#Group: Cosmic Wave

[ocs-res]

“Walking down a road of flowers.”

[romugh]

SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears. 

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her. 

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

[iuchamjohta]

A magic touch ft Seulgi

Word count: 9036 Tags: Thressome, Double penetration, Anal, Squirting, spitroast, vibrators, overstimulation, use of blindfold, armpit kink, a little bit of feet.

Longest fic ever of smut! Hope yall enjoy it. Seeing her fancon pics and vid made me just had to write about her. See ends for more notes The final notes of ‘Cosmic Love’, Red Velvet’s last encore song reverberated through the stadium, the lights dimmed, leaving the crowd mesmerised at the captivating performance.

A sea of applause and cheers was heard. The stage was a riot of colour and sound, and the energy in the air was almost tangible. Seulgi stood with the other members of her band, sweat glistening on their faces, her hearts pounding from the adrenaline and the sheer joy of the performance. She had just given her all for what she believed, was another stunning performance. After catching her breath, Seulgi gathered at the front of the stage, hands clasped together as her group said their final thanks and took a bow. The audience’s roar was deafening, and she felt a wave of appreciation washed over her. Her band waved, smiled, and exchanged grateful glances, soaking in the moment. The connection between them and their fans felt like a beautiful, unspoken bond. She couldn't have asked for a more incredible audience. As the final applause began to fade, Seulgi exited the stage, her steps heavy but her spirits high.

The backstage area was a hive of activity—roadies packing up equipment, crew members tidying up, and fellow artists exchanging congratulatory hugs. She felt a pang of exhaustion as she walked through the corridor leading to her dressing room. Once inside, Seulgi slumped onto the couch with a grateful sigh, but her relief was short-lived. The soreness in her muscles was impossible to ignore. After consecutive concerts that they had, it has finally taken a toll on her body. She tried to stretch, but each movement seemed to amplify the stiffness in her legs and shoulders. Seulgi grimaced and leaned back, wondering if there was a way she could magically make the pains in her body go away.

“Unnie, are you okay?” Yeri, ever observant, came over and plopped down next to Seulgi. Her eyes were full of concern as she watched Seulgi struggle to find a comfortable position. Seulgi managed a weary smile “Yeah, I’m fine, all that dancing and jumping really took its toll tonight” This was expected. Afterall, Seulgi was a born performer, she pours her heart and soul into every movement, each dance step a testament to her dedication and passion. Her flawless execution of her powerful dance moves and boundless energy never fails to captivate the audience and turn the stage into a breathtaking spectacle. “It seems, you are getting old Unnie, the magical 30 have caught up to you” Yeri teased. “Hey! I’m still youthful and energetic” Seulgi pouted, as she attempted to move, a wince of discomfort crossed her face, revealing just how sore she was. The sight of her struggling to keep up her appearances despite her aching muscles was both endearing and a bit comical, making her look even more charming in her vulnerability.

Yeri chuckled at the sight before her cute Unnie. “I’ve got something that would help you a lot,” Yeri said as she reached into her bag to pull out a business-card-sized-envelope.” Seulgi's eyes lit up upon hearing this, her eyes tracing every movement of her younger member. “What is this?” She took the card from Yeri’s hands and glanced at it. The elegant script on the front read, “A magic touch.” Written below that was Y/N, the contact details and a note that said, “The best massage for tired muscles.” “Request for Y/N, he is the best one out there” Yeri said. “Oh and tell the receptionist that I sent you and you want the Yeri’s special,” Yeri added. “ Yeri’s special? What’s that” Seulgi raised an eyebrow, intrigued at the weird request.” “It’s nothing much! They just make sure to pay more attention to you since I’m a regular” Yeri smirked to a clueless Seulgi, oblivious of what was about to unfold. "I'm all sweaty and haven't showered yet. It’s going to be late by the time I finish all that—will I still have time to make it to the massage?" Seulgi whined. "Don’t worry about that—they’ll take care of everything for you! I always go there after our concerts,” Yeri reassured her. Seulgi remembered how Yeri would often head off alone after performances and return to their apartment looking refreshed and rejuvenated, as if she were a completely new person. That was more than enough to convince Seulgi, to trust her maknae. Assuming there would be showering facilities at the parlor, Seulgi gathered her things and asked her manager to drive her to the address on the card.

The drive felt lengthy as Seulgi nervously fumbled with the black and gold business card in her hand. "Best massage out there," she muttered, hoping it wasn’t just a marketing gimmick. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, they had arrived. The manager pulled up to the front, and Seulgi double-checked the address before getting out. The massage centre was housed in a stately building with an elegant facade, its grandeur illuminated by soft, ambient lighting. The entrance was adorned with lush greenery and delicate string lights that cast a warm, inviting glow. Seulgi walked towards the entrance, her tired muscles already anticipating the relief to come. A beautifully crafted wooden door greeted her. It was flanked by tall, ornate vases filled with fresh flowers. As she pushed open the door, a gentle chime rang out, and she was greeted by a serene, luxurious interior. The lobby was a haven of calm and sophistication. Soft, instrumental music played in the background, blending harmoniously with the gentle scent of essential oils that permeated the air. The reception area featured a sleek, polished marble desk and an elegantly designed waiting area with plush seating and tranquil water features. Large, framed artworks of nature scenes adorned the walls, enhancing the sense of peaceful retreat. Seulgi approached the reception desk, where a friendly female receptionist named Emily welcomed her with a warm smile. “Erm, Yeri sent me, and she told me to request for Y/N and for the Yeri’s special” Seulgi said sheepishly, uncertain of what she was asking for. "Of course, ma'am. Please have a seat in the lobby while we prepare your room." Emily’s friendly demeanour immediately put Seulgi at ease.

After a short 10 minutes, Emily called for Seulgi telling her that the room was ready and led her down the hallway. As Seulgi walked down the hallway, she marveled at the attention to detail. The walls were lined with calming hues and soft, textured fabrics, creating an atmosphere of relaxation. Each treatment room had its own unique design, with soft lighting, comfortable massage tables, and calming decor. Seulgi was escorted to her room, which was a sanctuary of tranquility. The room featured a massage table draped in soft, pristine linens, surrounded by warm, ambient light and gentle, aromatic scents. The atmosphere was inviting, promising a session of deep relaxation and rejuvenation. Seductive like a siren, was what came to mind in Seulgi's head as she saw the layout. She shook that thought out of her head and sat at the large massage table in the middle of the room." You can leave your clothes and bra here, but please keep your underwear on," Emily instructed. Once Seulgi was ready, she asked if there was a nearby shower, she could use. Emily reassured her with a smile, "Don’t worry, our masseuse will take care of everything, including a wash before your session." Emily then took out a soft silk satin blindfold and prepared to place it over Seulgi's eyes. "Um, what’s this for?" Seulgi asked. Emily smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, it helps you close your eyes and relax, enhancing your overall experience." Emily gently placed the soft silk satin blindfold over Seulgi's eyes, the cool fabric settling comfortably against her skin. As she adjusted the blindfold to ensure it was secure yet gentle, Seulgi felt a soothing darkness envelop her. The sensation of the blindfold heightened her other senses, allowing her to fully immerse herself in the forthcoming relaxation. The absence of visual distractions helped her mind quiet, creating a deeper sense of calm and anticipation for the massage ahead.

As Seulgi laid face up on the plush massage table, she settled into the comfortable linens and took a deep breath, readying herself for the massage. After about 5 minutes, she expected to hear the footsteps of just one person, the masseuse. However, as she listened closely, she detected the sound of 2 pairs of footsteps approaching. A slight rustling and murmured conversation filled the air, piquing her curiosity about what was happening just outside her line of sight. “Are you ready for your cleaning? Seulgi” You asked with a deep voice. Her face changed to an initial surprised expression. She was showing her idol body to what she believed was not 1 but 2 male masseurs. This expression faded quickly as she reminded herself that this was a professional setting and that they were here to help her relax. Trusting in the professionalism of the staff, she put her concerns aside and nodded softly prepared to fully embrace the massage experience. You took in the magnificent view before you. Seulgi was incredibly sexy.

She exuded an effortless allure, her skin glowing with a subtle sheen of sweat that highlighted her toned physique. Her hair, slightly damp, framed her face beautifully, and her well-defined abs…those well-defined abs were to die for. Her breasts were full, and her curves accentuated her plump meaty ass. You and your partner, Alison, take in her irresistible feminine scent and begin your work. "Let's start with your tongue bath, shall we?" Seulgi was shocked by that very different meaning of cleaning, but before she responded, you and Alison began your slow, sensual tongue massage. Starting at her ears, you trace the outline of her lobes with your tongues, flicking the delicate skin with the tips. Seulgi lets out a soft moan, instead of protesting, she lets her head tilt back to give you better access. She was secretly enjoying the moment as well.  You pause at her earlobes, sucking and nibbling gently. Lowering your mouths, you lick a path down her jawline, your tongues working in unison as you coat her skin with your warm saliva, enjoying the way her body squirms in response.

Then, lifting her arms, you move down to her armpits, an area that deserves your special attention. You notice the sweat that glitters on her arch, and can’t help but take a deep breath, inhaling her scent fully. You and Alison take one pit each, burying your faces in the sweet-smelling hollows. Your tongues dart out, licking every inch of her sweat-glistened skin, tasting the tangy, musky flavour of her arousal. You suck and nip at the sensitive folds of her skin, replacing her sweat with your saliva, your breath hot against her pits, making her whimper with pleasure. After thoroughly cleaning and worshipping her armpits, you trace a path down to her chest, circling her nipples but not quite touching them yet. You lick and nibble at the soft flesh of her breasts, your tongues flattening to cover as much area as possible. Finally, you can't resist any longer, and you latch your mouths onto her erect nipples, sucking gently at first, then with more intensity. Seulgi's breath quickens, her hands instinctively going to your heads, threading her fingers through your hair as you tease her sensitive peaks."Oh, fuck... that feels so good," she breathes, her hips bucking unconsciously as waves of pleasure shot through to her already throbbing pussy. She was leaking wet and feeling exposed at the mercy of you and Alison. She was relieved that she could keep her underwear on, which provided a final layer of modesty and protection, sparing her from potential embarrassment and preserving her dignity.

You and Alison continued your work giving each nipple equal attention, your hands occasionally roaming her body, caressing her soft skin, your fingers gently pinching and rolling her nipples when your mouths aren't on them. Both of you work in unison as if a mirror to each other's movements giving the same attention to both halves of her body. Teasingly, you trail your tongues down her quivering abdomen, circling her belly button before dipping in as well. You swiped your tongue along her well-defined abs, feeling her toned muscle on your tongue. Her skin is like a canvas, and you're painting it with your saliva, marking her with your lust. As both of you traced down her curves and thighs with your tongue finally reaching the waistband of her soaking panties, you paused and looked at her with hungry eyes. "Already so wet down here," you comment, your voice husky with desire. Seulgi’s face flushed with embarrassment upon hearing this. Seulgi bites her lip, anticipation coursing through her veins. "Please... I need more."You chuckle softly, enjoying the power you hold over her. Instead of going straight for her pussy, you surprise her by capturing her feet in your hands. You and Alison take a foot each, kissing and licking the delicate skin of her soles and toes, sucking on her toes one by one, making her squirm. After thoroughly worshipping her feet, you use your hands to massage her calves and thighs, working your way back up her body. You avoid her pussy, your fingers brushing agonisingly close, but never quite touching her aching core. Seulgi is panting now, her need palpable in the room. Her pussy is leaking onto her panties, the wet spot growing bigger by the second. "Please... touch me," she begs, her voice thick with desire. "Not yet sweetheart. We're going to take our time with you," you whisper, your lips brushing against her earlobe, commanding a certain dominance in your voice. You took a step back to admire the view. Seulgi's body is glistening with both of your saliva, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she anticipates your next move. Proud of the tongue-bath you gave her. You reach out and gently grasp her panty-clad ass, giving each cheek a soft squeeze before slowly sliding your hands down to cup her pussy. You feel the heat radiating from her core, the damp fabric of her panty, a testament to her arousal. Using just the tips of your fingers, you massage her outer lips through the fabric, avoiding her clit and entrance, much to her frustration. "Tease," she whimpers, trying to push her hips toward your hand. You chuckle, enjoying her squirm. "All in good time, sweetheart." You move lower, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Seulgi whimpers, her need building with every touch. Her pussy is dripping wet, but you continue to avoid it, focusing on the areas surrounding it.

Then as if understanding each other, both of your tongues and hands leave her body, causing her to feel empty and wanting. Seulgi lay still on the massage table, her senses heightened by the uncertainty of what was happening with the blindfold still covering her eyesight. The silence of the room was then interrupted by the soft squirt of massage oil being dispensed from the bottle. The sound was immediately followed by a cool, liquid sensation as the oil was gently applied to her skin. The initial contact of the cold oil against her warm, slightly damp body made her shiver pleasantly. The contrast between the chill of the oil and the warmth of her skin was both surprising and invigorating. Using slow and deliberate movements, you continued to pour the cool scented oil onto her body, starting with her shoulders and working your way down. Her skin glistens in the soft light as you massage the oil into her flesh, your strong hands working out any tension she might have, untying every knot in her body. Your hands move down to cup one of her breasts, and you could feel her nipples already rock hard from your skilled touch. Your hands gave her firm breast a strong squeeze. “Oh, yes,” Seulgi moaned, arching her back as you continued to knead her flesh more roughly. “Don’t stop,” Capturing her nipples between your fingers, you rolled them gently before you and Alison gave it a rough tug, seeing how far it could stretch, before letting it spring back to her chest. This move left Seulgi moaning loudly and whimpering in a hot mess. Her breath quickens as your hands glide lower, caressing her inner thighs, inching towards her core but never quite touching it. You both chuckle darkly at her frustrated whimpers.

Both of you pulled away again and grabbed something from the desk. A soft vibrating sound was heard, which she guessed was a bullet vibrator. You and Alison switched places now, you attending to her lower body, while Alison her upper. The blindfold was doing its work, keeping her anticipating the next move yet never knowing when it was going to come. Tracing the cool metal over her skin, you watch as goosebumps rise in its wake. Seulgi shivers, her breath catching in her throat as you slowly drag the vibrator up her thigh, closer and closer to her aching pussy. Meanwhile Alison worked his way down her arm and to her heavy breast, circling her rock-hard tits but never quite touching it again. You continued to administer this treatment for a good 5 minutes, always nearing her core but never touching it. This to Seulgi felt like an hour. She squirms, her hips bucking slightly as she tries to rub her neglected pussy against the table to gain some sort of friction. “Such a good girl for us” Alison murmurs. “Please... I need... to cum" she pleads, her voice hoarse with desire. "Patience, my dear, you will only cum when we allow you to" you chide gently but with utmost dominance in your tone, which leaves Seulgi submissive and unable to protest. Grabbing some tape, you and Alison place the bullet vibrators on each of her tits "You like that, huh? Like us playing with your tits?" you murmur, your lips brushing her ear. You blow a gentle stream of air onto her damp nipples, causing her to shudder, and then you twist and tug on them, earning a keening whine from Seulgi before finally securing the vibrator firmly in place on her tits.

Instead of giving her the relief she craves, you take another vibrator and press the vibrator to her inner thigh, just below her pussy, taping it in place. Seulgi lets out a frustrated whine, wanting the vibrator to be exactly where she needs it. At this point, her underwear had been so soaked that it turned a completely different shade of colour from her initial bright pink to a deep red velvet (I know I couldn't help it). It has been almost an hour of edging and teasing yet Seulgi was unable to get the release she had been chasing.

“Turn around for me sweetheart” you instruct, giving her a playful smack on the ass. The sound echoing through the still and silent room as you leave a slightly red handprint on her fleshy globes. Seulgi does as she's told, presenting her round, peachy ass to you. It's a glorious sight, and you can't resist caressing the soft, plump cheeks, revelling in the softness of her skin. With her chest now pressed against the massage table, she could feel the bullet vibrators, vibration stronger on her nipples and the sudden pleasure shot through to her core, causing an accident mini squirt out of her throbbing pussy. Did she just have an orgasm from just having her tits played with? Seulgi thought. She however had hoped that this would have gone unnoticed to both of you. To an experienced masseur like you, it was immediately apparent. “Did you just cum? You slut, who said you could” Your deep voice echoed with authority. “Naughty girl like you needs to be punished!”  You grip her plump ass cheeks, squeezing them firmly before landing a sharp smack that echoes through the room. Seulgi yelps, but it quickly turns into a moan as you massage the heat from the spank. ‘That's a good girl. You are enjoying this aren't you? Taking your punishment so well," Alison purrs, landing another smack, this time on the other cheek. Both of you continued to land open handed smacks on her ass until it was glowing a rosy, red, you admired your handiwork, running your hands over the warm flesh. Seulgi squirms, desperate for more which you do not disappoint.

You and Alison stand on either side of her once more, your hands roaming her back and ass, massaging and kneading the supple flesh, administering the same treatment as you did to her front. Your fingers glide down the crack of her ass, teasingly close to her most intimate hole, but never quite breaching it. “Well, there is one more area we have not cleaned sweetheart” Slipping her soaked undies off and placing them on the table beside you, you leaned down and bury your face in her ass, your tongue snaking out to lick a path from the tail bone down to her crack, tasting the salty sweetness of her most private areas. Seulgi moans, her head falling forward to rest on the table as she basks in the sensations bombarding her body. Alison joins in, and together, you eat her out, your tongues working in harmony to pleasure her. Alison licks and sucks at her pussy, delving into her wet folds, tasting her sweet nectar. At the same time, you rim her tight asshole, circling the wrinkled flesh with your tongues, teasingly penetrating her with the tips. Seulgi is lost in a haze of pleasure, her body shaking uncontrollably as she nears her orgasm with the attention her holes are finally getting. "Oh God, I'm gonna cum... don't stop!" she cries out, her hands gripping the edges of the table as she braces herself for the impending explosion. “Hold it slut” both you and Alison, remove your tongues from holes. “Please, let me cum” Seulgi begged. Seeing her sincerity, you relented with an agreement, “You only get to cum on our count of 3 from now on, is that understood?” You declared with a certain firmness in your voice, eliciting a nod from Seulgi.

With that said, you and Alison in union dived back into her holes, lapping away hungrily at both of her holes. Then Seulgi heard the count as she reached her orgasm. “3” Seulgi fist clenches hard on the sheets trying to hold her orgasm. “2” you hear her whimpering as if begging you to count faster. “1” You intentionally drag the 1 as you swirl your tongue relentlessly around the wrinkled hole. Meanwhile Alison, captured her clit with his mouth and gave it a rough suck. Her knuckles were white at this point, before you finally gave the command “Cum” As if she was being liberated from a cage, Seulgi convulsed hard, releasing one of the strongest orgasms she ever had. Spraying Alison’s face with her squirt, some even reaching the room walls. A pool of her juice was even formed on the sheets below her. As her orgasm starts to subside, you and Alison lap at her remaining juice that tasted sweet as nectar before slowly pulling away, your tongues and lips glistening with her essence. You take a moment to admire your handiwork, your beautiful client splayed out on the table, her body spent and satisfied. “It is my first-time squirting” Seulgi pants while trying to catch her breath. “Don’t worry it will not be your last. “You smirked leaving her to wonder what you meant. This session was just getting started.

You reach for some more massage oil, warming it in your hands before pouring it onto Seulgi's back, your slick hands gliding over her supple skin. You work the oil into her muscles, your fingers firm yet gentle as you soothe away any remaining tension. Your hands roam lower, cupping her ass cheeks and spreading them slightly to expose her tight, quivering asshole once again. You rub the oil into her crease, your fingers teasingly circling her hole, making her moan and squirm. Before she could protest or had enough time to recover from her orgasm, you slip a finger inside her ass, your other hand reaching under to find her swollen clit. “Oh God, I have never had anything in there” She moaned. Ignoring her, you finger-fuck her tight hole slowly, as your other hand works its magic on her clit, rubbing and circling the sensitive bud. Alison joins in, running his hands up Seulgi’s thick thighs, spreading them slightly, moving to kneel before Seulgi. Her pussy is completely bare, her lips already swollen from the previous simulation. He leaned forward, inhaling her sweet musk before tracing his tongue along her slit. She tastes of honey and desire, and Alison moans softly as he laps at her, his tongue flicking over her clit, replacing your fingers. Teasingly he inserted one finger into her tight hole and felt her wet clench around his fingers.  "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," Alison groaned, adding a second finger and scissoring them inside her. Seulgi keens, her body writhing as both of you stretch and fill her. "More... I need more," she begs, her hands reaching back to grip your wrists. Squirting a little more oil to your fingers, you slowly added a second finger, slowly pushing it deeper into Seulgi's ass, stretching her slowly as you work her in a steady rhythm. Seulgi gasps, her body tensing momentarily before relaxing as you curled your finger, searching for that sweet spot. Meanwhile Alison continued to lick and suck on her clit, his own fingers buried deep inside her pussy, slowly quickening his fingering, until with every thrust, a squelching sound could be heard from how wet Seulgi’s pussy had become. "Mmm, that's it," you encouraged. "Take it all, Seulgi. We know you can take more." You give her fleshy ass a playful bite before licking the redden area, as you fuck your fingers deeper into her ass, feeling the tight hole clench around your finger even more with every playful bite that you give her.

Synchronising your movements, your fingers and tongues working in tandem to drive Seulgi wild. Her breathing becomes ragged, her hips bucking as she cries out, her third orgasm approaching rapidly. You don't stop, determined to push her further. You slip a third finger into her ass, scissoring her as you suck another reddened spot you created. Alison mirrors your movements, adding a third finger to Seulgi’s pussy fucking her with powerful deliberate strokes. "Oh my God, oh my God," Seulgi chants, her body glistening with a mixture of lube and her own juices. "I'm going to cum again, please don't stop!" "That's it, baby. Cum for us," Alison urges, his voice hoarse. With that , the magical countdown began “3…2….1…” Again, you intentionally hold the 1, which causes Seulgi to once again grip the sheets tightly. “Cum, let it all go sweetheart” you encouraged, your voice thick with desire. As if on command, and with a few more quick thrusts of your fingers and relentless rubbing of her clit, Seulgi tumbles over the edge. She cries out, her body convulsing as she rides out another powerful orgasm, her juices dripping down Alison’s hand. Alison presses his fingers against Seulgi’s lips, which Seulgi subconsciously opened invitingly to suck his fingers clean. She felt so dirty tasting herself but was surprised at how sweet it tasted. Before she had time to recover from her orgasm, your fingers re-entered her puckered hole, this time with a fourth finger. Alison, seeing this joined back, filling her empty pussy with 4 fingers as well. Seulgi screams, her body shaking uncontrollably. "Too much! Oh, God, it's too much! I need a break" she cries, her voice high and breathless. "Relax, baby. Let it happen," you soothed. As you and Alison continued the assault, relentlessly stretching out her holes, you sensed Seulgi’s 4th orgasm was coming and you began the routine. “3….2....1” “Cum you slut”. Her orgasm hits her like a wave, her body trembling as she cries out, her pussy clenching around Alison’s fingers. You feel her ass contracting around your fingers and you know she’s experiencing an intense, full body release.

You remove your fingers, her ass gripping them tightly as you pull them out, reluctant to let go. You marvel at the sight of her gaping hole, satisfied at how stretched it looks. Seulgi collapses onto the table, spent and satisfied, a lazy smile on her face, her eyes closed as she basks in the afterglow. "That... was incredible," she manages to gasp. You stand there, taking in the sight of her gorgeous, satisfied body, giving her a short break before removing the taped vibrators on her tits and thighs. This deceived Seulgi into thinking the session was finally over after 4 hard orgasms. Little did she know what “Yeri’s special entailed”. Like energy that cannot be destroyed or created only converted to other forms, so was the use of the bullet vibrator, it simply had a new function this time. Swapping places with Alison, you push the vibrator deep inside her pussy causing her eyes to open to the darkness of the blindfold. The buzz echoed through Seulgi's body as you slowly work the vibrator in and out, scissoring her occasionally as you allow the vibrator to work its magic. As you continue to fuck her with the vibrator, relentless in your pursuit of her pleasure. Alison adds the second vibrator, pushing it into her ass as you focus on her pussy. Seulgi is sent into a mess of writhing limbs and incoherent moans as you drive her to the edge again and again, her body shaking with another orgasm. With every orgasm, you applied the same rule, only allowing her to cum when you gave the command, conditioning her body to your words.

Then, sitting Seulgi up, Alison went behind Seulgi, cupping her breast giving them a gentle squeeze and massage, before she suddenly hears a different vibrating sound this time, one more powerful that filled the room. “What is…” Before she could even finish her sentence, you pressed the vibrating wand in your hand against her clit, making her cry out in surprise and pleasure. Her hands clutch at the sheets, her body already on edge. If Alison was not behind her supporting her, she would have crashed onto the floor by now. “Fuckkkk , please, let me come” You smile, holding the vibrator firmly in place, watching her squirm and writhe. Her pussy is already glistening with arousal, her clit begging for more attention. “3…2…1…. Cum for me Seulgi, let me see you fall apart” You turn up the intensity on all the vibrators, making her cry out loudly as she felt the vibrators rub against each other. Her body convulses, her back arching as the orgasm crashes through her. You hold the wand firmly against her clit, prolonging her pleasure, riding out the wave. “Please… no more…” You ignore her, repeating the countdown, time and time again. “One more time sweetheart” you demanded one orgasm after another, and she delivers each time with her body solely responding to the countdown now. After a boundless amount of orgasm, Seulgi feels like she has almost lost her mind from the over-stimulation.

Then there was silence…… Everything was removed in an instant from her body and the vibrations went still . She felt Alison standing up from behind her as well. “Y/N, are you there?” There was no response for another 15 seconds, and just as she was about to take off her blindfolds to understand the situation, she heard the ritual that by this time, her body was all too familiar with. “3…2….” “Wait, I can’t cum anymore, it’s too much” She protested while wondering also how she would be able to cum, with all the stimulants removed, “1..” As she heard the 1, her body anticipated a pending orgasm, but she needed a little something that would push her over the edge. You are more than happy to oblige. “Cum” You surprise her with an open-handed smack right on her sensitive pussy. The sound echoes through the room, and Seulgi's eyes roll to the back of her head as another orgasm takes hold of her. This time, it's too much, and she squirts even more powerfully, her juices drenching you. "Oh, fucking hell..." she screams, her body shaking uncontrollably. "I'm squirting... Can't hold it..." You laugh, a deep, satisfied sound, as you watch her lose control. "That's it, drench us, you filthy slut," you growl, your voice thick with satisfaction. Her juices coat your hands and your body with multiple spurts that she could not control, a testament to the pleasure you've given her. Finally, you relent, and let her body rest. Seulgi lies boneless on the table, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. You and Alison clean her up using the towels, before you see her soaked panties on the table and a nasty thought crosses your mind. Using it as if it is a sponge, you swipe her already soaked fabric on the pool that had formed on the massage table between Seulgi’s legs, making it dripping with her essence. “Here, drink up” Your finger grabbing her chin as a sign for her to open up her mouth. Seulgi still deprived of her eyesight, innocently consented and opened her mouth assuming it was water. You squeeze the soaked panties, allowing the essence to fall directly into her mouth. She was initially shocked at the quantity and the taste of it before recognising what it was but swallowed it anyway like a good girl she was. You did this a few more times, hydrating her with her own essence making her feel like a dirty little slut.

Seulgi closed her eyes and accidentally drifted off into sleep while you guys were doing the remaining cleaning up. You smile gently at the sight of the cute girl before you who you had known had given her all on and off stage. After a while, she stirs a little and the blindfold falls off, and she blinks, her eyes adjusting to the soft light of the room. “Welcome back sweetheart” you murmur a satisfied smile on your face. Seulgi cracks a lazy smile, her entire body tingling with post-orgasmic bliss. "That... was incredible. I've never experienced anything like it." her body is feeling renewed by now.  Her gaze lands on you both, and her breath catches in her throat as she takes in the sight of your eager, hard cocks

"It is my turn to return the favor," she purrs, her voice thick with desire. She kneels before you both, her eyes sparkling with mischief. You and Alison stand side by side, your cocks twitching with anticipation as your 7-inch cocks throbbed with need. It was professionalism but more so a miracle that kept you guys from fucking her in the past hour and half. I mean who could resist such an insanely sexy body like Seulgi’s. She was such a sexy vixen. "Suck us off, sweetheart," you growl, your voice deep and husky. "Show us how much you appreciated the massage." Seulgi's eyes shine as she looks up at you, and then her gaze shifts to Alison. Her lip’s part, and she leans forward, wrapping her lips around your cockhead. She swirls her tongue around the sensitive ridge, teasing you with soft sucks and gentle nips. Her hands explore your thighs, squeezing the firm muscle, her touch sending shivers up your bodies. You groan as you watch her, your cock throbbing fiercely. "That's it, baby," you encourage her. "You like the taste of this dick, don't you?" Seulgi hums in response, the vibrations sending a jolt through your body. You thread your fingers into her hair, guiding her pace, sliding your length in and out of her warm, wet mouth. Not wanting to leave Alison out, she uses her hands to gather the saliva dripping down her chin from the blowjob, lubricating it before stretching them out to give Alison’s slow but firm strokes on his cock. Soon she was controlling the pace and alternating between the both of you. Seulgi uses her warm hands to stroke your length this time, while she takes Alison deeper, her lips gliding to the base of Alison’s cock and her tongue grazing the underside of his shaft. She increases her pace in her double administration, stroking faster while bobbing her head quicker, maintaining eye contact, and you can see the desire burning in her eye. It was a sloppy mess and you and Alison were grunting and clenching your fist to not release too quickly from the expert skills of the sexy vixen before you.

You look over to Alison, and without a word he nods, as if understanding you too well. Together, you stopped Seulgi and urged her to stand. You lead her to the massage table and gently lay her down, her head hanging off the edge. Her neck is exposed, her hair cascading down, providing the perfect access to her pretty mouth. "You ready for a face fuck, baby?" you ask. Seulgi's eyes glitter with excitement. "Please," she whispers, her breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck my mouth. I want to feel you." You don't need to be told twice. You step up to the table, positioning your throbbing cock at her lips. Her mouth opens, and you slide in, her warm, wet tongue greeting you. You groan as you start to thrust, your hands tangling in her hair, holding her in place as you begin to fuck her face. Her mouth is hot and tight around your cock, her tongue dancing along your length. You pull out, your cock slick with her saliva, and then plunge back in, going deeper each time, hitting the back of her throat. Your balls graze her nose each time you fuck deeply into her throat, forcing her to inhale the musky scent it was giving off, which turned her on even more. You watch as her eyes water, the signs of her slight discomfort only spurring you on. "You like that, don't you, baby?" you grunt. "You like getting your throat fucked by this dick." Seulgi manages a throaty moan in response, her hands grasping at your thighs as you pound her mouth. Shifting your hands, you reached out to stroke Seulgi’s throat, you could feel your cock going in and out of her. You applied some pressure and tightened your hold of her throat, which causes her throat to also tighten around your huge cock increasing your pleasure. She gags on it, her face glistening with more and more spit with every passing second. After a while, you thought of your partner and pulled out, leaving her lips glistening and swollen, and stepped aside for Alison to take your place. He plunges into her mouth, his cock slick and hard, and begins to thrust, his pace frantic as he fills her mouth over and over.

As Alison uses her mouth, you take the opportunity to explore her body again. Your hands glide over her soft skin, caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her squirm and moan around Alison’s cock. You trace your fingers down her stomach, dipping into her navel, before sliding your hand lower, between her thighs. Her pussy is dripping wet again from the face fuck, the evidence of her arousal coating your fingers as you rub her clit in slow, teasing circles. Seulgi bucks her hips, her breath coming in sharp gasps as you torture her with pleasure. "Please," she whimpers, her voice muffled by Alison's cock. "I need more." You chuckle as you think to yourself of what an insatiable slut Seulgi is, even her countless orgasm was not yet enough for her, but then you remembered …. Well Yeri’s way worse.  “Fuck her Y/N”. Alison grunted. You do not need to be told twice. You position yourself at her entrance, the tip of your cock teasing her wet, eager hole. With one smooth thrust, you sink into her, her heat enveloping and accommodating your big cock. Seulgi cries out, her back arching as you fill her completely. You give her a moment to adjust to your size, revelling in the feeling of her tight pussy clenching around you. "Ready for more, baby?" you ask, your voice rough. Seulgi manages a nod, her eyes wild with desire. You begin to move, slowly at first, pulling out until just the head of your cock remains inside her, before slamming back into her with force in one swoop. Seulgi screams, her legs wrapping around your waist, her heels digging into your ass, urging you on. Then, you set a relentless pace, pounding into her, your balls slapping against her ass with each deep thrust. Her pussy grips you tightly, milking your cock. It was a rhythmic and synchromatic mess. With every hard thrust that you fuck Seulgi with, it pushes her take take more of Alison’s cock down her throat. Similarly with every thrust that Alison’s fucks Seulgi’s throat with, she was pushed back to take your shaft deeper into her. This spit roast left Seulgi at the mercy of both of you controlling the pace. She felt like she was merely a vessel of pleasure to be used by both of you at this point and all of you knew it would not be long before you all found your release. "I'm close," she whimpers. "Please, don't stop." You grin and thrust harder, your cock plunging deep into her wetness. "Cum for me, baby," you grunt. "Cum all over my cock." Seulgi's body tenses, and she lets out a cry, her face contorting and pussy clenching around you like a vice. Her orgasm washes over her, her juices flooding your cock, as she rides out her intense release. The sight of her climax pushes you over the edge. You pound into her a few more times, feeling your balls tighten as your orgasm builds. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you grit out. "I'm gonna fill that tight pussy with my load." Seulgi moans in response, encouraging you to let go. You thrust a few more times, before remembering she is still an idol. You quickly pull out, your cock throbbing as you spill your cum painting her abs and tits. Ropes after ropes of your hot cum covers her, and you grunt in satisfaction as you ride out your orgasm. Within seconds of this hot sight, Alison reaches his high as well. Holding her head in place, he gives one more deep thrust before ejaculating hard down her throat. The warm liquid fills her throat as Seulgi gags and tries to swallow everything but fails as some of it drips down her lips and chin onto the linens on the massage chair. Licking the side of her lips, she does something none of you expected, she turns slightly and dips her tongue onto the linens, cleaning up whatever cum that had spilled on it. “Damn, what a dirty slut” you said. This erotic sight that was displayed before both of you made your cocks hard again, ready and energised for round 2.

Alison wasted no time, wanting to feel her pussy this time, positioned himself on the massage table. “Ride me Seulgi” Seulgi straddled him, aligning herself with Alison’s cock, she lowered her hips patiently and felt the full length of Alison’s cock pushing through her folds. “Fuuuck” She groans in pleasure. Once she had adjusted enough to Alison’s cock, she began to ride Alison at a steady pace. You watched as she rode him, her perfect ass bouncing with each thrust. She threw her head back, moaning with pleasure as Alison filled her pussy. As she continued to ride him, you approached sneakily from behind, your cock twitching with anticipation. Suddenly, Seulgi felt your hard cock teasingly probing at her virgin asshole. “I’ve never done this before!” Seulgi said with a concerned look, wondering how she was going to fit all those 7 inches into her virgin asshole. With one hand on her back, you pushed her slightly forward, bending her down unto Alison’s body. With her ass lifted, Alison moves his hands to her ass cheeks, parting it slightly, giving you a clear view of her now exposed rosebuds. Lubing up your hard cock, you entered her tight hole slowly, feeling the tough resistance of her virgin ass enveloping your cock.  Seulgi gasped at the sensation, her body tensing. "Oh fuck, it's so full." You gripped her hips, slowly pushing it inch by inch into her ass, giving her time to adjust to the feeling, until she managed to take you all the way to the base of your shaft. "Relax, baby," you whispered. "You're doing great." you whispered into her ears as you began thrusting in and out of her ass. Alison, feeling the new tightness of this position started pistoning into pussy, his hips slapping against her clit. The bed creaked with the force of your combined thrusts. As Seulgi’s breast were bouncing all over the place, you reached around, squeezing Seulgi's tits, using them as handlebars as you continued to fuck her ass. "God, she's tight," Alison grunted. "Feels so good." You spanked Seulgi's ass, leaving red handprints on her cheeks. "Take it, you dirty girl," you growled. "Take our cocks in both your holes. Seulgi cried out, the sensation overwhelming her. The feeling of being filled in both holes sent her approaching an intense orgasm. Sensing her impeding orgasm, you gripped her tits harder, and sped up fucking her ass. Meanwhile, Alison gripped Seulgi’s waist and forced her to lower herself onto his slick cock while at the same time thrusting himself up into her wanting cunt, spearing her folds. You leaned forward, nibbling on her earlobe. "That's it, baby. Cum all over our cocks.” This sent her to the edge as her lower body convulsed and trembled, clutching at Alison’s shoulder as she came hard around both of your cocks, her juices flowing.

You withdrew from her ass, sliding your cock out with a wet pop. Lifting Seulgi off Alison’s cock, you spun her around into a reverse cowgirl position now, making her face you, her eyes still sparking with lust. Alison’s cock was glistening with her juice, repositioning himself, he guided his cock towards her ass. Seulgi gasped as she felt the head push against her tight hole. She moaned as you slowly lowered her down onto Alison’s, allowing her to feel it penetration her tender walls once again. "Fuck, this ass is so tight," Alison grunted, his voice strained as he fought for control. Once, you see that Alison’s cock has completely disappeared into her ass, you guided your shaft towards her pussy, rubbing the head against her swollen folds before slipping inside. Seulgi's face contorts into a whimpering mess, her moans are now pants of inaudible words, as both of your cocks stretched her to her limits. Both of you began to move in unison, your hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. Alison's cock slid in and out of her ass, from her riding while your piston-like movements in her pussy drove her wild. You could feel Alison’s cock in her ass, pressing against your own through the thin membrane separating her holes. It was an incredible sensation, feeling her body filled to the brim. Seulgi was being fucked mercilessly; her senses overwhelmed as both of you used her body for their pleasure. As you continued fucking her, you reached forward, cupping her tits and tweaking her nipples. "Your body is so fucking perfect," “Made for our cocks’ Seulgi threw her head back, her long hair trailing down her back. Taking the opportunity, you leaned forward, your lips crashing against hers. It was a sloppy, passionate make out, your tongues tangling for dominance as you tasted each other, your hands still played with her tits, rolling her sensitive nipples between your fingers. Breaking the kiss, you trail kisses down her neck, savouring the taste of her skin. You continue lower, your mouth enveloping one of her nipples, sucking and biting gently as you twist the other peak between your fingers. Not wanting to be outdone, Alison reached around her, his hand searching for her clit. Upon finding the swollen nub. He rubbed circles around it, his fingers slick with her arousal as he thrust his balls slapping against her ass "Come on, baby, cum for us again. Let us feel that your holes clench around our cocks again," he growled as he gave her swollen nub a pinch.  Seulgi's body obeyed his command. Her orgasm crashed over her, and her ass and pussy clenched around your cocks. You and Alison groaned, your own pleasure building as you felt her walls pulsate around them. Not wanting to cum just yet, you and Alison slowed your pace, taking deep breaths as you fought for control. You wanted to edge closer to the precipice, but not fall over just yet.

Withdrawing from her, you helped Seulgi move into a new position. She lay on her side, her legs drawn up, offering both her holes in a spooning position. This time you wanted her tight ass again, so you positioned yourself behind her while Alison took her front. Seulgi is once again sandwiched between the two of you as you both enter her again. This time her muscles were relaxed to accommodate your thickness. Given how slick both of your cocks and her holes were, you guys slid into her easily, filling her up again as she arched her back, pushing her ass back towards you. You both set up a steady, hard rhythm, double-penetrating Seulgi, who was squirming and moaning, her body on fire with pleasure being impaled on two hard cocks. "You like being our sexy little slut, don't you?" "Yes!" she cries, her head tossing from side to side. "I'm your slut, your dirty little toy! Make me cum, please!" Seulgi was surprised at how dirty she sounded but at this moment all she could think about was her release. You chuckled then with a mischievous grin, you reached for the bullet vibrator once again, switching it on and teasing her clit with it. She bucked her hips, her breath catching as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure through her body. Then, you pulled out of her ass and slipped the vibrator into her tight hole before thrusting your cock back in, fucking the toy into her with your cock. Alison mirrors this action, grabbing another bullet vibrator and slipping it into her pussy, the toy disappearing instantly into her slick hole, before continuing to fuck her pussy with it. Her pussy and ass were all being used, filled and simulated and on the brink of a powerful orgasm. "Oh god, I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum so hard! " She cried out.  You felt Alison's balls slapping against Seulgi's pussy as he pounded into her, and you knew he too was close. You could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of your cocks fucking her tight holes, and the vibrations of the bullets added a whole new level of intensity. "Cum with me, sweetheart.” “Let go, I want to feel you milk us with your tight holes.” Your words send her over the edge, as Seulgi convulses, cumming harder than she had ever done before in her life. Her pussy contracts around Alison’s cock, and her ass clamps down on yours, attempting to milk you both as she orgasms. “Fill me with your cum” Seulgi begged. Not being able to hold out any longer, with one final, powerful thrust, Alison emptied his load deep inside Seulgi's pussy. His cum mixed with her juices as he filled her up, and the feeling of his hot seed pushed you over the edge. Rope after rope of your cum shot into Seulgi's ass, your cock twitching with each pulse. You felt spent, but the pleasure was overwhelming. The three of you collapsed in a heap, your sweat-covered bodies intertwined. Seulgi’s holes gaping from the intense fucking. Seulgi turned to face you, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. She kissed you deeply, tasting herself on your lips, and then turned to Jake, doing the same. The three of you lay there, catching your breath, the bullet vibrators still buzzing gently inside her. "That was the most intense thing I've ever experienced," she breathed, running her hands over her body. "I can't wait to do it again." She could see why Yeri would come here regularly, discovering how much of a freak her maknae is. Magically, every knot in her body was gone and her muscle ache had disappeared even though the past 3 hours of non-stop debauchery was an intense workout itself. “I look forward to seeing you again sweetheart” you said as you helped Seulgi wipe the remaining cum off her skin and helped her get dressed. She was one of your favourite clients, given how hot her body is.

As she walked in the door of her apartment feeling refreshed and like a new person after the massage, Yeri was waiting for her. "Well, someone looks completely renewed!" Yeri teased with a smile. “You were such a slut out there Unnie” Yeri said as she flipped her phone over, revealing that she had access to the livestream of the entire session the whole time. “YAH, KIM YERI, YOU BETTER DELETE THAT” She exclaimed, her face completely flushed in embarrassment as she hurried straight to her room. As Seulgi sank into her bed, she recalled the events that had transpired, and rubbed her clothed pussy. She could not wait for her next session with you. “A magic touch indeed” Who knows maybe she would one day even come here together with Yeri or her group for a combined session with you.

Thanks for reading my second piece. Her abs are to die for!! Will appreciate, comments likes or reblogs! Hope you guys enjoyed many words worth of smut! Request are open but I will only write request that I find interesting enough and are idols I enjoy unless you would like to commission a piece. Do check out my first piece if you havent as well! I'm so surprised it has reach 750 notes and am thankful for support. Not sure if I will release fics are regular as now as I only write when I have a motivation! Cheers

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 23

part 1 | part 22 | ao3

cw: alcohol, recreational drinking

Steve fusses with his hair in the side mirror again, tugging awkwardly at his borrowed clothes. He feels stupid, standing here fidgeting in the parking lot like some kind of nervous freshman, but half of Hawkins seems to be here tonight and Robin’s got him dressed like a loser — worn green flannel and a ripped black tee with a faded picture of The Smiths. Jesus. “Did you really have to dress me like this?” 

“What? You look cute!” 

“I look like I raided Jonathan Byers’ closet.”

“No, you look like someone a certain neighbor is going to be drooling over all night.” Steve’s grateful for the dark then; for the blush it hides on his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you don't know how to make a deal; if you wanted to borrow a specific shirt, you should have said so before we shook on it.”

“Besides,” she ignores him when he rolls his eyes at her, “you wouldn’t even let me smudge eyeliner on your lower lash line like I wanted to, so I really don't feel like you’ve earned complaining privileges.” 

“I’ll complain if I fucking want to,” he grumbles under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair one more time, then forces himself to look away from the mirror. Rolls his shoulders back and down. “He’s not even here, anyway.”

“Ah-ha! So you did check.” She links their arms together, starts dragging Steve across the uneven gravel, her ankles wobbling in her low-heeled boots. “‘Just looking for a good parking spot,’ my ass. God, I’m always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct. I should really play the lottery next time I visit my grandparents..."

“Uh huh.” He’s not sure what luck and correctness have to do with each other, but sure.

She stumbles over a rock; pushes into his side, grinning, “I’m serious! I’ll play the lottery, and I’ll win big, and then you’ll see. Might even split my winnings with you if you’re nice to me.” 

“I’m literally so nice to you all the time, but okay. Can’t wait to take half your earnings when you get ten bucks off a scratcher.” 

“Hey, five bucks is five bucks! That’s like an hour and a half of our lives.”

Jesus Christ. “That’s just depressing.”

They walk arm and arm down the narrow footpath to the party — ferns brushing their calves, dry dirt beneath their shoes kicking up tiny clouds of dust — and as the path opens up Steve sees the place is packed. More packed than the overstuffed parking lot let on. There are people scattered over the picnic grounds in groups of fours and fives, a full dance floor under the main pavilion; a DJ set up at the front with food and drink stands to the side; a giant bowl of spiked punch; a tower of solo cups; a couple of coolers filled with beer.

In the surrounding grass he sees more tables, more people. A couple of guys he remembers from swim team rally around an arm wrestling match; another group plays beer pong on a brown fold-up table that they definitely stole from someone’s church. There's a circle of burnouts playing hacky sack behind a tree.

The bonfire burns brightly on the hillside in the distance, and beyond that he spots the faint glow of trail lights leading up to a bridge under the falls. 

Part of him wants to follow the trail. Shake Robin off, pretend like he’s going to take a leak. Find a nice rocky overhang to camp under for a while.

Listen to river sounds. Gentle slosh; cricket buzz.

Maybe he gets drunk up there alone. Maybe he just enjoys the solitude; lies on a rock on his belly by the icy river’s edge, swirls his hand in frigid water and doesn't dream of dark brown curls.

“Steve?” Robin nudges him. “You good?”

Another, much less annoying part of him reminds him that he’s Steve Goddamn Harrington. He knows how to have a good time at a party.

Who cares if he feels too old to be here, or if it’s weird to see so many faces that used to call him Captain or King? Who cares that he's one smudge of eyeliner away from looking like a full-blown new wave art freak?

He’s not about to slink off to do depressed weirdo wallflower shit when the DJ’s playing Wham!

“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder. “You want a drink?” 

“Yes, please.” 

—

The drinks are strong.

Steve’s pretty sure the punch bowl is a lot more hunch than punch, but there’s still no sign of Vickie, and Robin’s getting that sad little stress wrinkle between her brows about it, so Steve says bottoms up and starts chugging. 

They wince their way through two cups each. Robin plugs her nose on the second one like she’s about to do a high dive, and Steve laughs and takes her hand, leading her into the crowd just as Take on Me comes on. The lights all blur together as they shimmy and shake and twirl, moving like a couple of dorks, but Steve’s having a great time. Bobbing his head to the beat; a big, dumb grin on his face as he moves his hips. Robin shouts “Watch this!” over the music, and the next thing he knows they’re competing to see who can bust the worst dance move. 

He brings out all the big guns, the full-groan dad maneuvers.

The sprinkler, the lawn mower, the fucking disco finger. 

Robin answers with a sloppy attempt at the robot, so he makes up a new move he calls be kind, rewind, and she laughs like a horse and pretends to walk down a flight of stairs.

She’s crouched into a goofy lunge, two steps into the ascent back up, when the song fades out and a ballad takes over. The crowd presses in to slow dance; Robin steps on someone's toes.

“Hey, watch it!” the person hisses.

Robin startles hard; knocks herself off-balance when she tries to stand up straight, babbling, "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Are you- are you okay? I'm such a klutz, oh, my god, I'm—"

Steve snatches her up under the armpits; puts her back on her feet. Then he looks up and realizes who exactly she just stepped on. 

Well, shit.

—

part 24

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot

[mysticstronomy]

DOES THE UNIVERSE EXPAND BY STRETCHING OR CREATING SPACE??

Blog#401

Wednesday, May 15th, 2024.

Welcome back,

The evidence that the Universe is expanding is overwhelming. But how? By stretching the existing space, or by creating new space itself?

Raisin bread expanding Universe

Just as raisins within a leavening ball of dough will appear to recede from one another as the dough expands, so too will galaxies within the Universe expand away from one another as the fabric of space itself expands. In this analogy, the expanding Universe is described by space that "stretches," but that analogy doesn't work for every aspect of our expanding Universe.

The farther away we look in the Universe, the greater the amount that light, gravitational waves, and all signals are lengthened and dilated (or “redshifted”) by the expansion of space. This effect applies to all observations of objects beyond our own Local Group, but how, exactly, does space itself actually expand: by stretching, or by the creation of new space in the “gaps” opened up by cosmic expansion? The surprising answer is that both interpretations have their usefulness, but both analogies are fundamentally limited and will fail if you use them incorrectly. The expansion of the Universe is real, but no one analogy is perfect.

It’s been almost 100 years since humanity first reached a revolutionary conclusion about the nature of our Universe: space itself cannot and does not remain static, but rather evolves with the passage of time. One of the most unsettling predictions of Einstein’s general relativity is that any Universe — so long as it’s uniformly (or almost uniformly) filled with one or more species of matter, radiation, or energy — cannot remain the same over time. Instead, it must either expand or contract, something initially derived independently by three separate people: Alexander Friedmann (1922), Georges Lemaitre (1927), and Howard Robertson (1929), and was later generalized by Arthur Walker (1936).

Right at around the same time, starting in 1923, observations began to show that the spirals and ellipticals in our sky were actually galaxies: “island universes” that were well outside of our own Milky Way. With new, more powerful measurements, we could determine that the farther away a galaxy was from us, the greater the arriving light in our instruments was redshifted, or observed at longer wavelengths, compared to the light that was initially emitted. It was as though the very act of journeying through space altered the wavelength of that traveling light.

But what, exactly, happens to the fabric of space itself while this process occurs? Is the space itself stretching, as though it’s getting thinner and stretched out? Is more space constantly being created, as though it were “filling in the gaps” that the expansion creates? This is one of the toughest things to conceive of in modern astrophysics. If we think hard about it, however, we’re capable of wrapping our heads around it. Let’s explore what’s going on.

The starting point of our conversation has to be general relativity: our modern theory of gravity first put forth by Einstein. General relativity, at its core, is a framework that relates two things that might not obviously be related:

the amount, distribution, and types of energy — including matter, antimatter, dark matter, radiation, neutrinos, and anything else you can imagine — that are present all throughout the Universe,

and the geometry of the underlying spacetime, including whether and how it’s curved and whether and how spacetime itself will evolve.

If we inhabited a completely empty Universe, or a Universe that contains nothing within it at all — no matter, radiation, or energy of any form — you’d get the flat, Newtonian-like space you’re intuitively used to: something that’s static, uncurved, and unchanging.

But what if we then considered the absolute simplest case of a non-empty Universe? If, instead, we were to put down a point mass in the Universe, we’d find out that space was curved in a particular way: Schwarzschild space. Any “test particle” that we’d put down onto our Universe would be compelled to flow toward that mass, following a particular trajectory.

And if we were to then make our physical situation just a little bit more complicated, by putting down a point mass that also rotates, we’d get space that’s curved in a more complex way: according to the rules of the Kerr metric. It will have an event horizon, but instead of a point-like singularity, the singularity will get stretched out into a circular, one-dimensional ring. Again, any “test particle” you put down will follow the trajectory laid out by the underlying curvature of space.

These spacetimes are clearly much more complicated than a spacetime that’s simply flat. However, they are still “static” in the sense that any distance scales you might include or measure — like the size of the event horizon or the distance between two arbitrary points within this spacetime — don’t change over time. If we could somehow “exit” a Universe with this spacetime and return to it later, whether a second, an hour, or a billion years later, the structure of this spacetime would be identical, irrespective of when we returned to it.

In spacetimes like these, there’s no cosmic expansion that’s present. There’s no change in the distance or the light-travel-time between any points within this spacetime. With just one (or fewer) sources of matter inside, and no other forms of energy, these “model Universes” really can be static.

But it’s a very different game when you choose not to put down isolated sources of mass or energy, but instead to fill your Universe, uniformly, with “stuff” everywhere. In fact, the two criteria we normally assume about our Universe, and which are strongly validated by large-scale observations, are called isotropy and homogeneity.

Isotropy tells us that the Universe is the same in all directions: everywhere we look on cosmic scales, no “direction” looks particularly different or preferred from any other.

Homogeneity, on the other hand, tells us that the Universe is the same in all locations: the same density, temperature, and expansion rate exist to better than 99.99% precision on the largest scales.

As far as we can tell, our Universe, on large cosmic scales, is indeed both isotropic and homogeneous.

Originally published on https://bigthink.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, May 18th, 2024)

"WHAT IS THE DARK UNIVERSE??"

[thisphantomlife]

Songs Hozier has covered

Bowie - Changes, Young Americans (see also Trinity Orchestra section)

Prince - I Wanna Be Your Lover, Raspberry Beret, Jungle Love

James Carr - The Dark End Of The Street

The Beatles - Blackbird

John Lennon (Donny Hathaway version) - Jealous Guy (at the goldenplec block party with Zaska)

Ariana Grande - Problem

Warren G - Regulate (mashup with Problem)

James Blake - Retrograde

Tom Waits - Strange Weather

Florence and the Machine - Cosmic Love

Stevie Wonder - Living for the City, As

Sting - 7 Days

The BeeGees - To Love Somebody

Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (that thing)

Amerie - One Thing

Skip James - Illinois Blues

Muddy Waters - Catfish Blues

Van Morrison - Caravan, Sweet Thing, Domino, Brown Eyed Girl, Saint Dominic’s Preview

Bill Withers - Ain’t No Sunshine

Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know

Demi Lovato - Sorry Not Sorry

Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love

Fun - We Are Young

Paul Simon - Bridge Over Troubled Water

Sam Smith - Lay Me Down

Destiny’s Child - Say My Name

Britney Spears - Toxic (snippet)

The Band - The Weight

Otis Rush version of Willie Dixon and the Big Three Trio - My Love Will Never Die

The Talking Heads - Burning Down the House (Instagram live messing around with friends)

The Staple Singers - Let’s Do it Again

The Weather Forecast 🤪

Ed Lewis - I Be So Glad When the Sun Goes Down (Instagram snippet)

Mavis Staples - Eyes on the Prize

Jackie Wilson - (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher

The Meters - Just Kissed My Baby

Traffic (song originally by Traffic, Andrew covered the Joe Cocker version) - Feeling Alright

Christmas Songs - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Winter Wonderland, Santa Claus is Coming to Town (with others at the Xmas Eve Ball 2015)

Traditional Irish songs - My Lagan Love, The Humours of Whiskey, I Am Stretched On Your Grave, The Rolling Wave (on the low whistle), The Parting Glass, The Lonely Jig (on the low whistle)

(Live) Collabs - that are not Andrew’s own songs

Alvin Youngblood Hart - Illinois Blues

Maren Morris - The Bones, My Church, Girl, The Tree

Annie Lennox - I Put a Spell on You (Screamin Jay Hawkins cover)

Tom Odell - Another Love

Noah Kahan - Northern Attitude

Allison Russell - Requiem, Stop Dragging My Heart Around (Stevie Nicks & Tom Petty cover)

Brandi Carlile - The Joke, Walk On (U2 cover), The Weight (The Band cover)

Jamala - Walk On (U2 cover)

Mavis Staples - The Weight (The Band cover), Keep Your Eyes on the Prize (with Our Native Daughters, Jason Isbell and Phil Cook)

Boygenius - Salt in the Wound

Alana Henderson - Ae Fond Kiss (poem by Robert Burns)

U2 - When Love Comes to Town

Tori Kelly - Blackbird (the Beatles cover)

Mumford and Sons - Guiding Light, Awake My Soul, With a Little Help From My Friends (Beatles cover, with other artists)

Lake Street Dive - Everyday People (Sly and the Family Stone cover)

Rachael Price - Rental Love

Victoria Canal - Swan Song

Elwood (his dog) - Don’t Go Breaking My Heart (Elton John and Kiki Dee cover, Insta snippet)

All the artists at Love Rocks NYC 2022 - Like A Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan cover), Feeling Alright (Traffic cover)

Brian Kennedy (and others) - I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free (Nina Simone cover)

His Dad - The Weight (The Band cover at MSG)

Zaska, Wyvern Lingo, Loah - Sir Duke (Stevie Wonder cover)

Eabha McMahon - Bright Blue Rose (Jimmy McCarthy cover)

Brittany Howard - Feeling Alright (Joe Cocker version cover)

Joan Baez - We Shall Overcome, The Weight (The Band cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2015

Bono, Glen Hansard - When Love Comes to Town, Every Breaking Wave

Glen Hansard, Imelda May - The Dark End of the Street (James Carr cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2017

Glen Hansard, Coronas, Imelda May, Liam O Maonlaoi - So This is Christmas (John Lennon cover), The Aul Triangle

Music Groups

Nova Collective - (original songs) Tuile, Closer, Quick Bossa

Zaska - (original songs) In Your Own Sweet Time, Different Light, She Gunk Gunk Dunk A Funk, Oh Yeah

Anuna - with Andrew on lead vocals: The Raid, La Chanson de Mardi Gras. With Andrew in the choir: Jingle Bells, An Uaithne

The Wiggles - Cherry Tree Carol with Anuna

Trinity Orchestra - songs covered with Andrew on lead vocals

~ Queen - Somebody To Love, Don’t Stop Me Now

~ Arcade Fire - My Body is a Cage

~ Pink Floyd - Time, Breathe, Comfortably Numb, Shine on You Crazy Diamond, Money

~ Michael Jackson - Earth Song, Black or White, Smooth Criminal

~ David Bowie - Heroes

*This list may not be complete. It only contains songs that can be found online.

Please let me know if any songs are missing so I can add them 🫶

I’ve not included the songs he sang snippets of on that Song Association interview

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 9

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 12.5k

(CW: SMUT 18+, brief descriptions of gore, vampire biting/blood drinking, unprotected p in v sex, cunnilingus)

Summary:

“You turned me into a vampire?” You practically shriek at Astarion. You keep your palms pressed firmly into the ground, fighting against your instinct to immediately rip his throat out. It’s hard to restrain yourself. You feel like a wild animal.

There’s a flash of panic that passes over Astarion’s face before his brows knit together in confusion. “You’re angry?”

You huff out a humorless laugh, eyes turning up to the sky to check if this is some sort of cosmic joke. “Yes, I’m fucking angry, Astarion! What did you do to me? You killed me!”

“Raphael killed you!” He shoots back defensively. “You were dying! I didn’t have a choice.” 

Read on ao3 here

You can’t focus on anything other than this hunger. 

Oh. If this was how good blood tasted, how did Astarion ever manage to pull himself away from you? 

You want to fall into him and drown. You want to devour him whole. 

The aftertaste of his blood sticks heavy in your mouth when he finally tears his wrist free from your tight grasp. You need more. You never want to stop. 

“More,” you croak out and your throat feels like it’s burning.

“There are bodies everywhere, my love. Take your pick,” Astarion says. You’re cradled in his arms, and you can’t even think to question how you got there because your entire being is consumed with this burning desire for blood.

After freeing yourself from Astarion’s arms, you crawl on your hands and knees to a downed guard a few feet away. He’s still alive, but barely. You can smell the blood pouring from the gaping wound on his thigh and can hear how it rushes under his skin. You salivate.

It’s too much work to pull off his gloves to get to his wrist, so you go straight for the gap between his helmet and his chest plate, digging your teeth into his neck. His blood is sweet and rich and so good that you can’t think straight. 

The whole thing is messy and crude and violent. You can’t even bother to care right now. 

You hear yourself let out an angry growl when you’ve drained that man. More, still more. You crawl a few feet to the next body on the floor. This one is dead and their blood is stale. And still, you drink until there is nothing left. 

The more blood you consume, the more your mind clears and the sharper your senses become. Has the world always been so loud? So bright?

When you finish draining that man, still on your hands and knees on the floor, you look up to the rest of the group. You can feel the blood running down your chin and neck, staining the front of your dress. There’s blood all over you, in various stages of drying- the rusty tear tracks running down your face from the energy wave Raphael had unleashed, the thick clumps of your hair that are matted and still wet with blood from when your head had been bashed into the wall. 

Everyone's faces are painted with varying shades of displeasure and horror. Shadowheart has big, sorrowful eyes and Wyll is looking down at you as if you were a rabid animal. 

All except Astarion, who is kneeling on the ground and staring at you with a wide smile on his face, like this is the embodiment of his wildest dreams. 

You had just died and he had the audacity to be happy about it?

You burn with an anger that doesn’t fully belong to you. It’s uncontrollable. You’re scared of yourself. Everything is too much; your emotions all feel too big. 

What sort of monster had Astarion turned you into? 

The two of you had agreed that you would get to decide when you were turned into a vampire- that you would pick when and how, and it would be a lovely memory that you would get to cherish forever.

This is most certainly not that. 

“You turned me into a vampire?” You practically shriek at Astarion. You keep your palms pressed firmly into the ground, fighting back against your instinct to immediately rip his throat out. It’s hard to restrain yourself. You feel like a wild animal.

There’s a flash of panic that passes over Astarion’s face before his brows knit together in confusion. “You’re angry?”

You huff out a humorless laugh, eyes turning up to the sky to check if this is some sort of cosmic joke. “Yes, I’m fucking angry, Astarion! What did you do to me? You killed me!”

“Raphael killed you!” He shoots back defensively. “You were dying! I didn’t have a choice.” 

There’s genuine sorrow in his voice as he practically pleads with you to understand. And you do. But there’s something itching at your throat and you just died and you’re angry and you’re upset. 

It feels like you are watching yourself react, trapped away in a haze. There are tears rolling down your cheeks and desperate, heaving sobs choking their way up from your throat that have you curling in on yourself to weep. Astarion must have come to sit by you because you feel his hand run soothingly down your back. You wrench your body away from him. 

You did not want comfort. Not now. 

“You took away my choice, Astarion! Again!” You yell at him between your sobs, too aware of the way each tear feels as it rolls down your face. Everything was just too much. Everything felt wrong in your body. “My whole life, I knew I would have little control over who I married. But you took away the choice of whether I lived or died!” 

“You were human, we would have gotten to this point eventually. We had already talked about turning you.” Astarion’s hands have fallen in his lap and he looks at you with such melancholy. It makes your skin itch, to think he pities you in your current state. 

“It’s about autonomy, Astarion! It’s about choosing what happens to my body and when that happens. You of all people should understand that!”

If you were thinking clearly, you would never have brought up his past. The part of your mind that is still you and not this monstrous new version of yourself shatters as you watch his face scrunch in pain and anger. 

“So, you’re allowed to always be angry at me, but I’m not supposed to have my own feelings?” Astarion asks. “I’m just supposed to immediately forgive you and forget the fact that you invaded my privacy by reading my diary? Am I not allowed to be scared after I just watched your skull practically shatter in front of me?” 

He struggles in vain to steady the underlying shake in his voice. “Was I not supposed to do everything in my power to save you? Please, do not treat me like I have been completely unreasonable or like you have never done anything to hurt me. You know as well as I do that you would have made the same choice if I were the one lying in a pool of blood in front of you.”

And you simply sit there, powerless, as the person who knows you most intimately in the world calls your bluff. 

He’s right. He has seen right through you in the way that only he can. You had made that same exact choice when he returned home from a previous trip with that gaping wound in his side. You had not thought, you had not hesitated when you cut your hand open and fed him your blood. In that moment, all that mattered was saving Astarion by any means necessary. 

“Well, if you would have told me everything, we probably wouldn’t have even been in this mess in the first place, would we?” You shout back, trying to deflect from how Astarion had just exposed the flaws in your anger. 

To be fair, only you can comprehend the full weight of your question. Astarion still doesn’t know that you have the final gem. Nevertheless, it rings true. The communication issues have compounded on themselves. If Astarion had let you help in his search, you would not have read his diary and he would not have sent you away to be kidnapped. And if you were not kidnapped, you would not have had to fight Raphael. You would still be alive. 

Astarion’s crimson eyes flare with anger because he knows that you are right, too. You both just stare at each other, challenging the other to back down. In the background, you hear someone awkwardly clear their throat, but you and Astarion stay fixated on one another. Apparently, a side-effect of vampirism was unwavering focus. 

You break first, though, when you begin to grow impatient. 

“You say that you are not allowed to have your own feelings, but the minute you set your mind on something, my feelings on the subject become completely irrelevant. It’s all you, Astarion. It’s always about you and how you feel,” you snarl. “I have given you every opportunity to listen to me and to be honest with me and you have fought against me at every turn.”

Astarion opens his mouth like he is going to interrupt, but you cut him off.

“No. Even when you promised that you would tell the truth, you still carefully selected what insignificant information would placate me without giving me any of the meaningful details. How am I ever supposed to trust you if I doubt every word you say?”

“I have never once lied to you,” Astarion defends, his jaw locked tight.  

“A lie by omission is still a lie. Evading my questions with half-truths is still half-lying,” you point out, “Astarion, I don’t know how I can be with you if you’re unable to understand why your actions hurt me.”

“Are you-” Astarion stumbles on his words, unable to even finish the thought. But his eyes betray him, asking are you done with me?

“No, never. I-” you cut yourself off, bringing your hands up to cover your eyes and block out all the too-bright lights. Have candles always burned so brightly? “I think you were right. I think we need some space so we can both process for a bit. I need time to be angry at you. I need time to adjust.”

“My love, I’m so sorry, but that can’t happen.” He sounds so genuinely remorseful. His hands wrap around your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from where they shield your eyes from the overwhelming, flickering candlelight. You can tell Astarion wants you to be looking at him while he speaks and his eyes are soft and round with concern. “You need me now more than ever. You’re going to be hungry, going to need to feed. There’s so much I need to teach you.”

“So you’re making this decision for me, too? That’s wonderful.” You rip your hands out of his grasp. 

Why does he keep insisting on reaching out to touch you? Does he not see you struggling? Does he not remember how disorienting it was to first wake up all those years ago? You’re so aware of everything and it makes his touch against your skin practically hurt.

Some distant, detached part of your mind reminds you that he is probably looking to ground himself. Touching. Always touching. Astarion needed that comfort and you weren’t able to provide him with that right now.

You feel guilty and angry at yourself that you somehow keep hurting Astarion without even trying. You’re mourning your life and the loss of everything normal that you once knew. And you hadn’t even begun to fully process the fact that you had just killed people. It was all a blur when you had jammed your knife into Raphael’s throat but his blood was caking uncomfortably on your hands and that poor man who you had just drained on the floor might have been at the brink of death, but it was still you who killed him. 

You lean over and throw up. Bile and congealed blood force their way up your throat and leave a dirty, metallic taste in your mouth. Astarion reaches out again, and this time you let him hold the hair away from your face as you vomit on the floor. Over the sounds of your sobbing and heaving, you faintly hear a discussion before everyone leaves the room. 

And then, it is just you and Astarion and it’s finally quiet. Astarion whispers soothing words to you in a smooth, low voice that doesn’t make your eardrums feel like they’re splitting open inside your head.

When your sobs eventually diminish into little sniffles, Astarion lets go of your hair. He makes a motion like he’s going to stroke your face before he hesitates and pulls away. 

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “The transition can be… a lot. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s been so long since I was turned.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” you ask.

Astarion’s face falls. “Is that really what you want? I’ll leave if you tell me to.”

“No,” you say, almost immediately. You look at your hands in your lap, stained an ugly, rusted brown. Your first instinct isn’t repulsion, but rather that you want to bring them up to your mouth and lick them clean, even if the blood is stale and dry. You feel disgusted with yourself. “What happened to me?”

Astarion seems at a loss for words.

“I want to go home,” you say.

Let there be some comfort, some sense of familiarity, in this tidal wave of foreign sensations.

“We can’t yet,” Astarion says. His voice is so forlorn, as if it is hurting him to see you like this. “It’s about to be daybreak and we can’t travel in the sun.”

It’s yet another reminder of everything you have lost.

“Great, just what I needed,” you scoff. 

“There’s an inn across the street. The others went over to get us rooms.”

So that’s where everybody else went. How long ago was that? How long had you been curled in on yourself on the floor, weeping and sick and desperately craving blood?

Astarion must have been trying to give you privacy. Even now, he was still taking care of you- allowing you to grieve without the other’s prying eyes and helping to take away some of the overwhelming stimulation in the room.

“I can go tell Shadowheart to prepare a bath for you, if you’d like me to?” Astarion asks, almost as if he can sense that you are getting lost in your own mind again. He offers you a little smile, “I find those help.”

Those words sounded so familiar… It takes you a moment to place that you had read them in his diary. Astarion had not meant his jab as a jab but it still makes you painfully, acutely aware of how cruelly you had betrayed his trust. You want to start sobbing again.

You simply nod at Astarion, accepting his offer, unable to find the words to say anything else. He seems reluctant to leave you, but he finally pushes himself up from the floor.

“I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” His hand stretches out awkwardly between the two of you and when you don’t reach out to grab it, he drops it. With a shake of his head, he turns on his heel and leaves.

“Wait-” you call after him and Astarion turns to regard you curiously. You look down at your hands in your lap, feeling a bit silly that you don’t know the first thing about vampirism, despite all the months you spent married to one. “Will I need more blood? I don’t- how do I even know when I’m hungry? I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“You won’t, little flower, precisely because even now, in the peak of your bloodlust, you are still aware enough to worry about others.” Astarion’s eyes soften. “Though, it is probably a good idea for you to drink a bit more while I’m gone. Can you promise me that you’ll try?”

You nod and Astarion gives you one last fleeting smile before he is leaving the room. 

And for a moment, you close your eyes and let yourself sit in nothing but darkness. You sit until you can no longer deny your unquenchable thirst. You don’t even need to look, don’t even need to open your eyes as you drag yourself to a new source of blood.

Only, when you open them again, you are met by Raphael’s cold, dead stare and the deep gash in his throat, nearly severing his head from his body. That is not an image you will ever forget. You fall backward on your hands in horror, trying to back away from him as quickly as possible. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you pull your knees into your chest. You are too aware of the devilish body sitting just a few feet away from you. Raphael’s face stays at the front of your mind. His eyes had not even been that different than when he was alive, looking at you with pure nothingness behind them, like you were so insignificant that you did not even deserve to be seen.

But you had promised Astarion that you would try to drink something and the idea of blood is slowly consuming you, pushing away that horrible image. You scan the room and find another dead guard to drain. 

And you do feel marginally better after drinking some blood, so you finally pick yourself up off the ground. It feels too cold in the room. You hadn’t even realized that you were shivering. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the familiar shimmer of one of the green gems, still encased in glass on their pedestals, completely unharmed by the commotion.

You step closer to them, reaching out a hand to press against the glass covering. From this close, there’s no shred of doubt in your mind- your mother’s necklace had contained the final gem all this time. But why? How did she even get one?

It seems foolish to just leave them there when Raphael had gone through so much trouble to find them. Lifting up the covers, you slide the gems off their pedestals. You’ve just tucked them into your skirt when Astarion’s voice surprises you. 

“Are you ready, darling?”

You try to gauge whether Astarion had caught you slipping the gems into your pocket, but he simply leans against the doorframe on the other side of the room. 

When you come to stand a few steps in front of him, Astarion asks,“Did you treat yourself to a snack while I was gone?” 

You nod but you can’t help the way your gaze darts nervously over to Raphael’s body at the mention of a ‘snack.’ His dead eyes feel like they have followed you as you walked across the room. 

“Oh,” Astarion’s smile drops instantly. He holds his hand out to you. “Come, let’s leave. We never have to look at him again.” 

You know Astarion means to be reassuring but you fear the image of Raphael’s cold, dead face has been burned into your retinas. 

Attempting to clear your mind, you give your head a little shake and take a deep breath before reaching your hand out to grab Astarion’s. You do not miss the subtle way he squeezes your fingers, as if he is afraid that you will drop his hand again. 

When you finally leave the room, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. With your hands laced, you let Astarion lead you through the maze of Raphael’s house to the inn across the street, where a warm bath is waiting for you. Astarion shows you to a room. Shadowheart is there and when she sees you, she gives you the same melancholic little smile that had been painted on Astarion’s own face all night and it makes you want to roll your eyes in disgust. How long would everyone insist on treating you like you were made of glass?

“You’ll tell me if you need anything?” Astarion asks. He’s trying to keep his voice measured but there is a pleading, desperate undertone. You know he is only trying to help, but that is of little comfort to you right now. You just need time by yourself.

You nod stiffly at him and he awkwardly clears his throat, finally dropping your hand. 

“I love-” 

“Don’t,” you cut Astarion off. “Please, don’t do that to me right now.”

Astarion’s brow creases in displeasure and he turns on his heel to leave immediately. You stare after him, watching his figure retreat to the room next to yours. He shuts the door with an angry slam. 

Where there would normally be a heavy ache in your chest, there is nothing. Just a deep dread settling in your stomach.

When you close the door to your own room, Shadowheart’s back is turned. Seizing your opportunity, you quietly tuck the gems into a drawer in a dresser. You aren’t entirely sure what possesses you to keep them a secret, but after so long of being kept in the dark by Astarion, it’s only fair you get to have a secret of your own for a while. 

Shadowheart helps you peel off your dress, which is stiff and hard where the blood has dried into the fabric. 

“I sent Gale into the city to get us all new clothes. I fear this dress is beyond repair,” Shadowheart says, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Hopefully, he’ll come back with something at least somewhat presentable for you to wear on the ride back. You never know though. It is Gale, after all. He only ever wears purple.” 

There’s a small smile on her face and you can tell she is trying to raise your spirits. It was usually easy to goad you into poking fun at Gale. But this time, you just hum in response. The idea of laughter seems too foreign, too impossible right now. 

In the tub, you let her scrub the dried blood off your skin as you numbly stare ahead at the wall. The water surrounding you turns an unpleasant shade of red. 

After your skin has been cleaned, Shadowheart gives you a towel and instructs you to stand behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. She calls upon some of the workers from the inn and they refill the tub with fresh, clear water. 

You climb back and sink into the warm water, watching the steam curl around the edges of the tub. Shadowheart lets you sit there as long as you want and you stay until long after the water has grown cold and started to make you shiver.

Shadowheart helps you into the dress Gale brought back from the city (which is indeed a rich, deep purple). You’re too aware of the way the once-soft velvet scratches uncomfortably against the skin of your arms. 

It’s only after you’ve dressed and Shadowheart has put your hair into a simple braid down your back that you pass by a mirror. You don’t see yourself. Immediately, you try to conjure the last glimpse of yourself that you had gotten in the mirror before you left on your trip. Even then, the image in your mind is fuzzy- you had not been paying attention to details. You had not known it would be the last time you would ever see yourself. 

Tears begin welling up in your eyes again.

“Let’s just cover that, why don’t we?” Shadowheart says, turning the mirror around to face the wall.

You spend the rest of the afternoon just sitting in your room in the inn with the curtains drawn and the lights all turned off. It should be silent and dark. It isn’t. Somehow, your new senses cause you to hear every creak and groan of the building. You can hear the mice in the walls, smell the blood of all the other bodies moving in the building.

How did Astarion manage to live like this? 

Eventually, Shadowheart knocks on your door to let you know the sun has set and it is time to leave. You follow her outside, down the cobblestone streets of the city to a stable on the outskirts of town.

Everyone else is standing together. They all look better- washed and free of grime and dressed in fresh clothes. You would almost be relieved to see them if they didn’t all immediately fall quiet in your presence. It makes you feel murderous.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Halsin breaks the silence with a friendly smile. 

“I may look like it, but I certainly don’t feel better,” you hiss back, even though you know Halsin does not deserve your anger. “Just because I am no longer vomiting blood on the floor doesn’t mean that I’m not in constant agony.”

Everyone’s eyes dart around nervously, like they’re unsure what to say in such an awkward situation.

Astarion laughs, with a roll of his eyes. “Oh, stop being melodramatic, you’re perfectly fine. You’re adjusting.” 

Of course, Astarion looks beautiful in the moonlight. His hair is silver and incandescent, shining brightly against his dark, black coat. 

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel!” You snap at him, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance.

“So, what?” Astarion asks you. “You’re just going to keep behaving like a-”

“Ehem,” Gale interrupts. “Not that… this isn’t fun to watch and all, but we need to leave if we want to make it back by sunrise.”

You and Astarion lock heated gazed for a moment longer before you’re shoving past him to the rest of the group. Everyone else is standing next to horses, which have been saddled and prepared for the ride back to the Ancunin manor. 

“Horses,” you say, a bit surprised.

“They were quicker than carriages,” Astarion answers, coming to stand by your side. His gloved hand brushes against your own for just a moment. “I wasn’t about to leave you with that vile man a second longer than was necessary.”

“There’s not enough of them for me or Shadowheart to have our own,” you observe.

“You’ll ride with me and she can ride with Lae’zel,” Astarion says, as if the answer was so obvious.

“No, I will not be riding with you!” You look at Astarion, incredulous. “You’re not allowed to make decisions for me anymore.” 

Since Shadowheart already has a riding partner, you turn to your next closest friend, Halsin. “Can I ride with you?”

To put it bluntly- you’ve never seen cool, collected, go-with-the-flow Halsin look more uncomfortable and unsure in his life. He obviously doesn’t want to be in the middle of your and Astarion’s argument. Astarion is glaring daggers at Halsin. That selfish, monstrous part of you which has grown louder since your turning feels a bit vindicated that Astarion is jealous.

Halsin clears his throat nervously. “I’m truly sorry, my lady, but propriety dictates that you can’t ride with a man that’s not your husband.”

Of course. Silly you, thinking that a friend would be willing to help you in your time of need.  Could this day get any worse?

You turn to your backup plan- the only other woman who does not already have a riding partner. 

“Karlach, please.”

“Not a good idea.” Astarion interrupts. “We don’t know if you can control your bloodlust, darling. I’m the only person here you can’t hurt.”

Selfish bastard. Why does he now suddenly feel the need to control even the most minute details of your life, like who you ride on a horse with? Does he no longer love you enough to offer you this small sense of comfort in what has been an obviously distressing time?

“Please,” you ignore him, begging Karlach again.

“Alright,” she agrees warily. “But if I catch you staring at my neck for too long, you have to get on with him.”

“Deal,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. 

Which, maybe, is not the most sensitive thing to do the day after you had just resolved Astarion’s deal with a devil. He shoots you an annoyed look. 

The first half of the ride is quiet and contemplative. Every time you turn to look, Astarion’s eyes are already on you and he’s got this distant, faraway look that tells you he’s a bit too lost in his thoughts. You can feel everyone else watching you carefully, as well, like you are a ticking time bomb bound to explode at any moment. 

It does not occur to you until hours into your journey that perhaps Astarion had been so insistent on you riding with him because he is worried that you are going to leave him the moment that you get home. In his mind, perhaps he was simply trying to spend one last moment with you. Perhaps he even believed he could convince you to stay. It was just the kind of foolishly insecure thing that Astarion would think. He should know better by now- you were not so easy to chase off, even if you had complicated feelings about him at the moment. 

And the ride continues in silence until eventually, Karlach nearly bursts with the need to talk. The two of you start chatting, with others joining in occasionally. Everyone seems to start relaxing around you, now that you have proven that you are not completely feral. 

Ultimately, the ride home is uneventful. Karlach talks and by the end, her mood is so infectious that she even gets you to laugh a couple times. You’re so grateful for her humor, it was just the amount of levity you needed. 

You’re sure that you’ve never been more happy to be home before and you're desperate to be inside. As you walk from the stables back toward the manor, you find yourself fantasizing about how wonderful it will feel to lie down on your bed, even if you don’t need sleep anymore. 

Lifting your foot, you move to step over the entryway. Except, you’re stuck. It’s as if there’s some sort of invisible wall barring you from entry. 

Of course, because vampires can’t enter a residence without permission.

Astarion’s got a little smirk on his face as he stands in the hallway, looking back at you stuck outside. 

“I’m waiting for you to ask nicely, little flower,” he teases. 

“Can I come inside?” You spit out through gritted teeth.

Astarion looks like he’s considering it for a minute before he frowns. “Not nice enough, try again.”

“Oh, beloved husband, can I please come into our house?” You ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. But you plaster a sweet smile on your face at the end and Astarion seems to have had his fun with you, anyway. 

“Welcome home, darling. Please, do come inside. You’re keeping everyone waiting,” Astarion says, sweeping into an overdramatic, elegant bow.

You make sure to shove his shoulder with your own when you pass him. 

Shadowheart has already drawn the heavy curtains for you when you enter your room. 

The first thing you do is carefully tuck the gems away in the hollowed out book on your bookshelf. You could deal with that problem later. For now, it was time to wallow.

For hours, you lie in bed, staring up at the mahogany panel on top of your four poster bed. It all feels wrong. You’re so tired, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t will your body to sleep. You wish you had some book, like Essential Knowledge on Being a Vampire, to teach you how to solve this issue.

Later that evening, there’s a knock on your door and you open it to find Astarion.

“I have something for you,” he says, producing a jar of sloshy red liquid from behind his back. 

“It’s not fresh,” you say with a twinge of disappointment.

“You’re too spoiled, pet.” Astarion laughs. “I lived on nothing but rats and bugs for 200 years. I assure you, many vampires would kill for stale human blood.”

You pout, hoping that trick still works and Astarion will give in to you. “Why can’t you just call up one of your snacks for me? Why do I have to drink it like this?”

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion reprimands you as he finally steps past you into your bedroom. “It took me a very long time to curate such a wonderful collection of vintages. The last thing I need is for you to drain one of them dry and scare the rest off.”

“So, I’m stuck with that then?” You ask, pointing to the jar of blood in his hand. 

“Or drinking from me,” Astarion shoots you a flirty wink. “I’m more than happy to drink enough to sustain the both of us.”

That hungry, lustful part of you runs wild with the idea. You and Astarion could spend your nights wrapped together again, but now it would not just be him biting you. Now, you could bite back. You could finally taste him.

But that doesn’t seem like a good idea with the current state of your marriage- it would just add confusion and more unnecessarily complicated emotions.

“I don’t want anything else from you, Astarion.” Your harsh words aren’t filled with the normal tenacity behind them. 

It’s all too much, the constant smells and having to hold yourself back from sinking your teeth into everyone around you. You collapse into a chair in the corner of your room. 

“I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep,” you confess in a quiet voice. 

You know Astarion heard you. Now that you are a vampire, you understand the sensitivity of vampiric hearing. 

Astarion places the jar of blood on the table next to you. You’re reminded of so long ago, that first day you were here, when Astarion kept sending you food even though you were determined not to eat. He was too good at this- at caring for you even when you were determined to be difficult.

“That comes with time,” Astarion assures you, sinking to his knees in front of where you sit. He looks unsure for a moment before he reaches out, grabbing your hands in his own and pulling your attention to him. “I know that you’re stubborn and impatient and you just want everything to go back to normal, but things have changed. It will take time. I have learned the hard way that you cannot just rush past all the hardships in life, no matter how desperately you wish to.”

Astarion’s thumb traces soothing circles on your hand as he continues speaking, “We’re both here and we’re both safe. And I know you need time to be angry at me. And though I know I will forgive you, I’m still hurt by your invasion of my privacy. So… let’s just… spend some time apart. And know that whenever you decide you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” 

Astarion reaches out, ghosting his thumb along your cheek as the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smile. “And don’t rush, we have all the time in the world, my love.”

You nod, unable to speak in fear that tears will start welling up in your eyes again. Gods, was this some sort of horrible symptom of vampirism that you just kept crying all the time? If so, you need to figure out how to deal with that quickly, because these constant tears were a nuisance. 

Astarion gives your hand a little squeeze before he’s rising from where he kneels on the floor, turning to leave your room. 

“I- thank you, Astarion,” you say when he’s in the doorway. He pauses but doesn’t peek over his shoulder to look back at you, as if he knows that will cause you to lose the nerve to continue speaking. “I don’t say that to you often enough, but know that I am very grateful for all that you’ve done for me.”

—------------

The next evening, there’s another gentle knock on your door but no one is there when you open it. The only thing you see is a leatherbound book propped up next to your door. 

It looks remarkably similar to Astarion’s diary and it must have been left by him, but there was no way he was just… giving you his diary, right? Not when it was still such a sore subject between the two of you. 

What, was this some sort of weird way to test your loyalty?

You debate whether you should ignore the gift completely but as usual, your curiosity gets the better of you. After grabbing the book, you curl up on your bed and open the front cover. 

The first thing you see is your name, your actual name, which Astarion called you so rarely. It’s written in his beautiful, looping cursive and it nearly pulls the breath from your lungs when you see it.

Underneath your name, the first page is a letter to you.

My dear wife,

I know that you are inquisitive by nature and I am sure you are filled to the brim with questions about being a vampire. It seems unfair of me to turn you into one and then send you off into the metaphorical dark, so I thought I might offer you some advice. As you have learned, I have grown to find writing rather cathartic, so I thought it fitting to write to you about my own experiences as a vampire. I hope this will help ease your transition. 

Please, forgive me if I have forgotten anything. I have tried hard to think of everything you might ask and I like to think that I know you very well, but I am not nearly as creative in my curiosity as you are. 

With all that I am, know that I love you.

Your husband, 

Astarion

When you turn to the next page, a loose sheet of folded paper flutters out. There are only two sentences scribbled hastily on the paper.

I told you I would give you your space. I intend to honor that promise.

Oh, how unexpected and perfectly timed. Just yesterday, you had been wishing for a book exactly like this. It was as if your husband, Astarion, had read your mind.

Your insides feel warm and fuzzy as you hold the book to the chest, over the spot where your heart used to beat. For the first time in a long time, you have hope that everything will be okay again, that your anger will fade and love will bloom in its place, a love that was far more radiant than ever before. 

—------------

Slowly, you lose track of time. You spend a little time feeling sorry for yourself and a little time feeling sad. But mostly, you spend a lot of time not really feeling anything at all. There’s just numbness and staring at the hypnotic, swirling patterns of the wallpaper in your bedroom. 

Time moves. You don’t. 

You feel dead. Guess that makes sense. 

You settle into a new routine. Sometimes, you and Astarion bump into each other around the manor and you’re both cordial and polite, scared of intruding in the other’s space. 

You miss him. You spend your evenings rereading the book he had written for you, tracing your fingers over his lovely handwriting. But at times, the anger inside you still flickers back to life. You do not dare to approach Astarion until you are sure the flames of anger within you are long dead.  

“You know, he could have turned you into a spawn,” Shadowheart says one day. It’s enough to finally shock you out of the monotonous routine of self-pity that you had found yourself in. 

“What’s the difference?” You scoff. 

You were faintly aware of the difference between true vampires and spawn but the subject had not been discussed in any great detail in the book Astarion had written for you. You know this is due to the traumatic nature of his own life when he was a spawn. 

“He gave you his blood,” Shadowheart answers. “You’re a full and true vampire. You aren’t bound to serve him; you aren’t forced to obey his commands.” 

Shadowheart is purposefully avoiding your eyes while she continues to braid your hair. 

“You know, I thought he was going to make you a spawn,” she says. “Trust me, I’m happy that he made the right choice and didn’t. But for a second, it really looked like he was considering…” She trails off and sighs. “Well, I guess I didn’t think he would be able to resist guaranteeing that you could never leave him.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?” You ask. “Are you just trying to point out that my life isn’t as bad as it could be?”

“No, stop being difficult,” Shadowheart punctuates her statement with a tug on your hair that is a bit rougher than what is necessary. “I’m just trying to paint a full picture for you. What you do with that information is up to you.” 

She falls into a contemplative silence for a moment before she finally says, “Though, it is rather annoying when the two of you are fighting. I have to go out of my way to avoid two places. When you’re together, I only have to avoid one room.”

You roll your eyes at her comment.

“Something still feels wrong,” you confess. “It still feels like he’s controlling every aspect of my life. He decided we would be married. He decided that I was not allowed to know any details of his past or about his deal with Raphael. He was the one who decided that we would go on the trip which got us kidnapped. He decided to turn me into a vampire. He confined me to this house and made me a prisoner of the sun.”

Shadowheart sighs. “Have you tried telling him any of this? Tried explaining how you’re feeling? Have you asked him what he’s been thinking and feeling?”

“I already made it perfectly clear what I think.”

“No, you yelled at him,” Shadowheart says. She finishes braiding your hair and moves to lean against the vanity to look down at you. 

“How do I explain…” She looks off into space as she thinks for a moment before she turns back to you. “Look, Astarion has had a long and traumatic life. Have you really not noticed how he shuts down when people raise their voices around him? Same as how you start spewing insults you don’t always mean. You fight, he flees. Neither of you are capable of listening to the other in that sort of state.”

Damn her. That’s a good point. When did she have time to notice all this about the two of you? 

The realization washes over you like a wave- for all your anger about Astarion never listening to you, you had neglected to see that you had been ignoring Astarion’s needs, as well. 

This intervention from Shadowheart was good. This was what you needed- someone to shake you awake from the haze you had been trapped in so you could finally see all the damage you were causing. 

“Oh gods, I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?” you groan, letting your head fall into your hands. “I’ve been a terrible wife.”

You hear Shadowheart’s twinkly laugh and her voice is amused. “Stop being so dramatic all the time. You’re just as bad as Astarion.” 

You shoot her a look of warning between the fingers covering your face, even if you secretly relish the fact that she brought up your and Astarion’s similarities. 

“And you’re not a horrible person.” She pats your back in a comforting, reassuring motion. “You’ve been through a lot of very big life changes in the last year. You’re adapting. You’re learning. And I wouldn’t even say you’ve been too harsh on Astarion. He can get a bit too full of himself. He needs someone like you to keep his head screwed on. The two of you just need to talk and actually listen to one another for once.”

“You’re strangely wise, when you want to be,” you tell her.

She shrugs, but you see her smile.

—-----------

Astarion’s faces away from the door when you approach the study, focused on the stack of books next to him. For a moment, you silently watch him hunt along the different rows in the bookshelf before he places a book and grabs a new one from the stack. He must be reorganizing. 

You reach out and knock on the door to draw his attention. 

“You don’t need to knock if the door is open, Gale,” Astarion says, annoyed. He doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“Oh, I- I’m not Gale,” you stutter out nervously. You fear that he will be disappointed when he sees you- that the beautiful smile that used to light up his face whenever you entered the room will be gone.

But instead, Astarion’s head whips around to look at you. He nearly drops the book that he’s holding, but he manages to catch it before it clatters to the floor. It’s a clumsiness that is so uncharacteristic of Astarion, who always moves so gracefully and elegantly. You have to hide your smile. 

Here’s this man, this vampire- so powerful and so strong- and your mere presence makes him so nervous that he nearly drops everything he is holding. 

“And thank the gods for that. One Gale is already bad enough,” Astarion jokes and you manage a soft laugh at that. The smile on his face is lovely and you’re struck by the urge to just stand and watch him for hours, to study him how you used to. He tilts his head a bit to the side, in question. “What are you doing here? I thought you still weren’t speaking with me.”

“I came to apologize,” you tell him.

“Whatever for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. I’ve done plenty wrong. And I’ve actually been a bit of a tyrant as of late.” You laugh, though you are sure Astarion made his comment earnestly. You were starting to realize that he viewed you as far more infallible than you actually are. 

“You’ve been going through a big change,” Astarion continues to defend your actions.

“Please, don’t make excuses for my bad behavior. Will you just hear me out for a couple minutes?” you ask. “After, you can tell me to leave or stay or say whatever you’d like but right now, I need you to be quiet and let me speak, okay?”

Astarion nods. 

You take a deep breath and ready yourself for the speech you had prepared in your head. You had been working on it for the greater part of a day, trying to sort through your thoughts and figure out how to vocalize everything in a way that could be easily understood. You had even forced Shadowheart to listen to you practice it earlier, though she was a rather unwilling participant. 

“First of all,” you begin. “I’m sorry I read your diary and I’m sorry I haven’t given you a heartfelt apology yet. That diary was yours and I know that I never should have touched it. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. And I kept giving excuses to justify my actions rather than actually apologize, but I fully recognize that any frustration I felt about you not being upfront with me never warranted invading your privacy. I truly, sincerely apologize. It will never happen again.”

Astarion surveys you curiously, though his face remains soft and open. It’s a good sign, at least, that he seems receptive to your apology. 

You continue speaking. “And when you confronted me, rightfully angry, I got upset and yelled at you because I felt guilty. I need to stop doing that- I need to learn to take a break when I feel myself getting upset. I know that I can be mean when I’m provoked and I lash out and hurt other people. It happened when you tried to distance yourself from me, it happened when you found me with your diary, and it happened again right after you turned me.”

“I won’t apologize for what I said after you turned me. I stand by all that. I’m allowed to be frustrated and angry at the world. But I am sorry that I took that frustration out on you. That wasn’t fair of me.” You can feel yourself growing more and more impassioned the longer you speak, so you try to tamper yourself down to a calmer level. 

“I promise that I am going to do better at listening to you Astarion, but I need you to promise me that you will do the same. I need to see changes,” you implore. “I feel like I have made it perfectly clear by now, but let me be overly explicit for a final time- I don’t like when you make my decisions for me. I know that it is supposed to be my place as a woman to defer to your judgment, but frankly, I think that’s stupid.” 

The corner of Astarion’s mouth tilts up in a grin- he always did love your pluckiness. 

You feel a phantom heart beating in your chest as you continue speaking. “I have a mind and a will of my own and it is unfair to make me do things that I don’t want to do. A part of me will always be sad that I wasn’t able to enter into our marriage or choose to be a vampire of my own free will. I don’t want my memories of you to be tainted by that. I value and respect your opinion, but please, trust me to be the one to make my own choices from now on.” 

“And lastly, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You look up to the ceiling, trying to force down the tears that you feel brimming in your eyes. This was the part of your speech you had been dreading the most, the part that you had not rehearsed with Shadowheart because it felt too personal. But if you had ever inadvertently contributed to Astarion’s pain by being too forward in your intimacy, you needed to apologize to him. “It’s not a valid excuse but I didn’t know about your past, Astarion. You have to believe me. I know that I probably pressured you into uncomfortable situations because I was so insistent. Please know that there will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I truly am.”

“And… I miss you, Star. I can’t tell you how many times I've reread the note at the beginning of the book you gave me. I think I practically have it memorized at this point.” You breathe out a shaky laugh. “Okay, that’s… I think that’s everything I wanted to say.”

You pull your gaze back down from the ceiling to gauge Astarion’s reaction. He just looks stunned. Which is fair, you did just dump a lot on him. 

And then Astarion just keeps staring at you, like you have broken his brain completely. The longer you wait, the more nervous you get and eventually, you have to close your eyes, terrified of the rejection that you are certain is coming. You can feel yourself start to panic a bit as you prepare for Astarion to tell you to get out and how could he ever love someone as weak and stupid as you?

Instead, you feel his arms wrapping around you. You cling to him, burying your face in his chest and letting the tears that had been building finally leak out.

He’s so much warmer than you remember. 

Astarion tilts your chin up so he can look at you and he brushes away the tears that have fallen down your cheeks.

“I don’t know where to start,” Astarion says, at a loss for words. He gives you a sweet smile. “For what it’s worth, I already forgave you long ago for reading my diary.”

The crushing weight that had been sitting on your chest for so long finally lessens. You feel so light now that you can breathe again.

Astarion’s thumb continues tracing along your cheek and his eyes watch the motion, rather than stare into your own. You are too familiar with the fact that it can be easier to get your feelings out without the pressure of eye contact. 

“I see now that I was wrong, too. I’m sorry that I didn’t fully trust you. It’s just-” Astarion huffs and his brow furrows, “How do I explain this? You saw me as the man I am now, detached from all my trauma and background, and you loved that person. And for so long, I was scared that if I admitted my past to you, you would no longer see me as the man you knew and loved. I didn’t want to ruin the illusion for you. I realize now that I was mistaken.”

You’re stunned, partially because Astarion just admitted he was wrong and that was a minor miracle in itself. But also, you had never considered that Astarion might have been afraid that his past would make you see him differently. 

And you do, but not in any way that matters. He just feels like a more complete person now. All those little reactions and details you could never place finally make sense. 

Astarion wipes away another stray tear rolling down your cheek. “And I need you to trust me, little flower. I need you to hear me when I say that I love you and I want you. I like having sex with you. Believe me, I don’t do anything that I don’t want to anymore. I’m past that point in my life.”

And with his words, Astarion continues to quell any shadows or doubts in your mind. It feels wonderful to finally speak so freely with each other. 

“And now, it’s my turn to apologize,” he says. “You’re right. I haven’t been listening to you. Throughout our whole marriage, you’ve basically been shouting from the rooftops that all you wanted was to make your own choices and I kept making them for you in fear that you might choose to leave me. That’s not fair of me, either- I need to trust that if you love me as much as you say that you will choose me.”

Astarion pauses, sighing gently, “And I’m sorry for the circumstances surrounding your death but I won’t apologize for the outcome. You know that I am a deeply selfish man. I wasn’t going to lose you- not now and not ever. I will not apologize for what is done, only that my actions have caused you pain. I know nothing I can say will make this… right. And it probably wouldn’t help you feel better, anyway. But know that I am here with you, every step of the way; as a mentor, as a friend, as a lover. However you want me, you have me.”

“What about as a husband?” You tease. 

“Well, that can certainly be arranged,” Astarion says as a devilish grin splits across his face.

“I love you,” you tell him. “Thank you for waiting for me. Ever since you caught me with your diary, all I’ve wanted is to go back to how it was before.”

“I don’t think we ever will be able to go back to how it was before,” Astarion says, and his words fill you with a deep sadness. Your face falls but Astarion is still smiling. A real one, not a performative one. “It will be better this time; we’ll be true equals.”

“Equals. I like that.” You smile back at him. His knuckles stroke lovingly along your jaw.

“And now I should probably tell you that I actually kind of like that you get a bit nasty when you’re angry,” Astarion says with one of those smirks that makes you want to get into all sorts of trouble with him. “Maybe just direct that at other people in the future.”

You laugh. “Just point and I shall destroy your enemies with my vicious mockery.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, please.” He giggles in delight. “That sounds wonderfully entertaining.”

And it feels so good now that everything is out in the open. Like you and Astarion are truly seeing each other for the first time as you embrace, grinning like love-struck fools. 

“How have you been?” Astarion interrupts the moment, his voice turning more serious. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”

“Um, it could be worse, I guess? I could be dead.”

Astarion frowns at your joke. Note to self- don’t joke about your death with Astarion. 

But you’re not sure how exactly to explain the fog that it feels like you’ve been trapped in for the past… Actually, you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve been turned. You lost track of time. Has it been weeks? Months? 

Now doesn’t feel like the time to unload all that on Astarion. You had just gotten him back, you weren’t about to go chasing him away again with new issues. You would wait until later. Maybe even bringing it up as you cuddle in bed so you do not have to watch how his pretty face twists with worry at your confession.

You deflect by turning the attention back to him. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for me. You must have been pretty busy trying to get all that blood for me.”

For a moment, Astarion looks like he wants to pry into what’s on your mind, but he resists. It was time to trust each other and that involved having faith that the other person would bring up issues when the time felt right for them. 

“Ugh, you don’t even know, pet. It’s more work than I’ve done in years,” Astarion complains. “I have to think about what I want and then go and ask Gale for it and that always takes forever. I was made for looking pretty, not for organizing blood draws.”

You giggle at his theatrics. “Well, if you’re going to be so dramatic about it, I’ll go offer my thanks to Gale instead.”

You move to pull away from Astarion but he catches your wrist and pulls you tighter against his chest.

“Don’t you dare.”

Is this Astarion initiating?

He’s looking at you with hungry, red eyes and the way his hand rests just a bit too low on your back isn’t entirely innocent. 

You chew on your lip, debating in your mind whether you should just lean forward and kiss Astarion. You haven’t fully adjusted to the new sharp fangs inside your mouth and you found yourself forgetting them constantly. You let out a little hiss at your mistake and your finger comes up instinctually to dab away the bead of blood from your lip. 

You stare at the drop on your finger, entranced, former train of thought completely lost. The room fades away and for a moment, there’s only blood. 

And then, Astarion reaches out to grab your wrist and he sucks your finger into his mouth with a moan that should send him straight to the hells. Your brain goes blank, yet again, as you watch how he slides your finger out his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you. 

Your whole body feels like a live wire. Reaching out, you tug Astarion down by the back of his neck to press your lips against his. You had been without him for so long and now, you’re ravenous. 

This isn’t one of those sweet, loving kisses that you and Astarion share so often. There is nothing loving about this kiss- only hunger. As if you can make up for lost time by consuming one another whole. 

Your lips crash against his, two sets of fangs ripping and tearing into one another’s skin. There’s blood everywhere- coating your lips and electrifying your taste buds and trickling down your chin. 

And just for a second, you hesitate. Did he want this? You hadn’t checked. You had pulled him down and kissed him and, sure, he had kissed you back, but that doesn’t mean he wants more. Despite his words earlier ensuring you that he enjoys physical intimacy with you, your doubts are still present. You aren’t sure how to act anymore. 

Astarion, sensing your moment of hesitation, pulls away immediately.

His voice is low and hoarse. “What’s wrong?”

You try to find the right words. “I just- I’m sorry. I should have asked. Did you want me to kiss you?”

Astarion chuckles. “I always want you to kiss me. But please, no doubts, my love. I promise I’ll tell you if I don’t want to do something. But this-” His hand traces along the curve of your ass as he moves his lips down to brush against yours, “this is me initiating. Trust me, I’m nearly out of my mind with how badly I want you.”

His words send a shock straight to your cunt. 

“Get back here, then,” you practically growl, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt.

Your lips collide again and the world closes in around you- there is nothing but you and Astarion and this impossible need to be closer. You can’t think past the hunger itching at the back of your throat and the molten fire pooling in your cunt. 

You urge Astarion backward until his back is pressed against the bookshelf. You must overestimate your own vampiric strength because a few books are knocked off the shelf and Astarion lets out a little exhale of ‘oof.’

“Sorry,” you apologize into his mouth, not bothering to fully separate your lips from his. 

“Don’t be, pet,” he says in a breathy pant. “I like when you lose control.”

Fuck, you need to lose control more often if it makes Astarion talk like that.

Your hands move down, untucking Astarion’s shirt from his trousers and you ghost your fingers over his abdomen. It’s still shocking how warm his skin feels now that you have become a vampire. You had grown so used to the cold. 

Astarion separates his lips from yours only long enough to pull his shirt up over his head and throw it somewhere in the room. 

There are hands everywhere. Your hands move down the planes of Astarion’s chest, continuing downward to trace over the outline of his cock hardening in his pants. And his hands pull you so tightly against him- one follows the curves of your body and the other comes up to thread through your hair. He gently tugs at the roots, tilting your head back to give himself easier access to lick into your mouth. 

Eventually, you part from his lips and they’re all swollen and bloody and wet. His beauty will always stun you.

Gods, and how does he smell even better now? 

You run your nose along the column of his throat. There’s bergamot and rosemary and underneath that, the intoxicating scent of the blood sitting still in his veins. He must have fed recently. You can’t even bother to be jealous that someone else got to experience the ecstasy of Astarion drinking from them because he smells so good.

“Go on, little love. You can have a taste,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. He’s a bit breathless, as if he can’t contain his excitement at the idea. 

You take his permission and bite into Astarion’s skin, careful to pick a spot far away from the twin scars on his neck. This was meant to be a new memory, separated literally and metaphorically from the struggles of his past. 

His blood is so fresh after so much time of only drinking blood from the jars stored in the cellars. Astarion lets you swallow a few mouthfuls before he guides you back up, crashing his mouth against yours again and chasing after the taste of himself in your mouth. 

Astarion continues kissing you, but he presses forward, forcing you backward until your back hits the edge of his desk. You raise your hips to sit at the edge, widening your legs so he can slide between them. 

He fiddles with the buttons on the back of your dress while he continues to kiss you senseless and you sigh into his mouth, picturing his wonderful hands at work.

“There’s too many-” Astarion cuts himself off with a growl and you hear a sharp ripping noise as he tears open the back of your dress. “Too many buttons.”

“I liked this dress,” you huff and Astarion leans down to press a kiss to your collarbone in apology as he begins bunching up your skirts. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he says, as he helps pull your dress over your head. He presses his lips to yours again, slow and sweet and a complete shift in tone. He leans his forehead against yours, “I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. You’ll appreciate it more later when you can think clearly again. 

Taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Astarion before you, you try to commit this moment to memory. You try to memorize the way that the rivulets of blood running down his chin highlight the lovely blush staining his cheeks.

And over his shoulder, you notice that the door is still wide open. 

“The door’s still open,” you squeak out. You don’t love the idea of someone barging in on you and Astarion’s private moment, but you hate the idea of parting from him long enough for one of you to shut the door more. 

Astarion must have a similar thought because he chuckles, deep and dark, as his hands grip the back of your neck, pulling your gaze back to his face. His thumb runs down the hollow of your throat and you feel yourself gulp. Astarion watches your throat move, entranced. “They all know better than to interrupt us. And if they don’t… Well, I wouldn’t say no to a snack, would you?”

The idea of draining someone dry with Astarion makes you salivate. Something to look forward to in the future. 

Astarion kisses you again, pushing you to lean back at an angle on the desk and distracting you from the lovely images that you had concocted in your imagination. His mouth moves down to nip at your skin and kiss along your collarbones.  

“You still have to get past my corset,” you tease. “Can’t rip your way through that one.” 

“I can try,” he practically growls, one of his hands coming up to trace menacingly along the boned seams. 

“Don’t,” you grip his chin and turn his gaze up to yours. His eyes light up at your command. 

Astarion listens and helps you remove the rest of your clothing. Miraculously, your corset and chemise make it off your body without being destroyed like your poor dress.

The cool wood of his desk against your bare skin makes you shiver but you’re quickly distracted when Astarion brings your wrist to his mouth. His eyes lock onto yours and he presses a kiss to your skin before his teeth sink in. You had missed that rush of coldness when he first bites that sends electricity shooting through your veins and it’s almost obscene as you watch him. He drinks from you slowly and sensually and his eyes burn into you the whole time.

As he drops your wrist, a fresh streak of ruby red runs down his chin and you lean forward to lick it up, greedily pressing your mouth against his again. 

You fumble with the buttons on his trousers, pushing them down so you’re able to free the hard length of his cock and wrap your hand around it. He groans as you pump your hand up and down his length.

“Missed you being inside me,” you whisper. “Missed how good you fuck me.”

“Then what are you waiting for, pet? Take what you want.”

You guide him into you and he lets you adjust for a moment before his hips are snapping against yours at a ruthless pace that betrays his desperation.

You had missed this- this closeness, this feeling of being whole and one and loved.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Astarion promises, and he grabs the back of one of your thighs, lifting your leg up to wrap around his waist. It has him hitting that much deeper inside you with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes practically roll back in your head.

Astarion brings his lips down to ghost against yours before he teasingly pulls away. “Look at us. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

You moan at his words, losing yourself in the sentiment and the feeling of Astarion moving inside you. Just him and you, like how it was meant to be. He is yours and you are his. 

“Say it,” he commands, pulling your attention back to him. It sends a lovely shiver down your spine. You’d do anything he asked if he kept talking to you in that rough, low voice. 

“Yours. Only yours,” you breathe into his mouth, chasing after his lips. He gives you a gentle tug on your hair that pulls you back so that your lips are still just a hair’s breadth away from his. 

“And I’m yours,” he says, before he finally kisses you.

And Astarion’s hands are everywhere. As if he is determined to memorize your body by touch alone. It makes you smile. Touching. Always touching. You doubt that Astarion will ever let you out of his grasp again. Nor would you want him to.

The way he fucks you somehow feels even better, even more wonderful now as a vampire. All your senses are tingling and hyper-alert and it only serves to make you that much more aware of how Astarion feels pressed against you and how he moves inside you.

It’s carnal, it’s feral, it’s utterly vampiric. 

His hand reaches down between your bodies, his magical fingers moving against your clit in a way that sends sparks through your cunt. It has you reaching the precipice far sooner than you had hoped. That aching desire pools low in your stomach, rising into an inferno. 

You come and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Every nerve ending in your body is molten fire.

“So tight, so good,” he pants against your mouth. You whine at the way his hips keep driving into you at a pace which feels so good it’s almost painful. “Can you come for me again, little flower?”

Oh, this man was going to the death of you, wasn’t he? You nod frantically, unable to form words. Astarion presses open mouth kisses along your throat before he’s biting down again. The sudden shock of cold has you gasping for air and digging your nails into Astarion’s skin. You feel that coil tightening deep within you again, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Astarion keeps moving his fingers against your clit. 

You come.

Astarion manages a few more frenzied thrusts before he comes, too, spilling inside you.

And thank the gods you’re already dead because that second orgasm might have just stopped your heart entirely. 

You’re just coming back to your senses when you Astarion sinks to his knees in front of you, lifting your legs over his shoulders. He’s staring at your cunt like it’s a four-course meal and you eventually have to tug at his beautiful white curls to pull his attention back to you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You’re dripping all over my expensive desk,” Astarion says. “I’m going to clean you up.” 

Your brain is already a bit slow after two overwhelming orgasms and the sight of Astarion on his knees before you, offering to lick away the traces of his come leaking out of you, has you practically feral with lust. Astarion squirms under your gaze the longer you continue to stare down at him, his confident facade dropping. 

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You sigh out a breathy ‘yes’ and he’s back to smirking arrogantly at you. Astarion’s arms wrap around you so he can shift your hips to the very edge of his desk. 

He devours your cunt. His tongue is everywhere- lapping at your inner folds and dipping deliciously inside you. You lean back on your hands to steady yourself, but that does little to help when Astarion moves to suck on your clit and your whole body trembles with ecstasy. 

You aren’t entirely sure how this is helping to ‘clean you up.’ It seems much more likely that Astarion got distracted by all the noises that you are surely making and is trying to drag this out into some sort of religious experience. 

“One more, please,” he practically begs, like it’s some big favor to him that you should orgasm another time. His chin is glistening with your wetness and he sounds practically breathless. “You’ve no idea how badly I missed watching you come.”

His words send another spark of heat straight to your cunt and you let out a surprised, strangled whimper. Astarion’s mouth quirks up in a haughty grin, so you simply reach out to tug his head back toward your cunt.

You feel Astarion’s laugh before he begins feasting on you again, sucking and licking and rolling his tongue in some unholy way that has you seeing stars. 

For a moment, there is nothing but the white-hot waves of pleasure that roll through you as Astarion coaxes yet another orgasm from your body. 

His mouth continues moving against you until you are shaking. He presses gentle kisses to the inside of each of your thighs before gently lowering them from where they sit on his shoulders and the small, caring act brings a goofy grin to your face.

How is it possible to love someone more with every passing moment?

Astarion surges back up to press a final kiss to your lips. It’s slow and deep and you can taste the combined taste of your releases on his tongue. Astarion gently traces down the column of your throat with his thumb, over the spot where he had bitten you just a few moments ago. You can tell your skin is already healed. 

“No more marks.” He looks genuinely forlorn. “A pity.”

“I’ll always have this one,” you remind him, holding up your wrist. Astarion brushes his fingers over the twin bite marks on the inside of your wrist from when he had turned you. 

You watch him study the marks and you wish you could hear what he was thinking.

“Speaking of which,” Astarion finally breaks the silence. He leans over you to pull open a drawer in his desk, shuffling around in it blindly. He gives a satisfied little smirk when he finds whatever he was looking for. 

“You might want this back,” he says. When he opens his hand, your wedding ring is sitting on his palm. 

“Give me that.” You feel the smile light up your face as you snatch the ring from him and place it back on your ring finger. “Are you still wearing yours?”

“Never took it off.” Astarion proudly displays his left hand as proof. Sure enough, the gold band glints enchantingly when it catches the candlelight. 

“I love you,” you tell Astarion. 

The way he’s looking at you can only be described as awe. He catches your hand and brings it to his mouth so he can press a lingering kiss to the spot where the ring now sits comfortably on your finger, once again.

“I love you, too.”

Somehow, you manage to smile even wider.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

So next week, we wrap up the plot (since we still have that pesky Crown of Karsus hanging around) and then the final chapter is the epilogue. I'm actually kind of happy that I decided to move things around a bit because now I get to add in an extra smut scene that I was originally planning as a fade to black since the epilogue was getting too long.

I loved seeing everyone's reactions to last week's chapter! Can't wait to see what you all think as we start wrapping this bad boy up!

As always, huge thanks to my beta-writer AliensNSuch on ao3.

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝐼𝑠𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖'𝑑 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑇𝑒𝑦𝑣𝑎𝑡

Part 2

Life is strange.

You were in your world and doing godforsaken homeworks from your teachers and laying down idly while obsessing over maybe that game you started to obsess over... Then-

Now, seeing yourself in what appeared to be a godly attire in a gameworld that you barely knew wasn't on your list

Besides, how did you even come here?? You weren't actively trying to shift-

"Paimon thinks they are a bit pale..." she said while poking your arm that, surprisingly enough, didn't break or fall off during your fall. Hearing the familiar child voice of her, you widened your eyes and sat up on your hands and knees, letting out a high screech after throwing a comment.

"And Y/N can hear you, whoever you are." you groaned and they both screamed on top of their lungs much like you in fright, hugging each other thightly.

But... Why were you slapping your cheeks?

"This is insane... I didn't think those creepy and weird Isekai anime thing would happen to me!" you mumbled in deep shock, looking around yourself and seeing all the vibrant colors of Teyvat, the ones you were so used to seeing on screen...

Then came another startling thought: There were every kind of monsters, slimes, Hilichurls and even more dangerous and hard-to-kill ones.

Before you could freak out even more Aether, as the sweetheart he was, helped you, with Paimon finding something to burn to warm you up

They wondered how you were here, perhaps you also fell down like him and his sister and now were stuck? Since you looked, and still did, really horrified to find yourself here. But yet again, your looks was much different than anyone he had seen.

Shining bright eyes with sharp star shaped irises... They were mesmerizing, so alluring and so full of wonders, power as if they held the answers to all questions...

Where were you from?

But, apart from your obviously tall body, like really tall, and your star-like eyes which he found to be cute, there was another fact that stood out and made him realize how much trouble he would find himself in:

Your behaviour too which was becoming... concerning the poor boy.

Because who the fuck just kills an entire horde of elementals with just a quick flick of their... hand through sending golden waves singlehandedly with a cute smile and excited skip in their steps? Just how unhinged are you?

So, that was the first time you met the blonde who was way too pretty for a boy Aether and his cute companion Paimon, not that you didn't know them already.

" I think I will die very young, like very young..."

"Nah, you are the main character in this game. If you die, the game is over."

*Cue tripping into the lake headfirst but still managing to breathe with a thumbs up*

You just gave the biggest spoiler to anyone who would understand you but poor Aether, tho he tried to understand your words, didn't know shit about what you said.

Now, obviously, you couldn't tell them everything... That would, what, fuck with the order? The Heavenly Cosmic Rules? Whatever their names were, you really didn't want to anger anyone but also really wished to fuck with people.

Not now tho, you had to stay alive for that one.

But Aether had his own suspicions. He had been around long enough to know that he couldn't trust everyone but yet again... He needed another actual human who he could seek comfort when needed, be sure that they would have his back...

Poor, touch-starved boy ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

And he couldn't lie: You were funny as you tried to grab Paimon and squeeze her thightly to your chest, and even managed to kill a few of the hilichurls that came out of nowhere from behind your group...

Then there was the red tint of his cheeks, when you turned to look at him excitedly( not knowing that this was what you always wanted to do) and seeked his approval as if you needed it.

I mean, you were strong and pretty, a little bit too odd and obsessed with death and never took something serious, always praised him( God knew he needed that) and patted his head, even cooking delicious food that he never heard of before...

....

Exactly what he needed in another company!

"Hey,um, since you also came from another world probably... Whose language and words I absolutely don't understand, how about we stick together? I mean, I-I wouldn't want a woman to be alone, not that you can't take care of yourself, I just saw you-" he stammered nervously, absolutely not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But as you stared at the boy with a blush as his golden eyes looked at everything but you, there was only one single thought:

Hehehe cute ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

"No problem, it would actually be amazing since I know nothing about this world!" (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

Lie, not completely but still a lie

But come on, his stutter was cute and besides he needed to have... a human sized companion in case things got so very wrong

Whether you were the human companion or not... Well, was unknown.

The poor, still-innocent Aether was eager to know your story. Where you were from, whether you came from another world like him too, how you used that power you obviously had but you had no idea of having it in the first place...

Poor boi was just so touch-starved, and had been so lonely until he stumbled upon Paimon two months after he woke up and one month later, you.

Besides, Paimon was not affectionate in the way he wished... More like, she was an emergency food~

"For the last time, Paimon is NOT AN EMERGENCY FOOD!"

Oh how you always loved watching her get riled up so easily

You three were each other's everything from now on.

So that was how you started to have adventures while trying hard to not to die. Paimon would offer her funny thoughts while sometimes giving really useful info, Aether would often cook for all three of you until you learnt how to make most of the food known here to help him.

He was already doing a lot by protecting you and making sure that none of the hilichurls were eating you

Though soon, his protection contract you did between the two of you unofficially came to an end when an excited young scout named Amber found you three and brought you to-

"Holy shit, Monstadt is even more beautiful in real life!" you exclaimed excitedly as Amber watched you three run happily, looking at everything in astonishment as if she was the one who created the city, nodding her head proudly at what you said. "The rumors don't do enough justice to us! Of course the real thing is much better!"

Poor girl... If only she knew that this world was actually a game and you were talking about that by saying "in real life".

Or whatver concept it was.

Even though the quality of the game was *chef kiss*, nothing could have prepared you for the gentle breeze that flew past you, how it made you shiver pleasantly as your hair danced around, the air of wine and... freedom filling your every cell.

This was definetly what home felt like.

You might not have enough knowledge about them, with being a new player and all and not having that obsession to know everything about them yet... But there was one thing obvious as your attention was on a certain florist: Her... obsession(?) over a certain redhead was very fucking obvious- was that a jewelry store?

Meanwhile, as Aether was left with a blue haired-cyro user who also had the same star eyes like you, trying to dodge all the flirty and suave comments... He searched for you desperately to get out of the situation he found himself in.

Because even if he was the fighter, you were the talker with a sweet voice and surprisingly very convincing when you wanted to be. Whether you were always like that was a mystery to solve another day.

"Paimon could always ask them! Y/N likes Paimon the best after all, they said so!"

"wHaT? Y/N! IS THAT TRUE, AFTER ALL THE TIME WE SPENT-"

That was the other side of Aether you didn't see much through playing the game. He was more excited and more lively, always running around and helping people while making new friendships whereas Lumine was more well-kept and calm.

Though to him, your and Paimon's friendship meant the most and he would never let you, her or him forget about that.

You three were quite the Trio after all!

Besides, your talent of negotiation worked wonders with him since you decided to use it to braid his hair and force him to sleep.

But if there was one thing he despised about you, which was also the only one, was the attention span of a baby you had whenever you saw something either shiny or cute.

Or someone attractive and hot...

Which showed itself again when he was called upon Kaeya's, the Cavalry Captain's, commands for a "super secret mission" and he wasn't able to flee out.

"The other knights can't know about it! I can't ask for help from any other than you... Please, help me." Aether swore he saw the hint of a smirk on his face-

"What kind of secrecy is this?? And what's with that eyepatch?"

"Well, to be honest my little friend... My great grandfather was a pirate!"

Yep, he better find a way to get out of this soon (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

[technically-a-kiwi]

The Meeting

Normally the Cosmic Tower gang kept to their own kind. The other Cosmic entities tended to be weird around them. Intentionally or not, they made the mottled group feel like they didn't belong. After all, they were far more whacky than their serious shining peers. Especially the higher-ups.

Every time they stood next to some other Cosmic, they felt like a mistake.

So they mostly kept to the others like themselves. Noise might be insufferable and whatever was in the ticket booth might be a bit alarming, but it was better than being silently judged by some eldrich horror. They kept to themselves, and the others just let them do their own thing.

Normally.

One particular universe had caught Pizzahead's interest on this fateful day. He had always been fascinated by the Tower in every one. There was always a Tower. If not now, then sometime in the past or future. He loved watching them; a vibrant ecosystem, almost a universe itself in one building!

He watched with intense interest this particular one. He had become invested in the fight between two grey humans - one in a lab coat, one in detective garb - when he felt a painful flare of cosmic power jolt through his body. He jumped forward a couple dozen light-years and then turned around in shock. Another Cosmic entity was standing at the edge of the universe, glaring angrily. "Hey, Wile E! You're in MY territory!"

Pizzahead cleared his throat nervously. He hadn't encountered a "proper Cosmic" in centuries. "My sincerest apologies! I hadn't quite realized how far from home I - YIKES!" Another blazing bolt of pure energy crackled by his head. "OK! I'M MOVING! I'M MOVING!" he screamed, trying to shuffle out of the way. No dice. The other Cosmic lunged at him and grasped the celestial toon by his neck.

"You don't belong here!" he shouted. Pizzahead struggled to loosen his grip. "Then why won't you let me leave...?" he gasped. The proper Cosmic tightened his grip, snarling. "None of you deserve Cosmic power, you least of all!" As Pizzahead was thrown across the starry field, images of countless other Pizzaheads flashed before his eyes, none of them good. But that couldn't be HIM, right?

He managed to get himself standing upright and faced his assailant again, putting up his dukes and bouncing comically. "So that's it? All right then, square up, you - " Pizzahead crumpled like a sheet of paper before he could even get a shot off. He struggled to get up, but it suddenly felt like he was swimming through molasses. The next bolt only lasted a few seconds, but the pain on impact felt like it lasted a hundred times that. He curled up into a ball, wincing.

"I'm like 80% sure you're not supposed to do something like this," he hissed. He could never directly quote any of the rules but he was pretty sure there was one about serious fighting. His opponent leaned down and grinned.

"No one will notice you're gone. Not even your own kind."

Pizzahead whimpered. He hadn't done anything wrong. This guy obviously had a much better handle on his powers than him - Pizzahead hadn't even considered being able to distort time like that! He knew he didn't stand a chance alone. But it was just them two for light-centuries, or so it seemed. He braced himself for whatever came next.

"What in the - " Pizzahead's eyes snapped open when he heard his assailant shout. Stars and galaxies were clustering around him, forming a sparkling sort of makeshift shield. A strange voice came from the universe. "Enough..." It sounded like it had never spoken before that moment. The proper Cosmic started, then scoffed. "A sentient universe? Cute." He waved his hand to one side. "Get out of the way! You are nothing compared to me!" A galaxy wrapped around Pizzahead's hand. "You're on a power trip," the universe stated.

This infuriated the other Cosmic. He prepared the biggest attack he had used yet as he screamed, "That's IT! I gave you a chance to save yourself! You're in MY territory, so I can do WHATEVER I WANT TO YOU!" Pizzahead pushed some of his cosmic power into the universe, not really knowing what he was doing but not wanting all these innocent worlds to come to harm because of him.

The brilliant bolt ricocheted off of the celestial shield and came right back at their attacker. Now it was the proper Cosmic's turn to run away scared, shouting, "I'M REPORTING THIS!" Pizzahead retorted, "YOU STARTED IT!" The universe that he had protected separated itself from him, and he winced as he saw that his power had affected it. It looked for all the world like a floating mustachioed pizza creature. It smiled at Pizzahead.

Pizzahead shuffled in his shoes. "Thanks for trying to protect me. You didn't have to do that," he said, looking down at his feet. A galactic trail touched his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. He's been a pain for a while." The universe looked at itself. "I've... I've been wanting to approach you for a long time." Pizzahead jumped. "Really?" "Yes. You and your friends seem like you'd be the only Cosmics to take me seriously. And well... I guess you did."

Pizzahead looked his new friend up and down. Some subconscious memory was tugging at the back of his mind. Perhaps...? "Well, at any rate, you can't stay here. Wanna crash at my place?" Pizzaface smiled hopefully. "I'd like that."

@chaotichyperfixations been thinking about this all morning and wanted you to see too

Ooooh didn’t expect a full story to come up in my mail today… It’s brilliant !

also I really like how you wrote everything ! clearly you understand the word our Cosmic cast lived in Lawful cosmic.

And Pizzaface’s story here is so cute ! Could work for a lawful cosmic alt story since here Pizzaface isn’t NEARLY as full of himself as he should be.

Anyway, all I wanna say is thank you for taking the patient to write this 🤗! It’s lovely and I had a wonderful time reading it :)

[ocs-res]

“No worries, I got it.”

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

I want to tell you about the Flash arc ever: Rogue War.

We start off in the first issue with a totally normal premise. Zoom had escaped jail and was having a romantic fling with Cheetah. The two of them were running around killing people for fun. So naturally Wally and Diana teamed up to stop this horrifying turn of events. Oh and they're also trying to stop the murders as well. Diana was blind for unrelated reasons and she lassoed Wally so that he could act as her seeing eye dog. It's all very normal.

Anyway, so Captain Cold and Captain Boomerang were all doing in-depth research on the Flash family tree. Boy, can I relate to that. Mirror Master hauled in the Turtle for the crime of being... around? I guess? And Weather Wizard found a note tapped to their door inviting the Rogues to a Rogues fight.

In the next issue the Rogues broke the Trickster out of jail and then they tried to hunt down the corpse of the previous Captain Boomerang. It didn't go so well.

Hartley showed up and kidnapped Zoom's wife which was an ABSOLUTELY BALLSY THING TO DO MY GUY. Speaking of kidnappings, Zoom kidnapped Jay because he wanted Jay to build him a cosmic treadmill.

Then we get our Rogue fight. Captain Cold, Mirror Master, Weather Wizard, Captain Boomerang and the new Trickster vs Wally's best friend (Pied Piper), Wally's childhood best friend (Magenta), Heat Wave and the old Trickster. Someone start blasting the John Cena wrestling music because I associate that with massive showdowns and this is one for the century!

But what exactly was the titular character The Flash doing during all of this, I hear you ask. Well. Wally and Linda spent this issue in the doctor's office running tests and finding out that they couldn't have children. It's all very depressing and we're going to move past it because I won't do the scene justice.

Anyway, so the Rogues were fighting each other and we find out that Hartley's team was working for the FBI. They weren't the ones who had sent the Rogues the note inviting them to a Rogue fight. No, they were just a random, convenient grouping of Rogues who happened to have a bone to pick.

Cut to issue three and Wally was at work. He heard on the news that there's trouble going on so naturally he suits up and heads out. He arrived, in the middle of the Rogue fight, and he had no fucking clue what was happening because there were about nine Rogues duking it out in the middle of the street for no reason.

Now there are three teams. The og Rogues, who want to quell the Rogue uprising and find the previous Captain Boomerang's corpse. The FBI Rogues, who have the previous Captain Boomerang's corpse and don't want to give it up for FBI reasons. And Wally, who would really like them to stop breaking skyscrapers please and thank you.

So they're all fighting and causing just an insane amount of damage to the city when all of sudden the Top shows up out of nowhere and is all "Aha! Rogue fight!!" and suddenly there were four teams in this fight. And that's not all! Turns out the Top was the one who left the note and he had his own Rogue team at his beck and call. Girder, Murmur, Plunder, Tar Pit and Double Down now enter the fight.

There were FOURTEEN Rogues all trying to murder each other and Wally was left scrambling to make sure that they a) don't kill each other, b) don't kill him, and c) don't kill any civilians. Wally did knock out Hartley at one point and then Wally brought him back to his house to crash on his couch which was very cash money of him. Wally was like "go sleep off your bad decisions and we'll talk about this over breakfast ❤️"

But yeah, Wally was straight up not having a good time. Captain Cold killed the Top and shattered bits of his body everywhere, fires were raging because Heat Wave decided to go nuts, both Tricksters were battling it out mid air with acid bombs, ect, ect.

While this is all going on, Zoom's wife found Captain Boomerang's body and he was very much a zombie. The FBI wanted a zombie Captain Boomerang for... reasons, I guess? Cap begged for death so Zoom's wife let him die. Terrible timing though because right when he died the new Captain Boomerang barged into the room. See, the new Captain Boomerang was the previous Boomerang's son and he wasn't happy to see what he thought was a random lady killing his father.

So he threatened to kill Zoom's wife.

Not a great idea.

Zoom showed up and took his wife somewhere safe. That safe place was Wally's living room because it's fucking Zoom and he does whatever he wants.

And now we have five teams. The OG Rogues, the FBI Rogues, Top's Rogues, Wally and Zoom. Why was Zoom on his own team? Why wasn't he fighting with a Rogue group? Well, before Zoom was Zoom, he was an FBI analyst who specialized in the Rogues. He hated them with every fiber of his being. Zoom's main goal was to make Wally suffer but killing a bunch of Rogues was irresistible to him. Plus, they threatened his wife.

This was apparently too easy for Wally though. I mean, fourteen Rogues and Zoom at the same time? Pfft. Come on. So naturally Captain Cold called in Dr. Alchemy to distract Wally. Dr. Alchemy apparently thought 'distract' meant 'brutally beat him' because, by god, the man did not go light on the already extremely beat up and tired speedster.

But that's not enough. No, Cold was like "This is still too easy. Call in the big guns." So they brought out Grodd.

16 Rogues and Zoom versus a man who was bleeding out on the floor. Super awesome and fair fight. You love to see it.

Bart ran in at this point and was all "you never invite me to anything fun, Wally". Because Jay's missing and Wally's at deaths door and Bart learned from Wally that you hide your emotions under a layer of sarcasm at all times. Wally genuinely thanked him for the help and, at the realization that this was so serious that they were abandoning snark, Bart responded with a genuine "you're welcome". In one of my favorite blink-and-you'll-miss-it scenes, Bart and Wally stood back to back, surrounded by Rogues, prepared to make their last stand.

Then Zoom swooped in and killed a few. Zoom said his iconic line "I don't give a shit about the Rogue stuff. This is a speedster fight now." (I'm paraphrasing) Zoom grabbed Bart and threatened to snap his neck. Bart said his iconic line "Do it. You won't." (I'm paraphrasing but not as much as you'd think). Zoom then said his iconic line of "SPKFDVL" (not paraphrasing)

At this point Zoom decided that 16 Rogues and himself was WAY too easy for Wally. So naturally he invited Eobard Thawne to the party. Eobard showed up to the fight fashionably late on a cosmic treadmill. One that had Jay chained to the hood like a dead deer.

We still have two issues left people, so buckle up because it doesn't get less insane from here on out.

The Rogues actually had pretty good survival instincts so they took Zoom's whole "speedster fight" thing to heart and they bailed. They got out of there like rats abandoning a burning building.

Wally then showed the world how smart he was and managed to free Bart and Jay. Wally then showed the world how dumb he was and fought Eobard and Hunter on the cosmic treadmill. They then started time traveling with about as much control and finesse as a drunk driver in a snow storm.

They did a hit and run somewhere in the time stream. Poor Captain Boomerang. He got knocked into the arms of Meloni Thawne in the far off future. (And that's how Bart's brother Owen was born)

Hunter's whole plan here was to take Wally back in time to force him to watch Hunter's previous vicious attack on Wally's then pregnant wife, Linda. This attack was devastating as Hunter's attack caused Linda to miscarry the couple's unborn twins. Hunter wanted to make Wally suffer because Hunter thought tragedy would make Wally a better hero.

Eobard's just there cause he likes fucking with people.

So the two of them hold Wally down to make him watch the worst moment of his life when BARRY FUCKING ALLEN SHOWS UP.

You know. The man who has been dead for years.

You see, Barry was also time traveling because of course he was, he's Barry Allen. While Barry didn't have a single clue about what was happening, Barry saw an adult Wally getting beat up and the man went into a rage. That's his KID goddammit.

Barry did his whole best dad thing and gave Wally a pep talk. Wally, for his part, was pretty chill about time traveling Barry because honestly time traveling Barry showing up wasn't really as uncommon of an occurrence as you would think. Barry then dragged Eobard back in time to kill him (not joking).

Okay we're in the end game now.

Wally kicked the shit out of Hunter and threw him in front Linda, shielding her from Hunter's attack. Hunter flipped out and tried to operate the cosmic treadmill but he fucked up and hurled himself through time. Skill issue.

Wally time traveled back to the present where him, Bart and Jay yelled insults at the retreating Rogues because the Rogues were holding them at Turtle point.

The three made a mad dash to the hospital when they heard news that Linda was Not. Okay. Linda went from not pregnant to nine months pregnant in the span of a second because Wally fucked with time. Linda was in labor and EVERYONE WAS FREAKING OUT.

And that's the story of how the West twins were born.

The End.

[bullet-prooflove]

Live Stream Part Two: No Prisoners - Nick Amaro x Reader

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Live Stream:

Part One: Camera Shy - Nick is forced to watch you in captivity.

Pain. It was the only thing that was keeping Nick Amaro hanging on while you were in the hands of this monster. Your shrill screams were still ringing in his ears like flashbacks from the cruellest of nightmares. The process has been slow, and your whimpers of agony had stabbed him repeatedly in the heart like a hunter's knife. He was bleeding out inside the same way that you were. He didn't know if you would recover from the hell that you had been exposed to. He’d watched that video as it was live streamed to his entire Squad.

His fingers ran over the indentation that his fist left in the panel of the metal locker. His hand was aching, the skin broken and blood smeared across his white knuckles. There was so much rage burning up deep inside of him, so much anger, so much fury. He had entered the locker room and sat upon the wooden bench preparing himself for the moment that Liv said the word go.

The problem was the silence gave him time to think. Nick had sat here and absorbed every single image he had been privy to. Helplessness didn't cover what he was feeling, he would have given everything for your positions to have been reversed. He would have given his life a thousand times over for you and it had taken until now for him to understand the depth of his feelings.

Nick dropped down onto the bench once more as the adrenaline drained out of him. The truth was he didn't even know if you were alive anymore. There was no proof that you were dead, the stream had been turned off long before they had reached that point but he had seen enough to know if you did come back, you would come back damaged.

Nick let out a frustrated growl into his large hands as he ran them over his exhausted features. He hadn't slept since you had been taken, he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes and see the images that he knew would haunt him in his sleep.

He relived that last night you had spent together. He remembered the texture of your hair underneath his fingers, how tender and soft your lips were as they brushed over his. He had never felt so deserving of someone else before, he had never desired someone so badly. He had wanted you that night, your heart and your soul. Nick had wanted to make you his, he wanted to show you the extent of his feelings but you weren’t ready. You were was barely coming to terms with the chemistry that blazed between the two of you. He had placed his heart in your hands and let you set the pace.

He had lost track of the hours that you had spent exploring one another. Your kisses had been poignant and sweet, Nick had enjoyed the time he had spent, exploring the confines of your mouth. He had spent so much time learning all the little things that made you so special and unique. He loved the way your nose crinkled just a little when he made you laugh. Your eyes were the most expressive that Nick had ever seen, every time he stared into them he felt like he could see right into your soul.

Nick swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, it was an aching mass that restricting his breathing. He found himself getting lost in the darkness once more as the guilt crashed in like a wave washing over his head. He couldn't breathe at the thought that you may not return.

The door to the locker room banged open as Fin swept through, that determined, purposeful look upon his features.

"We've got a location." Fin told him before jerking his head towards the Squad Room.

Nick rose to his feet, his hand coming to rest upon the gun on his hip.

He wouldn’t be taking any prisoners tonight.

Love Nick? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Want to read more Nick? Check out his Masterlist here!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Part Eight // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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Jolly strode into the grand council chamber, adjusting the lapels of his suit and surveying the scene before him. Fellow mages mingled in small groups, their hushed conversations echoing off the circular walls and intricately carved marble pillars. His gaze swept down the stairs to the center of the room, where the massive, oaken table of the Head Magistrate sat, its surface polished to a gleaming shine and inlaid with intricate sigils and runes. Flanking it were the four smaller tables of the Council Elders, simple and unadorned in contrast. Off to the side, almost as an afterthought, were the utilitarian desks of the Secretary, Scribe, and Guardsman, stacked high with parchment and quills. Jolly slumped into his seat at one of the Elders' tables, crossing one leg lazily over the other and leaning back with a sigh. Another mind-numbing meeting awaited him, just like all the others this month. These interminable gatherings were the bane of his workday existence. He often found himself zoning out as the Magistrate droned on, his imagination drifting to literally anything else - magical experiments in his workshop, reading in the archives, even watching paint dry. Today would be no exception, he mused, stifling a yawn and steeling himself for the boredom ahead.

Jolly's mind wanders to Rosa as he waits for the meeting to start. He thinks back to this morning at the breakfast table, when he caught a brief glimpse of the intensity simmering behind her eyes. For just a moment, he saw the aurora glow of her irises - greens, blues and purples swirling together like a cosmic storm.

As Jolly poured himself another cup of coffee in the kitchen, he overheard Rosa telling Noah about the victims of the disease she called The Rage. But it wasn't really a disease at all- just uncontrolled magic consuming Unclaimed Mages from within.

Jolly shudders at the thought. Where would he be now if his own magic had spiraled out of control like that? He feels a swell of gratitude for his mentor, who helped him harness and master his abilities. 

His family was a lineage of mages with a magic that spanned generations, each adept at wielding the immense power of water. He had a cousin who made her home right on the tumultuous waves of the Aegean Sea in Greece - open her back door and the ocean spray hits you in the face. Another cousin was an Olympic swimmer - clearly the family gifts gave him an advantage in the pool. It was no coincidence they hailed from the icy north, where snow covered the ground most of the year. His parents were in their element among the glaciers and snowdrifts. They never understood why he felt compelled to head west to the sweltering city.

The simplicity of it resonated within him. Blood. The one common thread that bound humans, mages, and hunters together as one. Its rhythmic flow coursed through every living being, connecting them in an intimate dance of life. As he stood among the pulsing thrum of bodies, feeling their sanguine energy swirl around him, he found peace. In that moment, all differences faded away, and there was only the blood - the vital, crimson river that made them all one.

As she sits down next to him, he can't help but notice her defeated sigh, though her appearance exudes anything but. Maria's dark caramel locks cascade in perfect curls down to the middle of her back, effortlessly framing her sweet mocha skin. While her heather grey suit accentuates her figure, her aura commands the room. He knows Maria to be a confident, successful woman who carries herself with poise and grace, yet in this moment she seems weary. Though she looks as put together as ever, her sigh betrays her, hinting at an exhaustion or worry she tries hard not to show. He wonders what could be weighing on her mind to make her shoulders slump ever so slightly under that perfectly fitted jacket.

Jolly's lips curl into a playful smile as he asks, "What is it this time, Maria dear?" The two have been best friends ever since his arrival from Sweden. Maria herself was born and raised in Brazil - two foreigners who found companionship in one another.

"What isn't the matter?" she exclaims, throwing her head back in defeat. "My experiments are failing left and right. And my herbal farm in the west? It got hit with an unexpected frost. Half our stock is dead and the rest are in shock." Poor Maria lets out an exaggerated sigh, hands slapping her face as her fresh red manicure slides down pulling her skin with it. 

With a warm smile, Jolly noticed the sparkling diamond ring on Maria’s finger. "So how's Oliver handling his new promotion?" he asked.

Maria sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "About as well as can be expected. He's determined to support the hunters and make me proud, but I can tell his mind has been preoccupied." A frown tugged at her lips as she absentmindedly twisted the ring. "I just hope all the added responsibilities aren't weighing too heavily on him."

Jolly nodded in understanding, giving her arm a reassuring pat. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it. Oliver's got a good head on his shoulders." He offered an encouraging grin. "And if he needs any advice, tell him to give me a call. I'd be happy to help however I can."

The magistrate's presence silenced the room as all eyes fell upon him. His receding dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes, now dulled by age, did nothing to diminish the air of authority he exuded. With shoulders squared, he strode in with the confidence of a man accustomed to commanding obedience. Though time had etched its marks on his face, the magistrate's piercing gaze and imposing stature ensured that he remained an intimidating, powerful figure that few would dare defy. Flanked by armed guards with hands ready at their weapons and fierce hunters prowling in his wake, he exuded power. The assembled mages and council members watched with bated breath as he took his place at the head of the room. His piercing gaze swept over the crowd; with but a look, he could end any man's life. When he spoke, his deep voice echoed off the stone walls, steel underlying his every word. This was not a man to be trifled with. All knew that to defy him meant certain death. His will would be done, one way or another.

The magistrate called the meeting to order, his gravelly voice booming through the crowded hall. As the magistrate continued explaining the agenda for their meeting, Jolly listened intently, waiting for the right moment to make his case with passion and conviction. Jolly had been concerned about laboratory finances being off for months now, although it was only slight loss each month he wanted to propose more access to the financial bracket in order to ensure the funding was being spent appropriately. As the head researcher at the biotech firm, Jolly took pride in running an efficient and productive lab. He had assembled a top-notch team of scientists who were making great strides in genetic research that could lead to new disease treatments. However, Jolly had noticed some peculiarities in the monthly budgets that left him scratching his head. Each month, there seemed to be a small but consistent discrepancy between the approved funding for equipment, materials, and salaries and the actual spending. The differences were not huge - usually just a few thousand dollars - but they bothered Jolly, who liked to have full transparency and understanding of his lab's finances. He began to wonder if the discrepancies were a sign of innocent accounting errors or something more concerning like misconduct or fraud.

 The council chamber erupted into a tumultuous debate as the mages representing the western territories voiced their strong objections to the proposed expansion plans. The western mages were incensed, but controlled in their anger, as they argued against the council's designs to push westward, establishing new laboratories, research facilities, and magical institutions on their lands. They fretted that such development would tax their resources, both material and magical, to a breaking point. More than that, the mages worried how the humans living in the west would react. So much of the mages' livelihood and profits depended on providing services to the non-magical humans there.

The western mages implored the council to reconsider the westward expansion, lest they lose the faith and business of the humans and thereby undermine the prosperity of mage and human alike. But not even ten minutes had passed when Jolly's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pressed it between his palm and thigh, silencing it until the buzzing stopped. A minute later, it buzzed again. Maria turned to him, concern swimming in her soft brown eyes. Jolly never got calls during meetings, especially not with the High Council of Mages. He was always diligent about turning his phone off beforehand. Yet here it was, buzzing insistently in his pocket, disrupting the solemn proceedings. Jolly shifted in his seat, ignoring Maria's worried glance. The phone vibrated again, persistently. Noah knew better than to call during High Council meetings, but after the third buzz, Jolly discreetly slid his phone out from his deep pocket and tapped back a quick message: "In a meeting."

The phone hummed once more against his leg. He offered Maria an apologetic nod before slipping to the back of the room. He could feel the eyes of the other Mages following him, their curiosity mingled with annoyance at the disruption. What could be so urgent that Noah would risk the ire of the High Council? Jolly's grip tightened on his phone as he stepped into the shadowed recesses of the hall.

"Noah, what's going on?" he whispered.

Before Jolly could even finish the question, Noah blurted out: "It's Rosa. She's been sick all morning, shaking and sobbing. I think she's having trouble breathing." Jolly could hear Rosa whimpering and choking back sobs in the background. His heart sank with worry.

Jolly ended the call and quietly returned to his seat beside Maria. Crouching down, he saw her eyes widen as she took in the evident concern on his face.

"Go," she whispered. "I'll check in after the meeting."

NOAH’S POV

He glances down at Rosa's small, trembling body curled up in his lap. Her fever still rages even as she finally drifts into a fitful sleep. He gently rubs circles on her back, hoping to provide some small comfort as they huddle near the warming fire. Jolly has been on the phone with Maria all day, both of them racking their brains trying to figure out how to make Rosa feel better. They've tried everything - bland foods, rest, warm baths, piles of blankets - but nothing seems to break this persistent fever. He feels so helpless watching his young mistress suffer. His heart aches to see her so miserable and weak. If only there was something more he could do to ease her discomfort. He continues rubbing her back, wishing he could absorb her illness into himself and spare her this torment.

Late into the night, the apartment was dark and still. Noah's eyes peered through the shadows, his night vision sharp. In the next room, Jolly tapped away at his keyboard, the occasional thud against the desk revealing his frustration. They were all on edge.

Before the knock came at the door, Noah caught their scent on the air - the earthy musk of Oli mixed with his wife's exotic floral perfume. Hushed voices murmured as Nick let them in, arms laden with bags. The commotion stirred Rosa from her sleep. She groaned, turning her head in Noah's lap as the visitors carried in their chaotic noise. He stroked her hair, hoping to soothe her back to rest, even as his own nerves remained taut. 

Noah gently scoops her up, cradling her in his strong arms as if she were the most delicate porcelain doll. Carrying her down the hall to the room she shares with Jolly. His face softens as he gazes down at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Oli and Nick follow closely behind, ever-watchful guardians ready to protect their cherished friend.

Oli takes up his post by the tall windows, his tall, lean frame leaning casually against the glass as he keeps a close eye on the surroundings below. Nick stations himself firmly by the door, arms crossed, prepared to ward off any disturbance.

Noah lays Rosa down tenderly on the bed, tucking the blankets snugly around her resting form. His touch is feather-light, yet secure and comforting. Oli and Nick exchange a quick glance, reassured by the care Noah takes with his vulnerable mistress.

Noah stops tucking her in, looking up at Oli with a questioning gaze. "She's different now," Oli said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Since that night. Something's changed."

Nick chimed in, sounding puzzled. "She's sick, right?" But he had never even seen Rosa before. How could he know?

Oli hesitated, sensing there was more to it. "No, it's...something else. Something more." His tone was laced with curiosity and unease. 

Noah gazed upon his mistress' sleeping form, a knot of unease twisting in his gut. She was his to protect, yet he sensed a power within her that gave him pause. As she shifted in slumber, a lock of hair fell across her face. But as his fingers grazed her cheek, her eyes flashed open, swirling with the cosmic colors of the morning sky.

He whimpered, feeling her gaze pierce his soul. His body shuddered, dropping to all fours in supplication before her might. With but a glance, she commanded the room. Oli and Nick, too, succumbed, bowing as beasts before her.

Though uncertainty gripped him, Noah felt no fear. He would surrender all to keep her safe. There was power here, yes, but no evil. Only light.

JOLLY’S POV

Jolly's leg bounced impatiently as he watched Maria pore over the results for the fifth time. "Well?" he finally burst out, unable to contain himself any longer.

Maria glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "This is unbelievable," she murmured. "Nightshade serum? Created in someone's home lab? Preposterous."

She turned back to the email, reading through it again with pursed lips. Jolly groaned and leaned his head against the back of the couch.

"I just can't wrap my mind around it," Maria said after another minute. "This Rosa woman managed to synthesize a complex biochemical compound using makeshift equipment? And achieved these kind of results?"

He sits casually on the couch, legs crossed, as he considers the situation. "Seems like it," he muses. "She's been getting nightshade from some garden shop over on the east side."

Maria thinks quietly to herself. "Well, I don't own that shop. And I certainly don't sell deadly nightshade here." She shakes her head slightly.

Jolly sat up, placing both feet firmly on the ground as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hands clasped together tightly as he looked at Maria expectantly.

"Well, will any of that mumbo jumbo you brought actually help or not?" he asked, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. He needed something real, something tangible to help Rosa get through this.

Maria just leaned back in the office chair, clicking her tongue thoughtfully. "I might be able to whip something up, but it may only provide temporary relief. She may just have to ride this thing out."

Jolly shook his head, countering firmly but not unkindly, "She needs strength, real medicine, if she's going to recover and get back on her feet. Something to help her keep food and water down, not just take the edge off."

Maria nodded contemplatively, eyes glazing over as she turned ideas over in her head. "Let me see what I can do. Oh, and when she's better, I'd love to be able to pick her brain a bit." At Jolly's confused look, she continued, "My experiments keep failing, but with a brilliant mind like hers, maybe I can finally achieve what I'm looking for."

Jolly sighed, but had to admit her skills could help. "We'll see when she's back on her feet. For now, let's just focus on getting her well."

Maria spins out of the chair, gliding across the room before she rummages through her bags with eager hands, searching for the ingredients she needs. Maria finds them and gets to work, pouring and mixing with practiced motions. Several syringes are filled with a murky green concoction. She tidies her workspace, then picks up one of the syringes. gives it a flick, making sure there are no bubbles, before securing the needle. Her eyes gleam as she admires the fruits of her labor.

Jolly scrambles to his feet as she catwalks out of the room, her words trailing behind her. "Let's see if it works." He hurries after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides. They make their way down the hall to his room. As he opens the door, they both freeze, startled by the sight before them.

Between the soft cotton sheets and warm down blankets, Rosa rests peacefully, her head propped up on the plush pillows. Next to her, Noah, rests his furry head on her belly, his legs twitching occasionally as he sleeps curled up close to Rosa, ever watchful and protective. At her feet, paws crossed over her legs, lies Nick, snoring softly in tranquil slumber. And there, curled perfectly at Rosa's thighs, eyes open and alert, is Oli, the vigilant comander. 

Jolly leans against the door frame, crossing his arms as he watches the faithful guardians wake and look at Maria with curious yet cautious eyes. They have locked onto the syringe in her hand. Noah turns to Jolly, who offers a reassuring nod as Maria approaches slowly. The protective canine companions follow her every move, never leaving their posts at Rosa's side. Jolly looks on calmly from the doorway as Maria grasps Rosa's arm, finding the right spot and delivering the medicine from the syringe. When the syringe is empty, Maria walks away, and the devoted guardians snuggle into Rosa even tighter, continuing their vigil watch.

[yetanothersparrowofthedawn]

St Jude

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake

Context: Y/N’s Bachelorette Party and an open bar don’t mix very well for one Jacob Thomas Kiszka.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come.

Previous Track: The Way I Loved You

Chapter soundtrack: St Jude – Florence + the Machine

Another conversation with no destination, Another battle never won, Each side is a loser, So who cares who fired the gun? And I'm learning so I'm leaving, And even though I'm grieving, I'm trying to find a meaning. Let loss reveal it. St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes. St Jude, we were lost before she started.

(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)

Alright, let’s get into this.

_______

The Florida sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the expansive beach. Gentle waves whispered tales of excitement as the beachside bar awaited the arrival of the bachelorette and her entourage.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation when Sam, Danny, and Jake walked through the door, greeted by a lively crowd of friends and colleagues of YN’s.

As they took in the venue, Sam couldn't help but chuckle, "Well, would you look at that? The three of us are early for once!”

Danny grinned in agreement, “Must be some kind of cosmic event."

Jake, however, remained unusually quiet, his eyes scanning the room as though searching for something elusive.

The trio made their way to the bar area, where the clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversations offered a lively background. Sam raised an eyebrow at Jake, sensing something brewing within his brother. "You alright, man? You're quieter than a library on a Sunday."

"Yeah, just tired,” Jake took a sip of his drink, the bitter taste doing little to soothe the turmoil within. “Probably just need more of this," he quipped, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Truth was, he had been having a hard time getting proper sleep. Eating too, but he’d blamed it on the stress of their upcoming album.

Guests mingled, sharing anecdotes and laughter as the sun set over the horizon. Yet, Jake remained on the periphery, a shadow among the revelry. His gaze occasionally flicked towards the entrance, a subconscious yearning for something unseen.

In a sudden burst of energy, YN and her bridesmaids, including Josh in his bright pink bridesman attire, finally made their grand entrance. The room erupted in cheers and applause and the air filled with an infectious effervescence.

YN, radiant in her sparkly dress, moved with a grace as she made her way through the crowd, greeting friends and well-wishers. Jake was surprised to feel his chest tightening with an indescribable unease.

As YN approached the trio, her infectious energy lit up the space around her.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, behold the miracle,” Sam playfully teased, “she has arrived, and only an hour late!”

"Very funny, Samuel,” YN chuckled, giving a light shove to his shoulder.

Danny smirked, raising his glass. "Taking punctuality lessons from Josh, YN?"

Amidst the banter, her eyes met Jake's. "Hi," she beamed at him, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m so glad you could come.”

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," Jake replied, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the night progressed, the sky darkened, and the party came alive with the sounds of music and champagne bottles popping open. The bachelorette, seemingly everywhere at once, danced from one group to another. Her laughter mingled with the rhythm of the music, a joyful symphony that echoed through the night.

Meanwhile, Jake found solace at the open bar, the cool glass in his hand offering a temporary escape from the overwhelming ambiance.

Each drink served as a futile attempt to drown out whatever was going on with him as he watched her from a distance. The alcohol in his empty stomach brought a temporary numbness, but the reprieve was only fleeting.

The atmosphere in the venue grew electric as the bridesmaids gathered to present YN with a playful gift—a sparkling tiara adorned with rhinestones spelling out ‘Mrs. Styles’. The crowd erupted in cheers as they crowned her, and YN, with a laugh, embraced the moment, wearing the gift with an air of mock regality.

Jake, however, felt an odd pang in his chest at the sight. He could’ve sworn the glittering tiara had been taunting him.

The night wore on and the tension within the guitarist continued to escalate amidst the pulsating beats and laughter. The bar, as per usual, turned out to be both his refuge and prison.

His gaze regularly flickered to her figure, unable to escape the magnetic pull she exerted, however much he tried to convince himself otherwise. And she looked so fucking happy.

The event carried on, and it seemed everything and anything only added fuel to the growing fire. A well-intentioned bridesmaid, unaware of the complexities that lingered beneath the surface, approached Jake to toast to the newlyweds.

A bitter taste lingered in his mouth at the girl’s words, and he thought he might just get sick all over the poor girl. It’s probably just the whiskey, right?

He somehow managed to retain composure, turning back to the drink he was nursing while the confused girl walked back to the dance floor.

It’s only a while later that a familiar voice interrupted his wandering thoughts.

“One Negroni, sugar.” Patty. “And don’t skimp on the Gin.” YN’s manager materialized to his side as she addressed the bartender. After a moment she turned to the guitarist. Leaning against the counter, she broke the silence.

“It’s nice for you to have come, Jacob.”

He clenched his jaw at her words. Yes, that was him, Jacob nice-guy Kiszka. He absolutely had not considered setting himself on fire for the past three hours.

The two of them once had a lovely friendship, if you could call it that. They never had that much in common, but they’d always shared one priority. YN’s well-being. Everything, of course, had turned sour when the rocky days of his and YN’s relationship creeped in, forcing Patty to step in more than once.

Memories of years past came back to Jake. Hushed conversations between the manager and him. Arguments behind closed doors. It’s for the best, Jacob. She won’t admit it, but she’ll eventually break if you two keep on going that way. It’s a necessary evil.

Patty had almost always been right, of course. Still, the bitter memories left his very flesh feeling raw.

“I can’t imagine it was easy,” she continued with a knowing look. Jake stared at his glass in silence. “But trust me, this, it’s good. It’s right.” she stated, “I suppose some things are just- meant to be.”Jake knew exactly what she’d meant to say. And some other are not.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Patty truly knew YN. Not the performer, not America’s sweetheart, not the tabloid-pleasing, award-winning, photo-posing girl. The true YN.

To be fair, she probably did. After all, Patty had been by YN’s side much longer than he had. She’d protected her in ways that went far beyond her role as manager. She’d cared the way a mother does. She’d wanted the fairytale for YN and, of course, with that came the prince charming, on his white fucking horse, with his stupid fucking English accent.

The chaos that clung to Jake’s very skin had most definitely clashed with that picture. Of course, the early days were fine. More than fine, in fact. Before Patty had witnessed them at their worst, she’d seen them at their best. But when the time came, when the chips were truly down, she had, of course, put YN’s interest first.

“If that make you feel better,” Patty carried on, “I’ll still look after her in London.”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat and he thought he might have misheard. He finally looked up to meet her gaze. Patty nodded, as sad understanding in her eyes, “They’ve been looking through houses, for after the honeymoon.”

Jake’s grip tightened around the glass in his hand. He might have burst out laughing had it not been so ridiculously tragic. He hadn’t even considered that an option. Why couldn’t Harry just move permanently to the US, huh? If he really was so giving and good? Why couldn’t he make that sacrifice? Asshole. And why on earth would YN ever accept to settle down with that guy to the other side of the world? Since when was she the kind to just follow someone around?

“You must be happy,” Jake eventually mumbled, taking another sip.

He couldn’t help but act as though it was all Patty’s doing. As though she had somehow planned the whole thing, the way a Bond villain does. As though she had wanted to make sure YN remained out of reach forevermore.

Maybe it was simply easier to believe that, than to accept the fact that YN, his YN, had wanted to follow her husband so far away. 4000 fucking miles away to be precise. That she had chosen all this.

“I am,” Patty replied with a gentle nod, “so long as she is, too.”

Some voices beckoned Patty back to the dance floor and with a gentle squeeze of his arm, she finally retreated. “Go easy on the whiskey, Jacob,” she uttered as she walked away.

Jake let his mind wander. A London townhouse. With a backyard and a fucking cat. An extra room on the second floor, just in case, with walls waiting to be painted in shades of pink or blue. Fucking baked beans for breakfast. And tea. Yeah, Harry probably drank tea. Harry probably wasn’t one to drown himself in booze and send the car flying off the road, glass shattering all over her skin.

YN would go to bed without worrying about where he was. Harry would be in bed before her, probably reading some posh poetry collection; reciting some Keats verses as she slid next to him.

Jake had never been one for words. It had been the delicate strumming of his guitar that filled the air when YN slid next to him in bed. Of course, that was before the stupid fighting, the tears, and the nights away. She must’ve had gotten used to sliding into an empty cold bed, with only the sound of city construction nursing her to sleep.

Now he was the one going to bed alone. Or he might as well have been. The coconut-smelling girls coming in and out of his apartment didn’t exactly constitute company worth mentioning.

 A bitter ache ran through him, and he ordered another drink.

It was around two in the morning when toasts started echoing through the venue.

 One of YN’s bridesmaids, took the stage. As she stepped forward with the microphone, the room fell into a hushed silence, the soft murmur of the ocean outside the only background noise.

She spoke eloquently, weaving tales of love and destiny, her words painted with the vibrant hues of celebration. "And here's to the happiest I've ever seen YN," she declared, raising her glass. "It's like fate itself intervened to bring her and Harry together. It's a love story for the ages, one that was truly meant to be."

Jake, further lost in the depths of intoxication, sat at the bar with clenched fists, the whiskey in his glass nearly forgotten. Each word intensified the throbbing ache within him. His gaze fixed on YN, who smiled with genuine joy, seemingly oblivious to his anguish.

As the applause erupted, drowning the room in a symphony of congratulations, Jake felt a surge frustration. No longer tethered by reason, he downed the remaining contents of his glass in one swift motion. The sharp burn of the alcohol igniting the dormant embers of his emotions.

 With an intensity that surprised even himself, Jake pushed away from the bar, his movements unsteady as he navigated through the sea of well-wishers.

Without a second thought, driven solely by a raw, unfiltered impulse, Jake ascended the small stage. The bridesmaid, caught off guard, relinquished the space, her eyes widening in surprise as Jake snatched the microphone from her hand.

The atmosphere hung heavy with a mix of tension and anticipation as Jake took center stage with a stumbling step. His jaw clenched, and a fire burned in his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone," Jake began, his squinting gaze momentarily lost in the sea of faces before him. His words slurred slightly, a testament to the alcohol coursing through his veins.

"As some of you may know, I am the ex-boyfriend and now dear, dear friend of the bride-to-be,” he paused for a second, the words making him nauseous. “Anyway, where was I?" he chuckled, the sound tinged with a bitter undertone. "Right. Y/N. What can be said about her? I mean, she truly is something, isn't she?" A nervous ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, uneasy with the unpredictability of the guitarist's unfiltered words.

Sam and Danny exchanged concerned glances, realizing that this impromptu speech had the potential to become quite a spectacle. "She's full of- surprises, a real freak, if you know what I m—" someone from the crowd attempted to interject, but Daniel swiftly got on stage, a diplomatic smile plastered on his face. He gently grasped Jake's shoulder, a silent plea for restraint.

"Come on, man," Daniel murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Let's go get some fresh air, huh?"

Jake brushed off the boy’s attempt with a dismissive wave, his focus resuming on the microphone. "No, no, no, it's okay," he insisted, his words carrying a touch of defiance. "I'm just- joking around. That's what you do at a bachelorette party, isn’t it? Recount the future bride's past adventures,” he giggled bitterly, looking to the crowd, “and boy, you would not believe—"

"Jake, let's go," Sam intervened, his presence adding a sense of urgency to the situation. The crowd's gaze shifted from Jake to Sam, to Danny, and a hushed murmur swept through the venue. Jake, however, seemed caught in a trance, his eyes seeking YN’s figure in the crowd.

Sam and Danny attempted to guide him off the stage. "Hey! Let go of me," he protested, swaying unsteadily in a mix of intoxication and defiance. "Come on, I'm just joking around!” he resisted, his hand still holding tightly onto the microphone, “Sammy, come on, you, of all people would know what I'm talking about. I mean, you did catch us fucking a couple times, didn't you?" A collective gasp swept through the crowd in audible shock.

The atmosphere shifted from celebratory to uncomfortable in the blink of an eye. Jake's words hung in the air, leaving those in attendance in a state of stunned silence.

Before Jake could utter another word, Josh leaped onto the stage. Swift and decisive, he forcefully grabbed the microphone. The screeching feedback filled the room, momentarily drowning out any further words from Jake. The abrupt halt cut through the tension and the venue filled with an uncertain hush.

Sam and Danny, each with a firm grip on Jake, guided him away from the unfolding chaos, their expressions a mix of concern and frustration. "Alright, time for bed," Sam asserted, his tone firm as they led Jake out the door.

Back on the stage, an uncomfortable silence lingered. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Josh, perhaps for the first time ever, found himself dumbfounded with a microphone in his hand and spotlight shining on him.  

 His gaze met YN’s. Clearly shocked, she stood completely still. Patty at her side, was offering a comforting presence by rubbing her shoulders. He searched for words to fill the void left by his brother's reckless outburst.

"Alrighty then,” Josh quipped, attempting to inject a dose of humor into the tense atmosphere, “seems like my brother has, in true Kiszka fashion, overindulged in the open bar." A few chuckles broke through the awkward silence, and he offered a sheepish grin, acknowledging the awkwardness that lingered. "You know how it is with rockstars, always a bit- unpredictable." The crowd responded with a mixture of laughter and relieved smiles, grateful for the comedic relief.

As Josh said a few more words, the music gradually resumed, filling the venue with lively beats once again. The party mood, momentarily disrupted by Jake's impulsive antics, slowly rekindled.

____

A few yards away from the vibrant venue, Sam and Danny grappled with Jake, who continued to argue drunkenly, his resistance growing more erratic with each step. The trio moved further away, the rhythmic waves providing a somber soundtrack to the guitarist's inebriated protests.

Eventually, Jake crumpled to the ground. His suit, now adorned with wet sand, presented a testament to his unwillingness to cooperate.

Danny sighed, glancing at Sam who, frustrated, chose to distance himself from the situation for a moment. Few things could truly irritate the youngest Kiszka, and the disruption of a good party just happened to be one of them.

Left alone with Jake, Danny stood silently by his sitting figure, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

Sam returned after a brief respite, holding a glass filled with seawater. "That ought to sober him up," he declared, tossing the contents of the glass in Jake's face.

 "Hey, what the fuck?" Jake sputtered, lurching to his feet abruptly. His venomous gaze settled on his younger brother, and in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Jake, fueled by alcohol-induced bravado, was in a fighting mood.

Sam, unyielding, met Jake's gaze with a stern expression. "Just calm down, Jacob,” he urged, his tone firm but laced with brotherly concern, “You're making a fool of yourself.”

The stars overhead witnessed the unfolding drama, casting a gentle glow on the sand as the two youngest grappled with the complexities their bandmate’s emotions.

Jake stood defiantly, wet sand clinging to his clothes.

"Come on, man” Daniel's voice cut through the night, firm but gentle, “you have to know you were way out of line." He always served as the voice of reason, an anchor attempting to steady a ship tossed in turbulent waters.

In that moment, however, Jake couldn't help but despise the drummer's calm demeanor. He only wished for a spark, an ignition to match the wildfire within him, and his bandmate's rationality only seemed to fuel his own frustration.

 "And what the fuck would you know about that, huh?" Jake spat with anger. His words edged with bitterness as he got up in Daniel’s face, "Always playing the calm, collected one, like you're above it all. Just back the fuck off." The night echoed with the strained conversation, the waves crashing against the shore.

Jake, fueled by a concoction of alcohol and resentment, wanted a release, a confrontation to validate the storm within him.

Daniel sighed, a weary acknowledgment of the futility of the situation. "We're just trying to help. You don’t want to do this."

Jake scoffed. Feeling the weight of his own frustration, he muttered in defeat, "Whatever.” The sand crunched beneath his shoes as he turned away, a solitary figure against the backdrop of a restless sea, “Just go back inside."

"Oh,” Sam sneered, “if you think we're about to leave you unsupervised after this shitshow, you are dead wr—"

"You should get back inside," someone interrupted from behind them. Jake's face dropped, recognizing the voice instantly. Sam and Danny turned around to see YN standing a few feet away with her arms crossed. An unreadable expression was etched on her face.

Sam and Danny exchanged glances. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog that refused to dissipate.

 Sam sent YN a inquiring look. Are you sure? They respected YN's judgment, yet the worry lingered like a silent undercurrent beneath the surface. They were all too aware of Jake’s unpredictability when he drank too much.

She nodded wordlessly, her gaze shifting to Jake’s back. Her eyes, once filled with laughter and joy, now held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. Sam and Danny eventually walked past her, offering apologetic smiles. They headed back into the bar, leaving Jake and YN alone on the moonlit beach.

The distant murmur of the party and the sound of waves crashing against the shore served as a backdrop to their silent standoff. The night held its breath, caught between the residue of a disrupted celebration and the muted tension.

With his back still turned, Jake closed his eyes.

The stillness was finally broken by YN, unable to bear the quiet any longer. "Aren't you gonna say anything?” Her tone was sharp, a mixture of bitterness and anger lacing each word, “you seemed to have a lot to say back there."

Jake flinched, the gravity of his actions washing over him like the freezing tide. Slowly, he turned around to face her. There she stood, arms crossed against the night chill, her hair gently swaying in the wind. Goosebumps adorned the delicate skin of her arms as she seemed to shiver against the breeze. The moonlight cast a melancholic glow on her features, framing a face etched with disappointment. Caught off guard by her candor, Jake struggled to find the right words.

"I—" he began, but before he could complete the thought, she sprung towards him.

"I cannot believe you would do this to me," she spat, her words cutting through the night air like shards of glass. A forceful push against Jake’s chest caused him to stumble backward, "you, fucking asshole!" The sting of her words hung in the air as she continued to unleash her frustration.

Jake, attempted to downplay the situation with a dismissive sigh. "Come on, no one will remember a thing in the morning," he remarked, reaching out to grab her wrists to stop the damage.

YN struggled against his grip, her eyes ablaze with a mix of anger and hurt. Feeling the weight of her gaze, Jake's eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, he saw the hurt reflected in her eyes. "Come on, it's a just party, for Christ's—"

"That's not the issue here!" she asserted, pulling away from him. "Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? How could you pull that crap?" Her voice wavered slightly, and he could feel the weight of her hurt settling in his chest. "Why even bother coming?" she shook her head in disbelief, "If you were just going to—"

"Well, it's not exactly like we'll have that many opportunities to see each other,” he spat, the bitterness in his words slicing through the night air like venom, “once you officially become Mrs. Styles."

"Yes, I am getting married!" she yelled in frustration. "I know that! And I tried doing what I could to make it easy on you, but—" she paused, her words hanging in the air like a heavy curtain, "Honestly? I don't even know why I should anymore. We broke up ages ago—"

"Yeah, and whose fault was that?" he interjected, his tone accusing and filled with a bitterness that had long festered in the shadows of their past. The charged atmosphere between them crackled, the pain of their shared memories surfacing like ghosts in the moonlit night.

YN's reaction cut through Jake, the hurt evident in her downturned gaze. In that moment, regret gnawed at him, his impulsive words now a bitter aftertaste. He knew well that their breakup had been entirely his doing, fueled by demons of his own making. But the anger, amplified by the drink, had led him down a senseless path.

 “Believe it or not," she stated, "things were as difficult for me as they may have been for you.” Her voice was a mix of hurt and frustration, "I honestly thought we'd outgrown all of that. But- you—saying that shit about me, in front of my friends, my colleagues, m-my future stepfamily? What is wrong with you? That’s just—” she shook her head, “do you really despise me that much?" he flinched at her words, guilt settling heavy on his conscience.

"Of course, not—" he started.

"Do you hate me so much that you can't stand, let it only be, the thought of me finally being at peace?" Her words pierced through him, each syllable carrying a vulnerability that echoed in the stillness of the night.

"No, that's not it—" he tried to explain, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between them.

"Well then, what the fuck is it, huh?" she demanded, frustration evident in her voice. "A few months ago, everything was fine, we were fin-"

"You wouldn't get it!" he snapped.

"Well, I sure as hell won't get it if you refuse to talk to me," she retorted in exasperation. Almost six years down the line and they were still stuck, facing the same issues they did on day one.

Despite his strong front, Jake remained silent, the weight of his emotions stifling any coherent response. "Jake—” she continued, calmly, “you—this past couple of years, us- managing to be- to get along, it’s been so good, I’d missed it so much," she confessed, stepping closer until her chest touched his. Her eyes sought his, "I’d missed you so much, but this? This angry, bitter jackass? I don't want him in my life,” she scowled. Her words cut through him like shards of glass, each syllable a painful reminder of the person he had become in that moment. “And yes, I know, it probably sucks having an ex get married first but- Jesus Christ, Jacob, grow the fuck up. We're friends, aren't we?"

He clenched his jaw, his throat tightening as he struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions. Stepping away, he attempted to shield the tears that threatened to escape.

“Aren’t we?” she repeated, her voice breaking. A fragile silence lingered in the night.

"Just—" he finally muttered, his voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored the bitterness within him, “just go back to your fucking party,"

The sadness on her face slowly morphed back into anger. She gulped, her resolve finding new strength.

"Gladly," she spat, turning on her heels to walk back to the bar.

He clenched his jaw, hands on his hips, frustration and self-loathing churning within him as he watched her retreating figure. In a futile attempt to reclaim some semblance of control, he shouted out, "Fuck you!"

She didn’t bother turning around, but without missing a beat, she shouted back. "Well, fuck you too!"

____

Jake sat on the sand alone. The weight of the night’s events settled heavily on his shoulders as the alcohol-induced fog slowly dissipated. The crashing waves seemed to echo the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" a voice erupted, and Jake didn't bother looking up, recognizing the tone of his twin brother. Josh sat down next to him, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face. "An asshole, too."

"Yeah, right," Jake scoffed, bitterness coloring his words. "I'm the asshol—"

"She doesn't know," Josh cut him off, gently. The words hung in the air: a heavy truth finally spoken aloud. Josh, with his intuitive understanding, had always read his twin better than anyone.

"Please," Jake eventually muttered, his voice low and strained. "Of course, she does."

"How could she?" Josh retorted; frustration evident in his expression. Jake had watched as YN got in the stable, healthy relationship he had failed to give her. And he had sat patiently as she stepped towards the life of a married woman. Yet, through it all, he had remained silent, failing to express the one thing she’d needed to hear.

"Yeah, well," Jake mumbled, eventually, clearing his throat as he stared off into the distance, "It's not like I can do anything about it now."

Josh remained silent. His brother had a point. The opportunity to come clean had passed, and the consequences of his silence weighed heavily.

"Come on," Josh said finally, getting up on his feet and brushing the sand off his suit. "I'll drive you back to the hotel."

"You're a bridesman,” Jake said, “isn't it your job to be here?"

 "My job” Josh stated, “was to make sure everything went smoothly for Y/N, which I miserably failed to do tonight, thanks to you, brother. Now, come on," he held his hand out, a silent invitation, "I'll drive back here once you're in bed."

Jake chewed on his lower lip, his gaze fixed on the sand beneath him. He finally asked hesitantly, "Shouldn't I go and apologize first?"

Josh chuckled sadly, a knowing expression on his face. It was always impossible to stay mad at his twin for long. "It's probably better to give her some space right now."

____

"Alright," Josh called out, his eyes on his phone as he texted Sam, informing him he was on his way back. The ride to the hotel had been quiet and Jake had collapsed on the hotel bed the second they arrived. "I put aspirin and water on the table, your phone is charging and—" he stopped abruptly as he heard a muffled sound, his eyes lifting from the screen.

"I—" Jake muttered shakily, the word barely escaping his closed throat, as Josh approached his bedside. "I just- I don't know what to do," he managed to get the words out of his closed throat.

Josh didn't need more to understand what that meant, his heart breaking at his brother’s unusual display of vulnerability. He knew the pain that must’ve been tearing him apart. The admission hung in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the emotional turmoil that swirled within him.

Jake had had his fair share of flings after their breakup, and he had expected YN doing the same. After all, she was nothing short of incredible, and admirers were bound to line up at her door. But marriage? That was a different realm entirely. Marriage meant forever. Marriage was the final nail in the coffin of what they once shared.

Josh sat silently at the side of the bed as Jake, exhausted both physically and emotionally, slowly succumbed to sleep.

“Me neither, Jakey,” Josh eventually whispered, pulling a blanket over his twin, “me neither.”

Next Track: All You Had To Do Was Stay

Series Masterlist

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

@aintthatapity

@sinarainbows

@vanfleeter 

[ranger-ribbons]

An idea: Power Ranger brainwashing recovery support group. From Tommy Oliver to Ollie Akana, there are a lot of people in this show who need it.

Tommy Oliver: Mighty Morphin Green, Mighty Morphin White, Dino Thunder Black

Karone: Lost Galaxy Pink

Merrick Baliton: Lunar Wolf

Ryan Mitchell: Lightspeed Titanium

Shane Clarke: Ninja Storm Red

Tori Hanson: Ninja Storm Blue

Dustin Brooks: Ninja Storm Yellow

Hunter Bradley: Thunder Storm Red/Crimson

Trent Fernandez Mercer: Dino Thunder White

Vida Rocca: Mystic Force Pink

Korrag: The Wolf Warrior

Kevin Yamamoto: Samurai Blue

Ollie Akana: Dino Fury Blue, Cosmic Fury Blue

~

They trickle in one by one.

The brainwashed, those under spells, the ones who were raised bad, lied to, cast aside. The ones who lost their memories or were fallen in battle and risen as evil. The ones who were tricked.

Tommy, as always, leads these meetings. He's there before any of them. Karone slips in after him, sitting prim and proper in her seat as she texts her magni, "treasure," literally translated. Merrick follows her, sitting cross-legged on the couch and fiddling with the collar of the silver jacket he wears. Then comes Ryan Mitchell, his ring flashing in the meager light and eyes angry, looking around pissed off as if asking for a fight. Tommy makes sure to pay close attention to the demon-raised man.

Following Ryan, the Ninja Storm Rangers - Red, Blue, and Yellow. The pair bring with them an electric feeling, like a storm was on the rise, just waiting to happen. Next comes Trent, breathing deeply to calm himself down, the White kisses his girlfriend goodbye at the door and sends her off, looking like he'd rather go with her. Tommy keeps a special eye on him as well.

After Trent, Vida Rocca charges in. She wears a new pink choker, her only allowance to her color, the rest of her outfit is varying shades of black, white, and grey. On Vida's heels comes Leanbow, the Wolf Warrior, among the oldest of the Power Rangers. Right at the start time, Kevin Yamamoto comes in, calm and poised as any samurai Tommy has ever met. And five minutes later, in trails their newest member, Ollie Akana.

"Are we missing anyone?" Tommy asks after another five minutes.

Karone shakes her head. As Tommy’s assistant in Jason and Billy's absence, it's her job to keep track of the topics and make sure everyone who wants to speak gets a chance.

Tommy nods. "Alright," he says. "Let this session start, then. Where did we stop last time?"

Karone checks her notes. "Hunter Bradley was talking about his time on the island trying to kill his brother."

Tommy glances at the Ninja Rangers. Shakes shakes his head. "Hunter and Blake went to visit their grandmother. She got really sick."

"Well, alright. Before we get into it, let's welcome our newest member, Ollie Akana."

Ollie looks up, startled. When all eyes turn to him, he waves awkwardly. Ollie is intelligent, like Billy and Justin, so Tommy’s not shocked to see his less than stellar social skills. "Hi," Ollie says, faux casual.

"Introduce yourself?" Tommy offers.

Ollie swallows before nodding. "I'm Ollie," he says unnecessarily. "I'm Dino Fury and Cosmic Fury Blue. I guess I'm here for support? I don't really know."

Tommy nods. "It's okay, man, we've all been there. If you want to talk about it today, we'll listen."

Ollie thinks about it for a second, but ultimately shakes his head. "Not today," he says. His voice is devastated. Tommy knows how he feels.

"Alright," Tommy replies. He moves on, so the spotlight is off Ollie. "Ryan, you wanna kick us off?"

Ryan looks up, eyes like molton steel, and nodded. "Yeah," he replies. "We found a straggler a few days ago. I knew this one personally. He tried to beg for mercy, talking about all the 'great times' we'd had together." Ryan scoffs, one arm around his waist. "I don't think he understood just how much those great times actually hurt. Sucks."

Tommy nods. "I understand," he replies. "It's rough meeting the people we once considered friends before."

Vida raises a hand. "Some of the Briarwood folk still look at me like I'm gonna sprout fangs and eat them. Others wish I'd go back," she explains. Turning to Ryan, she adds, "It's never easy, is it?"

Ryan shakes his head. "Sometime, when they aren't paying attention, the Lightspeed Rangers will flinch like they expect me to hit them," he replies. "Hurts being only seen as the guy who got raised by demons."

Karone hums sympathetically. "Or the daughter of evil," she adds in.

"Your Red is you brother, right?" Ryan asks. "He the only one that doesn't look at you like you're gonna snap at any second?"

Karone nods, shifting closer. Tommy allows the group to keep talking, only speaking up when the conversation allows. This is what this group is for: to allow the various brainwashed Rangers to commiserate and share their pain. Tommy turns his attention to the newest Blue. He walks over and sits next to the twenty year old, the youngest of his team. "Hey," he says.

Ollie startles again, looking up. "Hi, Doctor Oliver," he replies.

Tommy smiles. "Just Tommy," he asks. "Only my students call me doctor."

Ollie nods in acceptance.

Tommy sobers and continues, "I know you're not ready to talk about it, but one day, it's gonna hit you hard that you almost killed the people you love. It's gonna hit fast and it's gonna hit soon." He reaches into his pocket and produces his business card. "When it happens," he says, "call me. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Ollie takes the care hesitantly with shaking hands. He looks up at Tommy with wide eyes, then nods. "Thanks," he replies.

Tommy smile again. "'S what I'm here for."

~

@softlytowardthesun Thank you!

[intoloopin-archive]

LOOPIN, THE GROUP.

First announced as 'Boy Of The Week Project' in late 2016, promised to eventually become an extension of Blockberry Creative's LOONA mostly housed under New Wave Music, BBC's novice partner company, LOOPiN was for a long time a myth: with no official records of the reported 24 trainees set to compete on 'Boy Of The Week', a mix of korean and international young men and teenagers, it's impossible to know how and when exactly LOOPiN came to be. Off the pre-pre-debut official recruiting, only seven met debut – them being Beomseok, Taesong, Minwoo, Seungsoo, Haruki, Dylan (with a one year delay compared to all others) and Haegon. Remaining members O.z, Hanjae and J.J joined the final lineup under undisclosed circumstances.

Once officially formed, LOOPiN had an almost siamese start as their sister group: debuting two to three members, one in every week of the month starting from mid 2018, then conjoining them under a unit until all 10 members had been formerly introduced to the public, officially becoming LOOPiN on August 2019.

As LOONA had The Loonaverse, LOOPiN's cosmic horror, highly nonlinear concept, named as The Looploore, stayed heavily with them up until New Wave Music's split with Blockberry Creative and complete buyout of their exclusive contracts in October 2022. Beomseok was the only original member that refused to renew and left the group, as well as celebrity life, on March 2023, quickly being replaced by Gyujin.

Former leader and group producer Minwoo left the group and the music industry in April 2024, midway through New Wave Music's sudden bankrupcy scandal and the settling of the members individual contract signing with Rare Rhythm. LOOPiN will move on as a 9 piece act under the label.

Known for being a highly self produced act with all members deeply involved in the creation of the group's visual, musical and storytelling aspects, as well as for having the most unlucky and polemic starts to almost every year, LOOPiN keeps on kicking high and ranking as one of the most prolific and eye catching groups in K-Pop now – a merit that seems to be far from being taken away from them anytime soon.

LOOPiN, THE MEMBERS.

PARK TAESONG.

With a history of being mocked for his kindness and taunted for his need to please, Park Taesong has been from day one the weakling in the eyes of every single one of his teammates, and he's been fighting a never ending war to not let them mold him into something he's not – into one of them. Even when his high tendency to anxiously spiral and his chronic fear of his own frail health get temporarily in the way, Taesong is always choosing to try to stay calm, stay sane, stay by his own side – but he still might prefer to give up on himself before he gives up on LOOPiN.

He's gentle, cowardly, optimistic, controling.

GIVEN NAME: Park Taesong. OTHER ALIASES: Taeng (nickname). BIRTHDATE: 02.15.97. PROFESSION: Idol. GROUP POSITIONS: main vocalist, leader (2019 - early 2022). ETHNICITY: Korean. NATIONALITY: South Korean. FACE CLAIM: Lee Minhyuk.

BANG MINWOO.

Bang Minwoo believes he's known hunger more intimately than anyone else around him, and for that, he is brutal. With a relationship with music that borders on obsession, he's given up body and soul for his art and will spare nothing to keep LOOPiN going – or so he wants the world to believe. Truth is, there is a caring, deeply empathic nature in Minwoo that he's been trying to ignore for years, and it's dormant now, but not gone. Ever since he began being confronted by past actions and his own secret history, Minwoo hasn't been able to sit with himself at peace and sleep.

He's dedicated, irritable, reliable, obsessive.

GIVEN NAME: Bang Minwoo. OTHER ALIASES: Noah Bang (english name). BIRTHDATE: 07.08.97. PROFESSION: Idol-songwriter (retired), music producer (retired), ??? (temporary). FORMER GROUP POSITIONS: leader (early 2022 - early 2024), main rapper, vocalist, dancer, group producer. ETHNICITY: Korean. NATIONALITY: South Korean (Guryong natural). FACE CLAIM: Lee Changyoon.

NA SEUNGSOO.

Na Seungsoo has always marched to the beat of his own drum, in a rhythm that hardly makes sense to anyone else. The never serious, untalented with academics youngest child of a lineage of successful doctors, Seungsoo took a gamble with the entertainment industry and believes himself to have won big. But where his stage act is a success, his interpersonal relationships suffer – quick to love and even quicker to hate, practically a stranger to forgiveness of even the smallest off offences, Seungsoo can't help but hurt everyone he tries to guide to what he considers to be safety.

He's romantic, intrusive, enthusiastic, impulsive.

GIVEN NAME: Na Seungsoo. OTHER ALIASES: Sonny Na (english name). BIRTHDATE: 10.19.97. PROFESSION: Idol, music producer, choreographer. GROUP POSITIONS: lead vocalist, lead dancer, group producer. ETHNICITY: Korean. NATIONALITY: South Korean (Busan natural). FACE CLAIM: Kwak Dongyeon.

FUKUNAGA HARUKI.

Coming from one of Japan's longest artistic driven families, a direct descendant of a long line of dancers, painters and classic musicians, Fukunaga Haruki was always expected to conquer the world. Now standing as a KArts drop out with an addition to highs and lows first, successful Idol second, Haruki can't see himself as anything but a projectile that failed on the launch path. He might be LOOPiN's most well known face, but that hasn't come without a price – as the keeper of secrets that can bring his entire company to ruin, he has to be compensated. But after years of pretending, his luck seems to have run out and the silent act has grown tired.

He's passionate, evasive, resourceful, mercurial.

GIVEN NAME: Fukunaga Haruki. BIRTHDATE: 09.22.98. PROFESSION: Idol, dancer, model. GROUP POSITIONS: main dancer, vocalist, visual, face of the group. ETHNICITY: Japanese. NATIONALITY: Japanese. FACE CLAIM: Takahashi Fumiya.

WOO GYUJIN.

A once commercial kid on the rise, Woo Gyujin vanished from the spotlight in his tween years and came back with a brand new face, brand new body and a fully developed voice, an adult with a solid base built over the buried skeletons that were once in his closet. His inherited need for a long, quiet life of stability keeps crashing with his want to be famous and seen. Now integrated into a group filled with chaos addicts and missing pieces, mess might crawl its way into his new life and doom Gyujin once again if he doesn't do something to help close the open wounds of his bandmates.

He's adaptable, incitive, assertive, unstable.

GIVEN NAME: Woo Gyujin. BIRTHDATE: 11.01.98. PROFESSION: Idol, actor (formerly). GROUP POSITIONS: main vocalist, songwriter. ETHNICITY: Korean. NATIONALITY: South Korean. FACE CLAIM: Lee Jongwon.

DYLAN HWANG / HWANG CHIHOON.

An only child born from a dreamy teenage affair in South Korea, Dylan Hwang was raised by his single mother and his grandparents in Santa Monica, California, unknowing of the identity of his father, unknowing of what to do with himself. Picking up his mom's long lost dream of living trought music, Chihoon started auditioning to entertainment companies in hopes to find some sort of enlightenment in fame, got a break of spirit instead – it seems that as long as he's got an eye open, he'll keep on being a quiet witness and attender of the worst the world has to offer.

He's selfless, repressed, attentive, paranoid.

GIVEN NAME: Hwang Chihoon. OTHER ALIASES: Dylan Hwang (english name). BIRTHDATE: 03.17.99. PROFESSION: Idol, singer-songwriter. GROUP POSITIONS: lead vocalist, songwriter, concept co-director (2023-). ETHNICITY: Korean. NATIONALITY: Korean-American. FACE CLAIM: Choi Taeyang.

WU ZHIMING / OH JIMIN.

Born chinese, raised with an iron fist in Seoul, O.z has felt essentially split from a young age. Absorbing a stoicism from his executive father he still can't let go off, Zhiming can only be unapologetically himself trough his genre defying, highly unpopular music. He became an Idol out of spite, set to hate it, but found a new side of himself trought his stage persona and the A list world he's set in – one that the black and white sense of morality he's cultivated trought life makes O.z an odd man out on. It seems Zhiming doesn't ever get the comfort of being able to pick the good side of fame.

He's truthful, blunt, confident, contrarian.

GIVEN NAME: Wu Zhiming. OTHER ALIASES: O.z (stage name); Oh Jimin (korean name). BIRTHDATE: 08.03.99. PROFESSIONS: Idol, DJ, music producer. GROUP POSITIONS: main rapper, group producer. ETHNICITY: Chinese. NATIONALITY: South Korean. FACE CLAIM: Zhang Linghe.

LEE HANJAE.

An extremely quiet child and an even more dismissible teenager, Lee Hanjae wouldn't dare to dream of the spotlight until it came offered to him in a once in a life opportunity. With an ease to art in it's many shapes budded for years while being the target of ill driven mismanagement, Hanjae is the new face being pushed, and to his own bewilderment, the public embraces him as an actor in a way that's foreign. Thriving on a new career path while his members seen close to reaching rock bottom, Hanjae can't make a single move – he's too afraid of what he might do if he ever let's himself reach for what he wants.

He's thoughtful, insecure, reserved, selfish.

GIVEN NAME: Lee Hanjae. BIRTHDATE: 04.02.00. PROFESSION: Idol, choreographer, actor. GROUP POSITIONS: main dancer, lead rapper. ETHNICITY: Korean. NATIONALITY: South Korean (Incheon natural). FACE CLAIM: Oh Seongmin.

XU JIAHANG.

The youngest son of a blockbuster movie director and Miss Chinese International 1989, J.J had fame promised to him as a birthright. Spoiled rotten in his early years, the world took no time beating him off his pedestal while making him look cruelty deep in the eyes once he became a teenager, making Jiahang develop a need to hide every inch of himself, turn into a doll to keep – no more. Fully aware of his worth once again, he wants in back into the spotlight and the fun of adoration, and there's something not quite right about his ambition – it's a factor of deep change. But each step up the ladder only enhances the promise of a nasty fall.

He's loyal, cunning, understanding, overachiever.

GIVEN NAME: Xu Jiahang. OTHER ALIASES: J.J (stage name); Jason Xu (english name); Jay (nickname). BIRTHDATE: 12.10.00. PROFESSION: Idol, model. GROUP POSITIONS: sub rapper, sub vocalist, visual. ETHNICITY: Chinese. NATIONALITY: Chinese (Beijing natural, Hong Kong and Manila adapt). FACE CLAIM: Xue Bayi / Ling Chao.

KIM HAEGON.

Kim Haegon is a time bomb shaped kid trapped inside the body of not quite enough famous, just turned legal adult. Terrified of abandonment even if it's a feeling too well known, Haegon attracts and keeps cruel company, all to avoid being alone with himself. Recently and forcedly divorced off all the relationships that kept him grounded to his childlike ways, Haegon wants maturity, and he wants it now – to be good in someone's eye, he's ready to beg and kill. The road to emotional recovery is a long one, and Haegon doesn't yet know how far his feet alone can take him.

He's intuitive, dependent, devoted, desperate.

GIVEN NAME: Kim Haegon. BIRTHDATE: 03.22.01. PROFESSION: Idol. POSITIONS: vocalist, lead dancer. ETHNICITY: Korean. NATIONALITY: South Korean (Seoul natural.) FACE CLAIM: Park Jihoon.