully shoves the spoon into the large bowl filled with the bright-yellow chunks and scoops them up before holding it out to the unsuspecting Ramona. “Would you like some, dear?”

Ramona looks up at the woman and shakes her head with a sheepish smile. “Oh, no thank you, ma’am. I’m allergic.” Ramona then gives a parting nod before walking off with her tray and her new-found friend.

“Oh, well, too bad.” The counselor then turns to Billie, who just shoved a slice of watermelon into her mouth, and holds the spoon out to her. “What about you, dear?”

Billie swallows her mouthful, her tongue quickly licking off some of the juice off the corner of her mouth, before she looks up at the elder. “No thanks, ma’am. Wish I could, but I’m allergic.”

“Oh yes, dear, you’ve told me that alrea–”

The counselor does a double take at Billie, her eyes wavering in confusion as her face pinches up. “How– how did you get there?”

Billie looks at her with the same look of confusion before shrugging it off and walking away with Annie, all the while the counselor shakes her head with a chuckle.

“Oh well, you’ll have to excuse the ol’ gal, first day of camp and all. At least I’m not adding salt into the sugar shakers– no, no, wait, it’s actually sugar in the salt–”

As the counselor turns back to where Billie was, her eyes almost bulge out when she meets with a different camper, who looks back at her with a puzzled scrunch on his face before walking off, leaving her alone and more perplexed than before.

----

Arnold's a cool guy, Ramona thinks as she glances over at him fidgeting with the piston valves on his trumpet. After their encounter in the mess hall, the two have started to hang out after their jazz band rehearsals, finding kindred spirits in each other. Right now they’re sitting under a towering oak tree with their instruments, away from some of the other kids playing. Arnold cringes at the sight of growing sweat stains on the other kids' clothes, preferring to stay under the shade and not burn under the sun.

Ramona doesn’t mind, though. She prefers his awkward small talk from the other kids’ clique-like attitudes anyway.

“So your mom actually made that sweater?” Arnold asks in awe as his eyes land on the small pops of red knit cherries lining along Ramona's sweater.

Ramona glances up from her bass guitar, a shy smile curling up on her lips while her eyes light up with pride. “Yeah, this was actually one of the first things she made.”

She adjusts her bass on her lap, the sunshine beaming through the foliage of the large oak tree. “She’s been making clothes for a long time, since highschool I think? She’s been doing a lot of freelance commissions for a lot of people recently though.”

Arnold nods along as he unscrews the mouthpiece off his trumpet to clean it. “So like a part-time fashion designer?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Ramona shrugs before propping her bass on her lap again. “I mean, she has a clothing brand, but it’s not like those fancy designer ones. There’s more for everybody, I guess.”

Her nimble fingers deftly position themselves along the fret and strums, and alow chord reverberates in the air. She then reaches up to one of the tuning begs and twists them before strumming again. “Her designs are so cool though, especially when she’s working with my uncle, who’s an artist based in Brooklyn. He'd sketch out one of his–”

THWAK!

Arnold flops back onto the ground and lands on his back while a volleyball bounces and rolls away from them.

“Arnold!”

Ramona quickly sets her bass down as she crawls up to her friend in a panic. “Oh my god, are you okay?!”

Arnold only groans as he rubs his forehead before an obnoxious laugh rings out nearby.

“Oh man, that was a loud smack!” A stocky boy laughs at a nearby volleyball court. Some of the other kids around him try to turn away and stifle their snickers.

Ramona bristles at the laughing kids as she helps Arnold up, her chest burning and swelling up to yell at them.

An angry British girl’s voice rings out soon after.

“Oi! Why the hell are you laughing, you daft idiots! You just hit somebody!”

Billie hollers at the kids on the other side of the court, her face pinched up into a dirty look. “Benny, you bollock, you better hope a ball doesn’t knock your fat head off your neck!”

She then jogs up to the duo with an apologetic frown as she picks the volleyball off the ground.

“You alright, mate?” Billie asks with a furrow in her brows. “ ’m sorry about those arseholes. Annoying lot, ain’t they?”

She shuffles her feet and lowers her head in regret despite not being the one at fault. “Your head’s hurting, innit? You need help going to the infirmary?”

Ramona lets out a grudging sigh before she finally looks away from Arnold and at Billie. “If you can, do you think you can pick up his stuff from the ground and follow us? I can help him walk–”

As soon as Ramona meets Billie’s eyes, they both freeze at the sight of each other. Dark curly tresses, deep-set brown eyes, darker complexion, tall and lanky stature– no matter how they look at it, they're nearly identical to each other. As they continue to stare at each other in disbelief, Arnold quietly groans as he looks up with a pinched up face.

“Ramona, I’m fine, you can let me go now–”

Arnold nearly snaps his neck as his eyes double-take at Billie, his jaw dropping and his eyes bulging out. He then looks back at Ramona as his face pales.

“...Ramona, is it just me, or do I see two of you in front of me?”

Ramona finally looks away as she looks down at her injured friend, her face scrunching up with shock and worry. Billie snaps out of it soon after and starts picking up Arnold’s trumpet, screwing the mouthpiece back on before putting it in its case and picking it up. She then grabs the bass and slings it over her shoulder before helping Ramona carry Arnold.

“C’mon now,” Billie mutters out to Ramona, “we can’t dally from this right now. Gotta getcha friend checked up first, alright?”

Ramona hesitantly looks back up at Billie before she finally nods. The two girls then carry Arnold over to the nearby infirmary, ignoring the giant elephant in the room for now.

----

British Phrase of the Chapter:

Hank Marvin - Starving (Cockney). Reference of 1960's-1970's British guitarist Hank Marvin.

Reference: https://www.businessinsider.com/british-slang-that-will-confuse-anybody-who-didnt-grow-up-in-the-uk-2017-11#hank-marvin-44

[mononijikayu]

what are you doing new year's eve? ― nanami kento

The cafe was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them. Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i hope this makes up for the overtly sad sad stuff i write on here. this is a new year chapter for the new years!!! happy new year everyone!!! thank you for your support throughout 2023!!! let's be together happily in 2024 too!!!

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malmö i mitt hjärta | what are you doing new year's eve

next: polaroid love

HE THINKS HE SHOULD HAVE WORN A WARMER COAT. Nanami Kento could feel his nose numbing as he tried to breathe air into his already exasperated lungs. He knew it was far too cold to wear this sort of coat. But he did not feel like going back into the house and scrambling through his winter clothes. He also did not want to see his grandmother fuss over him. She worries as much as his mother.

As much as he loved them both, he did not want them to worry too much about him. The cold could be bearable. But perhaps his restlessness was not. He needed to get out of the house. He just couldn’t take the four walls of his room anymore. He wouldn’t be able to bear it much longer.

The bitter wind, crisp and biting, meandered through the labyrinthine streets of Copenhagen, weaving its way around the ancient architecture that bore witness to the city's rich history. Each gust carried with it the distinctive scent of the nearby sea, a salty whisper that spoke of untold tales and distant horizons. In this Nordic city, where the air was charged with the essence of maritime adventure, Nanami Kento walked with purpose.

A year had passed since Nanami made the daring decision to sever ties with the tumultuous world of jujutsu. The echoes of battles fought and sacrifices made lingered in his memory, but the decision to leave it all behind had granted him a newfound sense of freedom. Seeking solace from the haunting shadows of his past, he found refuge in the comforting embrace of his grandparents' home—a haven nestled in the heart of this foreign land.

The cobblestone streets beneath his boots whispered tales of centuries gone by, and the vibrant hues of the buildings stood in stark contrast to the monochrome memories Nanami had left behind. In the midst of this cultural tapestry, he discovered solace, a respite from the constant turmoil that had defined his life.

As he walked through the city, the wind tugged at the collar of his coat, a reminder of the world he had chosen to leave behind. Yet, there was a promise in the air, an intangible current that hinted at new beginnings. Copenhagen, with its fusion of tradition and modernity, offered Nanami a canvas on which to paint the next chapter of his life.

Arriving at the doorstep of his grandparents' home, he felt the weight of the wooden door, weathered by time and stories. It swung open to welcome him, and the warmth within enveloped him like a familiar hug. The walls whispered tales of his own childhood, and the aroma of his grandmother's cooking wafted through the air, grounding him in the present.

In this foreign land, amidst the echoes of harsher winters than that of his own, Nanami discovered the beauty of starting anew. The bitter wind, though relentless, became a companion on his journey of self-discovery. As the sea-scented breeze caressed his face, he couldn't help but feel that, in Copenhagen, he had found a sanctuary—a place where the echoes of the jujutsu world could finally be drowned out by the soothing symphony of a city that embraced him without judgment.

It was a crisp winter morning, the kind that painted the world in hues of silver and white. Nanami Kento ambled through the narrow, quaint streets of the city, a foreign canvas upon which his footsteps left imprints of newfound freedom. The Nordic air, crisp and invigorating, filled his lungs with each breath, replacing the dense, suffocating atmosphere of the jujutsu world with the promise of serenity.

As he meandered through the snow-covered landscape, the weight that had burdened his shoulders for so long began to dissipate. The Scandinavian calm enveloped him like a soothing balm, soothing the wounds inflicted by battles fought and choices made. The city, adorned in its winter finery, seemed to cradle Nanami in its embrace, offering respite from the storm he had weathered.

Yet, in the quiet moments of solitude, Nanami couldn't escape the specters of his past. The thought of Mikoto Nobuhiko lingered in the recesses of his mind—the glistening eyes, the unspoken emotions that danced between them as they parted ways in the dorms. The memories of youth, now distant echoes, resurfaced, particularly the haunting image of standing before a cobblestone tomb where a dear friend rested, taken too soon. Nanami often found himself plagued by self-blame, haunted by the belief that he could have done more, that he could have altered the course of fate.

In the quiet of Copenhagen's winter, he couldn't shake the dreams of Yu Haibara and his infectious boyish smile. The gentleness that once defined Yu, stolen away by the unforgiving hands of the cruel world, haunted Nanami's subconscious. Yet, like a mantra, he reminded himself that those days were gone, a realm he could never revisit. The past, with its joys and sorrows, had become an unalterable tapestry that no amount of yearning could unravel.

Copenhagen, with its cold tendrils caressing his skin, became a sanctuary where Nanami sought solace. The chill, instead of biting, cradled him tenderly, a reminder that he had escaped the clutches of a world he could never truly leave behind. The city, with its ancient charm and modern allure, became a backdrop for Nanami's journey forward.

It whispered promises of a new beginning, a life unburdened by the shackles of the past. In the heart of Copenhagen, Nanami found relief, and as he navigated the snow-kissed streets, he embraced the present, determined to forge a path ahead—one guided not by regret, but by the gentle touch of a city that offered him a canvas upon which to paint the chapters of his rebirth.

The familiar street greeted him like an old friend, its cobblestones beneath his feet whispering tales of summer days gone by. Just a few months ago, Nanami Kento had wandered these same lanes during the summer break. The memories of those warm days lingered, woven into the fabric of the city's essence.

His grandfather, a jazz musician with a passion that spanned decades, had been a regular attendee of the music festival that graced the city every summer since the '70s. Kento, in tow, became a witness to the traditions that bound generations together. It had been a family affair, with his mother, equally enamored with jazz, usually accompanying them. However, that particular summer, his mother opted to spend time with his grandmother, leaving Kento with his father and grandfather.

As he traversed the familiar route, Kento couldn't help but reminisce about that summer day when the vibrant world of jazz had captured his senses. The infectious rhythm and soulful melodies had beckoned him, and he had surrendered himself to the music, if only for a brief moment. Little did he anticipate that this impromptu decision would act as a catalyst, altering the trajectory of his life.

The memories of that summer warmed his heart as he strolled through the well-trodden path. The city, once again alive with the spirit of jazz, seemed to echo with the tunes that had left an indelible mark on his soul.

And then, as if the city itself orchestrated a serendipitous encounter, he found himself standing in the same spot where destiny had intervened months ago. His gaze fell upon a young woman, her beauty transcending the ordinary. A wide smile graced her face, and her infectious laughter mingled with the music that enveloped the space. Her dress swirled around her as she danced with a partner, the joyous energy radiating from her like a beacon.

She fell into her partner's chest, laughter bubbling forth like a melody, and when she turned to face Kento, her eyes sparkled with an intensity that rivaled the sun. Before he could fathom what was happening, she took him by the hand, her eyes silently urging him to join the dance. 

A playful gleam lit up her eyes as she extended her hand toward him, the vivacity in her voice cutting through the ambient jazz notes. He felt hesitant for a moment, turning to his father and grandfather with sudden panic. He did not know how to react. They nodded at him, smiling and urging him forward.

The air was charged with excitement and vibrant wonder, and as the first notes of a jazz tune enveloped them, Kento couldn't resist the magnetic pull of the music and the enchanting woman who had chosen him as her dance partner.

"Come on, don't be shy! Let the music guide you," she urged, her grin infectious, and in that instant, Nanami Kento felt a magnetic pull that transcended both time and space.

Without a word, he took her hand, and as their fingers intertwined, an unspoken connection ignited. The jazz, a melodic symphony that seemed to resonate from the very heart of the city, served as the backdrop to their impromptu dance.

The crowded space with its eclectic mix of jazz enthusiasts faded into the background as they swayed and twirled to the rhythm of the music. The world ,with its indifference and worries, ceased to exist within the warmth of the shared moment. In the heart of Copenhagen, surrounded by the echoes of jazz, Nanami Kento and the mysterious woman moved in perfect harmony.

The music, like a benevolent guide, dictated their steps, leading them through a dance that felt both spontaneous and rehearsed. As they spun and dipped, the energy of the jazz festival enveloped them, creating a cocoon where the troubles of the past and uncertainties of the future held no sway.

The woman's laughter, a melody of its own, echoed through the cobbled streets, interweaving with the jazz notes in a harmonious dance. Nanami, typically reserved and guarded, found himself surrendering to the rhythm, losing track of time and space. For those fleeting moments, the weight of the jujutsu world, the ghosts of his past, all seemed to dissipate in the cadence of their shared dance.

As the final notes of the jazz piece resonated through the air, the applause of the café's patrons brought them back to reality. The woman, still caught in the joy of the dance, turned to Nanami with a bright smile. 

"That was amazing! Thank you for dancing with me," she expressed, her eyes reflecting genuine appreciation.

Nanami, a rare warmth lingering in his eyes, met her gaze. "No, thank you. It was a pleasure," he replied, a sentiment that transcended mere words. 

He tried not to be embarrassed as he stepped away from her and back towards his father and grandfather. They continued to clap and laugh and praise him for doing well. Father even bragged about having taken a video and promised to show it to his mother later. He groaned about it as they continued to walk off and go to the path towards the other jazz musicians.

He did not know if it was the Danish sun that was hot all summer that made him feel so warm.

But as he turned back, seeing the young woman smile and giggle.

He was certain that the warmth he felt would stay with him throughout.

The spellbinding dance in the heart of bright, sunny Copenhagen had not only offered Nanami an escape from his past but had also kindled a connection that felt destined—a dance of a lifetime that he would carry with him, a cherished memory of a summer's day in a city that had become his unexpected refuge.

Restlessness gripped Nanami Kento with an unyielding tenacity, casting a pervasive shadow over the edges of his solitude. Within the confines of his own thoughts, dark tendrils of contemplation writhed like wildfire, unwelcome and intrusive. He loathed this emotional turbulence, an unwelcome companion that had persisted, refusing to release its hold on him even after the passage of time.

Seated with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, Nanami took deliberate, deep breaths, attempting to quell the tempest within his mind. The warmth of the beverage offered a comforting contrast to the internal chill that clung to him. It was a battle against the relentless onslaught of thoughts, a struggle against the emotions that threatened to consume him.

In this moment of quiet reflection, he pondered the futile hope that distance could sever the ties to haunting memories. He had sought solace miles and miles away, yearning to escape the accusatory gazes that whispered tales of abandonment and the painful eyes that spoke the language of goodbyes.

As he sighed, the warm breath escaping his lips seemed to carry with it the weight of unresolved emotions. Nanami couldn't escape the relentless echoes of the past, and even in the sanctuary of a quiet corner with a steaming cup before him, the turmoil within persisted. The hot chocolate, a feeble antidote, offered temporary respite, but the battle against the haunting shadows of his thoughts endured.

It was a struggle against an invisible adversary, an emotional warfare that unfolded within the confines of his own consciousness. Nanami, with each deliberate sip, attempted to find solace, seeking refuge in the simple act of indulging in the warmth of his drink. Yet, the restlessness, like an indomitable force, continued to linger, an ever-present companion on his journey through the labyrinth of his own emotions.

The familiar walls of his grandparents' home, while comforting, seemed to close in on him, urging him to escape the confines of his own thoughts. Sensing his need for reprieve, his grandfather, a sage figure of wisdom and understanding, suggested a simple remedy—take a walk.

The time-worn walls of his grandparents' home, though steeped in familiarity and the embrace of cherished memories, now seemed to tighten their grasp on Nanami Kento. Despite their comforting presence, they took on an almost oppressive quality, closing in around him like silent witnesses to the turmoil within his mind. The quietude of the rooms, once a haven, now echoed with the resonance of unspoken thoughts, urging him to seek refuge beyond the confines of his own contemplations.

His grandfather seemed to recognize the restlessness that brewed within Kento's being. Perhaps his mother has felt this way before too. Grandfather smiled at him tenderly. He was like a sage whenever Kento looked at him. It was as though he was someone who years carried the weight of experience and the gentle wisdom of time. 

Certainly, he sensed the need for reprieve in his grandson's troubled heart. It was amidst this silent acknowledgment that the elderly patriarch offered a remedy as simple as it was profound—take a walk and relieve your heart with the sights of something else.

The suggestion hung in the air, laden with the unspoken understanding that sometimes, the remedy for a restless soul lay not in grand gestures or complex solutions, but in the simplicity of a deliberate step outside. The labyrinth of thoughts could often be navigated more effectively under the open sky, where the vastness of the world provided both perspective and solace.

Nanami, sensing the gravity of his grandfather's suggestion, nodded in silent agreement. It was a tacit acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that transcended generations—the understanding that, in the face of internal struggles, the wisdom of an elder could guide one towards a path of renewal.

As he stepped out into the crisp air, the creaking door behind him seemed to release not just his physical form but also the weight of his emotional burden. The world outside, bathed in the soft hues of daylight, became a canvas for introspection and healing. 

Nanami's footsteps echoed the rhythm of his contemplations, each stride serving as a subtle declaration of his intent to navigate the labyrinth of his thoughts with the simple act of walking—an age-old remedy, whispered from one generation to another, under the watchful eyes of time.

The winter air greeted him coldly as he stepped out onto the cobblestone streets of Copenhagen. With earphones in place, the soothing rhythms of bossa nova provided a backdrop to his aimless journey. Each step resonated with a silent yearning to untangle the threads of his restless mind.

The city unfolded before him, a tapestry of ancient charm and modern allure, and Kento wandered through its labyrinthine streets, losing himself in the rhythmic cadence of his footsteps. As the city whispered tales of its storied past, he meandered through the enigmatic alleys, the bossa nova notes acting as a companion to his contemplations.

However, fatigue eventually set in, and as if guided by an unseen force, Kento found himself standing at the entrance of a familiar courtyard. The air seemed to shimmer with a sense of déjà vu, transporting him back to the vibrant days of summer. It was as if the city itself conspired to lead him to this very spot.

Without much thought, he stepped into the charming café tucked away in the corner of the courtyard. The ambiance was a sensory symphony, the warm notes of a saxophone enveloping him like a gentle embrace. The air buzzed with the lively laughter and animated chatter of cafe-goers, creating an atmosphere that felt alive with shared joy.

Nanami chose a seat near the small stage, drawn like a moth to the enchanting voice of the singer who held court before a captivated audience. The music, a melodic potion, seemed to weave a spell around him, momentarily quieting the restlessness that had plagued his thoughts. The singer, with a voice that resonated with emotion and grace, commanded the attention of everyone present, casting a spell that transcended the ordinary.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the café and the entrancing melodies of the festival, Nanami Kento found himself once again caught in the embrace of the city's magic. The saxophone's soothing tones and the singer's enchanting voice served as a balm for his restless soul, providing a sanctuary where the worries of the world outside momentarily ceased to exist.

It was her, singing as though an angel sent from above.

Nanami Kento felt his lips part, but no words could come out.

He felt that same warmth, just as he had that summer's day in her arms.

As the musical crescendo reached its zenith, the singer's gaze, like a beacon in the dimly lit cafe, found Nanami Kento's eyes. In that ephemeral connection, a knowing smile graced her lips, a silent acknowledgment that transcended the audible notes and resonated with the unspoken language of their shared musical experience.

In that moment, it was as if a secret pact had been forged, sealed with the mutual understanding that they were both voyagers on a sonic journey, each note a stepping stone leading them to the heart of the melody.

The singer, bathed in the golden glow of the stage lights, seemed to surrender herself to the intoxicating passion of the music. Her eyes, illuminated with a spark of something indefinable, drank deeply from the chalice of its harmony, as if she were communing with a force beyond the tangible. It was a transcendent communion, where the boundaries between artist and art blurred, leaving only the essence of emotion that permeated the air.

For Kento, the allure of her presence became an irresistible force, a magnetic pull that tethered him to the heart of the performance. As he watched her, he felt not just the music but the very essence of her being infused with the atmosphere.

It was as though she and the music were indivisible entities, two sides of the same coin, each note an extension of her soul. In the canvas of the cafe, where the air hummed with the residue of melodies, life unfolded before him in the form of this captivating songstress.

The symbiosis between the singer and the music was palpable, a dance of mutual surrender. It was as though she embodied the very spirit of the composition, becoming the living, breathing manifestation of the melodies that cascaded around her.

The passion that emanated from her was contagious, and in that intimate space, Nanami Kento found himself caught in the intricate dance between artist and audience, the boundaries between their worlds momentarily dissolved.

In the presence of this goddess, life seemed to harmonize with the cadence of her voice. It was as though the cafe itself had become a sacred space, where the divinity of music and the essence of existence converged, creating a symphony that transcended the ordinary. 

In those moments, as the singer basked in the afterglow of the song's climax, Nanami Kento couldn't help but feel that he had witnessed not just a performance but a manifestation of life's profound beauty.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the atmosphere of the cafe transformed into a timeless realm where Nanami Kento found himself ensconced in the spell of both music and the captivating presence of the singer. The rhythm became a pulse, and time, a fluid entity that seemed to elude the constraints of the clock. She sang, her voice a melodic river that coursed through the air, and Kento, a willing captive, lost himself in the undulating waves of sound.

Her singing was a continuous offering, a stream of prayers that flowed from her lips, each note like a sacred incantation. Kento, seated in the audience, listened with a reverence that bordered on the worshipful. It was as though he paid homage to a goddess of music, and in the repetition of the praises, he found himself entranced by the enchanting cadence that echoed through the space.

In a serendipitous twist of fate, Kento learned that she was a last-minute replacement, a sudden vacancy in the band leaving them without a singer.

Her brother, a member of the jazz band, had called her at the eleventh hour to fill the void. She chuckled at the unexpected turn of events, downplaying the praises that showered upon her. She waved them off, saying she was no singer. That she was no professional.

Yet Kento, a discerning listener, recognized the truth in those praises. They all ring true. Her voice, a celestial melody that resonated with his very soul, had woven itself into the fabric of his being.

When the final notes of the last song melted into the ether, the cafe erupted in applause. The singer, basking in the aftermath of her musical journey, cast a gentle smile in Kento's direction. It was a moment of acknowledgment, a silent exchange that transcended the applause and connected them on a level beyond the tangible.

As she prepared to leave the stage, she thanked everyone for coming. She started to say goodbye to members of the band and grinned at them, joking with them for a bit and kissed her brother's cheek and left the stage. Her brother was doing the next set as just jazz music, and so the claps and cheers finished and began anew as the band started to play once more. The cafe had turned into the bar it was at night.

The warmth of the cafe–bar gave way to the chill of the outside world. Opening the door, she let out a disgruntled sound and started complaining about the winter cold with her thick She started to stepped out into the cold, fumbling with the buttons of her winter coat. In that transitional moment, as the boundary between the magical world of music and the reality of the winter night blurred, Kento felt an unfamiliar impulse surge within him.

Seizing the opportunity, propelled by a courage he hadn't known existed, he stepped forward to bridge the gap between their worlds. The cold air hung heavy with anticipation as he took a chance, driven by an urge to break free from the silent observer and become an active participant in the unfolding drama of the night.

"Wait," the words escaped Nanami Kento's lips, a sudden impulse that caught even himself off guard. The singer turned towards him, her eyes a curious but kind inquiry, as if the melody of his voice had woven its own verse into the lingering notes of the music. "I think I know you."

Her gaze studied his face for a moment before recognition sparked in her eyes, and a smile began to blossom on her lips. "I met you, this summer. Didn't I? We danced together, just nearby!"

A nod from Kento, his heart resounding with each beat, a rhythm echoing the memories of that summer encounter. "Yes, I just... I just thought I was mistaken."

Her grin widened, a playful glint in her eyes. "Well, you weren't. Good for you, hm?"

"I, uh... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither," she responded, her hands finding refuge in her pockets, the winter air lending warmth to her words. "But my brother needed my help, and it's his last gig for the year. I thought I should help him out."

"I see."

"What's your name?"

"Kento," he replied, the syllables escaping almost too quickly for his liking. "Kento Nanami."

"Oh, you're Japanese?" A moment of realization crossed her features, and she gracefully bowed to him. Switching to Japanese, she continued, "It's nice to meet you."

Caught off guard, he reciprocated the bow, his face reflecting a mixture of surprise and astonishment. The unexpected reunion and the sudden switch to their shared language in the heart of Copenhagen added an unforeseen twist to the unfolding moment.

She giggled as she shared her name, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as if Nanami was attempting to etch it into the recesses of his memory.

"I think I should go, Nanami—kun. After all, it's getting late."

"O-oh, uh... of course."

With a casual wave, she added, "Happy New Year, Nanami-kun."

"Happy New Year," he replied, the exchange marking a momentary farewell. Yet, just as she began to turn away, an inexplicable force pulled at him.

He called out to her again. That was what stunned him. He called her name by the pure, unexpected impulse. He did not know if she will turn around. But when she turned, still smiling, he could feel his heart pound so hard in his chest. It hurt to feel so warm inside, so almost exposed to the echoes of life. 

Yet he knew he wanted to be greedy, at this moment.

Nanami Kento thinks he will not be able to not speak his heart aloud.

Because deep within, he found himself reluctant to let her slip away. 

Scratching the back of his head, heat flushing his face, he mumbled, "I don't really do this, and I... I don't really know what will happen after I say it. But I just had to ask."

Her grin persisted, "What is it, stranger?"

"Would you like to have a meal with me?" He mumbles out, barely coherent. "Not here....just. Let's look for a place to eat at."

The question lingered in the air, suspended between the notes of the fading jazz melody, the enchantment of Copenhagen's winter night, and the thread of connection woven through their shared history of a summer dance. 

It was a daring proposition, an invitation that transcended the boundaries of the ordinary, as if the cafe–bar itself held its breath in anticipation of her response.

Her eyes, still carrying the sparkle of their shared memories, held a playful curiosity as she considered his invitation. The cafe and bar, wrapped in the quietude of the aftermath of the performance, seemed to wait with bated breath for her answer. 

The allure of possibility wafted through the space, a subtle hum in the air that resonated with the unspoken possibilities of a shared coffee, a continuation of a story that had begun in the rhythms of a summer dance.

She tilted her head, the smile on her lips carrying a hint of mischief, "Well, Kento—kun, I suppose it would be a shame to let such an unexpected reunion end so quickly, wouldn't it?"

Nanami Kento felt a surge of relief and excitement, the uncharted territory of possibility stretching before them. It was as though this moment just felt right. Everything he felt was right. Everything he felt about life shifted and changed and merged and broke. Everything in this moment was beyond comprehension. Everything about tonight was a once and a lifetime miracle.

"I'd like that," he replied, a sincerity in his voice that mirrored the warmth that had been kindled within him. "Very much."

She hums back, happily. "Hm, me too."

Their conversation, a delightful blend of laughter and shared memories, intertwined seamlessly with the enchanting atmosphere of the night. The lamplights cast elongated shadows on the cobblestone streets, creating an intimate tableau as they meandered through the city's silent alleys.

It was a dance of words beneath the glow, a choreography of sentences and responses that mirrored the ebb and flow of the moonlit waves on a distant shore.

The moon, a silent sentinel in the celestial expanse, bestowed its tender glow upon them, as if lending an ethereal blessing to this rendezvous. Its silver light, filtered through the winter night's breath, painted their silhouettes against the backdrop of Copenhagen's timeless beauty.

Underneath the moonlit canvas, they strolled with a leisurely pace, navigating the labyrinth of streets with no particular destination in mind. Each step was a sentence in the unwritten story of their night—a story that seemed to unfold organically, propelled by the magnetic pull of shared laughter and the quiet understanding that words could convey.

As they wandered, the city's pulse seemed to quicken, echoing the cadence of their conversation. The facades of historic buildings, adorned with tales of centuries past, watched over them like ancient guardians privy to the secrets exchanged in the moonlit embrace of the night.

The chill in the air did nothing to cool the warmth that radiated between them. Their breath mingled with the winter mist, creating an ephemeral veil around their steps. It was a dance of tenderness, orchestrated by the moon's watchful gaze and accompanied by the distant symphony of the city—footsteps on cobblestones, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the murmur of waves caressing the nearby shore.

As they continued to amble through Copenhagen's nocturnal embrace, the moonlight etched a silent poem in the sky, an ode to unexpected reunions and the timeless beauty of shared moments beneath its watchful eye. The city, in its slumber, whispered its approval, its ancient heart beating in harmony with the melody of their conversation. And in that tranquil interlude, two souls found solace in the delicate dance of words and the moonlit romance of a winter night in Copenhagen.

The cafe and bar was long behind them, and the echoes of jazz lingered in the little hums from her lips, accompanying them in their steps as they ventured into the winter night. In that quietude, they began leaving behind the remnants of that dance in the summer and that night in the jazz bar, stepping into the unscripted chapter that awaited them.

Tomorrow was a new year, and in the cold winter streets of Copenhagen, both of them were certain—it was made for being together.

fact about nanami and his wife this chapter: nanami's parents visited and attended a jujutsu sorcerer christmas party. his parents showed gojo the video of young nanami dancing with his wife in copenhagen. needless to say, nanami is not pleased. nanami's wife often comes to her brother's rescue when the singer of their band makes excuses. she has a really good singing voice and it helped nanami during sleepless nights or after a nightmare. she's been recruited a couple of times to be a professional singer, but she prefers writing! nanami's wife can speak japanese because her favorite uncle married a japanese woman. she wanted to be able to speak to her, so she and her aunt learned japanese and danish together. i always imagine nanami's wife's voice be like narumi from wotakoi while i write her dialogue. she sounds soft spoken but energetically bright to me. she was played by arisa date. here's a sample of narumi's voice. nanami's top three favorite music genre is hard rock, alternative rock and jazz. but he would listen to all types of music too. nanami's wife likes a lot of sorts of music, but she grew up around jazz, pop and ballad. the day of their wedding, gojo's present to nanami's wife was a giving her a flash drive of second year nanami kento singing and jamming out to evanescence's bring me back to life. his wife calls it the best video ever. nanami has tried to take the flashdrive but his wife has made subsequent copies! copenhagen is nanami and his wife's favorite city to be in whenever they're in denmark. its everything to them to be there on july, when the jazz festival happens when they first met and near new year when they had they met again. the years after this, when they confessed in snow flower, on new year's eve, when he and her came back to the jazz bar and ate at the same place as their first date as a couple.

[meabh-mcinness]

A Price to Pay

Main Masterlist

When you and Professor Balam decided to take the Misfit class out on a field trip to survey items they were studying up close, you never expected that it would end like this.

I fully blame @acemoj85 for this. They came up with the idea one day and it wouldn't leave my head. Now everyone can experience the pain! Also please for the love of everything holy, unholy and in-between! READ! THE! TAGS! This is not a nice fic for good feels. There is no happy ending here (excluding the alternate ending because even I couldn't leave it there).

The streets of the demon city were a labyrinth of shadow and light, where the twilight hours blurred the line between the real and the fantastical. The marketplace was a living, breathing entity, alive with the hum of bartering voices, the clatter of hooves and claws on cobblestones, and the flicker of enchanted lanterns casting eerie glows across twisted architecture.

Among the bustling crowd, a small group of demons wove their way through the maze of stalls. At their head was a towering figure of a demon, easily twice the size of anyone else in his group. A flow of long white hair followed his massive frame as he lumbered forward, marking a way to go as everyone else dodged out of his way, even if he would never actually trample them. Beside him walked a figure cloaked in the traditional wear of a Babyls teacher, their features obscured by a carefully maintained illusion that made them appear as just another demon in the crowd. In reality, this was a human—a teacher at the esteemed academy of demons, where their true nature was a closely guarded secret by only a number of demons that could be counted on one hand.

Balam had to duck quite a few times to get through the crowd safely, though the way he parted the crowd was as unintentional as it was effective. He kept looking behind himself to make sure the kids were still following, his large form towering over them like a mother duck with her ducklings. He chuckled heartily when he noticed one of the kids had gotten distracted by a vendor selling jewellery.

Seeing the child distracted, he reached a large hand down and gently guided them with a soft and quiet “Come on, try to keep up.” The rest of the kids caught up, with a few giggling quietly at the one in front being ushered further along. He gave a soft smile behind his mask at the kids’ amusement, glad that they seemed to enjoy at least. But he continued through the crowd slowly, making sure the group stayed together to reach their destination

For them, this excursion was more than just an educational outing—it was a rare chance to explore the world beyond the academy's walls, to see the mystical and dangerous side of the demon world that they had only read about in books.

"Remember, we're here to study the different forms of binding crystals," you said, your voice calm yet firm, as you led the students toward a vendor's stall displaying an array of glowing crystals. Each one pulsed with a different kind of energy, from the warm golden hues of healing stones to the icy blues of containment gems. The students clustered around, eager to examine the crystals up close.

Balam nodded in agreement with the statement - though he kept an eye on the students around the gems. Some, though he had to admit not all, he knew were rather impulsive and would have to be watched to prevent them from doing something hasty. Namely, the black-haired one currently eyeing a few of the gems. He placed a hand on the kids’ shoulder, Jazz if he remembered the name correctly, preventing them from going forward before giving a quiet stern, ‘Don’t touch.’ as he did.

As the group moved to the next stall, the air suddenly grew thick with a sense of foreboding, making your hair stand up on its ends. The lively chatter of the marketplace began to dim in your ears despite it being as loud as ever, as your instincts screamed that something was wrong. Vaguely you could hear Alice and Clara asking Iruma what was wrong as you turned quickly, your eyes scanning the crowd, but could see nothing out of place—until a shadow flickered unnaturally against the light down one of the alleyways. You tensed as instinct overtook your muscles, your eyes narrowing as your mind processed the strange flicker of movement, eyes squinting to get a better look at them.

Balam felt a chill go through him, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, his hand tightening on Jazz’s shoulder in an automatic response to the potential threat that both you and Iruma sensed. The other misfits noticed this, feeling the change in their teacher’s demeanour, the cheerful atmosphere of the market feeling suddenly thick and tense as Balam also focused on the alleyway, eyes scanning over it… but found nothing more than shadows and the usual hustle and bustle from the crowd. 

He frowned beneath his mask stroking it thoughtfully, he had long since learned that you and Iruma had almost supernatural senses when it came to danger. An odd thing considering the human world was supposed to be a peaceful place, and yet he had never seen two creatures so attune to when there was danger about. Instead of trusting his eyes, he reached out with Buzzer, stretching it to see if there were any hostile intentions nearby -- and there! Exactly where your eyes were locked was a demon cloaked in mana -- and yet he couldn't see them.

His frown deepened and he started to reach into his mana to call forth his vines and capture this unknown demon, intent on interrogating him when before he could react, a figure cloaked in darkness surged from the shadows, their hands crackling with some form of black lightning. The students barely had time to gasp as the figure hurled a bolt of malevolent energy directly at them, aiming directly for little Iruma.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you made a split-second decision. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of the oncoming bolt, your arms outstretched and a shield forming to block what was surely deadly magic. The dark energy struck with brutal force, bursting the shield into a thousand pieces and knocking the breath from your lungs, sending you crashing to the ground. Pain seared through your body, a deep, burning agony that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Sensei!" one of the students screamed, Iruma you thought, his voice laced with panic as he rushed to your side. The others quickly followed, their faces pale, eyes wide and bodies shaking with fear.

You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as you tried to focus on your students, reassure them that you were alright. But no words came out as blood seeped from a wound that cut deep into your side, staining your clothes and pooling beneath you on the cobblestones.

Balam’s face was a mix of horror and rage, the sight of his student in danger causing his normally controlled nature to flare into a protective rage. His eyes zeroed in on the figure that had attacked, his fist clenching tightly at his side as he stepped forward to rush the mysterious figure. At least, he would’ve, if not for what you did.

He saw you throw yourself in front of the attack, watched as you took the hit but collapsed to the ground in obvious pain, and his heart clenched, a sense of absolute terror crashing through him as the sweet scent of your blood reached his nose. He took an involuntary gulp at the smell before shaking his head, eyes blazing with fury as he took off his mask to bare his fangs at their attacker.

 The marketplace had erupted into chaos, demons scattering in every direction as the Balam snapped his teeth in a warning before giant vines erupted from the ground, giving the assailant no chance to escape. With a speed that belied his massive size, Balam launched himself at the enemy, his large talons crashing into them with the force of a landslide. The dark figure barely had time to react before they were attacked themselves by the enraged gargoyle. It was only the knowledge that you lay there, bleeding out and potentially poisoned, that kept Balam's hand from straight out killing the other demon.

He turned back to the human, dread gripping his heart as he saw them lying motionless on the ground, surrounded by their terrified students.

Balam rushed to your side, his heart pounding as he knelt beside you. "Stay with me," he urged, his voice breaking as he reached out to gently touch your face. Your eyes were half-closed and glazing over, your breathing shallow and laboured and getting slower by the minute. The wound on your side continued to bleed, whatever spell had been cast left a lingering taint that resisted the low-level healing.

"We're trying," Elizabetta sobbed, tears streaming down her face as she looked up at Balam with a mixture of helplessness and fear. "But it's not enough... we don't know how to do more..."

Balam's heart sank at the sight of you. You were so, so pale, and the blood loss was only getting worse. Balam felt tears of frustration and panic forming in his eyes as he watched the life slowly slipping away from the human before him. He had never really noticed until now just how small you were in comparison to him. You were always so full of life, ready to face every challenge that came your way with a grin, and now... 

Balam's heart sank at the sight of you. You were so, so pale, and the blood loss was only getting worse. Balam felt tears of frustration and panic forming in his eyes as he watched the life slowly slipping away from the human before him. He had never really noticed until now just how small you were in comparison to him. You were always so full of life, ready to face every challenge that came your way with a grin, and now... With a frustrated snarl, he placed his hand over yours, channelling his own mana into you, trying to bolster your failing strength, as he muttered healing spell after healing spell. But as the seconds ticked by, it was becoming increasingly clear that it might not be enough.

"You're going to be fine," Balam said, though doubt gnawed at him, threatening to turn his words into a hollow promise. "I won't let you go."

The human's hand reached up, trembling, to brush against Balam’s pale skin. They managed a weak smile, though it was strained, their eyes filled with pain. "Take care... of Iruma," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"No," Balam growled, his voice trembling as he leaned closer, his protective nature overwhelming him. "You're not leaving him. You're not leaving me."

Your eyes fluttered closed, their breath growing shallower by the second. The students huddled around them, their panic growing larger, a profound sense of loss growing in them as they watched their teacher fade before their eyes.

Balam's heart twisted in his chest at your words. With an anguished cry, he pressed his hand to your chest, willing you to live, to hang on. But despite his desperate efforts, your breathing slowed, your skin growing colder and colder...becoming as chilled as white snow.

Tears streamed down the gargoyle's face, mingling with the sweat that clung to his skin. He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't. The thought was unbearable, and for the first time in years, fear clawed at his heart. "No, no, no, no, NO!" he sobbed over your body.

Gritting his teeth together he snapped at the students to stand back. Laying your body out he tore his gloves off, revealing the scaled skin and sharp nails underneath. He tore the top of your shirt open, revealing your bra and skin underneath.

Carefully he dragged his claw in a careful sketch over your chest, drawing sigil after sigil that he could remember from the depths of his mind. Once his drawing was complete, he placed a barrier around the students, ensuring that they couldn't get too close or be harmed by what he was about to do. Ignoring the student's shouts as they banged on the barrier walls, he turned back to you.

Drawing on the last reserves of his strength, Balam placed both hands over the symbols, his runes glowing with an intensity that bathed your body in light, as the last dredges of his mana started flowing. He closed his eyes, focusing all of his energy on healing, willing the wound to close, the foreign magic to leave your body and let you live. The power surged through him and immediately his mouth started moving, chanting out the words to an old spell he had seen in a scroll during one of his many research hauls. The energy flowed into you, knitting your wound with agonizing slowness, but closing regardless.

For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing but the sound of Balam's ragged voice and the faint crackling of energy. Balam's heart pounded in his chest as he watched for any sign of life. His hands trembled as he continued to pour every ounce of his power into the healing spell, ignoring the exhaustion that gnawed at his very being. 'Come on,' he thought, 'Come back to us.'

The world trembled with a sense of anticipation, the air charged with the hope and fear that radiated from everyone. Yet despite Balam's best efforts, despite the raw amount of power that he was pushing into your body… nothing happened. There was no change, no sign of life... nothing.

The spell he had cast was just as hopeless as any other. For all his power and knowledge, for all his raw talent, there was nothing he could do. The realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. No! It wasn't meant to end like this! He wouldn't allow it! He couldn't! This… This wasn’t the end. It simply just could not be!

So he poured even more into the casting, pushing himself to his limits and beyond. His face twisted with desperation and panic, and his body trembling from the sheer effort. But… it was no more helpful than before. Your body… your body was… dead.

Slowly the light of the spell died, and Balam pulled back, before collapsing over your body sobs racking his own. The students held their breath, hope and fear battling in their eyes, as the barrier flickered before fading, drained of the last remnants of Balam's mana. He had nothing left to give in his struggle to keep you alive. The misfits could only watch in stunned silence, their own eyes widening with terror and horror. The silence was deafening, filled only with the sound of Balam's sobs, his shoulders shaking as he clutched your body to him tightly, tears streaming down his face and onto yours.

Iruma let out a loud wail as he raced to be by your side, his small body burrowing itself in between Balam and you. He clutched the remnants of your ripped shirt and buried his face into your chest, desperate to hear any signs of life, from the faintest pulse to a faulty breath. Instead, only silence greeted him.

"No…" Alice whispered, voice cracking with grief and disbelief. Clara let out a small whimper, burying their face in Alice's shoulder, while several clutched each other in an attempt to find comfort among the turmoil.

Balam's tears fell onto your face, his grief and despair overwhelming him. He felt so lost, so helpless, and so incredibly guilty. He should have sensed the danger, should have been able to protect you, should have... should have done something, anything! But instead… you lay dead in his arms. He gently stroked your cheek, his touch soft and desperate, as if trying to bring you back to life with his touch alone. "Please," he begged, his voice rough and broken, "Please come back...I" 'never got to say I loved you.'

The silence was deafening. The students stood in an almost numb state of shock and grief, their eyes fixed on your lifeless body. Iruma continued to cling to you, his small frame shaking with sobs as he tried to find a breath, to feel a flutter of a heartbeat.

Iruma continued sobbing into your chest, his small body shuddering with each strangled gasp of air. He just couldn’t quite accept that you were… gone. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were too strong, too vital, too alive to just die like this! It wasn't right!

The tears continued to slide down Balam's face, a torrent of grief and despair. If only he had seen the attack… if only he'd been faster, if only he'd been able to stop it! Guilt and rage tore at his heart, but Iruma's wails of despair slowly brought his mind back to the situation at hand beyond only you. You were gone and there was nothing more he could do. Gently he grabbed Iruma and tried to take him away from your body.

The boy flailed, turning to strike at Balam and fighting to leave. Shouts of how you weren't dead, and how he wasn't leaving you leaving the tiny boy.

Finally forcing Iruma away from your cold body, the boy curled up in Balam's arms clutching onto his shirt for dear life as he was overrun with sobs. Balam's arms tightened securely around the child, making sure to keep him safe from the view of your body and from the view of others.

The tiny boy seemed even smaller than usual to Balam, now that he was the last human in the Netherworld.

The other students hovered nearby, their eyes rimmed with red from their own tears. They were shaken and uncertain, their voices quiet as they tried to come to terms with what had happened. Some even looked away, unable to bear the sight of you lying lifeless on the ground.

Balam's heart clenched tightly at the sight of Iruma's struggle. He held the tiny boy tightly, trying to offer what comfort he could despite the heavy weight of his own grief settling over him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "But I'll be here for you now."

Balam would be damned if he failed to succeed in fulfilling your last words.

Alternate Ending

For a moment, the world held its breath. The students watched with bated breath, hope and fear warring in their eyes, as the barrier flicked before fading from the lack of oncoming mana from Balam. He had no more left to give in his attempts to keep you alive.

Then, your eyes fluttered open, weak but alive. You looked up at Balam confusion in your gaze.

"You're okay," Iruma whispered, tears streaming down his face as he rushed to knee beside you. "You're okay..."

Balam let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, careful not to hurt you further. "Don't you ever do that again," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You chuckled weakly, though the sound was strained. Your hand rested against Balam's chest, feeling the fast but steady, reassuring pulse of his heart beneath his shirt. "No promises," you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. But the warmth in your eyes said everything, as you turned to cuddle closer into him.

Balam held you close, the students gathering around the both of you, all of them shaking from the relief flooding their bodies as adrenaline left. A cold breeze flew by and you shivered, as it swept across your bared chest. Confusion swirled through your hazy mind as you tried to figure out why it felt wrong.

Opening your eyes again when you felt you had enough strength to do so, you glanced down to see the bare swell of your breasts and the lace of your bra showing through a shredded top. You blinked once, twice, and then once again before it finally clicked.

"Balam...."You started and he hummed in response. "Why is my shirt ripped, did the spell do this?"

He froze at the question, his own eyes glancing down to see your exposed chest, the exposure that he had caused. His face broke out into a fierce blush before he quickly told Clara to summon a blanket and wrap you in it, being sure to cover you up to your neck. Even then the blush remained as he hefted you up into his arms. Clearing his throat to try and hide his embarrassment, he turned to the students and declared they were leaving.

Luckily they had picked the town not too far away from Babyls.

Unluckily, he now had to deal with Sullivan and Opera about almost letting one of their beloved people die. He could already tell this meeting would not end well for him. 'Better him than you at least' he thought as he shifted his arms to hold you more securely.

[inthestill]

Beautiful things: cobblestone streets, when sunlight enters a room, plant shadows, the way flowers open up to sunlight, the way plants follow along a wall, the sound of birds, stillness in the mornings, the smell of coffee, the scent of the air after it rains, the feeling of fresh air near water, the smell of mountains, the sound of a sad trumpet, the sound of playing a guitar like it sings, the sound of a violin in a subway station, the start of spring, colors of autumn, the feel of light rain, a warm shower after a long day, the moon in all phases, the quietness of a bookstore, Jazz when it plays anywhere, Jazz when played live, flipping pages of a book […]

[firstdeerwife]

Masterlist

C.3

Mimzy

---

The night breeze of New Orleans gently caressed _____ as she walked alongside Alastor through the cobblestone streets.

The streetlights cast golden glimmers on the paving stones, and the distant murmur of the city created an almost magical atmosphere.

Their footsteps echoed in harmony, accompanied by a comfortable silence that was only occasionally broken by light comments about the weather or the streets they were passing through.

"Is the city always this quiet at this hour?" _____ asked, glancing at Alastor.

"Quiet at first glance, perhaps," Alastor responded with a half-smile. "But New Orleans has many secrets that awaken when the sun sets."

"Like you?" _____ joked, though there was a serious tone in her voice.

Alastor looked at her, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mystery.

"Maybe," he said, dodging the question with a smile. "In fact, what do you think if I show you one of those secrets tonight?"

_____ raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a little club not far from here. An exclusive place, only for those who know where to look. If you’re free tonight, we could go."

_____ thought for a moment. Although she was engaged to Charles, the prospect of exploring a new place with Alastor, someone who inexplicably attracted her, was tempting.

"I accept. When do we go?"

"Tonight," Alastor replied. "I can introduce you to a friend of mine, Mimzy. She's... an interesting woman."

_____ couldn’t help but feel a twinge of discomfort hearing the tone Alastor used when mentioning Mimzy, but she decided to ignore it. After all, she was just a friend, right?

---

Hours later, _____ found herself in the club that Alastor had described. From the outside, it seemed like a modest, almost insignificant building, but upon crossing the doors, the atmosphere changed drastically.

Jazz music filled the air, and cigarette smoke mingled with the scent of fine liquors. The lighting was dim, just enough to make out the figures moving to the rhythm of the music.

"_____, I want to introduce you to someone."

Alastor led her to a table in the corner, where a woman stood as she saw them approach.

Mimzy was the complete opposite of ____: short, curvaceous, with thick thighs, wide hips, and ample breasts.

Her platinum blonde hair, cut in a short bob style, gleamed under the lights, and her pale skin contrasted with the deep red of her dress. Her eyes, surrounded by dark makeup, settled on _____ with a mix of curiosity and challenge.

"So you're _____," Mimzy said, extending a hand with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I've heard a lot about you."

_____ shook her hand, feeling a subtle pressure that made her grit her teeth.

"Oh, really? I hope it's all good."

"Of course. Al is quite the gentleman, isn’t he?"

The tension between the two women was palpable, and though the conversation continued politely, _____ couldn’t help but feel an uncomfortable sense of competition every time Mimzy directed a glance at Alastor. But what unsettled her the most was Alastor's apparent indifference toward Mimzy.

Though the woman clearly tried to attract his attention, Alastor remained calm, focusing his interest on _____.

"I must say, _____," Mimzy continued, taking a sip from her glass, "you have a rather... refined air. I didn’t expect to find someone like you in a place like this."

"And what kind of person were you expecting to find?" _____ replied with a forced smile.

"Someone less... restrained, I suppose," Mimzy shot back, looking _____ up and down. "But I suppose that’s what makes you interesting to Alastor."

_____ was about to respond when Alastor intervened, changing the subject with the ease of someone who had done this many times before.

"Mimzy, don’t be so harsh. _____ is a fascinating person, with much more than meets the eye."

Mimzy smiled enigmatically, but _____ could perceive a slight flicker of annoyance in her eyes.

When the music shifted to a softer rhythm, Alastor leaned toward _____.

"Would you like to dance?"

_____ nodded, grateful for the excuse to distance herself from Mimzy. As they headed to the dance floor, Alastor whispered:

"Don’t let Mimzy get to you. She’s like that with everyone, but it means nothing."

"Nothing?" _____ replied as they began to move to the rhythm of the music. "You seem pretty close to her."

"We’ve been friends for years," Alastor admitted, guiding her gently. "But there’s something different between us."

_____ didn’t respond immediately, letting the music fill the silence. Alastor’s movements were fluid, and the closeness between them provoked a mix of emotions that confused her.

Her heart beat faster, not just because of the dance, but because of what she was beginning to feel.

It was more than just attraction; it was a deep connection that she had never experienced with Charles.

"Are you always this mysterious?" _____ asked as they twirled around the dance floor.

"Does it bother you?" Alastor responded, his eyes shining with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"It intrigues me," _____ admitted, feeling her heart beat faster.

"Then I suppose we’re in the same situation," Alastor said softly, leaning slightly toward her.

_____ felt a shiver run down her spine, but before she could respond, the music ended. They slowly separated, still maintaining eye contact for a moment longer before returning to the table.

Mimzy was watching them with an enigmatic smile, as if she knew something they didn’t.

"Did you enjoy the dance?" she asked in a tone that didn’t make it clear whether she was being sarcastic or genuine.

"I enjoyed it very much," _____ replied firmly, keeping her gaze fixed on Mimzy. Though she didn’t say it out loud, there was something inside her that made her want to mark her territory.

---

The next day, _____ and Charles met for their usual afternoon date. As they walked through the park, Charles couldn’t help but notice a change in her.

Her gaze, her posture, even the way she spoke, everything seemed slightly different.

"You seem different,"

Charles commented, trying to sound casual.

"Different? In what way?"

_____ replied, revealing nothing.

"Just... different. I can’t explain it."

_____ smiled to herself, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Charles.

"Life has ways of changing people, Charles. Sometimes we don’t even realize those changes."

Charles frowned, a feeling of unease growing inside him. Something had changed in _____, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

[sayakasnonsense]

Fall isn’t complete without you pumpkin spice lattes

Pairing: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader

Storyline: Neuvillette falls in love with the new drink, and the new cafe worker.

Goofy silly pun: sip sip hooray!

Fall. Undoubtedly Neuvillette’s favourite season. For him, the world gets ten times quieter during fall. Furina is less of a gremlin, less court cases during fall, less of Wriothesley and clorinde squabbling next to him. The world gets painted with that lovely orange-brown hue, and the leaves crackle under his shoes.

As he steps out of the Opera Epiclese, he inhales the warm scent of autumn, feeling his muscles relaxing. Neuvillette makes his way to his favourite cafe, gazing at the vintage exterior. The familiar reddish cobblestone walls have not changed at all, along with the wooden tables on the inside. However, what Neuvillette notices would be the unfamiliar silhouette by the counter.

…she’s awfully pretty…

He watches as you hum along to the jazz soundtrack in the background before opening the door, the jingling sounds of the bells cutting through the comfortable silence. You look up, smiling at him as you lead him to a table.

“Hello good sir, what would you like today?” Your gentle voice floats through the air as he scans the menu in front of him. Instead of ordering his usual earl grey macchiato, a new drink catches his eye.

“May I have… a pumpkin spice latte, please?”

Neuvillette’s eyes trail you as you flutter around the kitchen, looking almost ethereal preparing his drink. He forces himself to look away from you, it’s rude to stare after all.

When his drink arrives, he takes a sip of it, feeling the warm taste of autumn fill his mouth. As you rush around serving other customers, he can’t help but admire your beauty.

After enjoying his drink, he leaves after taking one last look at you, knowing he’d be back for you another cup of pumpkin spice latte.