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yaseraphine · 3 months ago

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pick a card 8 - Who likes you ? Who wants to get closer to you ? (friendship, romantic love, platonic, family, soul family,...)

masterlist / ko-fi

my last reading : what do your guardian angels want to tell you ?

This is a general reading. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

Pile 1

The Hanged Man, The Wheel of Fortune, King of Cups

Who is this person ?

INFP, Life Path 22 - The Visionary Architect and 33 - The Spiritual Teacher, 1st house / Aries , 8th house / Scorpio, Kibbe body type Gamine, Face type essence Ethereal

Right off the bat, this person is the sweetest person ever. Really shy and introverted but a true romantic at heart. They might enjoy art, maybe they are a writer, a poet or a painter. They just create some type of art. maybe they are an art student or maybe you are an art student or both of you are ? I am heavily picking up that this pile is in a field surrounding the humanities. You both might study literature, philosophy, history, art history, even cinema for some. I find it hard to describe them because they're so infatuated by you that your energy is taking over. Like they already want to describe how amazing you are and why they like you. This person is just really selfless and sensitive and they don’t like taking too much space or demanding attention. They really are in their own little bubble made of magic and romance. They probably are an old school romantic. The type to write love letters and poems and bring flowers at your door. This person might have self-confidence issues though. They are the type to overthink for hours before sending a text, and they’ve probably deleted it twenty times already before hitting send. They maybe are a bit melancholic at times because of how sensitive they are, they really need time to retreat and reconnect with themselves. I am heavily picking up that this person’s purpose in this lifetime is to affirm their identity. With the 1st house card and 8th house card, they might have some kind of hidden aggressive side to them and a lot of untapped leadership potential. Which is weird because I have only been describing really dreamy, venusian, piscean and cancerian energies. But I feel like they have a true potential to pair those contradictory energies together and create some kind of legacy. They just are a late bloomer and will need more time than others to achieve this.

Is this romantic, platonic, familial, or spiritual love ? This is, obvioulsly, romantic love for most of you. For some, it could be a friend crush or someone that platonically admires you.

Why do they like you ?

Gemini - Curiosity, Intellect and Networking, House Twelve : Spirituality, Transcendence, Karma, sacrificial service and healing

You could be passionate about art and certain books, and you are much more extraverted than them. Maybe you are a leader in your local community, you have some kind of club, maybe a book club, that you animate. They might attend it too and this might be from where you know each other.

They like you because of your authoritative and commanding energy : you appear to them really sure of yourself and you are not scared to speak your mind. They also think you are a great conversationalist, really witty and smart. You also have really interesting takes and opinions on the books you read, the movies you watch,.. They like the fact that you make your own opinion about the art you consume instead of saying what everybody says. They also like your boldness and vitality. You might be an ENFJ and they seem to be an INFP to me. It feels like you complete them in the areas where they lack. They see you as a mirror, like you guys are the same person but in different fonts ? Honestly, I will say it, you guys would make a great couple (or just pairing) haha I am melting lol It would be a really sweet duo. This person is a walking green flag honestly.

They also like you because your fiery nature and leadership qualities are paired with a certain spiritual energy. You are a spiritual healer so you are really selfless but you don’t let people walk all over you. They admire you, Pile 1.

One quote for you : Write until you surprise yourself ! / Speak your mind even if your voice shakes.

thank you for reading until the end pile 1 ! lots of love <3

Pile 2

4 of Swords, Death, 2 of Cups, Queen of Cups

This pile is really gendered. You can switch the genders if you want, but I heavily picked up on feminine energies here and a vibe of a sorority / a community of women.

Who is this person ?

I am going to tell you pile 2, there ARE a TON of people who want to get closer to you and I think it’s mostly platonic. Like so many people in your direct environment have friend crushes on you, Pile 2, but they are too scared to approach you. They don’t want to disturb your peace lol. I think these people are getting desperate at this point lmaoo Like their energies were already channeled in pile 1’s reading. It was so strong that when I started the reading, I kept on saying “who likes pile 2” instead of Pile 1 by accident. You are a celebrity for some of these people. I am specifically seeing a group of people, a friend group that sees you walk by everyday and think you would fit perfectly in their group. Like you are the missing puzzle piece of their group. They think you would make an excellent leader and that your wisdom would help elevate the group to a higher vibration. I am seeing a woman with a hijab. Are you muslim or do you live in a muslim country ? I think these girls (I am picking up on strong feminine energies) might all have something in common that they share physically (like a scarf) or they are connected through some values or beliefs they have (e.g : they are all muslim). Okay, now the energy is getting hyper specific, some of you are in church youth groups, something related to religion or just beliefs in general (could be an art workshop you go to or went to, an art class? ). Either way, you just are alone doing your own thing and there’s a group of people (I am getting around 5 people ) who platonically simp for you from afar haha What an interesting energy you got here lol

Is this romantic, platonic, familial, or spiritual love ? Well, obviously, this is a platonic situation lol

Why do they like you ?

ESFP, ISTP and ENTJ, Life Path 33 - The Spiritual Teacher , House ten - Structure, discipline, life mission, accomplishment and career, House five - Passion, Play, Children, confidence and creativity.

Well to me it’s pretty obvious : they like your duality. Part of you is extremely ambitious, career oriented, and a true leader. You are practical and you have this stoic and cold energy about you. (ISTP, ENTJ, Life path 33 and House ten). But, at the same time, you might be really creative, you might dress colorful, you might have unique pieces of clothings. Generally speaking they love your vibe and the way you present yourself. If you wear makeup, they love the looks you do and they want you to teach them. They love your outfits and think you would step up the group’s wardrobe and fashion sense if you were there. They also think you would motivate them to work harder. I find the energy so endearing because it feels like when young girls/ preteens (like 9 to 11) idealize what being a woman is like. Manicures, pedicures, shopping, hairdresser, bubble baths, smelling good, Y2K, 2000s baddie vibes, juicy couture tracksuits,…They just see you as this dream woman they wanted to become when they were little girls. You are like a dream come true to them, a manifestation of their childhood dreams.

This energy was so sweet omg

One quote for you : Life gets better when you leave the house. (pile 2, have you been bedrotting lately ?? i mean i understand you if you live in the northern atmosphere the winter/spring hot and cold weather really isn't helping to motivate us going outside…)

thank you for reading until the end pile 2 ! lots of love <3

Pile 3

2 of Pentacles, 10 of Cups, 4 of Wands, The Lovers, The Chariot, 5 of Wands

TW : this pile could be really triggering for people with mother wounds / mother issues. If you know these kinds of topics trigger you, take some responsibility and don’t read this pile. Either choose another pile or just pass this reading, maybe it is not made for you this time (and this is okay <3). Take care of yourself first, guys, I mean it.

Who is this person ?

Life path 11 - The Illuminator (interesting how we only got master numbers so far! you guys have powerful people who like you and desire to get closer to you), INFP, Flamboyant Gamine, Soft Dramatic

The person who likes you and wants to get closer to you is your mother. They want to tell you how much they love you, how much they cherish you and are proud of you and your accomplishments. They see you struggling and their heart completely shatters. They want to get closer to you because they miss you. They know you are busy but they still wish they could connect with you. They actually often think about you during the day and they send so much love and protection your way. If you went through a difficult situation recently, or in the past or even when you were a child, they want to tell you you were so brave and resilient. I am sensing a lot of you have a tense relationship with your mother. You grew up being emotionally distanced from her and she deeply regrets that. She wants to take all of that time apart from you back and reconnect. She wants to get to know the real you, not just have blurry memories of who you were as a child. She knows and sees that you have drastically changed since then and she admires you for that.

Your mother is probably much more extroverted than you, or her personality is more externally focused if that makes sense. She comes across quite bossy and strict too. I am getting some of you could have a moon in virgo or capricorn. These are probably the most challenging moon placements to have in my opinion. The moon shows our emotions, the way we were nurtured but also the relationship we had with our mother. These two signs are naturally really emotionally detached, especially virgos who can get really cerebral and critical of others. You are more of a loner, and, in complete opposition with your mother as you are more internally focused. Maybe this opposition of personalities always created a lot of drama and fights in your household growing up. I feel that, for some of you, your mother is your twin flame or some kind of soulmate. You have a soul contract that you signed before being incarnated here with her. You guys probably had lifetimes together where you were enemies and you both came in this lifetime in the same family with a mother/daughter/son/child dynamic to make peace.

This is beautiful, pile 3. I think your mother feels genuinely guilty for neglecting you in the past. Now, it is up to you if you want to accept her excuses and make amends with her. I would personally advise you to choose forgiveness, as unforgiveness could lead to you extending your karma and karmic debts in other lifetimes (not to scare you btw lol). Holding onto the pain and harboring resentment against your mother figure will lead you nowhere. I know it is hard, but it is better for you to forgive her to help you move on from wounds that stem from your childhood. Now, use discernment, if your mother was abusive and manipulative, choose peace and cut her off (if that is possible, of course). I think you know exactly what to do in this situation pile 3. I promise, it will get better.

Is this romantic, platonic, familial, or spiritual love ? Well, here, it is a mixture of familial love and spiritual love.

Why do they like you ?

Opposition - Imbalance, a point of tension and a power struggle, Cancer - Nurture, comfort and protection

Ok pile 3, this pile is so deep. You mom loves you because you challenged them. I think your presence in her life completely changed her. Birthing you and just being a mother in general was part of her purpose. Maybe your mother has a north node in cancer/in the 4th house. She might be naturally quite cold hearted, more Saturnian. She maybe wasn’t really loving growing up and wasn’t really catering to your needs, or at least solely the material ones. You grew up being deprived of motherly love. I don’t know why but a specific book comes to mind. I haven’t even read that book lol but you might enjoy it or it might be relevant to you someway/ somehow Mother Hunger: How Adult Daughters Can Understand and Heal from Lost Nurturance, Protection, and Guidance by Kelly McDaniel.

Pile 3, I don’t know if you need to hear this but you are worthy of love. A lot of you in this pile might have been the family scapegoat, you might have the “older sister syndrome”, the "underappreciated high achiever". You grew up feeling like you were never enough. Some of you might also have an avoidant or anxious-avoidant attachment style. I would advise you to do some research, this could help you in this healing process. I am linking here a pretty short youtube video about this attachment style here. You might actually have the same attachment style as your mother. You guys mirror each other a lot. If you forgive her, you might be able to break a family and generational pattern, pile 3. You have a higher purpose in your family lineage and this reading (which deviated a bit from the normally pretty lighthearted topic) was sent to remind you of that. You can do it, Pile 3 , I believe in you.

Quotes for you : Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive. / The magic is in you, baby ! (this is a beautiful message, pile 3. You should learn how to have fun. I know it is hard but you deserve genuine love and hapiness. Don't deprive yourself from it, Pile 3. I am sending you so much love and light your way <3 )

thank you for reading until the end pile 3 ! lots of love <3

Pile 4

King of Swords, Ace of Cups, 5 of Cups, Page of Cups

Who is this person ?

ENTJ, ISTP, Life path 1 - The Warrior / Life path 8 - The influencer, Romantic face type essence, Classic face type essence, Cancer - 4th house, Gemini - 3rd house

Before I even started pulling cards for you, I felt a really sexual and primal energy. Not in a sense of sexual as sex but more as a vital energy. This person that likes you is most likely a masculine, and they have a really active sacral chakra. This person might own a business, and they might be really career oriented. They desire power and they want to make a beautiful life for themselves. They are hard workers and they know how to control their emotions. They most likely have their mars in a fire sign, especially Aries or Leo or some could have Mars in Capricorn. They can handle pressure and all the competition really well .They are a winner, they don’t like playing games they know they will lose. They could also be pretty family oriented, like they know they want to start a family one day. Probably a tiny bit traditional romance wise (so they might have an earth venus or moon). They have great stamina. They lead a really healthy lifestyle overall. I am picking up on CEO energy here. Maybe this person wants to be a CEO one day or just start their own business and be their own boss. Again, the sexual energy is strong here. This person might have a high sex drive but they channel it in their working endeavors instead of doing the actual deed. lol I think this person might be really sexually attracted to you too, pile 4.

Is this romantic, platonic, familial, or spiritual love ? It is obviously romantic love.

Why do they like you ?

House four - Cultural and family roots, home and comfort, Venus - Give and receive love, find value and see beauty

I think there is no real reason why they like you, they just do. They probably simply haven’t even had enough time themselves in their tight schedule to process the “why” they like YOU in particular. But if I try to read their energy a bit, the “why” may be that they think you are a sweet, caring and unique individual. They really admire you. They see you as really gracious. They feel at home with you, like you exude some kind of warmth. They think you would make an amazing parent/ caregiver. You have a really motherly energy, whether you’re a woman or not, and they like that. But not in a weird fetishizing way though. It’s really pure, really genuine. It’s almost like they see you as this earth angel that came into their life unexpectedly and that healed them by your presence alone. This is actually so cute haha

Now, despite the sexual energy and attraction being strong, it isn’t only that. They do harbor genuine feelings for you but, with their strategic and competitive nature, they don’t like to “lose” or make impulsive decisions/actions. They first want to elaborate a plan on how to attract you, then, they will be fully devoted to you. This person has the potential to be a really devoted lover for you, but it might take some time before they approach. And when I say some time, I think a few weeks or a month or two, depending on how well you reciprocate their subtle hints. So be attentive in your surroundings, try to identify someone who sounds like the person I described above and see if they are acting a lil sus or dropping hints. This relationship evolution depends mostly on you and how you reciprocate the advances. You are the one that gives the green light. It’s all up to you, Pile 4, if you want this person or not.

Quote for you : Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.

thank you for reading until the end pile 4 ! lots of love <3

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆stay blessed everyone⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

#pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #pac tarot #pac love reading #tarot pac #pac reading #tarot reading #tarot

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ghcstao3 · 10 months ago

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AU with ghost and soap both being radio hosts at the same station, but soap works during the day and ghost the night, so they never properly cross paths.

but soap is often sleepless, so he’ll tune into ghost’s part of the show, the occasional commentary sprinkled between songs, far less than soap ever talks on shift. ghost’s voice is soothing in spite of its roughness, deep and calm it often lulls soap to sleep so he isn’t so miserable and reliant on caffeine when he wakes for work the next day.

and ghost who just doesn’t need so many hours of sleep to function, and is often awake during the day anyway because there’s no other way of getting certain things done, like his groceries and appointments, but always in need of background noise will listen in to soap’s segments. he’s charming, witty, and the scottish lilt has grown familiar enough to be pleasant.

out of the blue, they start leaving notes for each other. commentary based on something they heard the other say, recommending songs or topics for a rainy day. eventually, soap grows bold enough, and decides to leave his phone number—though it’s more than likely ghost could have gotten that information from the station himself. they begin texting in spite of their mostly opposite schedules, and while a friendship forms, they’ve still never once spoken to each other.

until one day, gaz—soap’s daytime shift partner—has to call out, and ghost offers to fill in, work the double shift. soap is pleasantly surprised that morning, and they end up getting on like a house fire both on and off air. it’s incredible. neither have them have laughed or smiled so hard in a while.

and though it is a one-off, they begin appearing at the station during the other’s shift, bringing food or off air company, just enjoying their shared presence. naturally a relationship blooms from there, and obviously it brings them both great joy a few years later to announce they’ll be off air for a week or two for the inevitable wedding and honeymoon.

#hi i’m back from the dead #with more ghoap fluff #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

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usomads · 5 months ago

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Hi 🌚 first time request from a friendly reader!

Could you do a Damian Priest as Santa smutty one shot? 🤭

Masquerade // Damian Priest x Reader

Author’s Note -> Hi, I saw this wayyyy too late for Christmas so instead we’re taking on New Year’s! This one is soooo long (my bad) but I really love this idea and hope y’all do too. Happy reading!

Plot -> A mystery man and a mystery woman cross paths for the first time, or is it?

Pairings -> Damian Priest x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hickies, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Papi Kink, Unprotected P in V, Public Sex, Creampie, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.4k

Sounds of bass thumping instantly filled your ears as you walked towards the entrance of the large house in front of you, wearing a shimmering gown that hugged your curves in all the right ways. You had been invited to a New Year’s Eve party by your best friend, Damian, but this wasn’t just any party. The host this year evidently wanted to switch things up so instead of the typical New Year’s party they decided to go with a theme, which was why an intricate silver mask adorned your face and hid your identity- the theme was masquerade. You reached the steps, pulling your phone out of your clutch and checking your texts, seeing a message from Damian sent about 5 minutes ago:

“I’ll keep an eye out for you tonight. I know you well enough that a mask won’t hide you from me 😉”

Your thumbs pressed the screen typing out a witty reply, but before you could press send your screen turned black. Shit, you cursed to yourself. You stared at the dead phone in your hands for a moment, thinking back to your preparations from earlier in the evening and scolding yourself for not thinking about putting your phone on the charger before you came. Shaking your head, you slipped your phone back into your clutch and headed inside, showing the invitation to the security at the door. The house was insane, you had never stepped foot in something so nice before, and the fact that you were here without Damian made it all the more nerve-wracking for you. Nothing a drink can’t fix though, right? Your eyes scanned the room looking for any sign of alcohol and spotted a bar at the other end of the room, adjusting the mask on your eyes and walking to it. The room buzzed around you, groups of people talking amongst each other, people dancing in the center, and music playing loudly over the speakers. You reached the bar and sat down, ordering a glass of champagne and watching the party around you until your eyes locked on a figure standing across the room from you, holding a glass of champagne himself and leaning against a pillar. The two of you stare at each other for what feels like a century and you swear the party surrounding you fades entirely, almost as if it were just the two of you. Seeing no sign of Damian anywhere and feeling bold, you stood up from the stool and walked over to him, your hips swaying as he continued to stare you down.

“You know, people either hide in the shadows because they’re looking for something or they want to come off as mysterious. So what might you be hiding?” You grinned at the man in front of you, teasing him with your words. He laughs, a smirk lining his lips as he speaks.

“A bit of both,” the man sipped his drink before continuing, “I could say the same about you. Are you always this bold, or is the mask talking for you?”

You lean closer to him, lowering your voice. “Maybe it’s the mask… or maybe I’m just intrigued.”

“Intrigued, huh?” His finger traces the fluke in your hand, maintaining eye contact with you. “You might be too curious for your own good.”

A playful look crosses your face as you lean closer to him, your lips brushing his ear. “I’m just getting started. But if you don’t wanna play then…”

He laughs, clearly amused. “Who said I didn’t wanna play? I’ll go as far as you let me… so long as you can keep up.”

“Oh, I’m sure I can. But can you handle me?”

The tone in the man’s voice changes, laced with something deeper. Desire. He leans in, his arm brushing yours as he whispers in your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. I’d be careful if I were you…”

“Maybe I like a bit of danger,” your voice rang low in his ears, daring him to make a move. And he did, scanning you from head to toe before extending a hand for you to take. You obliged, wrapping your fingers around the rough surface of his palm as he guided you to the dance floor, pulling you closer to him as those same hands found their way to your waist. The heat radiates between you as your bodies sway to the beat of the music.

“You’re not too bad at this,” you smirk at him.

“Not bad? I was hoping for resounding praise.” His tone teases, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Alright, let’s not get carried away,” you laugh softly.

“What if I want to?” His eyes lock onto yours and send a shiver down your spine. All of a sudden, it’s just the two of you in this room. You realize you’re completely drawn to him in this moment, drawn to the mystery of the man before you. The thrill and the danger ignites something deep inside you, something you weren’t expecting to feel tonight. You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the crowd roaring around you, counting down to midnight. A fire burns between you with every count down to zero, and the mystery man you’ve been accompanied by all night leans down to you, his lips hovering over your own.

Five. “I think I have to kiss you.”

Four. “You think?” You tease.

Three. He tilts your head by your chin, his lips dangerously close to brushing yours.

Two. The electricity between you is intense, the anticipation growing with each passing second. His eyes are dark as they start into your own, flickering between them and your lips.

Before the last second he closes the gap between you, kissing you with a passion that takes the air out of your lungs. The kiss is deep, intense, and filled with something that you clearly can’t deny as you finally part, leaving you both breathless and momentarily stunned.

“I never caught your name,” he smiles.

“Why don’t we start with the masks?” You laugh, nerves slowly take over as you respond. The both of you hesitate momentarily, reaching up to remove the coverings from your faces, a slight nervousness overtaking you. Shock sets in instantly as you slowly reveal your identities to each other, realizing you knew very well who had captured your undivided attention all evening… in fact, you knew too well.

“D-Damian?”

“Y/N?” Damian smiles, a soft chuckle erupting from his chest. “I can’t believe we didn’t realize sooner, some friends we are right?”

Your soft smile falters slightly, unconsciously dropping at the mention of you being just friends. Your mind was in a daze, having trouble wrapping your head around the fact that the man who drew you in so easily, captivated you, consumed your thoughts all evening– made you crave him in more ways than one was, in fact, your best friend. Suddenly you didn’t want to hear him call you his ‘friend’, and maybe that’s something you’ve been trying to suppress for a while, but now it was impossible to ignore.

“Yeah…” you mumbled, “friends.” Damian’s brows furrowed at your sudden change in demeanor, his smile also faltering in an attempt to read you.

“Y/N…”

“I need some air...” You brushed past him quickly, retreating before he could follow you– leaving him alone on the dance floor.

After wandering around the house for a while, trying to find somewhere secluded, you stumbled upon a private balcony. You stepped outside, the cool and crisp air pricking your skin instantly as you held onto the railing and tried to calm your breathing. Tears brimmed your eyes as you replayed the events of this evening in your mind, from the conversation to the dancing to the kiss. The kiss. How could you not have known it was Damian? How could you have let this happen? And why did you want it to happen again, and again, and again?

Damian’s words replayed in your head as a stray tear landed on your cheek– no. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t hide anymore. You wanted Damian, and tonight solidified it. And for a moment, when neither knew who the other was, you knew he did too. You knew he felt it too– that spark, that desire, that need. It was in the way his lips brushed against your ear as he teased you, in the possessive way his hands would find your waist, in the way his lips found yours with such passion and need. And now that you were no longer behind a mask, it was back to ‘just friends’. Back to ‘normal.’ But you knew it would never be ‘normal’ again.

“Y/N,” you were pulled from your thoughts by Damian, who from the sound of him catching his breath sounded like he had been running around the entire house trying to find you. You wiped your face, trying to hide that you had been crying, and spoke up.

“Leave me alone, Dames.” You refused to look at him, staring out at the garden below the balcony, trying to distance yourself from him.

“Y/N, please, talk to me.” He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm, but you swatted it away and turned towards him.

“I said leave me alone, Damian.” Your voice was more stern as you turned to face him, your eyes tinted with red and giving away that you had been crying. Damian’s worried gaze softens as he notices, a pang in his chest growing as he knows he’s responsible.

“Y/N, you know I can’t do that–”

“You’re gonna have to.” You tried to move away from him but he stops you in your tracks, searching your face.

“No! No, Y/N, I won’t. Something’s bothering you… was it the kiss?” You grow quiet, looking down at your feet as to try to avoid having to discuss it but Damian doesn’t let that happen. “Was the kiss not good? What’s going on, Y/N? Please, talk to me. I wanna know what’s wrong…”

“No, the kiss was great. I mean–” you shake the thought out of your head, trying to correct yourself. “The kiss was fine.”

“So what’s the issue? I–” Damian’s face lights up as realization hits him.

“That’s the issue, Dames. It shouldn’t have been that good. We’re friends–”

“But you don’t want that…” Damian studies you as you grow quiet again. He lifts your chin and your eyes flutter closed, not wanting to look at him. “And I don’t want that either.”

Your eyes open at his confession, wide as they search for his. If your head wasn’t spinning before, it sure was now as you tried to make sense of what was happening. He’s not serious, right?

“I am,” he chuckled. Shit, did I say that out loud? Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he continues. “I’ve felt that way for a long time now… I don’t want to go back to how it was before, Y/N– I don’t think either of us want to.” “But you sa–”

“Fuck what I said,” he whispers. “I’ve been hiding how I feel for too damn long. Being with you tonight, albeit under a mask, was the best night of my life…” he thinks about his words, almost reminiscing the events from earlier as he spoke. “To be able to kiss you, flirt with you, touch you how I’ve wanted to for so long… I’ll be damned if I give that up. And something tells me you don’t want me to either.” He eyes you carefully, watching as you take in this revelation from him and, in his mind, pleading with you to feel the same.

“I don’t…” you mumble, your voice lower than a whisper– nearly inaudible.

“I can’t hear you, darling, tell me what you want.” He lifts your chin again, wanting to hear what he’s been dying to hear for months finally fall from your lips.

“You, Dame,” you whisper, a little louder than before. “I want you.”

His lips crash into yours hard, making you stumble backward and hit your back on the railing of the balcony. You hiss at the cool metal touching your skin, allowing him entrance and his tongue to dominate your mouth. His hands find your sides, turning you around and pulling your body into his. His mouth finds your neck just under your right ear, sucking and biting on the skin as one arm keeps you pressed against him– his hardening cock grinding on your ass, and the other dancing up your spine and finding the zipper of your dress. He slowly drags it down your back, his fingers sending chills throughout your body and a familiar ache to your core.

“D-Dames,” you moan quietly, his mouth pressing wet kisses along your jaw, “S-someone could s-see us..”

“Let them.” He growled in your ear, “I’m not leaving this party, this balcony, until I get what’s mine.” You whimpered, his words sending a pool of wetness to the place you craved him most. You let the dress pool at your ankles, now topless in only a pair of lace panties– the cool January air hardening your nipples upon contact. You instinctively cover your breasts, feeling completely exposed to not just Damian but to any potential onlookers vying for a show.

“Uh, uh,” Damian’s hands removed your arms from your chest, “you don’t get to hide from me anymore, you understand? I wanna see you, all of you.” You nod, letting your arms drop to their sides and allowing him to take you in completely.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, Y/N. I’m in awe of you, baby girl.” You blush for what seemed to be the millionth time this evening as he reconnects your lips, slower and more passionate than the last. Damian wanted you to feel what he felt for you, packaged up in a singular kiss, as his lips massaged yours deeply and lovingly now. He began to work down your body, dropping to his knees to come face to face with your throbbing core– dripping and aching all for him.

“Sweetheart, you’re a mess… who’s got you like this, hmm?” You whined, involuntary bucking your hips towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you.

“Please…”

“Gotta answer me first,” he smirked below you, loving how needy he had you. How you were completely and utterly his in this moment.

“You…” you mumbled.

“Louder, darling, I can’t hear you.” Cockiness oozed from his voice, knowing he had you right where he wanted you and that you– nor anyone else, could take that away from him.”

“Y-you, Dames, fuck– please. I need yo– oh fuck.” Your eyes roll back as his tongue licks through your folds, placing open-mouth kisses along your pussy as he hiked one of your legs over his shoulder and ravaged you with his mouth. His tongue swirled along your entrance as the tip of his nose brushed your clit, sending volts of pleasure coursing through your body. You held onto the railing of the balcony behind you, keeping yourself as balanced as you could while Damian was eating you so good your knees were beginning to give way. Damian moaned against you, the sweet taste of your wetness settling on his taste buds and driving him to taste more of it. Your orgasm inched closer with every flick of his tongue, every moan that vibrated against your throbbing core, and you were a blubbering mess for the man on his knees before you who had every intention of worshipping your body like the temple it is– but not yet.

Damian pulls away suddenly, almost knowing you were on the brink of release as you cried out in response, pleads for him falling from your swollen lips.

“Shhh, don’t worry, baby, I gotchu. Papi’s gonna take real good care of you, I promise. But right now, he needs his pussy…” you shivered once more, somehow growing more turned on than before at his words. Him claiming you. Making you his. “Is that what you want, baby? Want Papi to fuck you good, right here where everyone can see how good you look all fucked out for me?”

“Dames, please…”

“Use your words, princess. Let Papi know what his baby girl needs.”

“I–” Your words caught in your throat, overwhelmed by the prior stimulation and the smooth but sinister way of his words. “I w-want you to fuck me, Papi. Please…” With a sudden movement Damian spins you around, bending you over the railing as your chest presses against the cool metal. Behind you, you hear the sound of him undoing his belt and dropping his clothing to the ground, joining them in a pile with your dress before feeling his hard member tease your entrance.

“Tell me you need me again, baby, please.” His demand almost sounds desperate, like he himself is holding back his own moans at the thought of you desperate for him.

“I– I need you, Dame. Please, baby, please fuck me. Right he– mmm…”

He slips inside you with a moan of his own, groaning as he feels your walls tighten around his length. He slowly pushes himself deeper inside you, allowing you to adjust but also loving the cries coming out of your mouth as he stretches you around him.

“Fuck, Y/N, so tight f’me, baby… shit. Taking me so well, sweetheart.” Your pussy flutters around him, a groan slipping from his lips as he slowly pulls out and thrusts himself back in, going slow so he can pay attention to how tight your walls are squeezing his cock– but also how your face contorts with every movement of his hips.

“F-faster, please..” And that was all Damian needed, a signal that you were ready for more of him. His hips sped up movement as he thrusted into you from behind, the force jolting your body with every snap of his hips as you cry out in pleasure. His hands hold your hips for leverage, kneading the skin roughly enough that surely bruises would form by tomorrow morning– but you didn’t care. You were drunk, not on champagne but on the feeling of his cock inside you driving deeper and deeper into you, a feeling of euphoria that you never wanted to escape. A hand of his came forward to your clit and rubbed slow circles on the swollen bud, making you instantly tighten around him and cry out his name for all who could possibly hear it. You were close, there was no denying it, and you were prepared to coat his length in your desire for him– only him, and he knew it too.

“I feel you, princess. Go ahead, cum for me. Wanna feel you, baby.” Your release washed over you with force as your body grew limp, your orgasm consuming all the energy left in your body to give to Damian and Damian alone. Your pussy clenched around him as he continued to buck his hips inside you, the sounds of his thrust mixed with your juices echoing outside as he approached his own release.

“Y/N, f-fuck, I’m close, baby girl… gonna fuck this pussy full of my cum… shit.”

“C-cum for me, Papi, let me have every last drop. G-give it to me…” You whimpered in between thrusts and not long after he followed suit, releasing ropes of his cum along your walls and filling you completely– just like he said he would. He brings you upright and wraps his arms around you, holding onto you as his orgasm hits him and finding your lips once more for another passionate kiss. The two of you stay there for a moment, lips locked and fully exposed as you ride out your orgasms together. A few moments pass and your position remains the same, but your attention gets drawn to the grounds below– where guests are leaving the party and heading home for the evening. You stare at each other, wide-eyed, and laugh– collecting your clothing and dashing inside so as to not get caught by any of the guests.

“So, my place?” You smile and nod at Damian, who merely an hour ago had been a stranger in a mask but was now no longer a mystery. You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, shit, you didn’t know what would transpire after you leave here but one thing is for certain: now, there’s no hiding it.

#damian priest #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #smut #damian priest smut

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taesanluv3r · 4 months ago

Text

i confess.

han taesan x reader

inspired by an idea from my pookie bear @myugjh03 <3 yn falls in love w the admin of her school's anonymous confessions account, cute v-day dance, eunchae of lsrfim as yn's bestie! no warnings really, maybe a cuss word or two - also the texting parts yn's texts r bold and italicized n other characters r just italicized!! enjoyy

wc: 5,349

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

staracademy_fess has requested to follow you!

yn ln yawns as the notifications on her phone blurred into her vision. her eyes glanced up towards the time, sighing when she decides it might finally be time to get ready for school.

the girl hums along to the tune blasting off of her tiny pill-shaped speaker, wrapping herself in a robe and beginning to exit the bathroom. she sits at her vanity after putting on her clothes, resuming her usual morning routine. the song playing gets cut off by a familiar sound, "who dare to text me when i'm so busy?!" she quotes the famous meme, cracking herself up as she reaches to pick up her phone. "huh?" she says out loud, questioning the message request that had just popped up on her screen.

staracademy_fess replied to your story: 'realest opinion ever.'

her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 'that's so random...' she thought. yn knew of the account; an instagram page made by a student at her school where people could send in anonymous tips. it was a recent thing, the account just randomly popped up about three weeks ago, when the school had just reopened after the holidays. it was an interesting blog, and she wasn't going to lie she quite enjoyed scrolling through it's posts every now and then. 'this is so gossip girl' she'd say as she giggles at an anonymous tip dissing her ex-situationship.

but what was so random?

well, for one, she had no clue who ran the account. and for them to be replying to her story like that? seems a bit friendly for a stranger don't you think? still confused, yn decides to take a screenshot of the floating notification. she enters her password and runs straight to the messaging app to text her best-friend.

does this confess account reply to everyone's story or am i special?

the girl hits send before reverting back to the mirror in front of her, checking her reflection as she continues doing her make up.

well ik he follows everyone...but i never heard of him replying off of people's story????? maybe he likes you pookie lol

her friend's response puts her into a deep thinking session. 'he?...you mean this is a guy?' she wonders what she should do next. should she respond to him right away? is he really a him? who is he? was her friend right? does this person like her?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i don't know though...i mean he's really sweet and funny and he matches my energy..i just lowkey wished i knew who he was"

yn ln and the anonymous admin of their school's confess account have been talking for about a week now. it all started when she had finally decided to reply to his random text...

realest opinion ever.

she recalls the message, a response to her instagram story. it was a picture of her laptop - on it, a screencap of kurt cobain in his iconic green cardigan playing the guitar. the caption was, 'if the doctor told me i had an hour and thirty three minutes left to live, trust i will be watching this video on my death bed!'

what do you know about nirvana mtv unplugged 1993 🙄

her cocky and satirical reply was the first thing that ignited their witty relationship. what he said to her following that was something along the lines of, "more than you, i bet".

as they began to have long, daily conversations with each other, yn ln was beginning to find out more and more about him. by the one week mark she had figured out his age, his major, his hobbies, favourite foods, colours, songs, even his childhood dreams. she knew almost everything about him! well, if you take away the fact that she didn't really know anything about him at all...not his name, not his face, nor who he really is.

that didn't stop her though. she liked him. that much she knew. she liked how he typed, she liked his opinions, she liked that he matched energies with her, most of all she liked that he seemed to like her too. and a girl like yn would never let anything come in between her and someone she liked - no, not even an anonymous identity. i mean, it was only about time until he revealed himself, right? she can wait.

"so you're practically e-dating this guy...and you don't even know who he is? aren't you curious at all? what if he's a creep? or worse! what if he's...ugly"

eunchae, the girl's best-friend, squeaks, already thinking of every worst case scenario available. yn rolls her eyes, "first of all, we aren't e-dating! second of all, maybe i can see through his looks? i'm not that shallow!" she accidentally yells out the last part of her sentence, earning weird looks from the other students in the hallway. eunchae giggles, patting her friend on the back as they begin to walk to their classroom.

on the way there, yn continues to ramble on and on about her anonymous lover, starting to make guesses of his identity, "what if he's hot, that would be so incredibly perfect...like imagine if he was one of the boys from myung jaehyun's friend group...they're all hot". her focus was so out of it that she fails to see the boy crouching down near the lockers. her eyes grow wide as she stumbles over him, tripping and falling right on her ass.

"ow...fuck that hurt" she whines, still seated on the floor. laughs escape the mouth of her best-friend, who was busy recording yn's epic fail instead of helping her up. she rolls her eyes before they scan to find the poor boy she tripped on. this poor boy, however, was definitely not who she thought he was.

yn gasps when she comes face to face with none other than han taesan, one of the popular seniors from that friend group she was just yapping about. yeah, myung jaehyun's one, that's right...the one with all the insanely and unnecessarily hot people.

"are you gonna get up or...?" his voice shakes her out of her thoughts, "huh? oh! right...ahem...sorry" she clears her throat, avoiding eye contact as she begins to pick her things up and off of the ground. she doesn't know for sure but the girl swears she could feel him smile at her from behind, her assumptions proven true when she catches him giggle. "what?" yn asks, voice going all snarky all of a sudden. it catches taesan by surprise, "nothing...i just think you're cute, that's all" her eyes get big again, "m...me? cute?" she was sure her face was bright red by now. he laughs again, a lot more cocky this time, a smug look on his face like he knew something she didn't.

"see you around, yn" the boy says, beginning to walk away. 'he knows my name?' she thought, watching as he stops in his tracks and turns to face her again.

"oh! and maybe watch where you're going next time"

he was gone after that, chasing the school bell into his classroom. "what was that about? see you around, yn" eunchae wonders, mocking the guy's tone of voice as she repeated his words. "beats me...weirdo" yn says, resuming her own trek towards her math class. "you can't call him a weirdo if you're the one who tripped on him" her friend's words make her scoff, "well he didn't have to be so cocky about it!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

and then what happened?

yn ln flops onto her bed, biting her lip softly as her fingers move to type. she was texting him, you see, she was texting her mystery man. it became a routine for her to do so, coming home after school and telling him all about her day. well, if there was anything significant about her day that is. otherwise, they'd be sending each other silly reels and song recommendations - which, as much as she loved it, did get a bit boring and substance-less after a while.

luckily - or, unluckily? - for her today, she had a fun story to share with him.

and then i totally freaked, and he was being so insanely annoying and cocky about it...like dude you're hot, we know that! doesn't mean you get to be all asshole-y

she sighs in frustration as she remembers the events of a few hours ago, waiting patiently for a text back. it usually didn't take long for one, the anonymous guy was a pretty fast texter. however, for whatever reason this time, it seemed to be taking him years to type. yn is confused, 'what could he be typing?' until alas, the bubble on his end stops moving, a message replacing it.

maybe you should've watched where you were going. i mean you DID trip on him cause you weren't focused

the girl's heart stops for a moment. there was something wrong with his text, yet she couldn't for the life of her tell what it was. it just felt...odd - like the person she had just been chatting with disappeared into thin air. there was a hint of passive-aggressiveness in his tone; maybe she was overthinking it...i mean it wouldn't be the first time he was cold and sarcastic with her. that's just how he is.

you know what's funny? that's exactly what he said lmao...no way...don't tell me the man behind this account is THE han taesan LMAOO

yn didn't think much of it when she typed up that response, she knew there was no way in hell such a popular and handsome guy like taesan would run such a dumb and silly confession account...right?

shit...have to help my dad set up a new TV, ttyl

their conversation ended there. again, she paid no mind to it's sudden end. she knew he'd reach out to her again a little later, possibly to moan and groan about how much of a hard time he had setting up the television.

yn only began to worry when that didn't happen. it had actually been hours since their last conversation and he hadn't squeaked a single word to her - not even a single stupid reel, not even a song recommendation.

where'd he go?

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"why do you look like that?" eunchae asks, sitting beside her best-friend at the school cafeteria. "like what?" the girl replies with another question. "i don't know...maybe like you just witnessed someone kill off your entire bloodline?" yn rolls her eyes, not uttering another word. "you've been looking gloomy all week...ever since..." eunchae gasps, "is this because of when you tripped over han taesan? cause if it is...girl, i can delete the video if you want me to" this time the girl looks at her friend in disbelief. "oh god, it is because of that, isn't it? girl, you should've just said so and i would-" she doesn't let her friend finish. "you took a video?! and no it isn't because of that...but you took a video?!"

eunchae chuckles as she nods, "i promise i'll delete it...but if it's not cause of that...then what?" yn sighs, "if i tell you, promise not to laugh?" she asks, some kind of a hopeful gaze in her eyes. her friend nods enthusiastically, "when have i ever laughed at your misfortune" - "eunchae. i'm serious" her face is stern, not even a hint of playfulness, and her friend obliged.

"it's the confessions guy..." yn starts, her voice quieting down as she trails off. "you mean your mystery lover boy?" the girl nods, "we haven't texted in four days now..." eunchae's eyes widen in shock, "what? why?!" she seemed just as furious as the girl was. "that's the thing, i don't know! last time we talked i was telling him all about tripping over taesan...he was being unusually cold and dry...then he left to help his dad set up a new TV and then he never texted me since..." her voice was glum, like she was genuinely lost and upset about this whole thing. her friend's gaze softened, "have you tried reaching out to him first?" yn shook her head, "i don't know why...i just can't bring myself to"

eunchae pats the girl on her back, "hey...what if you just give him a few more hours, and if he doesn't text you then just text first, how about that?" yn sighs, "do i have any other choice?" the other girl smiles as she shakes her head, "nope!"

later that day yn ln goes home from school, still feeling like shit. she frowns as she turns her speaker on, a loud ding sound letting her know the bluetooth was connected to her phone. a tune begins to fill the gaps in her room, reality by richard sanderson, one of his favourites.

the girl groans as she throws herself onto the bed, not caring enough to change out of her uniform. she rolls over to lay on her back, staring up at the posters on her ceiling - namely, the giant one in the middle, a poster of the guy who had brought her and the anonymous boy together in the first place. before she even realized, yn had begun to talk to it.

"oh, kurt...whatever should i do?! this is all your fault. if i hadn't put your stupid performance on my story that day then he wouldn't have replied, we wouldn't have talked, i wouldn't have fallen in love with him...i don't even know his fucking name! kurt...how cooked am i? i spend every waking hour thinking about him, guessing his identity, wondering what i did wrong to have him ignore me like this! it's unfair...why does every relationship i get into end this way?"

the last bit of her unscripted monologue brings tears to her eyes. it was true. yn ln had quite the history of horrible relationships. hell, some wouldn't even consider them relationships. the first guy she dated only did it because he was dared to, the next guy decided he was actually into his own sex half-way through their one week long relationship, the last guy she was with - well, she was never really dating him, he was a dick and she was naive enough to like him for his looks and status. all in all, she's never been successful in the love department - she found that no one really got her...until he did.

"why is it that the one guy who actually understood me has to be some fucking anonymous admin...i mean, seriously? and even then...it seems i blew it already, didn't i?" yn whines, starting to get annoyed at the fact that her posters stayed quiet - duh, they're posters! she rolls over again, just far enough to reach her phone. the girl wasn't planning on doing anything on it, but like clockwork her fingers naturally lead her to his chatroom. she stared at it, as if staring would do anything to fix the situation she was in. that is, until it did.

the animation on his side of the chat, indicating that he had begun to type, sent her heart flying. her eyes went wide, mouth dropping opened as if she were going to scream - she didn't though, her parents were home. yn bites her lips, her face so close to the screen she swore she could feel how her eye-sight worsened by the second. and then the animation stopped, a second later it was replaced with a body of text.

are you going to the v-day masquerade dance tomorrow?

that's it? yn didn't know what to think; so she didn't, she let her thumbs do all the thinking for her.

YOU DONT SPEAK TO ME FOR FOUR WHOLE DAYS AND YOU DONT EVEN START WITH A HI? A SORRY????

look, i'm sorry about that i just...i was doing a lot of thinking and stuff

she rolls her eyes, 'what a lame excuse' she thought. still, she couldn't stop herself from smiling softly, she really missed him.

about what??? what could you have possibly been thinking SO much about that you don't talk to me!??!?!

well that's the thing...i was thinking a lot about us.

'huh?' if yn ln wasn't confused all week, she was definitely confused now.

wdym us?

it takes him exactly four minutes and twenty seconds to reply. she knows this because the moment she sent her text, how was your day? by beabadoobee started playing, and it ended the minute his message came in.

will you meet me at the masquerade dance, or no?

for some reason, his words annoy her a bit.

i don't know anything about ur appearance and u expect me to meet u in a dark gym hall where every guy is wearing a suit and a MASK??

well that's the point, love. i trust you'll know it's me in the moment...unless you're not curious about me at all then that's fine i guess we'll just never meet

what a bitch. she's intrigued though.

fine, i'll see you tomorrow then

see you there 💖

yn ln genuinely smiles for the first time in four days, laying down on her back to stare up at her posters again. "well kurt, it seems this love story isn't entirely over yet...you think he'll finally reveal himself to me tomorrow night?" she asks out loud, as if the pieces of paper she talked to could respond. "shit!" she exclaimed all of a sudden, sitting up straight.

"what do i wear?!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"does this look dumb or...?"

yn ln asks for the nth time, twirling around in her thousandth outfit idea for her best-friend to judge through their face-time call. "ew no, i liked the last one better, this one doesnt match your mask- wait try the last dress with that one fluffy bolero you have" eunchae's voice came out a second late due to the connection issues, but yn could understand her just fine. "okay wait let me try that" she says, disappearing from the camera's view and into her closet.

"how's this? cute right?" the girl smiles, spinning around to give her bestie a full 360 view. her dress was a light baby pink and it was short, stopping right above her knees. she wore a pair of tights underneath to prevent getting dress-coded, and a pretty white faux-fur bolero over her shoulders to shield her from the cold. her whole outfit matched perfectly with her silver mask, fine specs of pink and white glitter decorating it's surface. "yes! love it!" eunchae cheered, "what shoes are you wearing?" - "i want to wear the pink platforms...but what if he's short and then our super sweet kiss scene gets awkward?" she caught her friend rolling her eyes through the screen, "wear the white mary janes then, it matches your bolero anyways"

"okay...make up time!"

the girl spends the next few hours touching up her looks for the big night. she stares in the mirror over and over, making sure there wasn't anything abnormally wrong with her. yn slumps down onto her bed, careful not to wrinkle her dress. she sighs, an odd sensation bubbling up in her stomach.

"what am i so worried of?" she asked, eyes lingering at her reflection. the pinging of her phone removes her from her trance, a smile replacing the fearful look on her face as she read the message, his message.

you're not having second thoughts, are you? let me know when you're there

it's all or nothing now.

after making sure she didn't forget anything, yn jumps into the passenger seat of her dad's car. "you good, kid?" he asks, noticing the uneasy look on his daughter's face. "huh? yeah, i'm good, dad...let's go" the man nods, "whatever it is, i'm sure this'll fix it!" he said, a pointer finger reaching out towards the radio, pressing play. the girl laughs as a nostalgic tune enters her ears, black or white by michael jackson. "remember when you'd beg me to play this on the way to kindergarten?" she nods along to her dad's words, beginning to sing along to the song with him.

they make it to the school's campus in no time, stopping the car right at the drop off zone. "thanks for driving, dad. sorry i didn't tell you sooner...didn't think i was coming until i got asked" the man shakes his head, "anything for you, kiddo - can i ask why you won't tell me who the lucky boy is?" yn smirked, "i would love to, dad...i just...don't know who he is either!" that response made mr. ln's eyebrows knit together in confusion, but before he could ask anymore questions, the girl had waved him goodbye and disappeared into the building.

"oh, yn...whatever you're up to...please don't hurt yourself"

yn puts on her mask before entering the gymnasium; the usually sweaty and sports-full area had been completely turned into that of a ballroom. valentine's day themed decorations hung on every corner, hearts and bows completing the scenery. the girl smiles, wondering why it took her this long to ever attend these annual school events. 'who knew this dump was capable of looking so pretty?' that was the last clear thought she had before her conscience returned to reality. all of a sudden the heart-shaped lanterns weren't all that lovely, the romantic music playing earlier had turned into loud and hardcore techno, and worst of all the people inside the gym with her seemed to have multiplied by tenfold.

at this point it was getting too much to bear. she could barely see out of the tiny eye-holes of her mask to begin with, how was she supposed to find her mystery man in this crowd? a second away from panicking, yn escapes the rowdy gym and finds solace in the quiet hallways. she pulls her mask off for a moment to breathe, a hand clutching onto her chest - maybe this is why she never cared to go to these dances.

the girl reaches into her hand-bag, pulling out her phone. her thumbs danced against the screen and she opened up instagram to text her anonymous date.

where r u???? it's too loud i hate it i wanna go home

he replies right away.

agreed, i'll wait for you in your classroom...it's quiet and empty here

yn doesn't text back, simply nodding to herself. she gulps and takes in a deep breath as she pulls the mask over her head again. she straightens her back, walking towards her classroom and stopping right at the foot of the door. she could see his figure through the textured glass windows; he faced away from her, all she could make out was his black suit and the back of his head, where the ribbons of his mask dug into his hair. this was it. she was finally inches away from meeting the boy she had been so in love with the past few weeks, inches away from knowing his real identity. yn couldn't wait another moment - yet, at the very same time, something was stopping her from entering the room. a sense of severe nervousness rushing through her veins.

he must've felt her lingering presence and she watched as the figure inside the room turned in her direction. both masked, identities hidden, yet it felt like they could see right through each other. as if telepathically, yn felt him call for her; though he didn't utter a word. with that, the palm of her hands finally came in contact with the door, pushing it forward ever so slightly and allowing herself in.

"hey"

yn gasps as he speaks to her for the first time, his voice doesn't sound foreign at all, but she can't remember where she'd heard it from before. "hey..." her tone is more hushed than usual, breathy as she walked closer to him. they stood beside each other now, staring out the classroom's window, and up at rising moon. the girl can't help but stare at him, scanning everything that was visible to her. he's here now, flesh and skin in front of her. his dark hair, his pale skin, his tall build, his pink lips, and his milky brown eyes hidden behind his deep maroon coloured mask that covered the top half of his face. but still, she hadn't a clue who he was.

the mystery man chuckles, breaking their silence. "you can stop staring at me, yn...i'm not going anywhere" she opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out, she couldn't speak no matter how hard she tried. the pair went back to looking out the window in silence, there was no sense of awkwardness in the air though. in fact, it was nothing but comfortable.

"i like you"

it takes yn a solid ten seconds to process the words that came out of his mouth. even after they sunk into her mind she stood frozen, shocked. "w...what?" the boy's smile is visible, "i like you, yn...do you like me too?" there's a hint of playfulness in his voice, it was as though this whole ordeal wasn't too big a deal to him - unlike the way it was to her.

"i don't even know you...how am i supposed to tell whether what i feel for you is real or not?!" her tone was a lot stronger than she had planned, she gasped and slapped a hand to her mouth. she didn't mean to yell, the pressure of the situation stressed her out in ways she swore no one could imagine. the masked boy didn't fight back though, she could see his eyes softening beneath plastic that covered his face as he stared into her own. they held eye-contact for what felt like ages, no other sound apart from the loud beating in their chests. "yn..." he calls out for her, though his previously playful tone was long gone now. "yeah?" she questioned, barely above a listenable decibel.

"can i kiss you?"

her eyes get big and the girl contemplates for a second. she decides that the only correct answer was yes. besides, this was the moment she'd been yearning for all week, wasn't it?

her slight nod was all the confirmation the boy needed before he took a step closer towards her. he leans down until they were just a single breath away from one another. his hands were cold as they pressed lightly against her blushing cheeks, pulling her in. suddenly, the pair was devoid of space, their masks making a clinking sound as their lips crashed against each other's. the kiss was intense, more than anything else; a hint of desperation in the way his hands snaked down to her waist, her own ones placed against his neck.

the growing moonlight illuminated the scene, neither of them planning to let go any time soon. as the kiss began to get more passionate, yn's fingers found their way into his hair, playing with it's ends then moving up to where the ribbons of his mask sat in a knot. she doesn't give it another thought, pulling on the strings until they came undone. the boy gasps, eyes widening as they finally pull apart, the plastic material falling to the ground between them.

a breath escapes the girl's lips, her eyes beginning to water at the sight in front of her. a mixture of shock and confusion painting her complexion as she furrows her eyebrows. she can't even bring herself to blink, this was too unreal. the mystery identity of the boy she had fallen so deeply in love with...

"t...taesan?"

he sighs.

"y...yeah"

yn takes in another deep breath before ultimately breaking into a fit of laughter. "why...why are you laughing?" taesan is the confused one now, watching through knitted brows as the girl before him pulls herself together. "nothing...i just didn't think it was really you..." she said, beginning to remove her own mask. the boy's eyes glimmer a little, "what?" she asks, tossing the silver plastic onto a desk. "you're so pretty" he says, reaching his hand out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she smiles, leaning her face into his palm.

"thank you...and i'm sorry" taesan tilts his head to the side, "for what?" she laughs again, "for bitching about tripping over han taesan and calling him an asshole...i had no clue i was talking directly to him...sorry" the boy chuckles, "yeah, that was kind of mean you know?" he pouted dramatically, something about his face made her heart skip a beat. "is that why you totally ignored me for four days after?" he was taken aback by her sudden inquiry, "maybe...sorry about that, love" her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink from the nickname. "but you know..." taesan speaks again, stepping closer and slipping his hands into hers.

"you should really watch where you're going next time!"

the familiarity of his statement sends the girl through a trip of deja vu, "you know that's technically your fault...i was thinking about who you were after all, and then i couldn't focus and then i tripped!" he smiles, "does that mean you like me too?" she rolls her eyes, "i never said that" - "but you never said you didn't"

yn ln sighs in defeat, watching the smug grin that was making it's way onto han taesan's lips. "how about you kiss me again? maybe after that i'll know whether i like you or not" the boy laughs, "you just want to kiss me, i think that's proof enough" she shakes her head in disbelief, "shut up, please?" - "make me"

and with that the space between them vanished once more, their noses bumping and their breaths short as they kissed. it didn't last as long as their last one, separating for air after the first two minutes. "okay...i confess..." yn says as she catches her breath. "mhm?" taesan hums, staring into her eyes.

"i like you too"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"oh, that's my ride!"

yn waves, signaling for her dad to come towards her. the window of the passenger seat rolls down, and the pair are met with a sleepy looking mr. ln.

"hey dad, this is my boyfriend, taesan!" the girl chirped joyfully, shooting her dad a smile. "uh...hello, mr. ln...it's nice to meet you!" the boy has a hopeful look on his face, biting down on his lip worriedly as the older man began to eye him down. "nice to meet you, kid! you better be treating my princess right...if you break her heart" - "dad! stop scaring him! we just got together, don't shoo him away"

both the guys laugh at yn's outrage. "bye, taesan. thanks for tonight, is it too early to say i love you?" the boy smiles, "thank you. and no it isn't, i love you too...and" he pulls her into a hug, leaning closer to whisper into her ear, "it's too scary to kiss you in front of your dad so i'll do that another time"

taesan watches as yn gets into her car, "i'll pick you up tomorrow, yeah? we could get froyo and go to the record store and-" he gets cut off as the girl's dad butts in. "record store? you into music, taesan?" he nods excitedly, "yes sir! love it more than anything in the world...well, maybe not as much as i love your daughter" the older man scoffs, "that's what i like to hear...how you getting home, kid?" he asks, "i'm driving. my car's parked over there" he pointed towards the parking lot and the two guys share a few more nods.

"well then, get home safe, kid"

"i will, thank you. you guys get home safe too! um, text me when you're home, okay?" yn smiles up at her boyfriend, "mhm! see you tomorrow, bye!"

she rolls her window back up as her dad begins to drive away. "i like him" her dad says all of a sudden. "yeah?" she asks, wanting confirmation from her father who just nods.

"i like him too"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

ahhhhh this fic is kinda longggg i was working on it for six hours straight TT tysm to eli my pookiebear for this awesome ideaaaa i hope i did it justice <3!! also yn ranting to her cobain poster and then taesan getting along w her dad a bit at the end is so cutesy so true!!!! anyways, thx for reading - i hope u liked this one! reblogs n feedbacks r always appreciated :3 love, kona.

#kona's work ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor drabbles #bnd x reader #taesan #han taesan #han taesan x reader #taesan x reader #bnd taesan #taesan imagines #boynextdoor taesan #taesan scenarios #han dongmin #boynextdoor fanfic #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor headcanons

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 9 months ago

Note

hey babe! (if you don't give me a name I'll keep calling you that)

thinking about modern Arthur who takes you horse riding so he can show you what he likes and he just be his normal arthur going all "good girl" and "that's my girl" with his mare and you just go insane for this man because WHY IS HE TALKING TO A HORSE LIKE THAT😭

You can call me babe all you want honey <33 AND FOR GOD'S SAKE. We never talked about it and this blog yet but like MISTER CLARK why did you speak to these horses like they were your fcking partners?? Not that I don't like it... Totally not searching for mares on purpose to hear Arthur praising me... HUM.

Arthur and you had been circling around each other for a while now. A simple customer at your Café at first, you had grown fond of each other as you remembered his habits and likings (always two shots of expresso, black, plus a pile of maple syrup pancakes on mornings, and a hot dog on afternoons). He had begun to come more and more often, always finding some time between his patrols as a Ranger; his steps always bringing him back "unpurposedly" in the area everyday. One thing leading to another, you had shared numbers and started texting, shyly at first than until late at night. Sharing music, dumb photos, witty lines and, when one of you felt bold, flirty ones.

Soon enough, the need for more private time together had imposed itself on you. You were both craving for more, more than just texting, more than just chatting at the Café, in the middle of everyone and every ears of town. Arthur had pushed back all his limits by inviting you to his family ranch. He was eager to share his passion with you.

A hand on your hip, he helped you jump on the saddle of his mare, a beautiful ginger-colored creature named Boadicea. Your hands were uncertain as you hold the reins; it had been a while since you'd last been horse riding. But your anxiety stops all of a sudden when Arthur cooed unexpectedly, sending an odd shiver all the long of your back:

"Yeah, that's a good girl."

Your heart jumped at his words. Not only because of them but the way he had spoken. His voice was even lower and deeper than usual, the rough edges of it diving dangerously into the dreamiest parts of your psyche.

You blinked a few times, realizing as he was patting his mare's head that he had praised her, not you. The first seconds of surprise passed, you actually found it quite endearing. He looked like she really was everything to him; gaze filled with love. You could see those sweet little glittering fireflies in the depth of his eyes when he looked at her. Like when someone looks at what is the most precious thing on Earth to them. Or those tiny sparkles of joy and excitement when they talk to you about their favorite subject, on the verge of shedding a tear. It was pure and utter affection. How could a man taking such good care of an animal could be a bad one? There was something about all his behavior and his relationship with his mare that made you feel even more safe around him, and even more persuaded he was the softest and sweetest of men.

The afternoon passed wonderfully. Arthur never missed any occasion to put his hands on you: helping you getting down or on the saddle, showing you how to hold the reins better, how to position your back the right way... You didn't know if he was doing it on purpose, but you clearly would not complain about it.

Of course, the day ended with a long time spent grooming Boadicea. Arthur had everything needed for her, a huge box filled with a dozen brushes and at least five different types of treats. He gently showed you how to tend her mane while he fed her, letting out once again his low and loving praising:

"Thaaat's ma girl. Yeah, the best girl in the world. Who did real' good, today? Yeah, that's you! That's you, sugar!"

The good girl in question was in Paradise, weighing happily as an answer to his praise, mouth hungrily devouring the treats he was giving her.

You couldn't help yourself and chuckle slightly. Both because it was really cute, seeing Arthur like this, and because something inside you was loving to hear his voice whispering sweet things like he did, even if it was not for you. You knew, you really knew it wasn't. But God did it felt good to hear. Your heart and, you had to admit, your body was craving to hear it again.

"Wha'? You think I'm a fool, don't ya?" He asked you when he heard your little laugh. Your eyes landed on each other's face, and you noticed his cheeks had turned a tad crimson as one of his hands was scratching his neck, his embarrassment apparent and making him even more adorable than before.

"No! Not at all..." A slight grin curled your lips upward. You couldn't miss an occasion for more teasing. "I just didn't know you loved Boadicea that much..."

Arthur laughed frankly and something in your brain turned the whole World into a Paradise when you noticed that his eyes were filled with sparkles. The sparkles. The same glimmers as earlier. The deepest affection, for you, just for you, even if just for a second. His blue pupils are drawn in it, and covering you with it, dragging you in this pure joy with it.

"You jealous or somethin'?" He asks you, his chest still slightly vibrating with the end of his laugh.

"Maybe, who knows..."

"Oh, well I could call you a "good girl" too all you want, darlin'."

The cheeky bastard had emphasized it on purpose, you knew it. This time, he was the one grinning and you, the one blushing. Your ego begging you not to go any further on that road yet, you tried your best to stay cool and composed whereas it was absolute chaos in your chest and between your thighs.

"Yeah, well, don't get too cocky about it." You simply answered, trying to stay evasive about the matter. But the beautiful red sunset painting your face was displaying for his desirous eyes was betraying you.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Arthur's grin stayed glued to his face until the very last moment you saw him. You didn't know, at the time, but a very long series of praising and sensual whispering was about to begin on that precise day.

#oh guess what I finally got some free time and I'm answer everything in my inbox all at once lmao #pine's inbox 🌱#arthur morgan #good girls fanclub?#rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 fanfic #ask #pinefic #arthur morgan x female reader

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jikookncity · 11 hours ago

Text

HockeyPlayer!Haechan x FigureSkater!Reader

Haechan is the golden boy with a golden life, he's charming, great at hockey, has the greatest teammates and friends, yet when he goes home at the end of the day he can't help but feel empty. Until he meets the figure skater.

WC: 5.7k, unprotected sex (soft though)

Haechan had it good—at least, that’s what everyone said.

Star winger of the university hockey team. Top ten in his class. Witty as hell, with that dangerous mix of sharp sarcasm and heart-melting charm. Professors liked him. Coaches praised him. The student body practically worshipped him. Girls knew his name, wore his jersey, slid into his DMs with everything from flirty jokes to bold propositions. And yeah, sometimes he said yes.

But no matter how loud the arena got when he scored, no matter how many group selfies or wild parties or post-game hookups came his way… he always went home to silence.

And it lingered. Pressed in at the edges. Like an itch beneath the skin.

He’d scroll through texts and close the app. Watch the ceiling in bed. Lie there in the dark, wondering why the hell am I still feeling this way?

He never found the answer.

So every morning at 6 a.m.—before the world was awake, before the noise and the pressure—he went to the rink.

No fans. No teammates. No coach yelling for speed drills. Just Haechan, a puck, and the echo of his skates scraping the ice.

Until today.

He pushes open the door of the practice rink, stick slung over his shoulder, headphones around his neck. He’s got the usual plan: warm up, fire shots at the empty net, skate till his lungs burn.

But when he steps out onto the cold cement floor and looks through the plexiglass—

He stops.

There’s someone on the ice.

Not just someone. A girl.

She glides like she owns the rink—cutting smooth, elegant shapes into the ice. Her arms stretch like they’re painting music into the air. Her hair, braided and caught by the wind, whips as she spins mid-jump, landing with a soundless grace that makes his breath catch.

She's not wearing headphones. Just completely in tune with the rhythm in her head.

He forgets how to breathe.

Haechan’s seen beautiful girls. Dated a few of them. Flirted with plenty. But this is different.

This is watching art in motion. This is seeing control and freedom at once.

This is the first time his heart stutters for real.

And when she finishes, when she skates toward the bench to grab her water bottle, she notices him—just standing there with his stick and stunned expression.

Their eyes meet through the glass.

She gives a small nod, barely a smile. Polite. Cool.

Haechan lifts a hand in greeting, too casually, like he hasn’t just had his entire soul rocked before 7 a.m.

He’s not sure what just happened, but suddenly, that emptiness in his chest doesn’t feel so heavy.

And all he wants now… is to see her skate again tomorrow.

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

The next morning, he’s there even earlier.

5:45 a.m.

No music in his headphones, no stick in his hands—just a water bottle and the restless need to see her again.

She’s already on the ice.

Of course she is.

This time she’s stretching, balancing one leg behind her on the railing like it’s nothing. She’s in the same fitted jacket, her skates already laced. There’s a thermos next to her bag and a single notebook flipped open on the bench, her handwriting neat and organized.

Haechan lingers by the glass until she looks up, arching an eyebrow like what are you staring at?

He flashes a grin. “Morning.”

“...Morning,” she says. Less cool this time. More curious.

He taps the glass with two fingers. “Didn’t know the rink was booked for angels.”

She doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. She just blinks at him like she’s trying to figure out what kind of guy says that at 6 a.m.

Then, calmly, “I prefer practicing alone.”

He’s thrown off. Okay, cold. But fair.

He shrugs, playing it smooth. “Same. But, y’know… I started coming here first."

She nods like she knows that already. “Then maybe we can ignore each other.”

With that, she steps back onto the ice—clean, poised, focused. Like he didn’t rattle her at all.

But he knows he did.

Because halfway through her routine, she glances toward him again.

He starts coming every morning. Always early. Always quiet. He doesn’t push, doesn’t flirt too much. He just exists beside her, skating on his side of the rink while she floats through hers like a dream.

Eventually, she starts leaving the thermos lid off, steam curling up.

One morning, Haechan gains the courage to formally introduce himself.

“I’m Haechan.”

“I know.”

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“You’re on the hockey team. Everyone knows.”

He’s surprised she didn’t mention his reputation. Most girls do.

“I don’t know your name,” he says after a beat.

She hesitates. Then, quietly: “Y/N.”

He lets it settle. Tries it out in his head. Y/N.

“You’re a figure skater?”

She glances at him like he’s stupid. “Clearly.”

He laughs. “Okay, cool, we’re doing sarcasm this early.”

She softens—just barely. It’s the first time he sees it, a flicker of a real smile. He stores it like a secret.

They don’t talk much more that day.

But the next morning, when he walks in, there are two thermoses waiting.

One with a pink cap. One with a navy blue one.

He carefully picks up the navy, takes a sip. Hot chocolate.

He smiles, looking over to her across the rink.

“You’re trying to bribe me into leaving, huh?”

Y/N looks up from her laces. “No. I’m trying to make your game less trash.”

He bursts out laughing.

And for the first time in months, the silence that waits for him after practice isn’t heavy at all.

It hums with something new.

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

The morning is quieter than usual. No music. No conversation yet. Just the sharp rhythm of their blades on the ice and the sound of their breaths misting in the cold air.

They’ve been skating together—separately—for a couple of weeks now. Sharing hot drinks. Trading sarcastic quips. Building something silent but sure.

Today, he’s the one who breaks it.

She’s mid-routine, gliding into a graceful spin, arms arched and chin tilted in perfect alignment. He watches from the boards, leaning against his stick. There’s something about the way she moves—like the ice answers to her instead of the other way around.

When she finally slows, coasting toward the wall for a sip of her drink, she hears him speak:

“You move like music.”

She blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

He shrugs like it wasn’t a big deal. “The way you skate. It’s... beautiful.”

Y/N stiffens a little, lowering her thermos. “Is that your thing? Flattering lines at sunrise?”

He grins. “Normally? Yeah. But I mean it this time.”

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical.

He steps closer to the boards, suddenly serious. “When I skate, it’s all speed and force. Slams and bruises. Everything’s about breaking past people, hitting hard, being fast. But you—”

His voice lowers, more thoughtful now.

“You make the ice look soft.”

Y/N blinks again, stunned.

There’s no flirt in his tone. No smirk.

Just truth.

Her fingers tighten around the thermos. She doesn’t know what to say at first. No one’s ever talked about her skating like that. Not coaches. Not her parents. Not even herself. Only scores and technique and corrections.

But Haechan—he’s watching her like he saw something no one else has.

“…Thank you,” she says finally, voice quieter than usual. “That means a lot.”

He nods, still watching her. “Maybe you could teach me sometime.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You? Do a spin?”

“I could be graceful,” he says, striking a ridiculous pose with one hand in the air, one leg kicked out.

She snorts. “You’d tear your groin.”

He laughs loud and full, and she finds herself smiling—truly, this time.

“I’m serious though,” he says, still smiling but more earnest now. “You skate like you feel everything.”

Y/N looks at him for a long second, the quiet of the rink wrapping around them. Then she nods slowly.

“Okay,” she says. “One lesson.”

He lights up. “Hell yeah.”

“But I’m not holding you when you fall.”

“Oh come on,” he grins. “Isn’t that, like, the entire plot of every skating movie?”

She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks are pink.

He can’t stop smiling.

And for the first time, she wonders what it would feel like to let someone into her world—into her rhythm.

Maybe Haechan, with all his speed and spark, could learn to dance on ice after all.

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

They meet earlier than usual. She’s already waiting, lacing up her skates with a smirk.

“You sure about this?” she teases as he steps onto the ice.

“Grace,” Haechan declares, arms wide. “Elegance. Poise. That’s me now.”

She laughs. “We’ll see.”

They start simple—just edge control, nothing fancy. She skates backwards slowly, watching him mirror her steps like a determined, clumsy duckling.

“You’re overthinking it,” she says.

“I’m underprepared for this,” he mutters, wobbling slightly.

She reaches out to adjust his posture, her hands brushing over his arms and shoulders as she moves him into place. He stiffens—not from nerves, but from the warmth that shoots through him when her fingers graze his chest.

Focus, he tells himself.

“Now, try a one-foot glide.”

He does.

And promptly loses balance.

“Sh—!”

Before he can hit the ice, Y/N reacts on instinct—grabbing his sleeve, pulling him toward her to steady him.

Except he’s bigger than she is. Stronger. Off-balance. And she’s on skates too.

They crash hard—both of them tumbling down, skidding slightly.

She lands on top of him, her chest pressed to his, faces barely an inch apart.

The silence after is deafening.

Her hair has fallen into his face. One of his hands instinctively grabs her waist, the other braced against the cold ice. He can feel her breath on his lips. Their bodies flush. Her eyes locked on his.

And for a moment, it aches—with tension, heat, something fragile and new.

Neither of them moves.

Then, with a sharp inhale, Haechan shifts.

He gently pushes her off, careful, hands lingering at her arms as he pulls them both upright again.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low but breathless. “Shit—I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t trying to—”

“I’m fine,” she says quickly, brushing herself off. Her cheeks are very pink.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was… less graceful than I imagined.”

Y/N exhales a shaky laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Could’ve been worse.”

He grins, his eyes flicking to hers again, but this time a bit softer.

“Could’ve been a lot worse,” he says.

Neither of them mentions how long they stayed on the ice.

Or how it suddenly doesn’t feel like just lessons anymore.

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

The fall is behind them. Sort of.

Neither of them mentions how long they lay there. Or how warm it felt, despite the ice. But something has shifted — they’re more aware of each other now, in the quiet pauses and lingering glances.

Practice goes on, smoother than before. Haechan’s trying—really trying—and though he’s nowhere near graceful, she can tell he’s determined.

He skates toward her, panting, cheeks flushed from effort.

“I think I just invented a new move,” he says, breathless. “It’s called ‘accidental dive into the boards.’ Gonna change the sport.”

She laughs, handing him her water. “At least you’re not giving up.”

He takes a sip, then gestures toward the journal sitting on the bench. “So what are you working toward? Competition?”

Her expression shifts.

It’s subtle, but the light in her eyes flickers for a second. She nods slowly. “Nationals. December.”

“Solo?”

She hesitates, "I was supposed to do ice dancing. We qualified together last year.”

“We?”

“My ice-dancing partner.” She sets her water down. “He’s been skating with me since we were five. But he tore a ligament a few months ago. Off the ice permanently.”

“Damn,” Haechan murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

She nods, quietly. “I’ve been trying to rework everything alone. It’s not the same. It’s not what we trained for.”

There’s a sadness there—not just frustration, but loss. Of rhythm. Of history. Of something no one else could replicate.

Haechan watches her. The silence stretches between them, soft and thoughtful.

Then, gently: “So… what if you had a new partner?”

She looks up sharply. “What?”

He shrugs. “Not a real figure skater. But… I’ve got good balance. Decent coordination. And I’ve already proven I fall with style.”

She blinks. “You’re joking.”

He meets her eyes, completely serious. “I’m not. I mean, yeah, I’d need training. But if it’s just to get through the competition—keep you in it—I can try.”

She stares at him, stunned. “Haechan. Ice dancing isn’t just skating side by side. There’s rhythm. Lifts. Footwork. Timing.”

“Okay, yeah,” he says, “but I know how to train hard. I’ve got endurance, muscle memory, and—” he smirks, “a pretty killer smile for the judges.”

She wants to roll her eyes—but she can’t.

Because underneath the joke, he’s sincere. He means it.

She studies him for a long second. “Why would you even want to?”

He hesitates. Then shrugs.

“Because I think you’re incredible,” he says simply. “And you shouldn’t have to give up just because your partner had to quit. It's not fair, people should see your talent and you should be able to show it to them.”

Her breath catches.

And this time, when she looks at him, she sees more than the crowd-favorite hockey player. She sees someone who gets it. The discipline. The disappointment. The pressure to keep going even when it hurts.

She crosses her arms, tilts her head. “You’d actually let me boss you around on the ice every morning?”

He grins. “Kinda into that, actually.”

She smacks his arm lightly, but she’s smiling.

“Fine,” she says. “Trial run. One week. If you can’t keep up, you’re out.”

He salutes. “Yes, coach.”

And for the first time in weeks, she feels something steady rising in her chest again.

Hope.

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

They meet the next morning with new energy.

Y/N has her notebook open, fresh drills outlined with neat little arrows and notes. Haechan’s already sweating before they hit the ice, running through stretches like it’s game day.

“This is nothing,” he says. “Just like practice drills with more… toe pointing.”

“You’re going to regret saying that,” she deadpans.

And he does.

Fifteen minutes in, he’s panting, arms flailing as he tries to mirror her steps in sync. She glides effortlessly—an extension of the music she plays from her little speaker. He, on the other hand, looks like someone trying to moonwalk on a treadmill.

“Okay,” she says, skating toward him. “We need to work on lift position.”

“Lift,” he echoes warily. “Like… pick you up?”

She nods. “Basic ballroom hold, first. I’ll show you the stance.”

She steps closer, guiding his arms with her hands. One around her waist, the other holding hers. Her other hand rests lightly on his shoulder.

It’s the most physical they’ve ever been.

Her body fits against his in a way that immediately short-circuits his thoughts. She smells like vanilla and winter air. Her breath is steady. His? Not so much.

“Don’t grip so tight,” she says, adjusting his hand on her back. “I’m not a hockey stick.”

He chuckles, low and a little flustered. “Right. Soft hands. Got it.”

They hold the pose for a moment. Close. Too close.

Her eyes flick up to meet his. And neither of them moves.

The air shifts—something unspoken curling around the space between their mouths.

Then—

She clears her throat, stepping back like nothing happened.

“Try the lift now,” she says. “I’ll jump into it. You just need to support me and hold steady.”

He nods quickly, desperate to shake off the heat rising in his chest.

She skates away, then glides toward him at full speed. He braces. She jumps.

And for half a second, it works.

Her hands on his shoulders. His hands beneath her thighs. Her legs wrapping slightly as he lifts.

But then—

“Shit—”

His balance tilts.

They tumble down again—him landing on his back, her crashing on top of him.

This time, it's worse.

Her face is inches from his, her legs tangled with his skates, her palm flat against his chest. His hand is still gripping her waist, fingers pressing into her jacket.

They're both breathless.

And this time, neither of them laughs.

Haechan swallows hard. He can feel her heartbeat, fast and frantic, against his chest.

“I—” he starts, but his voice cracks.

She blinks down at him, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed from cold and maybe something more.

He lets go instantly. “Sorry—shit, are you okay?”

She rolls off awkwardly, sitting up beside him. “I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah,” he says, brushing hair out of his face. “That was... very Olympic of us.”

She finally huffs a laugh, rubbing her palms together. “You didn’t drop me.”

He glances at her. “Like I said… I got you.”

Something flickers in her gaze. Warm. Soft. Vulnerable.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just looks at him like she’s trying to figure him out all over again.

And for the first time, Haechan feels nervous around someone.

Not because he’s worried about what she thinks of him—but because he cares what she thinks of him.

And that’s a dangerous new kind of game.

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

They don’t practice much after the fall.

They skate a little. Talk less. Both shaken—not from injury, but from whatever that moment was on the ice. Neither of them can name it, but it’s been simmering for days, and now it’s just beneath the surface.

After practice, they sit on the bench lacing off their skates. She’s tugging at her laces, unusually quiet. Haechan watches her, brow furrowed.

“You okay?”

She nods without looking up. “Just tired.”

“From skating?” he asks.

She hesitates. Then shakes her head. “From everything.”

He waits, letting the silence invite her in.

Finally, she speaks. “I’ve been working toward Nationals since I was eight. Training before sunrise. Sacrificing everything. And now I’m scrambling to make it work with a brand-new routine, no partner, no coach support. Just... pressure. Expectations. And silence when I go home.”

Her voice cracks, just slightly.

He swallows hard. “That sounds... lonely.”

She nods. “It is.”

His jaw tightens. “I get it.”

Her eyes flick to him, surprised.

“I mean, mine’s different. But yeah. I win games, I’m surrounded by people who cheer for me, who laugh at my jokes, who call me a golden boy—” he pauses, eyes down, “—but I still go home and feel like something’s missing.”

She watches him quietly, her expression softening.

He turns toward her, fully now. “But lately, I don’t feel that way when I’m with you.”

That freezes her.

He’s serious. Not joking. Not smirking. Just... open.

Her lips part, just slightly, unsure what to say.

Haechan’s heart hammers in his chest. He leans forward a little, voice quiet now.

“Can I kiss you?”

She blinks, startled—but not afraid. Her lips twitch into the smallest, shyest smile.

Then she nods.

And he leans in slowly, gently, giving her time to change her mind.

She doesn’t.

Their lips meet, soft and unsure at first. His hand finds her jaw, hers curls lightly around his wrist. It’s delicate, almost hesitant.

Until he tilts his head, kisses her deeper—longer.

Her fingers slip into his hoodie. His other hand finds her waist.

When they finally part, their foreheads rest together, breaths warm between them.

He grins, just barely. “So... does this mean I can ask you on a date?”

She laughs softly, eyes still closed. “You just kissed me. Bit late for formalities.”

He chuckles. “True. But I still want to take you out.”

She opens her eyes, meeting his.

“Okay,” she says. “One date.”

He beams.

“Better make it a good one, hockey boy.”

“Oh,” he whispers, eyes dropping to her lips again, “I intend to.”

And this time, when she kisses him, she doesn’t hesitate.

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

The diner is almost empty when they walk in, that familiar neon buzz lighting up her face in soft pink and blue.

It’s old-school—checkered floors, chrome stools, a jukebox humming in the corner—and she looks at him like he’s insane when he holds the door open with a dramatic bow.

“Only the finest establishment for you, m’lady,” he says with mock grandeur.

She laughs. “You're ridiculous.”

“Hot and ridiculous,” he corrects, pointing to the booth. “After you.”

They slide into the booth across from each other. The menu is sticky and chaotic. She orders a burger. He orders pancakes—at 10 p.m.—and a large strawberry shake with two straws, because he’s cheesy and he knows it.

They talk.

And talk.

They share childhood stories—hers about getting scolded for skating barefoot in the house, his about getting his head stuck in a hockey net twice. She laughs so hard she snorts. He mimics her voice. She flicks a fry at his forehead.

He doesn’t stop smiling the whole night.

Eventually, he slides in beside her, casually throwing his arm over her shoulders.

“You cold?”

She nods, hiding a smile, and lets herself lean into him, her temple tucked under his jaw.

They share fries from the same plate, dipping them into the shake. She makes a face the first time she tries it, but when he gives her a look, she shrugs and goes back for another.

He watches her lick salt off her fingers, and that… that does things to him.

But he behaves. Barely.

They leave close to midnight. It’s cold out, stars spilled across the sky, her breath curling in front of her.

He walks her to her door.

She stops on the porch, turning to face him.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “This was… really nice.”

He smiles, eyes dropping to her lips. “Yeah. It was.”

She bites her lip, hesitant, then looks up through her lashes.

“Will you kiss me again?”

His breath catches.

Then he’s cupping her face, pressing her back gently against the door, kissing her like he’s wanted to all night. Slow at first—sweet, careful—but then she sighs into his mouth and tugs at his hoodie.

And just like that, it ignites.

He groans, pressing closer, her back thudding softly against the door. His hands slide under her shirt, palms skimming warm skin, thumbs teasing at her waist as their mouths move in sync—needy now, deeper, hotter.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly. He gasps against her lips.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She smiles against his mouth. “You started it.”

He leaves a little kiss on her neck and mouth when she gasps.

They finally pull away, both breathless, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He rests his forehead against hers.

“Goodnight,” she whispers.

He nods, backing away slowly like he might kiss her again if he lingers.

Then he turns and walks home, floating.

When he walks into the apartment, Mark and Jeno are sprawled on the couch eating cereal and playing Mario Kart.

Mark looks up first. “Yo. Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

Jeno squints. “Did you win something?”

Haechan doesn’t answer.

He just walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and stares into it like he just unlocked the secret to happiness.

Mark snorts. “Okay, lover boy.”

Jeno grins. “He definitely got kissed.”

Haechan finally turns, resting his head against the fridge door, the stupidest grin on his face.

“We did kiss” he says, dreamy.

Mark groans. “Oh no. He’s down bad.”

Jeno laughs. “So down bad.”

And Haechan just grins wider, closing his eyes.

Because yeah—he is.

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

The morning after their date, the rink feels different.

Not colder. Not warmer. Just… alive.

She’s already stretching by the boards when Haechan arrives, hoodie hanging loose, hair a mess, and that signature smirk playing on his lips like he knows he’s got her thinking about last night.

“You’re late,” she says, not looking at him.

“I was up all night thinking about fries and that cute little noise you made when I kissed your neck,” he replies casually, setting down his bag.

Her head snaps toward him, scandalized—but her cheeks are pink.

“Stretch,” she says quickly, turning away.

He grins. “Yes, coach.”

The moment they hit the ice, it’s different.

Charged.

His hands on her waist linger longer than needed. Her fingers trail along his neck when she adjusts his stance. Their gazes lock between turns. Their mouths get close in holds, breaths brushing but not quite touching.

It’s… dangerous.

And neither of them is pulling back.

“Ready for the new lift?” she asks.

He nods, already sliding an arm around her, the other beneath her thigh. They move in sync now, less awkward, more fluid. She jumps, he catches her clean, her legs curling around his waist just for stability—obviously.

But neither of them moves after.

His hands are gripping her tight. Her body flush against his chest. Their faces… inches.

Her voice is soft. “You’re not letting go.”

“Do you want me to?”

She swallows. “Practice is over.”

He blinks. “It is?”

She nods slowly, heart pounding.

He doesn’t say a word. Just leans in and kisses her.

It’s nothing like last night. This time, it’s hot. Desperate. Familiar now, but still breathtaking. His hands slide up beneath her jacket, dragging along bare skin. Her fingers are in his hair, tugging. She gasps when he deepens it, and he nearly groans into her mouth.

They break apart just barely, panting.

“Wanna come over?” he asks, voice husky. “I’ll cook for you. We can watch a movie. You can keep distracting me.”

She grins, biting her bottom lip.

“You cook?”

“No,” he says, laughing. “But I order really well. I do this thing where I press a button and it shows up at my door.”

She laughs, breathless, leaning in to brush her lips against his again. “Okay. Dinner and a movie.”

He wraps an arm tighter around her. “And maybe dessert?”

She smirks. “Depends how good the movie is.”

He kisses her again, harder this time, and she melts into him.

Practice is very over.

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

Haechan’s place is cozy, dimly lit, the kind of warm that makes you want to stay. Candles flicker on the kitchen counter. A soft playlist hums in the background—something slow, dreamy. There’s takeout spread across the coffee table, half-eaten because they’ve been talking, laughing, stealing bites from each other’s plates instead of focusing on the food.

She’s curled into the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies. He’s sitting beside her, one arm thrown over the backrest, eyes only on her.

“You keep looking at me like that,” she says, eyes flicking to his.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not listening to anything I’m saying.”

He leans closer, voice low. “I’m listening. Just… not with my ears.”

Her cheeks flush. She tries to look away, but his fingers gently tip her chin back toward him.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night.”

She smiles shyly. “Then why haven’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. He just leans in.

The kiss is slow, patient. Not rushed. Like they have all the time in the world. His lips part hers carefully, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. She sighs softly into him, shifting closer, one hand on his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt.

When they finally break apart, they’re both breathless.

He nods toward the bedroom. “Do you wanna…?”

She looks at him—really looks at him—and sees nothing but warmth and tenderness and heat.

“Yes,” she whispers.

He kisses her again before standing, taking her hand, and leading her through the dark apartment into his room.

---------

The door to Haechan’s bedroom clicks shut behind them.

She doesn’t even make it a full step inside before his hand slides to her waist and he pulls her in, kissing her like he’s been starving.

Soft, careful kisses are long gone.

This one’s hot, open-mouthed, needy. His lips crush into hers, tongue sliding in when she gasps. His hand fists the back of her hoodie, tugging her closer, like he needs her to feel every inch of how much he’s been holding back.

She moans into him, fingers already curling into his shirt.

“Been thinking about this all damn day,” he breathes against her lips. “Your mouth, your body, the way you looked at me on the ice—fuck, I almost lost it.”

He walks her backward, never breaking the kiss, hands sliding under her hoodie and up her bare skin, palms warm, breath hot.

He lifts her—just scoops her right up—making her squeal against his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck. He carries her like she weighs nothing, grinning into the kiss even as his eyes darken.

He lays her back on his bed, immediately tugging off her hoodie and shirt in one move, eyes drinking her in.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, hovering over her. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

She pulls him down, crashing into another kiss, more desperate now. Their hips grind together, his hands gripping her thighs tight, pressing into the softness there like he’s trying to memorize the feel.

Clothes come off in frantic, messy movements—her bra unhooked with a flick, his shirt stripped off between kisses, pants half-stumbled out of as they fumble and laugh between gasps.

He looks down at her, completely bare beneath him, and stills for a moment, chest heaving.

“You sure?” he asks, voice wrecked.

She nods, eyes glassy with need. “Yes. Please.”

And that’s all he needs.

He kisses her again—slower, deeper, more purposeful—hands roaming her body, mouth trailing down her neck, across her chest, over her stomach. She arches into him, moaning his name when his lips hit just the right spots.

“Fuck, the sounds you make…” he groans, nipping at her collarbone. “Gonna make me cum just from this.”

When he finally slides into her, it’s slow at first, careful, his forehead pressed to hers, their fingers intertwined. Her gasp melts into a moan as he bottoms out, staying still just a moment too long.

Then he pulls back—and thrusts deep.

She cries out.

His rhythm picks up fast, desperate, like he’s been holding back for way too long. Every push of his hips has him groaning her name, mouth hot against her ear.

“Feel so good—so tight—fuck, baby, I’ve been going crazy.”

She moans his name, wrapping her legs tighter around him. “Haechan—oh my god—don’t stop—”

“Not planning to.”

His hand slips between them, thumb brushing fast over her clit, making her jolt, cry out louder. He watches her fall apart beneath him, the way her mouth drops open, the way her nails dig into his back.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to hers. “You know that, right?”

She nods, eyes barely open, lips trembling. “Yours.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours, Haechan—please—I’m yours.”

He kisses her hard, hips slamming into hers faster, messier, both of them chasing it now. She’s gasping, writhing, completely lost to it—and so is he.

When they come, it’s together—loud, breathless, full-body shaking, his name tangled with hers in the dark.

He collapses onto her chest, both of them covered in sweat, hearts racing.

Minutes pass in silence.

Then he lifts his head, eyes dazed but smiling, brushing her hair back.

“Dinner and a movie, huh?”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “You owe me both.”

He grins, leaning in for another kiss—softer now, lazy and sweet. “Round two’s gonna be a rom-com. Promise.”

She hums, pulling him close again. “Only if there’s popcorn.”

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

The sun peeks through the curtains, golden and slow.

Haechan stirs awake, face buried in the crook of her neck, skin warm, bodies tangled under his sheets. Her leg is still draped over his waist. She’s wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie and a sleepy little smile.

He brushes a soft kiss to her collarbone.

She hums. “Morning.”

“Mm. Best one I’ve ever had.”

His phone buzzes somewhere on the floor, followed by a string of pings.

She groans. “Make it stop.”

He grins and leans over, blindly patting for it. “Probably Mark wondering where I am. Morning practice. I forgot.”

She bites her lip. “Oops.”

He chuckles, finally grabbing his phone.

17 missed messages. 3 missed calls. Group chat: ‘Ice Kings 🏒💀’

Haechan winces. “They’re gonna kill me.”

He taps the call button.

“Bro,” Mark’s voice comes through immediately, annoyed and dramatic. “Where are you? Coach’s been asking—are you alive?”

“Barely,” Haechan says, glancing over at the girl beside him, who giggles under the blankets.

There’s a pause.

“Was that a girl?” Jeno chimes in.

“She giggled, bro,” Jaemin adds. “There’s a hoodie-stealing, bed-hogging, toe-curling girl in your bed, isn’t there?”

Haechan laughs, rubbing his face. “Okay, okay—chill. Yeah. I wasn’t just ‘sleeping in.’”

Mark whistles low. “Okay lover boy. Since when?”

“Since…” Haechan glances at her, smiling. “Since I started skating at 6 a.m. with someone who moves like a dream.”

“Wait,” Jaemin says. “Skating? You mean figure skating?”

The line goes silent.

Then chaos.

“Bro what the hell—are you doing twirls now??” “Did you buy tights?” “IS THERE VIDEO—”

“Shut up,” Haechan groans, but he’s grinning. “She’s a figure skater. I’ve been helping her train for a competition. It’s… not just skating anymore.”

Mark’s quiet for a second. “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

Haechan glances down at her again. She’s holding his pillow to her chest, smiling at him like she’s never smiled at anyone else.

“I really like her.”

More silence.

Then Mark says, “That’s actually… really cool, man.”

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees. “I mean, it’s hilarious, but it’s cool. I bet you look majestic.”

“Like a graceful little hockey fairy,” Jaemin teases.

Haechan groans. “I hate all of you.”

“But we love you,” Mark laughs. “Seriously, though. That’s dope. And kinda hot.”

“Tell her she’s got full team approval,” Jeno adds. “And that she’s officially invited to the next party.”

Haechan smirks. “I’ll let her know. But if you weirdos scare her off, I’m body checking every one of you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright, go back to—whatever you were doing,” Jaemin says, snickering. “We’ll tell Coach you pulled a hamstring. Or found religion.”

Haechan hangs up with a laugh, tossing his phone aside.

He rolls back toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her close.

“You heard all that?”

She nods, smiling. “Graceful little hockey fairy?”

He groans. “God. You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Never.”

He kisses her again, deeper now, hand sliding up the back of his hoodie on her body.

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go either.”

Want to read part 2 with the competition, more fluff and smut? Subscribe to my patreon here or read the full story here.

#nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan x reader #haechan x you #lee haechan #haechan fluff #haechan smut #donghyuck x you #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck fluff #lee donghyuck

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dazzlesizzle · 5 months ago

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Check out the new product 🔥🔥 Airbag Pro - Let’s Hug

A quirky cartoon figure proudly wearing a playful shirt labeled "Airbag Pro," exuding humor and friendliness. The text below, "Free Airbag Tester – Let’s Hug!" adds a lighthearted and inviting touch, making it a perfect design for those who love witty, cheerful t-shirts. The vibrant colors and clean cartoon style make it stand out while delivering a humorous message.

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astrologydray · 2 months ago

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Lot of Eros in the signs

Lot of Eros in astrology is one of the Hermetic Lots, a group of calculated points in the birth chart that reveal deeper layers of your soul’s experience — especially the ones that can’t be fully captured by planets alone. I’ve talked about PoF (part of fortune) and PoS (part of spirit) now we’ll talk about Lot of Eros! While Venus rules love and attraction in a general sense, the Lot of Eros (LoE) dives into the mystical, erotic, magnetic pull of desire—a kind of spiritual chemistry that transcends logic.

Lot of Eros in Aries

You crave passion that’s raw, fast, and fiery. Desire hits like lightning — impulsive, physical, and hard to ignore. You’re drawn to bold lovers and direct chemistry. You want to chase or be chased.

Lot of Eros in Taurus

You’re turned on by slow sensuality, beauty, and touch. You crave consistency, pleasure, and physical connection. Desire grows over time and thrives in comfort, music, scent, and physical affection.

Lot of Eros in Gemini

Mental stimulation is foreplay. You’re turned on by witty conversations, text exchanges, and curiosity. You might have crushes on people with interesting minds or voices. Desire comes through dialogue and novelty.

Lot of Eros in Cancer

You crave emotional merging. Passion is deeply connected to feeling safe, seen, and held. You’re attracted to nurturing energy, familiarity, or lovers that feel like home or déjà vu. Romance and intimacy go hand-in-hand.

Lot of Eros in Leo

You want to be adored—and to adore. You’re drawn to confident, expressive people who shine in public. There’s something magnetic about passionate displays, loyalty, and grand romantic gestures. You crave desire that feels epic.

Lot of Eros in Virgo

You’re turned on by subtlety, service, and precision. You find eroticism in the details, in making someone feel cared for. Intelligence and thoughtfulness seduce you. This placement can bring a lowkey kink for acts of devotion.

Lot of Eros in Libra

Aesthetic, charm, and emotional harmony fuel your passion. You’re drawn to beautiful, well-dressed, graceful lovers. Romance is your soul’s language, and you desire balance, sensuality, and ideal partnership.

Lot of Eros in Scorpio

Desire runs deep, dark, and intense. You’re drawn to mysterious, magnetic lovers and situations that involve surrender or power dynamics. You crave soul-level bonds, secrecy, and erotic transformation. Obsession is real.

Lot of Eros in Sagittarius

Freedom turns you on. You’re drawn to travelers, teachers, or people with big ideas and open minds. Passion feels like a spiritual or philosophical adventure. You desire connection that inspires and expands your worldview.

Lot of Eros in Capricorn

You’re attracted to power, control, and quiet intensity. Passion builds over time and is often tied to status, mentorship, or emotional self-control. You’re drawn to those who don’t need you—but choose you.

Lot of Eros in Aquarius

You crave uniqueness, rebellion, and electric chemistry. You’re drawn to unconventional people or dynamics—maybe even platonic love that turns erotic. Passion comes from mental stimulation, friendship, or future-forward ideals.

Lot of Eros in Pisces

Fantasy is everything. You desire soul-mates, dream lovers, and spiritual connections that dissolve all boundaries. You’re drawn to artists, mystics, or lovers that feel like a dream you can’t quite remember.

#astro notes #astrology #birth chart #astro observations #astro community #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology degrees #astro #astroblr #astrologyposts #astrology content #astro obvs #astrology insights

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notyourhetloki · 11 months ago

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good for you (Daemon x Hightower!Reader)

Reader: she/her (Fem!Reader)

/NSFW Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader/

A/N: Hello hello hello! I present to you my newest obsession… another morally grey character yaaayy but for real, I love this show so much and I hope you like the premise of this fic! I must admit that this is not an original idea but I hope it's different enough from the other fics I saw… anyway! Requests will be open soon (and this time I mean it) ok byee xoxo Also, I used this site to translate my Valyrian texts, and all Valyrian dialogue will be written in bold.

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), age gap, reader is described as shorter than him, reader has long hair, praise kink, masturbation, handjobs, the timeline doesn't make any sense sorry, Daemon is not married.

Word Count: 4.8k

—

You were only twelve when you first met the Rogue Prince, the uncle of your best friend Rhaenyra. He asked for your name and when you told him, he immediately scoffed.

You were a Hightower, youngest daughter of the Hand, Otto Hightower. Daemon did not care for that, holding a strong grudge for your father that naturally extended to you and your family.

But Rhaenyra loved you, you were inseparable and no amount of prejudice could change that. Trying to separate you both was of no use, Daemon realized... so he coped.

You and Rhaenyra were studying at the library, she insisted on teaching you Valyrian but you were struggling a bit with the pronunciation. "Ziry iksos iā gevie tubis." (It's a beautiful day.) You repeated, and after your second attempt, you heard a foreign voice coming from behind you.

"Ȳdra daor sesīr sylugon, riña. Ao sagon quba rȳ ziry." (Don't even try, girl. You're bad at it.) It was Daemon, strolling in your direction.

"Uncle! Don't be mean!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, putting one of her arms around you as you both turned to look at the man.

You managed to understand most of his words and did not appreciate them. "Doesn't hurt to practice, my prince. I'm still learning after all..." He scoffed once more.

"It's time for your lessons, niece. And I wouldn't like to have your little friend around." The prince said without much regard for you. He tutored Rhaenyra in Valyrian, but this time she objected to it.

"Please, uncle! Let (y/n) stay for the lessons! She is learning as well..."

With much insistence, he complied... but he did not seem happy.

Because your father was busy with the king and tending to his favorite daughter, Alicent, he never cared enough to know about these tutoring sessions. So a year went by and you still accompanied Rhaenyra in her lessons, for Daemon's dislike.

He would make sure to choose the most complicated texts, dense with words he knew you wouldn't know. But to his dismay, you would only get better and better. Your almost perfect pronunciation caught him off guard one day, taunting him in a sarcastic tone.

"Skoros tembyr kessa sagon hembar, ñuha dārilaros?" (What book shall be next, my prince?) Your soft-spoken words made his blood boil in anger, not liking to admit you were getting good at the language. A Hightower... speaking Valyrian... that was absurd.

But with time Daemon grew accustomed to it, challenging you with new texts and harshly correcting you once you made an error. You were making progress, and deep down that satisfied him.

Another year would pass... and another. Your tutorship with Daemon only served one purpose: to show off to him. He began to enjoy your witty responses and overall demeanor, scolding you if you missed a lesson. He would never admit it, but he grew fond of you.

And he would make your life a living hell because of it.

One night, on your 15th birthday, you couldn't sleep. Escaping from your chambers, you moved swiftly to the library once more in search of more Valyrian texts. You wanted to impress your tutor, prove yourself to him, and you would make big efforts in order for that to happen.

"Skoro syt issi ao kesīr?" (Why are you here?) A familiar growly voice echoed through the empty halls. Daemon was hiding in the shadows, standing still in between shelves.

You responded in Valyrian, proud of your clear pronunciation. "I could not sleep."

The prince took slow steps towards you, the lit fires from torches illuminating his angled face. He looked intimidating, but you weren't scared of him. You were intrigued, fascinated by his nature... even though he clearly disliked you, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

"A young girl such as yourself shouldn't be wandering around the castle at this hour. What will daddy do if he finds out?" Slowly getting closer, Daemon taunted you with his words. Your heart hammered in your chest, too nervous at the fact you were alone with him for the first time.

"He won't." You retorted. He was at arms reach now, looking you in the eyes, hands behind his back.

"Be careful, Hightower. You don't want to get into trouble, do you?" His sarcastic tone and the way he called you by your last name made you extremely angry.

"I'm just here to get a book. Any recommendations, my prince?" You retorted harshly. Completely eloquent in the language, you made Daemon stand in shock, defeated.

"You really turned out to be good, didn't you, girl?" His voice a mere whisper, staring at you as you felt your heart skip a beat. He had finally acknowledged you somehow, and that was a victory you would cling to.

"I got something for you." Daemon continued, not caring to speak in Valyrian anymore. He turned around and reached for a book up on a shelf and handed it to you. It was a storybook, perhaps fictional.

"A children's book?" You asked in confusion. "My Valyrian is not so basic, my prince."

"You will see this is no basic book, Hightower. The Valyrian in it is quite complex." You looked through the pages and admittedly, it was quite a difficult read.

"Rhaenyra has spoken the language since she was an infant and still hasn't read this book." You looked at him in alarm, not knowing what to make of his words. "Take it as a challenge... Hightower."

And after those last words, he marched out of the library, leaving you alone.

You managed to read the book in one week with much research, and you were feeling exceptionally proud. But when the time came to have your tutoring session, Daemon was nowhere to be found. Rumors had begun circling the Red Keep, saying that he had been exiled or that he was fighting in a war... you couldn't know for sure.

It was true you felt a certain unease around the prince, he made sure you knew how much he despised your family and belittled you at any opportunity... but you couldn't help but feel a little enthralled by him. He was a handsome, intelligent man with a bad temper, and deep down you craved his attention. So for him to disappear like that was, indeed, quite an unfortunate event for you.

────୨ৎ────

Years had passed and you had just come of age. Turmoil had risen inside the Red Keep, and when you heard the news, you felt your breath hitch.

Prince Daemon had returned from the war victorious, and the king was very content. Rhaenyra couldn't hide her excitement and neither could you, giggling with your friend about her uncle's expected return.

You didn't see him for the first few days, not until you crossed paths in a secluded hall. His white hair was short then, wearing red and black clothing as he seemed lost in thought... but when he saw you, he immediately stopped his walk.

The way he looked at you... he examined every inch of your body, slowly making his way up towards your face. It made you feel things you couldn't quite decipher, made heat spread through your whole body.

"My prince." You bowed and then proceeded to maintain eye contact, but it was proven to be quite difficult.

"Hightower." He wasn't accustomed to saying your first name and you were used to it at that point, but the way he called you always felt like an insult.

"I'd like to congratulate you on your victory." You offered, and he slightly lowered his head in response.

"You've changed." The change in language caught you off guard, suddenly aware of your past tutoring sessions, you would make sure to show him you hadn't forgotten. "You've... grown. You're not a little girl anymore, (y/n)."

Your name finally coming out of his lips like that made you shiver. Trying to ignore the heat growing inside, you looked at his face in awe. His intense eyes pierced through you, his parted mouth breathed deep slow breaths. He looked predatory, and that made you spiral into feelings you had never felt before.

"You barely changed my prince, aside from the hair. It looks hideous." You dared to say, trying to provoke him in some way... and it worked. He lowly chuckled, the sides of his mouth forming a grin you were sure you had never seen before. It made your heart skip a beat.

Before Daemon could respond, your father Otto walked in from behind him. "Daughter?"

The prince didn't even turn around to greet your father, instead, he gave you one final look and kept walking, passing by your side.

You sighed, not knowing you were holding a breath. "Yes, father?"

"Why were you talking to... him?" He tried to maintain composure, but you knew he deeply disliked Daemon just as much as the prince disliked him.

"I was congratulating him." You didn't lie.

"Please, (y/n), try to maintain distance from him. That man is certain danger and I don't want him corrupting your mind with foolish conversation. Understand?" Otto said while holding the sides of your arms gently, voice full of worry.

"Yes, father." You assured him... but it wasn't a promise.

He looked at you and sighed in relief, taking a moment before speaking what he had in mind.

"Soon you'll be wed to a good lord and you'll make me very proud, my child. The time has come, I'll begin preparing your courtship tomorrow."

You stood in horror, eyes watering at his terrifying words. "But, dad-"

"Please do not contest, (y/n). You're already a woman, you must get married soon. Now, off you go... I have many tasks to tend to."

────୨ৎ────

You didn't tell anyone, not even Rhaenyra, but that night you planned on fleeing.

Gathering some clothes, food and water, you sneaked out of your chambers and managed to get into the stable. As you were about to get on your horse, you heard his voice.

"Where do you think you're going, Hightower?" Daemon was right behind you, his voice startling you. Quickly turning around, you angrily confronted him.

"You followed me?" Confusion took over you, not knowing what to make of that situation.

"You are easy to follow. Stealth is not your strongest ally." He was just trying to irritate you at that point, and you couldn't help but shout at him. "Why?!"

"I was interested in knowing why the daughter of the Hand was trying to flee the castle? Perhaps you're a little traitor, that wouldn't surprise me." His words cut deep within you, making you boil with rage.

"I'm not a traitor! I just don't want to marry an ugly old lord and doom my life forever! And be sure, my prince, I'm not going to let that happen." You rose on your horse swiftly but Daemon was quicker, getting a hold of the reins and holding the animal in place.

"Get down. Now." His stern and severe demeanor sent chills down your spine, but you weren't going to give up so easily.

"Pardon me, my prince, but I must remind you that you don't own me."

Daemon didn't enjoy that, even though he appreciated your wits. He took a deep breath and continued. "Get down now, girl. Or you'll regret making this stupid decision."

You knew he was right, you were going to regret it. In reality, you were terrified... you had nowhere to go and the Red Keep had been your home since you could remember. There was no escaping your fate, and that brought tears to your eyes.

You slowly descended your horse, trying to hide the tears falling down your face. Daemon promptly turned you towards him, directing his hands to hold the sides of your arms and holding you in place. He squeezed lightly, the pressure of his touch grounding you.

When you finally made eye contact, the prince had a certain fury in his eyes. "Your cunt of a father wouldn't dare to sell you to an ugly old lord." Daemon whispered, mostly to himself. He was towering over you, incredibly close and intimate... you stuttered on your next words.

"You of all people know well of what my father is capable of."

He looked fierce, enraged as he clenched his jaw. A sudden wave of incredible anger washed over Daemon, but he wouldn't dare to acknowledge his feelings.

"Go to bed, Hightower. It's late already." Was what Daemon said before distancing himself, the ghost of his touch remaining for a few moments. "Search me tomorrow night in the library, I'll be waiting." And with that, he was gone.

You embraced yourself, trying to mimic the pressure of his grasp. The ghost of his hands lingered as you realized, he had never touched you before.

That night you went to bed crying.

────୨ৎ────

You put on a pretty dress just for the night, and you weren't quite sure why. Your excuse was that you had to be a good student and respect the presence of your tutor, but inside you knew... you just wanted to look good for him.

After descending the stairs to the library, you found Daemon already waiting for you.

"At least you’re on time." His voice reverberated in the room, dominating it with his presence.

"My prince… I brought something for you" You offered, closing some distance between you. When you showed him the object you brought, he immediately recognized it. It was the book he had given you as a challenge, many years ago.

"This book... did you manage to read it?" Daemon looked at you with curious eyes.

"Countless times, I already know the meaning of every word in it." Your proudness stamped on your expression.

A grin appeared on his face, he seemed very pleased. "Sȳz riña." (Good girl.) He hissed.

The words had a surprising effect on you, heat spread all over your body... especially in between your legs. Feeling your face turning red, you rapidly turned around and leaned on a shelf, your back facing the prince.

You heard him chuckle lightly and realized he was moving closer, standing right behind you. He moved one strand of your hair that was falling in front of your shoulder and pulled it back gently, the light sudden touch sent shivers down your spine.

Heat was pooling at your core, breathing was quick and erratic... it was useless to deny the effect he had on you.

Deamon whispered in your ear, his deep voice holding you in place. "But there are still many things to learn, Hightower." Moving another strand of hair, he continued. "I could teach you so many things..."

His last words felt like venom spreading through your body, and you were curious to know his intentions.

"Like what, my prince?" You said softly, innocently.

"Whatever you'd like." Another whisper, this time even closer. His lips barely touched your ear, and you shivered.

The possibilities were endless, he could teach you anything, right? So you finally turned to face him, his tall frame towering over you... he was especially close.

"I-I’m… I would… I would like to know more informal language. Words not often used in the texts." You tried to maintain a silent tone of voice, due to the nature of the encounter... and because you suddenly felt extremely shy in his presence.

Daemon smiled, matching your tone while bringing his hands behind his back. "I see… do you have specific words in mind?"

"Hm… insults like… scoundrel or bastard or…" You couldn't bring yourself to say it, but you knew what type of words you truly wanted to learn... you just hoped the prince understood what you meant.

"Or...?" He pressed with an amused expression.

"T-The word you usually use to refer to my father." Offering in defeat, you looked at your feet in shame.

Another chuckle came from the man's mouth, you could hear the satisfaction in his voice. "You mean... cunt?"

You looked up at him, he had a terrible grin splatted on his face. You nodded, confirming his suspicion.

He stood victorious while staring at you with much intensity, head turned to the side like a puppy. "Very well."

────୨ৎ────

You couldn't shake that feeling away, the feeling of being surrounded by Daemon. His brief touches lingered on your skin even after they were gone, desire burning away at your core.

The way he spoke to you, saying such dirty words in Valyrian and expecting you to enunciate them right... you repeated them again and again just to make sure you were correct, and he seemed to be enjoying himself way too much.

You left the lesson with a scarlet red face, embarrassed at the things he made you say... but with heat between your thighs.

The next night you were expected to meet at the library once again to continue your studies, but you had other plans in mind.

That heat was too much to bear, imagination running wild leaving you distracted throughout the whole next day. You needed release.

So when the time came for your encounter, you decided not to go. Instead, you stripped bare and hopped on your bed. You put a pillow between your thighs and started to ride it, seeking sweet relief.

In the meantime, Daemon was growing impatient... so he decided to go after you. He was irritated at your absence and wanted to scold you for it.

But after what he saw when he slowly opened the doors to your chambers, he was left speechless.

You had your back facing him, bouncing on top of a pillow and moaning softly. Your bare back and ass were a delight for his eyes, hair loose and following your movements.

Daemon sat on an armchair directly behind you and continued watching and admiring the view, his growing erection tight in his trousers.

You were almost there, tension building up and tightening your core. You couldn't hold yourself back, all of your mind was taken by visions of him. "D-Daemon... Daemon..."

The prince couldn't help but chuckle, ecstatic at the sound of his name coming from your mouth. An exceptional and welcome surprise that left his mouth agape.

His laugh caught you off guard, making you turn with a shriek. You pulled the covers to hide your chest but he had already seen too much, making you turn red with shame.

"W-What are you doing here?!" You breathlessly said, trying not to scream. No one could see you in that situation, especially with Daemon in your room.

"So that's what you've been up to... a good reason to skip lessons indeed." His predatory eyes stared at your exposed legs, traveling up to meet your eyes. "Touching yourself... thinking about me... how indecent."

"I wasn't- I was not touching myself!" You protested, hiding yourself in shame.

"Oh, alright. You were humping a pillow... serves the same purpose, does it not?" Daemon mocked you, gesturing at the pillow you abandoned next to your legs. "Probably made a mess..."

"Why are you in my chambers?!" You deflected, not wanting to admit your doings.

"I just wanted to confirm the reason why you decided to avert your lesson tonight." He lifted his hands in defeat. "But I see you have more important matters to tend to."

As the prince lifted his hands, you were able to catch a glimpse of his crotch. He was hard, you could see the bulge of his member through his pants.

Daemon caught you staring and gave you a vicious smile. "See something you like, Hightower?"

You swallowed as your mouth started to water, fantasies of him running wild inside your head. You wanted him, and apparently, he wanted you just as much.

"For someone who used to despise me, you seem very content to see me." You decided to taunt him. Even though you were ashamed of being caught in such a manner, you wanted to get what you could from that situation.

"I don't despise you." Daemon admitted. "You irritate me, yes, and your father is a cunt, but..." He seemed to consider carefully his next words. "you were always my favorite."

Electricity ran over your body, a wave of shock immobilizing you. His words... hearing him say you were his favorite filled you with pride. But you didn't feel completely victorious, but curious at best.

“You never treated me as your favorite.” You retorted, remembering the times he would scold you and insult you during lessons.

“Let me make up to you then..." Daemon looked especially predatory, eyes fixated on your body... he was up to no good. "come sit on my lap.”

You softly gasped, surprised at his command. Of course, you wouldn't obey him so easily... but your body betrayed you, wetness pooling between your thighs at the thought of getting on top of him.

“I’m not one of your whores, Daemon.” His name rolled out of your tongue mistakenly, and you soon regretted it when you saw the prince's expression.

“If I wanted to take you as a whore I would have done so ages ago. I had plenty of opportunities.” His stern tone of voice made you shiver once again. He was right, he did have many opportunities... maybe he just needed to know that you desired him.

So you decided to show him how you truly felt.

Slowly, you got up from the bed, letting the blanket that hid your body fall to the floor. Carefully you approached the prince, who observed you in awe.

"Come straddle my thigh, dear. It will feel much better than a pillow..." Daemon muttered, patting his left thigh as an invitation.

You gladly obeyed, mounting on his thigh like a pony with your face facing his. Daemon could already feel your wetness through the fabric of his pants and that made him smile.

"So eager for me, aren't you?" He brushed his rough hand on your cheek, then neck, then one of your breasts. You moaned softly at his touch, never imagining Daemon could be so gentle. His other hand stayed behind your back, grounding you. "Move now, ride me."

And you did as you were told, starting to grind on his upper leg. The friction felt delicious on your pearl, heat building up at your core. You moaned and moaned, not able to maintain eye contact. It felt like too much, a sense of satisfaction and shame ruling at the same time.

"Ñuha gevie riña..." (My beautiful girl...) Said Daemon while exploring your body with his hand. "Ao sagon sīr sȳz syt nyke." (You're so good for me.)

His praise went straight to your sex, you wanted to hear more... wanted to be a good girl for him.

"D-Daemon." You moaned softly, and he couldn't resist any longer. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he pulled you into a rough, bruising kiss. Your tongues danced in each other's mouths as you tried your best to maintain rhythm.

You took the opportunity to feel his hard member, still trapped in his trousers. He groaned in your mouth, pulling back slightly to speak into your parted lips. "You enjoy my praises, girl? Would you like to hear more?"

"Y-Yes... please..." You finally looked at his eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. His hair was disheveled, lips plush from kissing... he looked so good.

"Take my cock out." He ordered, and like a good girl, you obeyed.

Freeing his member from the layers of fabric, you realized how big he was. Soon your imagination started to go places, fantasizing about how it must feel to have him inside you.

"Now stroke me... like this." His big hand cupped yours and made its way around his cock, guiding you on how to pleasure him.

Soon you found a rhythm, grinding on his thigh while stroking him, and you soon found yourself close to orgasm once more.

"Good girl, just like that." He would say, and with every thrust of your hips you felt it growing, the energy that built up inside you.

"Daemon... Daemon..." You pleaded while looking him in the eyes, knowing how close you were just then.

"Come for me, dear... come for me, (y/n)." Your name coming from his lips was what you needed to finish. Waves of pleasure washed over you as your climax reached its peak. You shouted his name and soon realized how loud you were being, face red in shame and bliss.

Daemon held you in place, anchoring you as you recovered from your high. Your breaths were still frantic, and soon your dizziness started to fade.

"Are you well?" He asked, you nodded. "Go onto your knees, then." His direction was clear, but you didn't know the reason for such a command.

You slowly made your way onto your knees, slotting yourself between his open legs, the mess you made on his thigh in full display now.

His member was close to your face then, and you couldn't hold yourself back. Enveloping your hand around his cock once more, you looked up at Daemon's face before you started to stroke him.

His mouth was slightly agape as he was deeply breathing, almost panting at the sight of you. "What an obedient girl you are for me, (y/n)." Again, the sound of your name made you feel things.

"I-I just..." You felt like confessing, emotions taking over you. "I just want to be good for you, my prince..."

Daemon smiled wickedly, stroking your cheek gently as he leaned down to face you. "Open your mouth, then." You immediately complied, tongue darting out obscenely as you maintained eye contact. "Oh my..."

His thumb traveled to your mouth and pressed on your tongue, you instinctively sucked the digit and he hummed in approval.

"That's my girl... now, keep moving." Your hand worked fiercely on his member, but the friction slowed you down... until you had an idea.

You stopped for a moment and Daemon looked at you in disapproval, but you quickly made your way into your sex. You smeared your wetness into your palm and only then continued to stroke him, coating his member with your slick.

"Ha..." Daemon let out an approving sound, then chuckled darkly in satisfaction. "Vaogenka riña..." (Dirty girl...)

You smiled slyly at him before opening your mouth again, showing him how ready you were.

"So needy, huh?" He teased, making you blush fiercely. "So eager to swallow my seed..."

And with that, he finished with a groan. Strings of his cum made their way into your tongue and chin, and you swallowed his taste like you'd been starving.

"Sȳz riña... sȳz riña." (Good girl... good girl.) Daemon panted, caressing your hair and smiling at you.

"Kirimvose, ñuha dārilaros." (Thank you, my prince.) You whispered, leaning up and joining your lips into a kiss. It was slow, passionate and he could taste himself in your tongue.

"Hmm." You whimpered into his mouth as his hands made their way to your ass, grabbing at the soft skin of your cheeks there.

Daemon pulled back slightly, only enough so he could talk into your lips. "I'll fully take your maidenhood, one day... hear those sweet sounds you make while buried deep inside your cunt."

His obscene words made you gasp, heat spreading inside your core again, To even imagine that... made you feel hot all over.

"You'd have to wed me before that happens." You teased, but Daemon had a serious look on his face.

"I'll see what I can do." Was his response, and a sense of urgency hit you like a brick. Did he actually mean that?

Marrying Daemon... the prince, your tutor, your best friend's uncle! Not even in your wildest dreams you had thought of that possibility, but now...

No, you couldn't have your hopes up. He was only taunting you, right? That was what you thought.

────୨ৎ────

You would never forget the somber expression on your father's face when he told you the news. You were officially bestowed to Prince Daemon, as per the request of the king himself.

"You asked your brother for my hand in marriage?!" You exclaimed in shock, questioning the man you would soon call 'husband'.

"Would your father accept me if I didn't?" Daemon said calmly, contrasting your agitated self.

You were still a bit stunned at the news but deep down felt a happiness you couldn't hold back, smiling at Daemon with true contentment.

He grinned back at you, lifting his hand to hold your chin gently. "Aderī kesā sagon ñuha ābrazȳrys." (Soon you will be my wife.)

Lowering himself to your height, he kissed you slow and tender. When you finally let go of each other, you whispered to him. "Se kesā sagon ñuha valzȳrys." (And you will be my husband.)

—

#daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #house of the dragon #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #self insert #y/n #fem!reader #notyourhetloki

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nina-ya · 2 years ago

Text

Paper Rings

Pairing: Sanji x Reader CW: None, just fluff. WC: 1.5k

A/N: Important things to note for this: Pink is the song lyrics Italics is the present. Regular text is the past. This is written with the song Paper Rings by Taylor Swift in mind.

The moon is high, like your friends were the night that we first met. Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet. Now I've read all of the books beside your bed.

It’s late at night and you are flipping through one of Sanji's cookbooks, the room dimly illuminated by the lamp beside your bed. Your thoughts wander as a cherished memory of the night that you met Sanji plays through your mind. You had been on your way home, the streets lit by the moon, when you rounded a corner and collided with a blonde man sporting curly eyebrows. He’d seemed distressed and was in a rush, but as he looked into your eyes, there was a glimmer of hope. "Oh, I'm so sorry, mademoiselle," he'd apologized profusely, his voice carrying a trace of optimism. "I would never intentionally bump into someone as beautiful as yourself." You dismiss the action, quickly accepting his apology when you noticed he had an exotic blue and white plant in his hand. "Do you live around here? Do you know what kind of plant this is?" he asked. "My dumb friends ingested these and are acting completely loopy." He sighed with frustration.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "I know that plant," you'd said, still amused. "It's a potent hallucinogen. No wonder your friends are acting all loopy."

Sanji groaned in frustration at the revelation, his shoulders slumping. However, your offer to help shorten the effects lit up his face with gratitude.

"You do?! Really?" He'd sighed in relief. "You can't imagine how relieved I am to hear that. Thank you so much. How about I take you to them now?"

Sanji extended his hand to you, a bold move that you found irresistibly charming. You accepted it, your fingers intertwining with his, as he led you to where his friends awaited.

Later that day, once you were back in your own space, you sifted through every newspaper you possessed, hoping to find even a glimpse of the enigmatic cook from the Straw Hat Pirates who had captivated you that fateful night.

With the memory lingering like a sweet dream, you close the cookbook in your hands, placing it gently on the stack of cookbooks on Sanji's bedside table. Each of those books bore colorful tags, bookmarking the pages of recipes you hoped Sanji would make for you. Feeling content, you turn off the lamp and snuggle up against him, his warmth comforting you as you drift into a peaceful sleep.

The wine is cold, Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street, Cat and mouse for a month or two or three, Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe.

From the moment you bumped into each other, there was an undeniable spark between you. You tried to brush it off at first, but you couldn't deny that each second with him was filled with tantalizing moments that left your heart racing.

You'd often meet in the most unexpected places, exchanging witty banters and sly smiles. One day you'd find a charming note served with your food, a playful message filled with riddles only you can unravel. The next he shows up next to you, handing you your favorite drink with a wink.

You often would try to one-up one another, each trying to outdo the other with clever surprises and flirty gestures. A bouquet of flowers appeared on your pillow, and you would respond with an exotic fruit that he has been dreaming of trying. The chase was thrilling, and the tension undeniable. Sometimes your conversation would turn serious, and you'd share your dreams, fear and your past. These moments of vulnerability only deepened the connection between you two. You guys would revel in your childhood memories, share your hidden desires, making every conversation feel like a meaningful step toward something greater. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, this little game continued. You knew you were falling in love, but the excitement of the chase and the sweetness of the words left unspoken only added to the magic.

You wake up from your slumber, a smile gracing your lips at the fond memories that your mind replayed. You reach over and gently brush a piece of hair out of his face, watching his serene expression as he sleeps. Kiss me once 'cause you know I had a long night Kiss me twice 'cause it's gonna be alright three times 'cause I've waited my whole life

Your gaze shifts to his lips, eyes lingering as you note the parting of his lips, the rhythm of his breaths like a soothing melody. You smile softly as you notice the drool that had escaped his lips and settled onto the pillow below him. It’s a sight that fills you with warmth and nostalgia, prompting you to reminisce about that unforgettable first kiss you both shared.

The tension between you two had become palpable. It was a warm evening on the Sunny, and the sun was dipping over the horizon, casting a golden hue over the ship’s deck.

The night held a sense of promise, and it was clear that something was about to change between you and the cook. You found yourselves leaning against the ship’s rail, the salty breeze tugging at your hair and clothes. You had assisted Sanji in preparing a delicious dinner for the crew, sharing longing glances and laughter amongst the sizzling pans and aromatic spices that filled the air. The crew had enjoyed the fruits of your labor and began to disperse, leaving the two of you alone on the deck, the gentle lapping of the waves the only background noise. Sanji extended his hand, and you placed yours in his, fingers intertwining. There was an unspoken understanding between you two. He leaned in slowly, capturing your lips with a tenderness that surprised you both. His kiss was like a promise of all the unspoken words, a promise that was intoxicating. It was a moment of longing and patience, of waiting for something incredible.

As your lips parted, he kissed you again, a little deeper this time, as if to reassure you that the connection between you was real and profound. You felt the warmth of his affection in every touch and the depth of his feelings in the soft sigh that escaped your lips.

And just when you thought your heart might burst from the sheer intensity of the moment, he kissed you a third time. It was a kiss that declared his devotion and sealed the unspoken promise of your future together. I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings. Uh huh, that's right. Darling, you're the one I want, and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this. Uh huh, that's right. Darling, you're the one I want.

You shift in bed, your eyes drawn to the jar of paper rings lovingly collected over the course of several months. These seemingly simple but deeply meaningful tokens held a special place in your heart, each representing cherished moments and declarations of love. With a smile, you reflect on the unique memory tied to every single one of those paper rings.

Sanji had many charming habits, one of which that he had recently developed was the practice of crafting paper rings. Every time he stumbled upon a stray piece of paper or a napkin, he couldn't resist the urge to fold it into an intricate ring and present it to you.

These paper rings weren't just a whimsical hobby; they were his way of proposing, of showing his affection without the formality of a diamond ring or a grand gesture. The first time he'd presented you with a paper ring was on a starry night while the crew was celebrating on the deck. He'd taken a napkin, expertly folding it into a ring, and slipped it onto your finger with a grin.

"Mon amour," he said, looking into your eyes, "I know it's just paper, but one day I'll replace it with a proper ring. Until then, consider this a promise."

As the days turned into weeks and then months, he couldn't resist the urge to make more paper rings. You'd find them in your pocket, on your pillow, even in your morning coffee mug. They were simple, yet they held a deeper meaning—one that you cherished. The crew members aboard the Thousand Sunny grew accustomed to the sweet tradition. They'd watch with knowing smiles as Sanji would take a piece of paper and begin his craft. He'd tease you about how you were collecting more paper rings than he had eyebrows, and you'd simply laugh, knowing that each one was a testament to his love.

You're the one I want. In paper rings, in picture frames, and all my dreams. Oh, you're the one I want.

For the time being, you treasure your assortment of paper rings, patiently waiting for the day when Sanji surprises you with a genuine ring. Unbeknownst to you, a dazzling, shimmering ring resides hidden in his suit pocket, awaiting the perfect moment to make its appearance.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji

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jbaileyfansite · 10 months ago

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Interview with Backstage (2024)

Jonathan Bailey is still marinating in his thoughts, andthey taste pretty sweet. Top notes of red wine, he says.

These are busy times for the witty British heartthrob. He’s speaking over Zoom from Malta, where he’s filming the next “Jurassic World” installment. And two days prior, he received his first Emmy nomination for his supporting turn on Showtime’s “Fellow Travelers.”

What’s lingering in Bailey’s mind after reaching such a huge milestone? “The nature of the story, and how that story’s come to be told,” he says of Ron Nyswaner’s limited series, a decades-spanning gay drama that’s chock-full of steamy sex scenes. For him, the Emmy nod is “an acknowledgment of [the show] meaning something much bigger.”

The 36-year-old actor radiates humility and surges with pride for his collaborators; “Fellow Travelers” also picked up nominations for lead actor Matt Bomer and for Nyswaner’s writing. Bailey believes the fact that executive producer Robbie Rogers was able to get the project on television at all is a “brilliant signifier” of changing times. He feels lucky to have been the right person for the job. And after a couple of decades in the industry, the actor’s star is about to go supernova.

Childhood stage work and gigs on 2000s teen TV shows led to roles on acclaimed series like ITV’s “Broadchurch” and Channel 4’s “Crashing.” He nabbed an Olivier in 2019 for his performance in Marianne Elliott’s West End revival of “Company.” Households on the other side of the Atlantic learned his name in 2020 when he courted lockdown audiences as Anthony, the strident head of the titular family on Netflix’s period-romance smash “Bridgerton.”

Then came the game-changing “Fellow Travelers.” Bailey plays the idealistic Tim Laughlin, a closeted congressional staffer who pursues a clandestine relationship with another man amid the witch hunts of McCarthy-era Washington. The actor is keeping up that momentum in the coming months with part one of Jon M. Chu’s highly anticipated film adaptation of the Broadway musical “Wicked” (out Nov. 22), followed by the fourth “Jurassic World” in 2025.

“Fellow Travelers” is a fitting inflection point for Bailey, considering it reflects aspects of his own gay identity. Tim’s story also illuminates a thread connecting the actor’s work, both in and out of character: always embracing the truth, shame be damned.

Born in Wallingford, England, Bailey made a beeline for the arts as a kid when he began studying music and ballet. After getting a taste of performing at a young age, he secured an agent when he was a teenager. Even now, he feels the sense of joy and wonder he discovered in those early days.

He chose not to attend drama school, instead throwing himself into professional theater, where he encountered the performance process in its most essential form. “You start with your own instincts, and then you share with others in the room in real time,” Bailey says. “You academically approach text, then you emotionally explore it. Then, you physically put it on its feet.”

Theater taught him to be observant. In rehearsals, he witnessed actors being brilliant and bold, but also making crucial mistakes. Weeks of rehearsing helped him learn how to spend time with a character as he watched his castmates play against type and expand themselves through performance. Those lessons both tested and encouraged him, and they’ve carried him throughout his career.

Since then, Bailey has gotten the chance to see plenty of giants at work. He reverently discusses performing Stephen Sondheim’s music alongside Patti LuPone in “Company” and reciting Shakespeare opposite Ian McKellen in the Chichester Festival Theatre’s 2017 production of “King Lear.”

His contemporaries also made for great teachers. He worked with Phoebe Waller-Bridge on “Crashing” and Michaela Coel on “Chewing Gum”—two certified television geniuses whose creative successes Bailey likens to the magnesium flame of a meteor. It’s an apt comparison—Waller-Bridge called him “a meteorite of fun” in a 2022 interview with GQ. (“I think I’ve always been quite naughty,” he says playfully.)

“There’s so much you take on via natural osmosis,” Bailey explains. “It’s what you watch and how you interpret things.”

For example, he thinks that every actor should see Sandy Dennis’ Oscar-winning turn as Honey in Mike Nichols’ 1966 film “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Her performance whet his curiosity about the craft: “She is so fluid. I mean, that might be the most exposing answer I’ve given about what my inner world is like.”

Bailey’s technique is rooted in music. He plays piano and clarinet, and he approaches acting like an instrument, too. When reading a script for the first time, he experiences his character’s arc as the phrases in a song. “The way my brain works is that I see the images of what they’re doing,” he says. “When I say ‘phrasing,’ it’s like, how you get from that image to this image.”

When he was playing the bottled-up Anthony on “Bridgerton,” Bailey found inspiration in songs by Echo and the Bunnymen and Nirvana. While filming “Fellow Travelers” in Toronto, he went on long walks while listening to expansive pop music to help him explore Tim, a character whose energy radiates outward.

Considering Bailey’s process plays like a song, connoisseurs of his work might notice a motif. Sam from “Crashing,” a party boy Bailey calls “a wild, untamed animal in a tiny little cage,” aggressively maintains a facade of heterosexuality while pining for his male housemate Fred (Amit Shah). On Season 2 of “Bridgerton,” Anthony locked himself into a prison of duty and a loveless engagement to avoid acknowledging his desire for the fiery Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley).

Tim of “Fellow Travelers” is the latest in a series of sharply drawn characters confronting the tension between their assigned roles and their personal truths. Viewers first meet a straitlaced rule-follower whose Catholic piety is only matched by his loyalty to the infamous Senator Joseph McCarthy. All that changes when he crosses paths with Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Bomer), a crystal-eyed, debonair State Department official. Their respective closets combust on contact, and they enter into a forbidden love affair just as McCarthy’s Lavender Scare has begun purging queer people from the halls of government.

Bailey’s interior work tends to be more emotional than cerebral, but he’s a generous conversation partner who’s always game to riff on the deep stuff. Whether it’s yearning, going against expectations, or facing high stakes, the phrasing is what draws him in.

He finds a lot of gorgeous notes to play across the eight episodes of “Fellow Travelers” as the action moves from the 1950s to the ’80s, making pit stops along the way. While Hawk settles for a life of straight domesticity, Tim hurtles through a sexual and political awakening: The Beltway boy becomes an activist priest who refuses to diminish himself, especially when the AIDS crisis begins to rip his community apart.

Bailey loved being inside Tim’s head; in fact, the actor thinks of him as a hero. After experiencing the isolation of his secret relationship with Hawk, he opens himself up to the world: He comes out, moves to San Francisco, cobbles together a found family, and builds a life as his true self.

“Ron Nyswaner has spoiled Matt and me for the operatic detail that existed between [our characters],” Bailey says, “and also with Tim’s political fervor: the truth and the honesty that he demands of himself and the world around him, and the grappling with anything that is an obstacle to his own and other’s happiness.”

You can’t talk about “Fellow Travelers” without discussing its rapturous sex scenes—and not only for titillation’s sake, though the kinky encounters between Tim and Hawk certainly call for smelling salts. These sequences gave Bailey the opportunity to commit authentic queer intimacy to the screen, which members of the LGBTQ+ community rarely come across as they search for ways to understand their identities.

The trust between Bailey and Bomer informed everything they did onscreen. Before filming those scenes, the two actors talked through their approach at a café (Goldstruck Coffee on Cumberland Street in Toronto—a ribald little detail that still makes Bailey laugh). The filming itself was incredibly technical, and the actors worked with an intimacy coordinator on set. “We sort of hit the ground running, knowing exactly what was going to be required but also how to communicate throughout it,” Bailey says. “It felt immediately quite safe.”

He sensed an exciting opportunity to tell a story about transformative love amid the “wild, oppressive moment” of the Lavender Scare, dismissing any reservations about the explicit nature of the material. “Honestly, this is exactly why this show is going to be brilliant,” he remembers thinking.

The series’ milestone dramatic moments, with buttons still done up and no skin showing, carried that same sense of significance. No matter how much Tim grew over the course of his arc, Bailey says that his bond with Hawk remained an “extraordinary, material thing.”

This summer, the actor made a very Tim move when he founded the Shameless Fund, a charity that supports LGBTQ+ causes under the tagline: “Raising cash. Erasing shame.” The initiative grew directly out of his acting work—first inspired by the platform afforded to him by “Bridgerton” and further influenced by his experience on “Fellow Travelers.”

Playing Tim—or, as Bailey puts it, spending “five months doing a dissertation on queer oppression and liberation”—catalyzed his thoughts about the people who created a world where such a show could even exist. “I think in ‘Fellow Travelers,’ it’s so clear what Tim wants,” he says. “But as the world around him develops, you realize there’s so much that he can’t have, but that he can help change.”

Bailey sees that progress playing out in the next generation. He has a small role on the upcoming third season of Netflix’s queer YA hit “Heartstopper” as a dreamy academic who’s the celebrity crush of the series’ protagonist, Charlie (Joe Locke). Based on creator Alice Oseman’s graphic novel series, the show has found a passionate following of young LGBTQ+ fans.

When he watched “Heartstopper” for the first time, Bailey remembers wondering what it would have been like to see such representation on television when he was growing up. “I was so celebratory of it,” he says. “But it was obviously kind of a melancholic watch for people above a certain age, because it allowed them to grieve what they didn’t have.”

Having conquered the Regency and Cold War periods on the small screen, Bailey’s blockbuster era is imminent. He’s playing dashing love interest Fiyero in the “Wicked” films (based on Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel), singing and dancing alongside Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. It’s a perfect fit for the actor’s particular lens: “Musically and theatrically, I understand it massively.”

Since “Wicked” came with its own well-known songs to study, Bailey spent a lot of time with composer-lyricist Stephen Schwartz’s music in his ears rather than Kurt Cobain’s. He explored Fiyero’s interiority through the musical theater form itself: What does the act of singing express for him?

And for a character whose signature number is called “Dancing Through Life,” what metaphorical direction are his steps leading him in?

Bailey sees Fiyero as part of the same club as Tim, Anthony, and Sam, as the heightened world of Oz sends him on a journey of radical transformation. “I think about where he starts and where he ends up; he’s literally a changed person,” the actor says. “I savored the arc over two films.”

Next year, Bailey will become an action star in Gareth Edwards’ next installment of “Jurassic World” opposite Scarlett Johansson. Though details have yet to be announced, including the movie’s title, production is well underway; Bailey just finished filming in Thailand before shooting moved to Malta. A few days before we spoke, he was interacting with a fake blue-screen dinosaur (which is only a spoiler if you thought Hollywood has actually been cloning big reptiles this whole time).

But Bailey is still keeping his theater muscles toned. Next year, he’s starring as the titular monarch in Nicholas Hytner’s production of Shakespeare’s “Richard II” at London’s Bridge Theatre. “I have to go and sharpen up,” he says of returning to the stage. “You feel so sharp and dexterous at the end of a theater run—but also, you know, without a soul. Carcass levels of absolute exhaustion.”

Bailey lights up at the prospect of getting back onstage and experiencing the kinetic energy between the actors, crew, and director. He believes that the emotional and intellectual rigor of theater leads to a tight, specific piece of work. It’s an art form that requires continuous creation night after night.

This stamina comes in handy in front of a camera, too. “When you’re exhausted, you have to rely on technique,” he explains. “Technique does get you over the finish line, and you can deliver a performance that is honest and tell the story effectively and truthfully.”

Until then—and until he’s back on set with those fake dinosaurs—he’s going to soak up that Emmy-nomination afterglow for a little while longer.

“I’m actually going to go and have another glass of wine to celebrate,” he says.

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