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arijackz · 10 months ago

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PICK A CARD: The ☆Glow-Up☆ 2024 Has Planned For you

♠︎ “At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✧ Pile One ✧ (queen of cups, 5oC rev., 10oC, the chariot, the magician, 4oS)

Release.

➣ The central theme of this glow-up is inner fulfillment. You are on a journey of true self-love. The queen of cups is sitting proudly at the front of the spread. Major water energy here. You are unraveling emotional trauma down to your roots and reevaluating past attachments and burdens with the six of cups.

➣ I picture floodgates opening, allowing all of the pent-up emotional turmoil to release and finally free you on a deep psychophysiological level. You released something, an attachment or mindset that was set in motion during your formative years that was hindering your ability to hold compassion for yourself.

➣ Shuffling my music, "Daddy Issues" by the Neighbourhood came on. I also saw the hierophant while shuffling the cards. You experienced a lot of undervaluing and emotional neglect in your home. Emotions in your home were taboo and possibly even punished.

➣ I feel like the people around you growing up, were either always dissatisfied with you in some way or made you feel small. Since this is a group reading, it is hard to word this without excluding a large chunk of the audience, but some of you grew up in a home situation where any form of outward self-love or expression was met with a lot of negativity and ridicule.

➣ This forced you into hiding your true self which groomed you into a mental space full of self-criticism and doubt. In your mind, you were unwanted or inherently broken in some way and deserved less. The way you were treated created deep emotional wounds in your young psyche which made it hard to feel satisfaction within yourself or with the outer world.

➣ With the five of cups, I get the sense that you had felt you were in a desert and unable to fill any of your cups so to speak. Baby, that’s coming to an end. The ten of cups is at the center of your spread with a big ass RAINBOW touching corner to corner. The drought is over. The dark days are over. The sun is shining and you can taste hope again.

➣ On this self-love journey, you are currently grieving (releasing) a degraded perception of yourself along with any beliefs that inhibit you from feeling good about your character.

➣ You are realizing just how enough you are and flushing out all of the poison that was crammed in your head about being inadequate. You are freeing yourself from the chains of feeling unworthy of a good life.

➣ You will find true beauty in every corner of you. Beauty in your laugh, beauty in how you dance, beauty in how you take care of yourself, beauty in what you care about, inner beauty that cannot be taken from you or scaled down. You will nurture your inner world, thus adding color to your outer world.

➣ During this major life-changing period, your view of reality will flip in a way you never thought imaginable. Life will feel worth living again. Your music will move you more and the swift pass of wind will invigorate you with new ideas for creative projects that will propel you forward to lifelong prosperity.

➣ I’m hearing 🎵 “… I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so proud of you” from Make Me Proud by Drake. Congratulations babe, you just broke a fucking karmic cycle. 10 of cups, following the 5 of cups??? You have graduated from a dark knight of the soul and are now approaching new, abundant energy.

➣ The universe is proud of you. Your ancestors are proud of you. Your inner child is proud of you. Your God(s) is proud of you. All of the cells in your body are proud of you. You have released something cosmically within you. Please hug yourself and have a good cry because you are doing something you never believed you could. Your hopes and dreams are unfolding.

➣ Get ready to make your daydream your reality. With the chariot, you’re prepping to TAKE AWWFF BABY. The release of this blockage has raised your energetic vibration and is ushering bountiful opportunities into your life, new passions, new ideas, and new connections.

➣ Your newfound faith in yourself is going to give you the courage to go out and experience life. Most importantly you will find satisfaction in the mundane. Every frame of your day will be brighter and feel better. You have gone from 5 empty cups to an eternally flowing fountain. Take the time to thank yourself for all of the hard work you put in to get here.

➣ Advice: Extend yourself grace. During this period, you will have enlightening moments that will unlock pieces of the puzzle surrounding your trauma and a lot more will make sense and become easier to process.

➣ However, as the flawed humans we are, we tend to make sense of something and then turn around and beat ourselves up for not realizing it sooner. Or, minimizing our pain and criticizing our past selves for not doing more about it because hindsight truly is a dirty dawg. No that is not how it works.

➣ That’s like when you were in school and the teacher would start bullying you for not understanding a subject. YOU HAVE A DEGREE??? I’m fourteen?? Of course, you can say it's simple when you have already “graduated” and learned from it, not when you’re in the middle of experiencing it. You gained clarity during this tower moment and can now see the bigger picture and liberate yourself.

➣ Younger you fought to make your way through the fog and deserves grace because you would not be here today without your younger self’s perseverance. Forgive yourself for the time it took to get here and see the beauty in your evolution throughout the journey.

➣ Also, drink plenty of water and get rest!! It’s Pisces season, and a Pisces new moon is coming too. Most of your trauma will unravel while you’re unconscious. Please get plenty of rest and hydrate. This pile has Cancer/4th house energy written all over it. Mother yourself during this period. Clean your room, make your favorite foods, watch cheesy movies, and splurge on special skin care. Pamper yourself. okay I'm done. KISSES.

"My consciousness has outgrown this vessel"

✧ Pile Two ✧ (4ofS, the tower, the wheel of fortune, the emperor, the lovers, judgment, 7ofW, ace of wands)

Life's gotta always be messing with me (you wanna see the light) Can't they chill and let me be free? (So do I) Can't I take away all this pain? (You wanna see the light) I try to every night, all in vain, in vain

Justice.

➣ I asked for a song to explain the central theme of your reading and I got "Freak on a Leash" by Korn. I get the feel that one of the main struggles of your life path is unfair judgment. People are quick to create a false narrative of you and run off with it.

➣ If you read my last PAC, “What is most alluring about you”, you may have chosen pile 2 or 3. With the seven of wands, you are constantly under attack.

➣ Take what resonates but I see a few scenarios. People may be quick to paint you as a bad person without getting to know you. Your public reputation was heavily influenced by rumors from people who intentionally wanted you to be disliked. People will take something small, blow it out of proportion, and try to impose it as a character flaw. Oh, you don’t eat the crust on your sandwich? How wasteful! There are starving kids out there, you’re so inconsiderate!! and then everyone else in the room who claims to not like you (but are truly your biggest fans) are oooing, ahhing, and egging that hating ass bitch on.

➣ I’m seeing a bus. You may have been betrayed and thrown under the bus a few times before. This is the pile of my Lilith placements. Your power is your ability to garner attention, both good and bad. You attract a lot of envy. The ugliest emotion, in my opinion. It’s partners in crime with greed.

➣ For some of you, I am getting the message that all of this underserved hate has sent you into a dark mental space and driven you to take an attempt on your life. And if you like my messages or my readings please believe me when I say this,

I know you are meant for greatness. I picked up on your energy and you found this reading for a reason. Just like the Universe and everything within it, we go through cycles. And I know this is a long, painful cycle but it will come to an end and you will get out of this darkness. From the bottom of my heart, I feel your importance and I am happy you are here to share this moment with me. Keep swimming, I support you, the Universe supports you. The sun is rising and is offering you a new beginning.

➣ In this dark period in your life, the negative attention may have outweighed the good. I see a theme of being outcasted and isolated. Severe bullying. For some, even abuse. Like pile one, you have gone into hermit mode and isolated yourself from the unfair judgment of the world.

➣ But head up muffin, the scales are balancing, and the wheel of judgment is turning in your favor. Following the wheel of fortune, you got the fucking emperor!!! You will come out of this on top. The people who kicked you while you were down will have to swallow their pride and kneel to shine your shoes while you sit rightfully on the throne. The public scrutiny you face needs to balance itself out karmically.

➣ Think Megan Thee Stallion. I won’t bring up any of her business, but if you've been keeping up with social media, there is a good chance you are well aware of it. That woman has gone through the unimaginable, one traumatic event following the other all while facing an obscene amount of public scrutiny. She had to go into solitary and off the internet to rebuild her life. But guess what??? MY GIRL STAYS ON TOP>>>>> After all the bullshit she endured, she’s coming out on the top of the charts, brand deals with major conglomerates, she is the people’s princess.

➣ That’s going to be you. You have dealt with a lot of injustice in your life, now you’re coming out of your “rehabilitation” and all of the people who spent the better half of their day attempting to tear you down will have to watch your rise like a phoenix and fucking weep.

➣ People were constantly taking from you , now the universe (whatever you want) is preparing to give you the power to replace what you have lost tenfold. Ace of wands, I see that life is handing you the metaphorical talking stick. The king stick. You are being blessed with a flame in your belly (activated solar plexus chakra) and the chance to completely reinvent yourself.

➣ There is a lot of king and authority messages here, the ball is in your court. You are being released from the shackles of public perception and these next few months will be filled with inspiration and willpower to prove everybody wrong and showcase your strength. I feel like a good chunk of this group will get chances to be in positions of authority or importance.

➣ This is going to sound silly but I got this exaggerated imagery of a mean person calling you poor and ugly but the next year you drive past them in a Bugatti with their sugar boo in the passenger seat. HELLOOOO.

➣ With the lovers, I see you are coming in union with what is rightfully yours. In the grand scheme of cosmic law, you are owed good fortune and it is on its way. With the tower, I see an explosion and people fleeing. You’re going to pop out stronger than ever and that’s going to scare people cause whatever superiority they got from painting you as inferior is going to blow away and their true scummy nature is going to be seen.

➣ After this, there may even be people who pretend to be your friends and claim they supported you all along. Have faith in your discernment. I have faith in your discernment. It will all be okay pookie.

➣ Advice: Just keep swimmin' my love. <3

"The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth."

✧ Pile Three ✧ (queen of wands, knight of pentacles, 6oC, page of pentacles, 10oW, 3oW, the hermit)

It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Awaken.

➣ Regardless if you’re a woman, a man, somewhere in between, or none of the above, you are approaching a newfound understanding of your sexuality. For some of you, it is a full-blown sexual awakening.

➣ Some people here are realizing their sex appeal, others are coming to terms with their lack of sexual attraction, some are learning what they like in sex and what they’re attracted to. Yes bae, all of it; the whole spectrum of sexual exploration is here.

➣ There is an emphasis on attraction to yourself. You will see a huge shift in your physical appearance. Yes, your style will change but the main reason for this glow up is because you shifted the perception of yourself into a higher light. You’re allowing yourself to feel desirable and embracing the aspects of yourself you once shunned.

➣You will carry yourself in a higher regard and this will open doors for you. Look into the mirror and give yourself a nice smack on the ass. Your self-esteem is sexy.

➣ Pile one is on a watery emotional self-love journey, this pile is all about fire and finding out where sexuality and passionate relations fit into your life. 5th house (flings, passions, hobbies), 8th house (sex and rebirth), 9th house (adventure, connecting with your soul tribe).

➣ I asked for a song to tie up this message in a cute little bow and I got the 639 HZ frequency. This is the frequency of love, radiation, and positive energy. It is the frequency of the heart. The heart chakra is opening significantly during this glow-up.

➣ You are opening yourself to adventure and sending a high vibe out into the ether. I see a sunflower and the queen of wands is decked out in bright yellow, you are stepping into the spotlight and attracting a lot of attention. I would say Venusian attention because the aura here is very romantic and collaborative. It's like the universe is spraying you with extremely magnetic pheromones and having opportunities run at you.

➣ You are going to get a lot of offers. Love offers, career offers, party invitations, you’re going to be involved with exclusive circles. You are realizing your self-worth and now you’re attracting things and people who also see value in you.

➣ This isn’t going to resonate with everyone, but I sense that for a few of you, there is going to be a reconnection with a past lover or a past friend from your childhood (or just the past in general). I also sense a theme of using your attractiveness and people’s attraction to you to your benefit. Somehow monetize your appeal.

➣ It is like you finally released your ugly duckling mentality and you woke up and went, “WOAH, what can I do with this???” Lmao you discovered you’re an undercover member of the pretty privilege club.

➣ Yeah, with the page of pentacles and the ten of wands, I’m seeing an entire life path open up for you. Your passion and fiery energy will get you places, and you’ll go on adventures exploring your opportunities with that. Some of you will even become spicy content creators or do some risque sex work. Orrrrrr just venture into a career path you weren’t courageous enough to do before.

➣ You’re a giant magnet energetically right now (I mean c’mon, 639 HZ???) you’re attracting a lot of romantic suitors. But watch out, they’re not all good suitors.

➣ I pulled another card and got Justice in reverse. Some people will try to get over on you. Also, the person on the justice card looked strangely untrustworthy when I flipped it over. Once again, practice your discernment.

➣ Your romantic and passionate life is taking off and it's going to be extremely exciting, especially if you are coming out of a period of stagnancy. However, with the 3 of wands and the hermit, the cards remind you to remain centered and plan bigger. Your passion, attractiveness, and sexuality will amount to more than hookups and shallow relationships if you invest in yourself wisely.

➣ You are unlocking an advantage you have in this lifetime. Open yourself to career endeavors, social networking, and creating a strong foundation for your talents and hobbies. Yes, date and have fun but don’t spend all of your energy in one place. Your attention and your energy are your greatest currencies.

➣ To expand on the hermit, I need to emphasize you are going to be getting a LOT of attention soon (I’m getting Sun-conjunct-Venus energy, is that in your natal chart or is there a transit with Venus right now or something?). You will receive more eyes on you than average and this might overwhelm you and push you into hermit mode.

➣ That is okay, let life flow. During those moments to yourself, dream big because you have the power to pull your dreams into your reality. You will meet lifelong friends during this period. I am sensing a power trio for some of you.

➣ Advice: To wrap up, we all know attractiveness is social currency, and you are coming into a great deal of social wealth baby. But please spend it wisely and do not lose yourself in the crowd. Keep up with your self-work and take introspective breaks away from people so you can figure out how to best utilize this awakening for you.

➣ You look really good in red currently. Red hair. Red lips. Red clothes. Red jewelry. The color red is bringing you a lot of abundance. Okay bye. MUAH. <3

"I said mom, I am a rich man."

✧ Pile Four ✧ (page of swords, knight of cups, wheel of fortune, temperance, 7oP, the devil rev.)

Ascension.

➣ OMG I’m so sorry, I wrote a novel for the other piles but this one is going to be short. Maybe you were drawn to another pile mainly and this is your secondary pile. BUT IT’S SHORT BECAUSE ITS FUCKING AWESOME.

➣ The song I channeled for you was named “Elniño Prodigo” and I want to say the artist is Love Record but I'm not too sure. This means child prodigy. When I was laying out your cards, I got this sense of anticipation and impatience. Theeeennn BOOM the wheel of fortune, temperance, and the seven of pentacles smack me in the face.

➣ Oh me oh my, you are chilling in the universe’s womb just BAKIN’ being prepped for a complete rebirth. You are a prodigy, you are not meant to live an ordinary life, you are being prepared for a unique journey. I know this is going to sound hard to believe because I feel like with this pile, a large portion of your life was spent in waiting.

➣ Do you feel like you are a late bloomer? If so, trust me, it is for a reason. Whatever you build in this lifetime will be built slowly and have a solid foundation because your legacy is meant to withstand the test of time and last long after you leave this Earth. This period you’ve spent waiting is you getting your ducks in a row and sowing your seeds for the next evolution of you. I said something like this in my last pac, if that's you, heyyyyyyy i’m glad your energy stuck around, i love it.

➣ Do you have Pisces or 12th House placements mixed with Saturn significance? Whatever this glow-up exactly holds for your future is a secret. It’s the universe’s divine surprise to you. I did not get any energy detailing exact events, just something big in the works behind the scenes is making its way to you.

➣If you’re reading this pick a card there’s a good chance you’re spiritually attuned and can feel this cosmic shift happening. Something about your energy is so excited. I imagine a hyper dog being held back by a leash because it's not quite time yet.

➣ If you’re in a period where you’re not seeing any life progression and it's causing you anxiety, relax, you are on the right track and you are where you need to be. You have not wasted time, time really isn’t even fucking real. Everything is moving slowly for a reason.

➣In this “boring” period you are meant to tap into your inner world and curate what you want your life to look like. Create vision boards, imagine your future hobbies, involve things that mentally stimulate you, keep the spark of curiosity in your life, and nurture your inner dreamer.

➣ You are connecting with your sensitivity at this time, finding the sweet spot where your mind and heart meet, and letting it fuel your zeal for life. Get these thoughts on paper. Journal them, draw them, sing it, and call this energy into the 3D. Your life is about to have a complete 180. Maintain faith.

➣ You’re seeing a lot of synchronicities currently. Animal synchronicities and repeating numbers(111,444,222,1144,1414). You’ll find strangely personal messages in music and media. Maybe you’re seeing shapes repetitively pop up around you in your environment, like stars or eyes.

➣ Patience is a life lesson for this pile, there is a lesson to be learned in the stillness of your life. You are mentally restless right now, slow your body down and try out parasympathetic regulation techniques to calm your racing thoughts. Go swimming, take a class, try out a new hobby. In this “womb” era, enjoy your last moments of stillness because your life turns up a notch. I’m not even getting rebirth, I’m getting BIRTH. No matter your age, your life is truly beginning in this new season.

➣ Advice: I see a lot of clouds. I see angel symbolism. You’re ascending. You’re shedding old skin, letting go of dead weight, and you’re growing wings, getting ready to experience life to the fullest. Maintain hope that your life will pick up pace and become exciting again.

➣ Find peace in this waiting period. Listen to bird sounds!!! They are going to calm your mind and elevate you emotionally. You’re growing your wings and getting ready to take off like a bird, you should learn from the best. Okay, I love you, the universe loves you, MUAH <3.

"Your sim has gone stir-crazy!"

watching tumblr shit on my images in real time is just...

On a lighter note, I know some of these piles are heavy, I posted my first reading two days ago, and the support I received has brought so much joy into my life. I love doing this, if you like this me doing this, I'll do this forever. I am eternally grateful for all of you likes, reblogs, and comments <3

Also, some of these piles are connected, feel free to poke around and pick up on messages spread out for you. okay, I'm done. kisses! MUAH

#pick a card #pac #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #glow up #arijackz #astrology observations

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 months ago

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I Put A Spell On You.

‘Smoke’wants you back, and he’ll do whatever it takes.

(Part one maybe?)

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

You better stop the things you do

I tell you, I ain't lying

I ain't lying…

Word got around that Smoke was back in town. You couldn’t miss him with his snazzy suit’s silhouette characterized by broad shoulders, a high waist, and wide-leg trousers. A quintessential element in a man’s wardrobe. The whispers traveled to many ears, but it was only one pair he was concerned with.

Rosetta Scott.

A dilly he’s obsessed with. His soft-spoken jazz singer. She ended their relationship when Smoke decided to up and leave New Orleans with his ill-tempered identical twin brother, but he promised he’d be back and to write him. After two years, he’s back and ready to stake his claim on his woman.

Smoke hopped out of his Cadillac 16 cylinder wearing round, small sunglasses with wired frames. He removed his 8-panel hat and shut the door behind him. Smoke took a long drag of his blunt while staring straight ahead with a lopsided grin.

The reflection within the circular lenses of his dark frames was one he’d missed for years. A living tapestry of culture, history, and an unmistakable passion for life. This place, with its rhythmic streetcars and the spicy aromas from its kitchens, isn't just alive; it breathes stories at every corner.

Stretching his long legs with a purposeful gait, his expensive gaiters picking up dirt, Smoke pushed open the withering, wooden, hinge doors leading into a lively establishment. The smell of fish fry, sweat, cheap cologne, weed, and sex titillating his nose caused a wide grin to spread across his thick lips. He slowly removed his sunglasses, revealing piercing, brandy-eyes and a primal desire.

There she was. Doing what she loved. He was joyful. Proud.

laidback with rhythmic flexibility.

That husky breathy tone.

Her vocals always had a very raw unedited feel which made her songs feel more real and personal. She also tends to use harmonies and layering which sometimes gives the song a drowning all consuming affect.

The silk of her flowing silver slip seemed to mold into her hourglass frame. The premium fur shawl she wore hung loosely from her glistening shoulders. Her lips the color of ox blood stained the mic in front of her. The swing and blues notes with complex chords blending with her sultry voice had everyone on that floor dirty dancing.

Smoke broke his eyes away reluctantly, taking off his suit jacket, placing it on the back of a chair. He ashed out his blunt and placed it in the front pocket of his crisp, white button down. Smoke made his way towards the bar, unbuttoning his sleeves and his shirt along the way.

“Yes, daddy! Play that saxophone!”

“Sing it Rose!”

“Let’s Jive!”

“Ooooweee! If it ain’t Mr. Smoke Stack himself! Come over here!”

Smoke chuckled deeply before dabbing up his uncle and the owner of the establishment; Buck. His liquor breath and gold teeth were two things you remembered about Big Buck. Or, how he’d like to call it ‘I’m Big Buck and I like to fuck’. And boy did he get his share of pussy. He had eight kids to prove it.

“Look at my nephew! Now hold on…where is your twin?” Buck’s yellowing eyes wandered around in search of him.

“He’s handlin’ business. No time to settle. You know how he get. I had to break away tho’ I got business to ‘tend to.”

Smoke accepted a glass of whiskey and took a long sip. It burned so good down his throat.

“Yeah, uh-huh. We know why’s you here! That gal. You know she’s seeing someone else, right?”

The corner of his upper lip fluttered with disdain at the thought of another man touching his bitch. Smoke wasn’t having it. One look into his eyes, she’d fall into his lap again. Wet puss and all. She wrote him often. Sent him pictures. He’d gotten them all. So, was she doing all that while messing with some squat-ass fool?

“Gimme the low down, Buck.” Smoke insisted impatiently.

“Aight, nephew. Another?”

Smoke raised his glass, “hold the hail. I don’t need no watered down shit. I’m tryna get swacked.”

Buck’s gut laugh filled the cramped space between them.

“You remember Phonzo?”

“Shid, not pussy ass Phonzo? C’mon now gal…”

“Damn straight. He wines and dines her. Buys her shit…”

“She using.” Smoke replied.

He turned his eyes on her again. She looked so damn fine. Mmm. That body was nice. He could smell her perfume on his mustache. That amber scented flesh. Smoke knocked the rest of his drink back and stood from his seat at the bar. She ended another song and received a standing ovation. Smoke pushed his way towards the front but before he could get there, a man reached out to help her down. Her joyous laugh made Smoke’s stomach churn.

“Put me down, baby! I had too much to drink!”

“it’s Smoke Stack!”

All eyes fell towards the handsome gangster. Smoke ignored all except those pretty, doe eyes that locked on him with utter shock. Short and stacked. The finest woman in all of Louisiana. Ain’t no way she’s giving all that to Phonzo. Smoke pressed forward, his penetrating eyes racking over Rosetta’s frame. It was easy to tell the twins apart because one had a noticeable scar on his face and the other didn’t.

“Well I’ll be,” Phonzo secured his arm around Rosetta’s waist tighter, “Smoke. What’s shaking, man?”

Smoke’s lips remained tightly sealed and his eyes never left his Rosey. Tension was thick in the air like the sound of the powerful double bass.

I love my moonshine whiskey

Better than I do my man

I love my moonshine whiskey

Better than I do my man

You got have your beer in your bottle

Give me my cool kind hands…

“Rosey…”

Rosetta parted her deep-red lips to speak.

“Smoke…”

That voice. He’d missed it.

Smoke Stack was seeing red.

“Get yo’ hands off my woman, Phonzo.”

“You think you can just show up? This ain’t your woman anymore, Smoke. You proved that when you left her for the taking. Go on somewhere now…”

Phonzo attempted to walk away with Rosetta in his grasp, but Smoke swiftly grabbed her hand, swinging her over towards him with an expert twirl of her beautiful frame. She collided with his sturdy chest, her eyes staring up at him.

Rosetta was still trying to pick her jaw up from the floor. She couldn’t believe Smoke was back. The familiar warmth of his much larger and more powerful frame sent images swirling through her mind of the times they’ve shared. She hadn’t received a letter from him in almost a year. Every single day she worried herself about him. However, Rosetta had entertained the thought of being with Phonzo. Tonight would have been the night that she would have given Phonzo a taste of what Smoke Stack dicked down. It was an act of desperation.

“Rose! Whatchu doin’ gal? Don’t let this fool back into your life!” Phonzo reached his hand out for her to take, “I won’t leave you like he did. Remember? I promised that trip to Chicago. We can pack up and catch a train!”

“I’ll take her to Chicago, to Trinidad, Paris, wherever my money goes, she goes. You had your fun tryna get what’s mine. I suggest you fade, Phonzo…”

Um, make me another two bit pint

'Cause I've got my habits down

I'm gonna wreck this joint…

“Let’s go,” Smoke had a strong grip on Rosetta’s hand as he placed her in front of him to walk away.

Rosetta finally gathered her thoughts. She halted her footsteps inches away from the bar.

“Hold on, Smoke,” She pointed a red nail at him sternly, “How dare you show up here like this?! I haven’t heard from you in over a year! You can’t just walk up in here and whisk me away like some night in shining armor! Who do you think you are?!”

“Says which? I’ve written you!” Smoke shouted back.

“I ain’t get one letter in a year!”

Smoke kisses his teeth, “That’s some bullshit and you know it. Maybe the letters got mixed up…none of that matters now, baby. I’m back. For good now…”

Buck and another bartender watched the two of them go back and forth with amusement.

“We’ll see how long that lasts!” Rosetta sassed.

A gun clicking had Smoke on high alert. He pushed Rosetta behind him and turned, staring down into the barrel of a pistol. Phonzo was sweating bullets. He had two of his lackeys behind him, posted up like they were ready to do damage. Rosetta clung onto the sticky bar top, peeking around to see what the ruckus was about.

“Time to knock you off that high horse. You and that brother of yours don’t run shit ‘round here no more. Give me back my bitch, and we can get back to jivin’.”

“Excuse me?!” Rosetta argued, “I got your bitch—”

“Rosey, relax, baby. Daddy got this.” Smoke looked from the pistol pointed at his chest, to Phonzo with a sinister smile, “You off the cob or something, Phonzo?”

“You tryna make me look pussy in front of my boys?!”

Smoke tilted his head to size up his ‘boys’.

“They shakin’ in they boots just like you. C‘mon now, Phonzo. We can do this the easy way…you put that steel down, and walk away. I came for my woman and that’s it. Pick yo’ self up and use those bony-ass pegs and leave.”

Laugher erupted around them. Patrons watched on like it was a live performance. Phonzo always hated being the laughingstock. No one took him seriously. People tolerated him because Smoke and his twin skipped town to handle business.

“I ain’t going nowhere!” Phonzo yelled.

He pressed his gun into Smoke’s chest hard.

“Nigga, you ain’t got shit—”

Smoke picked up a bottle of Jack Daniels and cracked it over Phonzo’s head. When Phonzo dropped to his knees with shards of glass embedded in his face, Smoke snatched his pistol up and pointed it at the two men that were once standing proud. They both shared a look with each other before bending over to pick Phonzo up.

Smoke placed the pistol in the waistband of his slacks and snatched a handkerchief out of his pocket to clean up the blood that seeped from a gash in the palm of his hand. People were used to violence ‘round here. Too drunk, high, and horny to care about Phonzo bleeding out onto the floor. Buck didn’t blink an eye as he shined a new glass before pouring a gentleman a glass of top shelf whiskey.

“Get ‘em out. Don’t come back, nigga. I’ll use your pistol to put a bullet in yo’ head fuckin’ wit’ me!”

Phonzo—delirious and bloody—was dragged out of the juke joint by his two loyal men. Smoke knew that as soon as Phonzo regained consciousness, he’ll be on the hunt for him. Smoke was ready.

Smoke took a seat at the bar and pulled Rosetta into him. Blunt between his lips, glass of whiskey in front of him, Rosetta gave him a light, watching her daddy with lust.

You know I can't stand it

You're running around

You know better, baby

I can't stand it 'cause you put me down

Oh, no…

“Smoke, Daddy…”

Rosetta took the blunt from between his lips and hit it. He watched her with low, hazy eyes. All he did was walk through those doors. She was at his mercy like he’d never left.

“You’ll really take me to Paris?”

Smoke accepted his blunt, “I’ll take you all over the world, baby…listen, I know I got some makin’ up to do, but don’t you ever do no shit like that again, hear me? I’m a always come back to you…”

“You right about that makin’ up,” Rosetta giggled, “We got all night though. Phonzo was my ride home…”

“Here, go grab my jacket and we can go.”

Smoke tapped Rosetta on her rump and pointed to where he placed his suit jacket. He paid his tab and promised to be back to catch up with his uncle. Rosetta returned and Smoke grabbed her by the hand, ushering her out of the juke joint and into the murky night.

_______________

Smooth leather seats, a pistol on the dash, windows rolled down.

Rosetta and her fur shawl sat elegantly next to a hunk of a gangster. She admired the stain of her lipstick on his cheek when she stole a quick kiss while he opened her door for her.

She missed her Smoke Daddy so damn bad. It hurt to the bone. Smoke could feel her pretty eyes on him and he glanced over to her, giving her a dimpled smirk filled with mischief. They were halfway there to her apartment above a boutique.

“I missed you, Rosey. So much.”

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine…

“Where did you go?”

Smoke took a moment to respond.

“…My brother had business in Texas. Then we picked up some jobs throughout the south. Made enough money to last us a lifetime…Made some bad choices, but I’m richer. Stronger. Ready to sweep you off yo’ feet. I want you to travel the world and sing to audiences bigger than that hole in the wall. Serious, gal.”

Rosetta blinked away tears.

“Don’t do none of that, baby. No crying…”

“I’m just glad ya ain’t dead somewhere in a ditch!”

Rosetta accepted a clean handkerchief from Smoke. She dabbed her eyes to avoid messing up her makeup.

“I made a promise to get back to you and I meant that.”

Rosetta exhales, “I know, daddy…I just…I’ve been so touch starved. I would’ve given Phonzo all of me if you hadn’t shown up…”

Smoke’s nostrils flared and he looked at her with those dark eyes that made her clench her thighs.

“Phonzo don’t know what to do wit’ all that. And you belong to me. All of you. You make that pussy cum while Daddy was away?”

“Yes…but it wasn’t enough. I miss the fuckin’ we used to do…”

Smoke’s Cadillac slowed to a stop in front of the boutique Rosetta’s mother owned. She worked there for extra money, but now that Smoke was back, she didn’t have to work. Smoke opened her door and helped her out. Shutting it, they walked towards the shop and Rosetta opened the door with a single gold key. Smoke observed his surroundings with a sharp eye before following her inside. It was dark, but the moonlight ignited a path for them leading towards a narrow staircase leading up to Rosetta’s apartment that she shared with her mother.

She had some privacy for now since her mother went away to visit family in Baton Rouge for a week. The boutique was closed until she returned. Rosetta opened the door and flicked on a light. It was exactly how Smoke had remembered it. Small and cozy and blessed by a woman that practiced root work. Rosetta walked into their small kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a pitcher of water. She poured a glass for Smoke and herself.

“You can stay for a few days until momma comes back. It don’t matter how grown I am, she don’t like men over…”

“I get it. I’ll have a place to stay. Then you can leave here and be wit’ me.”

“Smoke…”

Smoke finished his glass, sat it on the counter, and pulled Rosetta close. His hands caressed her back and dragged down to cuff her cheeks. Eyes locked on her face, he brought his plump lips to her own, pecking them with soft kisses. Rosetta whimpered and shifted, slightly raising one foot. Smoke hooked his strong arm around her trim waistline. His other hand squeezed the flesh of her plump ass.

“You always know just how to push my buttons, don’t you, Rose? Couldn’t wait for daddy to come back?”Smoke asked with his lips barely touching hers, “That’s alright, though…Im gon’ remind you just who you belong to...”

Suddenly, Smoke delivered a series of sharp smacks to her behind without warning. Rosetta gasped as she felt the sting of each slap.

“Smoke, I’m sorry…I didn’t fuck him…I swear.” Rose pleaded.

“But you gave ‘em hope. If I hadn’t shown up…”

His wide hand lifted her silk dress over her ass and he went to town whacking each cheek—left, right, left—the pain increasing. Rosetta buried her face into his chest, her lipstick staining his shirt. Smoke palmed her cheeks hard, savoring the heft of that juicy flesh in his rough hands.

“Damn,” Smoke stared over her shoulder and down at her rump, “this big ass…mmm…mmm…mmm…I wanna look at that pussy, baby…I still have that picture of your pussy in my wallet…”

Rosetta set up a camera and took photos of herself nude before sending them off to whatever address Smoke told her to send it to. He’d beat his fat dick every night to all her photos. He stole a pair of her panties as a reminder of her scent. Anything to keep his sanity.

“You do?” Rosetta stared up at Smoke.

“Yeah,” Smoke retrieved his wallet from his pocket. He presented the photo to Rosetta. It had cracks in it from being folded, but her hairy mound, phat clit, and glistening folds stood out against the black and white, “She still nice and bushy?”

Smoke had a thing for hair. He hated whenever Rosetta would do a clean shave. Since he’d been gone, she’d started shaving again. Luckily, there was enough hair there to satisfy his desires.

“Not too much, daddy…”

“Mm,” Smoke flicked his tongue against her lips.

“I want you to do it to me, daddy…”

“Do it all night long, baby?”

“Do it to me, papa…”

Smoke’s dick jumped and stretched to proportions he couldn’t handle.

“I wanna suck on that pussy first…”

Rosetta’s clit twitched at the thought of Smoke slurping on her pussy cat until she was wrung dry. She had a lot for him to drank up. When she first laid eyes on him tonight, the wetness soaked through and created a slippery, sticky mess. Those big lips and that thick dick…

“Let me smell it,” Smoke picked Rosetta up and sat her down on the cramped counter space, “Spread your fuckin’ legs you sexy, bitch…”

Rosetta made quick work of her thighs spreading wide and limber. Smoke could see a big wet spot in the crotch of her cotton panties. He didn’t waste time stroking the outlines of her fat lips that strained against the fabric. Smoke chuckled before slipping her panties to the side. His fingertips graced coarse hair covered in slick and heat. Beyond that was a clit made to be suckled.

“Shit, she still get nice and wet for me,” Smoke admired the shine on his thick fingers before bringing it to his nose to take a whiff, “fuccck,” He pushed his fingers into his mouth and licked them clean, “Fresh pussy…taste so good…”

He was down on his knees with his fingers tangled in her panties to keep them out of his way. Rosetta brought one leg up and it opened her lips more for him to eat. The humidity of that kitchen had their brown skin glistening beneath the dim, yellow, lamp lights. Smoke spread her lips and stared into her pussy. Rosetta stroked his slick-back, begging him to put his face in it.

Smoke buried his nose in it first. He rubbed her clit with the tip of his nose before using his lips to encase her clit and suck. He sucked nice and slow to warm her up, but then he created a vortex so tight with his lips Rosetta almost fell from the counter. The sucking came at a rapid pace—precise and intense.

“Uhnnn,” Rosetta gasped and moaned, “Daddy!”

Rosetta stroked her pussy many times to one of her favorite raunchy tunes. Jump Steady Daddy by Lucille Bogan stayed on repeat whenever she rubbed on her clit to the thought of her Smoke Daddy. She missed when he would come to her late at night, sneak in her bed and eat her pussy. She loved it when he would be on his knees, holding her weight up and fucking into her.

Love me, daddy

Love me all the time

Love me, daddy

Love me all the time

And if you love me like I did

You'll be that jump steady man of mine…

“Yes, ooh, daddy, papa,” Rosetta’s thighs shook out of her control, “Ima cum…Ima cum…”

The thin straps of her silk slip dangled from her shoulders and perspiration trickled down her spine. She didn’t have time to prepare before she was creaming down Smoke’s chin. All he did was suck her clit. He came up for air, lips dripping wet and face glistening with cum.

Her nipples poked out through her slip, teasing Smoke’s eyes. He was as hard as stone, unable to bear the feeling anymore. Smoke stood and picked Rosetta up from the counter, carrying her towards her room. The door was ajar, so all he needed to do was nudge it and he was walking inside. He didn’t bother closing the door. Smoke placed Rosetta on her back, climbing on top of her and sticking his tongue in her mouth.

Rosetta smoothed his button down shirt over his shoulders and Smoke pulled his arms through. He had on a white beater that clung to his muscles like plaster. Smoke broke his lips away and trailed kisses down her neck until he was at the tops of her breasts. Rosetta arched up into his chest, soft moans music to his ears.

Smoke used his teeth to yank the rest of her slip down, revealing 34 C breasts with large nipples that reminded him of chocolate-covered gum drops. Rosetta dragged her nails through his hair, messing up the smoothness of it, revealing waves. Her updo had come undone, finger-waved hair falling into her eyes. The salty, sweet taste of her skin caused him to growl.

“Daddy…I wanna taste that dick…”

With a deep exhale, Smoke stood up. Rosetta sat up on her knees with her dress around her waist and went to work undoing his slacks. She pushed down his boxers and his pants in one motion, his dick bobbing out like a pendulum and hitting her on the chin. Rosetta admired how girthy and veiny her daddy’s dick is. She licked up the precum before it was wasted and with her eyes on him, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked.

“Ahhhh…There you go, baby…that’s how you welcome me home…suck this big boy…gobble it up…”

Her soft hair in his grasp, Smoke’s toned hips pumped her throat. He curled his top lip, revealing golds, grunting at the feel of her tight throat.

“Ugh, fuck, baby…the best dick suckin’ bird in N’awlins…”

Rosetta giggled in response. She prided herself in her skills. Sucking dick and riding dick was her specialty. Smoke licked his lips, eyes barely open as he watched her. He tilted his head and started drilling her mouth. Loud gagging noise started, Rosetta’s once pristine makeup now running down her face.

“You’re so beautiful wit’ my dick in your throat, baby…make daddy cum…so I can fuck that pussy…”

His girth increased, Rosetta’s jaws tightening. She grabbed hold of his balls and worked her neck like no other. Smoke chewed on his bottom lip and threw his head back.

“Hmmm….mmmmmm….”

His hips spasmed out of control. Rosetta almost choked on his thick cum. She had to spit his dick out just to swallow what she could. The rest painted her chest.

“Turn that ass over,” Smoke stepped out of his pants and with one hand on his long dick, he pumped it, “On your knees, gal.”

Rosetta brought that ass in the air and arched her back deep. Smoke stood behind her with a big dick swinging. Rosetta hadn’t felt it in two years. She was afraid. Shaking with fear. He had to open her up again.

“Use them big girl words and tell me what you want,” Smoke slapped her cheeks around, “Where you want this dick?”

“Daddy, fuck me!” Rosetta begged.

His dick aligned with her ass and with his big hands he tucked it higher. Smoke grunted and slapped her bouncy cheeks.

“Ouch! Papa…” Rosetta cried, more from surprise.

It hurt so good. With hands as large as his, he managed to cover a wide area of her ass, leaving behind a burning sting that only made her wiggle her ass against him. Smoke rubbed her down before digging his fingers into the flesh, spreading her wide, and thrusting into her.

“Oh, my! Smoke!”

Rosetta’s ass recoiled and bounced off of Smoke’s sturdy hips. He had her by the hair, keeping her back arched. That man was fucking her like he was fresh out of jail. His thick shaft gave her stretch and his length made her feel it in her stomach. The sound of her wet pussy matched the skin-slapping.

“Big dick on you! Fuck!”

Smoke let go of her hair and grabbed her hips. Rosetta looked back at him with her mouth agape and brows knitted together in disbelief. His hair had puffed up and some strands fell over his forehead. He looked wild and sexy. Muscles flexing, golds flashing, eyes unblinking.

“Keep fuckin’ me, papa! Fuck this wet pussy, daddy! Oh my goddddd—”

Rosetta fell forward and buried her face in the sheets.

“Uh-uh,” Smoke brought one leg up, leaned over her, and wrapped a hand around her throat, “You can take this dick. Get that shit you want so bad,” Smoke said.

Every cry or whimper that came out of her mouth, he responded with an evil chuckle or a groan of his own in her ear.

“Grip me up like that…good girl…that’s it baby…”

Rosetta felt hot liquid trickling down her thighs. Tears brimmed her eyes and her body seized up with her release. Smoke withdrew his hips and got down behind her to lick her up. He licked her thighs, then trailed his spit to her folds. He rolled her onto her back and scooted her towards the edge of the bed. Ass hanging off, legs thrown over his shoulders, Smoke put that dick in her pussy and pounded up into her with sharp thrusts that had her toes curling.

“Oh, shit!” Rosetta and her swinging titties couldn’t handle it, “Damnit, Smoke! I’m cumin’ !!!!!”

Scooting her onto the bed, he pile-drived her into the creaky mattress. Folded in half was an understatement. She stared down the valley of his impressive body at his dick.

“Big Daddy!” Rosetta pressed her feet into his chest, “Fuck me good! Take this pussy!”

“This my fuckin’ pussy…”

Smoke slammed into her before dropping down to kiss her soft lips again. His thrusts turned into modulated pumps that caused her to gasp. Each time his dick would enter her, she would gasp with surprise. Smoke nibbled on her pouty bottom lip and stared into her eyes longingly.

You know I love you

I love you

I love you anyhow

And I don't care

If you don't want me

I'm yours right now…

“Cum for me Smoke Daddy…”

His forehead furrowed and with one more sharp thrust, he erupted deep in her womb.

———————-

525 notes · View notes

minkieater · 2 months ago

Text

spiderhead → yj

tattoo artist!yeonjun x fem!reader

smut mdni, cheating, alcohol consumption, toxic relationship wc. ~6k

the buzz from tattoo guns spread across the room as if there were a swarm of bees — the shop was busy today. yeonjun’s mouth tasted of tobacco and menthol, his favorite combination, his index and middle fingers stained with the scent from years of use. he rain a hand through his hair, feeling the ends tickle his neck, before burying both hands in the soft, fleece lined pocket of his hoodie.

he made his way over to his station, checking his tools, cleaning up the area so he could prepare for his next client. the steps whirled in his head as they always did when he fixed his area: wash his hands, put gloves on, sterilize his tools, cover his equipment, disinfect all surfaces. he loved this part, the organization, having everything accessible to make his art easier to complete.

god, yeonjun loved his fucking job. just the plain idea of him drawing and coloring on people’s bodies, having his art stay there forever, it was magical to him. yeonjun knew in high school that he wanted to be a tattoo artist — he bought a shitty tattoo gun online, spent his weekends drunk in beomgyu’s basement leaving wonky doodles on his friends in places no one would ever see. at parties, people would beg him to whip out the tattoo gun, implore him to etch small designs on their skin on the big leather couch in soobin’s parents’ house.

those nights turned into lonely ones spent in his bedroom, cross hatching lines into fake skin on his desk, shading with pointillism in designs he’d seen on pinterest, smoke from his lit joint dancing into the air of his bedroom. he had a year long apprenticeship at a tattoo shop in the middle of brooklyn when he turned nineteen, he tried college for a year when he graduated high school but quickly realized it just wasn’t for him. now, four years later, he was thriving: he was booked, he was busy, he was a real fucking tattoo artist and made real fucking money.

he grabbed his phone to check the time before he started disinfecting, only five more minutes before his client was supposed to show. he scrolled his lock screen, eyes thinning when he read the notifications.

v: did u turn the lights off before u left v: if my electric bill is high again just know you’re paying that shit

his lips pulled into a line, thumbs moving a mile a minute.

yj: yes i turned them off yj: u dont have to remind me every single day

he locked his phone and set it face down on the counter that ran along the back of the shop, packed cabinets filled with saran wrap, disinfectant and ink caps underneath. he shook his head, irritation flooding his thoughts, he’d left the lights on one time and now he’ll never hear the end of it.

well over a year now, together but still not quite official — on and off but pretty much living together, yeonjun has spent more time in your bushwick apartment than he has at his own downtown. granted the shop was closer to your apartment than his own, but he’s always liked your apartment more, anyway. tall ceilings, funky art, maps and concert posters on the walls, a unique touch to your living space with your red lacquered kitchen cabinets and dark wood accents where his own looked cheesy and cheap in comparison.

two bedrooms, one full bathroom and a separate room just for the television and couch, yeonjun thought you were fucking loaded when he first stepped foot in your apartment. it had to be your parents paying your bills, or maybe you were a nepo baby – this is new york, after all – but as your relationship grew and he learned more about your occupation, how much you truly made between high commission and tips, he’d never thought a hairstylist could make so much fucking money.

both of you in your careers, working full time with the public, both creative people that spend their days creating art that lives on people’s bodies. your canvases were humans, walking, breathing pieces of scrap paper that you drew on, painted on, poked, cut, shaded. the two of you related to one another too much in too many areas, on too many levels, so many conversations about people and their critiques, their wishes, their families, their stories. if you and yeonjun could do anything, it was talk.

you’d met on your twenty first birthday, a little over a month after yeonjun’s twenty second. you and your girl friends and coworkers he later learned circled up on the dance floor with you in the middle, rolling your hips to the beat of the song, head tipped back in a drunken haze and a cocktail in your hand. he eyed you from the bar, thinking nothing of it other than the fact that you were a drunk twenty one year old about to be obnoxiously loud in his ear all night. he sipped his glass of whiskey, neat, tattooed fingers wrapping around the glass that dripped sweat onto his palm.

the bar was hot, too hot for the outfit he had on — oversized black hoodie with the hood over his head, black pants, boots on his feet. he was dressed for early november in new york, layered to fight off the chill of brooklyn, not for whatever the hell was going on in his favorite bar.

you approached him first, slurring over your words, tucking your hair behind your ear which was already tucked. you batted your eyelashes, your eyes glossed over in intoxication — yeonjun was not biting, he wasn’t interested in the slightest. he gave you a tight lipped smile, clinked his glass with your own and turned his attention away from you, a small gesture to say what you’re looking for is not me, keep it moving.

but when you strolled into his shop two weeks later as a walk-in and yeonjun had a cancellation, only then was he taking the bait, the bait you had no idea you were dangling from a hook right in front of his own two eyes. you didn’t seem to recall your interaction on your birthday, you didn’t seem to recognize yeonjun at all and that only made him curious.

you asked for a ruler along your index finger, two lines to show the public what two inches really is. he laughed at that, a small puff of amusement leaving his perfect plump lips just as the words left yours.

“is that stupid?” you asked, head cocked to the side, eyebrows furrowed in question but your eyes wide and he swore he could see them shine as you looked up to him. he was taken then, from just that one look in your eyes – he knew he was in trouble.

“not at all,” he said as she shook his head, smile still dancing on his cheeks, “it’s funny, i’ll take you back.”

you sat down on the bench, yeonjun went searching for a ruler in the cabinets lining the back of the shop. you spoke mindlessly about your job as he searched, immediately telling him a story about a client you had a few days ago who wanted a balayage and not highlights but they couldn’t decipher between the two — they insisted on highlights when what they were describing was clearly a balayage. you spoke with such enthusiasm, your mouth running a mile a minute, words spilling from your lips just as fast as you thought them.

yeonjun had no idea what you were talking about but he knew you were adorable — much different from when you first tried to pick him up at that bar. your eyes are bright, words controlled, movements sharp and alert. what did stay the same was the confidence, your outward extrovertedness made it so yeonjun didn’t have to say much, just nodding and listening to your little story as he tried his best to keep his head on straight.

“finger tattoos don’t last as long as they do on other parts of the body,” he interrupted as your story ended, finally pulling a small red plastic ruler from the cabinet to his left.

you shrug, “i figured as much, my hands are in water a lot, too.”

yeonjun sucked a breath in through his teeth, “that makes it even worse.”

“so what, i have to come back and get it touched up, then? big deal,” your hands came up at your sides, shrugging altogether, “as long as you still work here when i have to get it touched up then it’s fine.”

“already commending my work when i haven’t even done the tattoo yet?” yeonjun wears a lazy, teasing smile as he sits down on his stool, grabbing the arm rest for you to lay your forearm on.

“who said i was talking about the tattoo?” yeonjun’s eyes shot up at you who was already wearing a smirk, his lips parted ever so slightly. he immediately cracked a smile, shaking his head as he looked back down to your hand.

“that’s crazy,” he mumbled under his breath as he put the ruler up to your finger, then grabbed his pen from his tray to mark the inches. maybe you did know — maybe you were purposely dangling the bait, or maybe the two of you just had the same amount of interest in each other. maybe there was no bait to begin with.

“i don’t think it's crazy,” he didn’t expect you to hear him or respond, but it seems you don’t have a filter of any kind as you keep going, “you’re hot, i’m hot, we have a lot in common already.”

“we have a lot in common?” he raised an eyebrow, looking up to you again after marking the second inch, he grabbed a different pen to mark the eighths.

“we’re both creative, both work with the public, we have picky people as clients, have to listen to unrealistic expectations, both work in careers that aren’t super common — not common, maybe abnormal? or maybe i’m trying to say we can be abnormal because our careers aren’t super judgemental? appearance wise, i guess, whatever, anyways, we also both know how to talk to people, i can keep going…”

“so all we have in common are our careers?” he’s still playing along as he finishes marking out the lines, “how does that look?”

“looks good to me,” you say after a quick glance, barely an inspection of your finger, “pretty much, but our careers teach us a lot about ourselves. oh! and we can do art trades, i’ll do your hair and you give me tattoos.”

“are you bribing me or pimping yourself out?” the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and the smile that paints itself on your face feigns innocence, he’d save that look for his sketchbook later tonight.

“maybe a little bit of both. are either of them working?” you cocked your head to the side again, swinging the feet that hung from the bench ever so slightly, careful not to kick anything in front of you. yeonjun had to reel himself in.

yeonjun had to be honest — with himself, and you — it started working the moment you stepped into the shop. you had no visible tattoos, a casual outfit on, sweatpants and a tee shirt that left just a sliver of skin between the hems of your clothes. your hair was done but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, you didn’t seem like anything special off first glance– in fact, you seemed the exact opposite of his type, the girls he usually went for. yeonjun was just as confused with himself as he was enamored by you.

“i don’t know, i think you might have to try a lil’ harder,” he faked a deciding face, eyebrows scrunched as he moved back in his stool, ushering for you to stand up. he looked at your finger from all angles, analyzing it as you stood to the side, lifting your hands, flexing your fingers as you stood. he was happy with his sketch, his outline, he was more then prepared to freehand a couple lines.

“you should let me try harder over some drinks if the tattoo comes out good,” your eyes were trained on your hand as you followed his instructions, moving your hands into every position he asked for.

yeonjun laughed at that, “if the tattoo comes out good? what, am i the one picking you up now?”

you shrugged as he ushered you to sit back down, “you might be, i’m trying to find out.”

he nodded with his lips pursed, folded into a frown that wasn’t exuding any sort of negative reaction, more impressed than anything. “fair game.”

your tattoo came out flawless, the lines he free handed onto your finger came out straight, perfect in thickness. as easy as it seemed, you knew the talent it took, the patience and a steady hand needed for such precision. after you paid, tipping him generously, your flirting returned with vengeance.

“i think we hit it off if i’m being honest,” you smiled, showing all of your teeth to the black haired man behind the counter, “do you have anyone else after me?”

he shook his head, “you’re my last, i had a cancellation.”

“oh my god– do you believe in fate? yeonjun, i think that’s what this is, i’m being so serious,” your eyes were wide, eyebrows shot up, smile wide. excitement bled from you, your veins, you were nothing but honest. so shameless, not a thought in your pretty little head that he’d reject you – he wasn’t sure if you’d care if he did.

he laughed, something he seemed to do too much during your entire service, his head hanging low in front of him before he picked it back up, looking at you who was already staring expectantly at him. “i don’t, but maybe if we go get drinks you can change my mind.”

you raised your fists, “i’ve won.”

the bar was halfway to your apartment, almost smack ass between the tattoo shop and your place. you’d been there before with your girlfriends, once or twice since your birthday – you could finally join in on the fun. yeonjun was dressed in all black, you’d soon come to find out he was always dressed in all black, and he never looked like he got enough sleep. you seemed so bright next to him, with your hair and your clothes and the plush keychains attached to your purse. you looked like total opposites, when you knew you had much more in common than what meets the eye.

that one night bled into the next year of your lives – something he was not expecting after your first interaction. it’s not like he’s never had a client try to bag him before, but something about you was different, it drove him insane that he couldn’t put a finger on it. he was used to playing games, always the winner, never the loser. he was used to confusion, being stuck in the inbetween, the gray area that sometimes came with relationships, or lack thereof. with you it was so straight forward, a slippery slope, not a hole he dug himself into but instead a well, one full of water, full of life. he never wanted to stop drinking from it, gulp after gulp, chugging until he was so full he thought he might spill over.

the spilling didn’t come until six and a half months in. your first two months were every man’s wet dream – he had every inch of you, every fistful of perpetually iron-curled hair, every corner of plush skin burned to memory – on every surface of your apartment and his.

in yeonjun’s past relationships, he never seemed to be the problem. if anything, he was the victim.

small fights to massive blown out arguments over petty shit, staying out too late with his coworkers at his favorite bar to beomgyu stealing him for a night out clubbing, missed texts and phone calls to going MIA for three days. yeonjun never seemed to understand what the issue was – petty arguments were never his thing, he’d rather stay silent than give into whatever the fuck his current plaything was yelling about this time. so what if he stayed out too late with his coworkers? he still came home. there’s no harm in a night out clubbing with his boys, she didn’t even know about the girl that was grinding against his dick all night, or the other one that had her lipstick smeared across his lips in the corner of the dark club. he went MIA for three days because his phone was dead, not because he had her number blocked. it was ridiculous, really, the things women would try and pin on him – yeonjun never seemed to think he was the issue at all.

the thought never crossed yeonjun’s brain that these behaviors were learned, or that he could teach them to anyone else. he never thought that his pretty, bright eyed new girlfriend would turn into a different version of himself – if she did, he’d be grateful, he thought himself pretty fucking cool – yeonjun never thought any of his behaviors were bad, but when yeonjun got a taste of his own medicine he knew he met his match.

he showed up at your apartment past midnight, drunk off his ass, clothes oozing whiskey, weed and burberry her. he let himself in with his key, the one you gave him after three months in, the one you told him to use whenever he wanted. he called out your name, searching from room to room, but you were nowhere to be found. he’d never shown up to an empty apartment, there’s never been a lack of you, cuddled up in a fuzzy robe, either under your duvet or sitting on the couch watching reruns of your favorite drama. yeonjun was confused, his dazed head couldn’t think up a proper reason for your absence, he decided to do what he absolutely fucking hated to be done to him.

he called you about thirty six times, texted you about forty two times. he also left four voicemails, not one of them nice.

he sat there on your couch – after a much needed shower, a bottle of water and a change of clothes you kept for him in your bottom drawer, he sobered up real quick. he felt more level headed, but he couldn’t ignore the anger that began to grow, a pit that sat heavy in his stomach: where the fuck were you? who were you with?

you damn near fell into the room an hour later, keys falling to the floor after you ripped them out of the door. you giggled to yourself, your heels in your hands, fingers curled into the heel of your black pumps. the strapless, sparkly scrap of fabric he could barely call a dress was crooked, your hair that was always purposely styled to perfection was a mess, your red lipstick was smudged down your chin. yeonjun’s seen this scene before, he’s done it, he’s lived it.

“who fucked you?” were the first words that left his mouth as he stood in the living room, oversized black clothes hanging off his frame like hade’s robes. the breath that left his nostrils was hot, burning his cupid’s bow, his jaw locked with his usually plump lips scrunched to a thin line.

you laughed – you fucking laughed. “you’re a fucking psychopath, junie. i just came back from a night with the girls!”

yeonjun was not buying it – he stepped closer. the stench of alcohol was masked by dior sauvage, a smell he knew too well, a smell that drifted past him as you nearly pushed him out of your way. yeonjun was dumbfounded and raging, his eyebrows furrowed together, his hands held out in front of him like he didn’t know what to do with them.

his girl, his only girl – well, other than the girl he made out with earlier – he couldn’t fathom the thought of someone else’s hands on you, being so close to you that you came home smelling like him. he followed you to the bathroom.

you were already stripped down bare – no bra and no panties to be seen on the pile on the floor with that thin scrap of fabric, yeonjun couldn’t collect his thoughts fast enough, his rage was creeping up his spine, sitting in his stomach like food poisoning, threatening to come out whether he wanted it to or not.

“you’re lying,” was all he could get out as you brushed through your hair, putting it in a tight knot atop your head, a small smile still sitting on your cheeks. he didn’t sound angry enough, his voice wasn’t stable, his feelings weren’t enough to give his voice ground to stand on.

“no i’m not,” you said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, like your words were the honest to god truth. you turned to him, your best innocent look paired with that award winning smile, “wanna shower with me? or did you already when you came home from the club?”

yeonjun had a full body reaction, his eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched up in disbelief and shock, for just a moment there he thought he might be insane. did he make that up? was the dior he smelled just remnants from being with beomgyu earlier? no, no he showered, that was all you. he was not insane. he stepped closer.

the smell of a shower he’d taken just an hour ago filled the room, the body wash that you always used was the only scent he could decipher. he took a breath, “you fucked someone.”

“i think you might still be drunk, baby,” you wore a fake pout, raising your right hand to run your thumb across his bottom lip, “happy anniversary, by the way. six months!”

that was the start of everything – his pretty little bright eyed girlfriend was buried somewhere, six feet deep in wet soil, replaced with something akin to a fucking monster. when yeonjun first met you, you had told him you had so much in common, yeonjun didn’t believe it, didn’t see it. he thought the two of you were polar fucking opposites, yet he liked you anyway, liked that you introduced him to a new type of relationship. while yeonjun spent six months subconsciously teaching you his own behaviors, you spent the time purposely teaching him quite a few of your own.

goodmorning texts to goodnight texts to facetime – yeonjun never did any of that shit before. yeonjun has never bought a single person a bouquet of flowers in his entire life. yet here you stood, his pretty little bright eyed girlfriend, in the middle of your salon surrounded by a herd of your coworkers with a bouquet signed ‘your junie <3 love you baby!’

his friends called him whipped, a simp, a cuck, every name in the fucking book because yeonjun adored you, and it was painfully obvious. you’d come to beomgyu’s garage, parading around in a mini skirt and your tiny little purse that yeonjun was sure only had lip gloss inside, getting him beers from the fridge and cracking them open, handing them to him with a smile and sitting straight on your throne: his lap. his friends adored you too, they couldn’t figure out what you saw in yeonjun – with his dark clothes, heavy tattoos that covered his body, bags under his eyes, black hair and too much metal through holes in his face. his friends were constantly flirting with you, getting you whatever you needed, they were the ones cracking beers and serving them to you, yet you were doing it for yeonjun.

yeonjun was filled with pride, he loved it. a trophy they could look at but never touch. he’d never had this type of relationship before, someone so obsessed with him, someone willing to wait on him hand and foot, he slipped deeper and deeper into an emotion he’d never experienced before without even realizing it.

the day he did realize it, that was when the true fun began, because while he was unconsciously slipping, swimming deeper into that well, you stood at the top, holding the rope, pulling bucket by bucket out of the well with that award winning, innocent smile etched into your skin.

you weren’t kidding when you said you’d do art trades, even his coworkers knew your face by now, taehyun two stations down always offered his services when you sat down on yeonjun’s bench. you giggled and flipped your hair, saying why would i do that when my boyfriend’s a better artist than you?

god, yeonjun loved to hear those words leave your lips. it was a bit the two of you did, taehyun acted as if he was shot through the heart, a poisoned arrow slipping straight through his skin, and yeonjun could hear the sweet melody of your giggle through the shop. yeonjun has filled up one of your arms by now and half of the other– a garden, flowers, bees, butterflies, tattoos that were so undoubtedly you he couldn’t even make fun of you for them. he wouldn’t expect you to have anything else.

his favorite, though, was the YJ right above your hip. it was in yeonjun’s own handwriting, a doodle he marked on your skin for life, late at night after too many drinks – it was like he was in high school again. that was four months in.

that night, yeonjun felt the closest thing to his entire world caving in on him – he needed to go. he stared at the scribble on your hip while his face was buried between your thighs, you were writhing above him, hands buried in his hair, you always looked so fucking gorgeous like that. instead of being focused on you, determined to push you over the edge like usual, yeonjun’s head was clouded – hazy. he wondered how a person he’d met by chance just a few months ago could become so important, so detrimental to his life, he feared he would be a shell of himself if you ever chose to leave him.

it terrified him. he’d never felt this way about anyone before.

before that night, your relationship was golden – yeonjun was something out of a dream, a hero, the prince in your story, you were convinced you’d spend your life with him. he was honest, he was smart, he told you everything that he had wrapped up in his complex, dark brain, and you accepted every word that came from his mouth, every thought that popped into his head.

when he left that night, hours after shoving a twelve gauge needle in your skin with ink the color of his hair, you didn’t stress. you woke with a panic, of course, where the hell did your boyfriend go? but after twelve hours of no response, a trip to his shop, a night spent in his favorite bar, hours bent over your ikea bed frame, you knew what this was. you recognized this fear, you saw straight through him, yeonjun wasn’t as masked as he thought himself out to be. you’d shared too much, you knew too much about one another for yeonjun to be anything but transparent.

you paid attention. late nights, coming home smelling like another woman’s perfume, earrings that fell from his pocket when you did laundry, long and short pink and blonde and brown pieces of hair found around every inch of your apartment – you looked at the tattoo that sat above your hip, you knew there was no one else for you in the world. if yeonjun wanted to play the game, you’d play it too, you’d play it better.

the first three or four or twenty two times you did it – yeonjun didn’t notice. you even sent him home in one of yeonjun’s tees, one of his favorites, one that you successfully convinced yeonjun he left at his own apartment. when he couldn’t find it there, it wasn’t your issue anymore – with half of your wardrobe in two different places, you’re bound to lose a shirt or two.

it was only when you got sloppy, when you wanted him to notice, that he did. two months in, six and a half months after your relationship began, he’d caught you and you were so fucking close to convincing him that he didn’t.

“we’re fucking done,” he was seething as you stepped out of the shower, wrapping a plush beige towel around your torso, no effort needed to keep yourself calm.

“why’s that?” you continued to feign innocence, stepping in front of the mirror to start applying your skincare, not even glancing at the man who stood next to you, his hands balled into fists.

“i know you fucked someone tonight,” his voice was stern, it was hideous on him. you loved the cool, calm yeonjun better – you loved your yeonjun, the one you spent endless nights with, looking through his sketchbook, where he showed you all of his doodles, his drawings, when he let himself be the most vulnerable. “there’s no use in denying it, v.”

“and what have you been doing for the past two months, yeonjun?” your head snapped to look at him, your voice matching his, cadence slipping into something more harsh, laying yourself bare for him. you supposed your time was up. his mouth opened and closed.

“great,” his head dropped, low, sarcastic laughter slipping from his lips, “you fuck someone and blame it on me? project your cheating onto me?”

“there’s no use denying it, jun. have you talked to beomgyu? maybe you should ask him what he did after he dropped you off.”

you physically watched his face turn red – ears hot, crimson bubbling up from his chest to his throat to his face – you had to stop yourself from smiling. he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, and you slept like a baby. freshly fucked, coming down from a solid drunk, you felt brand new.

it was a week before you saw him again – honestly, you were shocked it took that long. that gorgeous, long black hair that curled around his ears, peeked from the hem of his hoodie, you longed to touch it, feel it between your fingers. he looked like he hadn’t slept since the last time he saw you, his bags sat heavy, dark, in your entryway, key in hand. you wanted to take care of him, wanted him to get a good night’s rest – next to you.

you sat on your couch, not a muscle to be moved in his direction, the two of you just stared at each other from across the room. moments went by, you’re sure maybe a full minute, then he was pacing towards you.

“hello?” you asked in disbelief and concern before he was pulling you up by your wrists, smashing his lips against yours. his lips tasted of whiskey, neat, cigarette smoke, menthol. you thought maybe you were addicted to tobacco too from the way his mouth felt euphoric against yours, an old friend you’d missed. it’s only been a week but it could’ve been a year for all you knew.

“you’re mine, you know that?” he’d asked between kisses, his mouth swallowing yours, his tongue stealing the words you couldn’t begin to think let alone speak. instead you nodded into his lips, fingers tangling in his hair, body forcing itself into his, you missed him. you missed his smell, his touch, the feeling of him against you, you missed everything. you never wanted to part from him again.

he had you split open on the couch as he knelt on the floor, head between your thighs again, eyes trained on the YJ that sat on your hip. he hadn’t seen it in a week, his brand on you, his initials that were inked into your skin for the rest of your life – he missed being between your legs, missed tasting you, missed taking everything you had to fucking offer. he missed you, his other half, the monster he created, his comfort, his home.

yeonjun would be lying if he said he was willing to part ways with you, but he’d also be lying if he said he was willing to acknowledge to the full extent of what he felt for you. yeonjun felt betrayed, played, messed with, like you snuck into his brain and plucked every single thought out of his head and fucking warped it. god, he loved you. he was so scared.

he told you as he barreled into you, fucking you like he hated you, whispering those words in a choked breath over and over into the shell of your ear. he couldn’t believe he was admitting it, couldn’t believe he was saying those three little words – you’re different, you’re everything. he loved you.

the months to follow were dancing right on the edge, together, but not quite. apart, but were you ever really apart? every night, wrapped in your sheets or his sheets – always someone’s sheets, always together. you never discussed sleeping with beomgyu, yeonjun never brought it up again, he looked back at that moment in his head and all he saw was weakness, a time where he let you slip away – let you get away from him. you never spoke of it, but it was always there, between the two of you like a wall.

that wall that stood between you was tall and rock solid, unlike the glass doors to yeonjun’s head, yeonjun’s thoughts, that wall of his was unbreakable – even when he came home smelling like burberry her again no argument in the world could pry that night out of him again.

you knew better this time than to try with beomgyu again, he hadn’t reached out since the night yeonjun left your apartment, you knew better than to try with anyone. instead of fighting fire with fire, you got distant, you spoke less, you asked less, you tried less. you became the ghost of his pretty, bright eyed girlfriend, one that had been to hell and back, one that learned from her mistakes. you became a reflection of yeonjun.

yeonjun checked his phone after his client, only two hours had gone by, surprisingly enough. it was a solid first session for his client’s leg sleeve, but his bones were aching, his eyes sore from being focused for so long.

v: you left the fucking lights on

#choi yeonjun #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun #tomorrow x together #txt smut #txt x you #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt #i have a crush on choi yeonjun

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evan-collins90 · 4 months ago

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Zorine's (nightclub) - Chicago, IL (1976)

"Although we never entered a speakeasy during Prohibition Days, it must have been something like the experience we had on our first visit to Zorine's shortly after it had opened last January.

Only the address indicated we were at the right place.

Otherwise, we faced a nondescript glass door in the window wall at one end of a new brick building. Inside, there was nothing but a counter where a host opened another door concealed in the brick wall behind him and ushered us into a darkly lit, circular vestibule. Here, we waited while someone was dispatched to find the project's interior designer and co-owner, Richard Himmel, ASID.

Wearing a light colored suit and shirt open at the throat--de rigueur for the surroundings--Richard Himmel emerged from the crowded lounge and led us on a tour of the club. First, we went to one of the two balconies where small tables accommodate groups of two. From here we could look down onto the main dining area and the glass dance floor in which lights flashed in synchronization to the booming disco music.

Next, we went into the buffet area with its copious spread of hot and cold food, and then into the lounge and bar where we were shown the clear plastic piano and rhinestone lady mirrors.

After Himmel had introduced us to the project director, Gregory Stratman, he looked around at the full tables and smiled. "You can't do this kind of a job without some laughing at yourself," he began. Calling it a "very cerebral job," but one that required a "certain amount of glibness," he explained that it was designed to appeal to the young person who "ten years ago was told to cut his hair but who is now a success." In answer to our "nuts-and-bolts" questions, he explained that the place seats 230 and is open from 5 PM to 4 AM. He owns it in partnership with Arnold Morton who owns Arnie's, the well known restaurant next door in the same building. Zorine is Mrs. Morton.

Its style? "I meant it to be a departure from the natural look," Himmel explained. "It is not strictly Art Deco or Art Moderne but a combination of both, a reinterpretation of the roots of modernity and the machine age in a contemporary version of a 20's or 30's nightclub."

Lighting, he informed us, was of prime importance. "The intent was to imbue the entire space with a peach-like glow that makes everyone look beautiful. We attained this effect by working the dimmers and changing the bulbs."

As goodbyes were said, our host looked around again and beaming a broad smile asked, "It doesn't look cerebral, does it?"

Description & scans are from the Nov. 1976 issue of Interior Design Magazine

#design #interior design #interiors #architecture #colorful #my scans #1970s #1976 #70s #disco #discotheque #chicago #illinois #art deco #geo-glam

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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Winter Solstice | Yan!HOTD

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Merry Christmas, my dear readers! I wish you a great day and a prosperous New Year! I hope you enjoy this Christmas special with our yandere family from HOTD! Good reading, forgive me for any mistakes and once again, have a great holiday to you ❤️🎄.

❝warnings: yandere themes, mention of death and obsessive and possessive behavior.

❝🐉word count: 1,941.

A long, long time ago, when the Earth was young and the days were short, people looked up to the sky with wonder and awe. They watched the Sun rise and fall over the horizon, its heat bringing life to the earth and its dark nights bringing a deep sleep to the world.

In the ancient realm of the seasons, each cycle marked the eternal dance between light and dark. As winter approached, a whisper spread through nature. Leaves fell from the trees, animals sought shelter and the nights extended, enveloping the world in a blanket of darkness and cold.

It was the time of the Winter Solstice, a magical moment when the Earth seemed suspended between extremes. People gathered around campfires, telling stories of times gone by, sharing warmth and hope amid the impending darkness.

On the eve of the longest night of the year, eyes turned to the sky, waiting for the miracle. Slowly, the Sun began its journey towards the horizon, fighting the darkness with its golden light. The stars twinkled above, bearing witness to the celestial spectacle.

And then, in the most sublime moment, the Sun began to rise, rising majestically into the sky. The colors of dawn painted the landscape, and people celebrated the rebirth of the Sun, knowing that light and warmth would return to the world. It was a symbol of renewal, hope and the continuous cycle of life.

On the Winter Solstice, people came together to celebrate the courage of the light that faces the darkness, remembering that even in the darkest moments, there is always the promise of rebirth and the light that returns to warm the hearts and illuminate the souls ways.

It had always been your favorite time of year, you loved how the snow fell from the sky and painted everything white, the food, the exchange of gifts and most importantly, it was when your whole family was together. You appreciated more than anything the few moments of peace that your family spent during that date, all happy and together. Like a big, loving family.

Having them all together was what you loved most as you grew up. All the disputes, the fights seemed to disappear during this time of year. Your heart and mind were at peace.

The green of the forest and the fiery red of love and passion. Its fabric was as soft as a spring breeze, a harmonious blend of silk and cotton that moved like leaves dancing in the wind. The predominant green was reminiscent of treetops, its hue varying from a lush emerald green to softer nuances, like newborn buds. The waist was accentuated by a deep red belt, as if it were the blush of the petals of a passionate rose. The intense tone stood out, creating a magnificent contrast with the lush greenery, and a decorative bow added a touch of elegance.

Something beautiful and elegant, with both of your family colors. Of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. There was some small, discreet blue embroidery that symbolized the Velaryon, subtle but standing out in its own way.

You turned to your maid who was looking at you with affection, you smiled at her, ''What do you think, Diane?''

She smiled widely, ''You looked incredible, my princess/prince. A suitable choice for a dinner with your family.'' There was a hint of worry in her tone, but you just held her hands and squeezed them gently.

''Don't worry, Diane. Everything will be fine.''

She nodded, ''Yes... Do you want me to accompany you to where the banquet will be held?''

You politely denied, ''No, but thank you.''

A hint of disappointment flashed in her brown eyes, but she just smiled and after a simple bow, she left the room. You took a deep breath and looked at the ring that adorned your finger, a gift from your grandfather, Viserys. He was sick and you swore to yourself that you would do everything to make this dinner enjoyable for him. He deserved it.

Just as you expected, everything was impeccable and your family was already waiting for you. A majestic dining room, adorned with golden chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting soft light on long solid wood tables.

The walls were covered with richly embroidered tapestries, depicting scenes from Targaryen history and grand festivities. The polished stone floor gleamed in the light of the torches that adorned the walls, reflecting the grandeur of the space.

In the center of the room, a long table stretched out, covered in an immaculate linen tablecloth and decorated with wildflower arrangements and heraldry of noble families. Silver candelabras exuded a soft glow, while golden goblets glittered in the dancing light of the flames.

Music filled the atmosphere as skilled musicians played lutes, flutes and harps, entertaining guests with happy melodies and lively dances.

''(Y/N)!'' Your mother's excited voice called out to you and you smiled at Rhaenyra, who quickly hugged you, placing her head against the crook of your neck, ''You look great, sweetheart.''

''Thanks, mom. You look great too.'' And indeed, she did. Rhaenyra wore a dark red dress decorated with gold that fit her perfectly. She pulled back a little and smiled at you.

''(Y/N)! We're here.'' On one side of the table, your younger brothers sat. You looked at Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey, who were smiling at you. You kissed Rhaenyra's cheek and went to sit next to your brothers. Or you tried, for that matter.

For you were quickly pulled to the side as Aegon grabbed you and pulled you closer to him, Aemond, and Helaena. You smiled at your aunt and uncles and greeted them.

''Sit with us.'' Aegon asked and pointed to an empty chair next to Helaena who was smiling sweetly at you. You looked nervously at your brothers, who were staring at Aegon with disdain.

Aemond frowned and placed a hand over your shoulder, ''Come, stay with us.'' His tone said there was no room for argument.

Luckily for you, the doors opened and revealed Viserys along with Alicent, both smiling when they saw you. You apologized to your aunt and uncles and quickly walked over to your grandparents, helping Viserys sit down.

''Ah, (Y/N)... You look great!'' Viserys praised you, as soon as he sat down. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek in thanks.

Alicent pulled you into a tight hug, ''My husband is right, you look great. This shade of green suits you very well.'' She murmured and walked away hesitantly, adjusting your clothes. You kissed your face.

''Thanks. You look amazing too.'' She smiled in response and held your hands, squeezing them gently.

After a few minutes of talking to your grandparents, you walked over to your father and uncle, who were sitting next to each other. Laenor smiled widely and pulled you into a tight hug, not wanting to let go. He only let go when Daemon cleared his throat, irritated.

Laenor rolled his eyes and let go of you, staring at Daemon with an iron gaze. Daemon returned the same look and you acted quickly before they fought.

''Happy Solstice to you both.'' You said, twiddling your fingers nervously. Daemon smiled and patted you on the shoulder twice, pulling you into a hug. You hugged him back.

''Happy Solstice, my child.'' Laenor said after you and Daemon parted ways.

''Happy Solstice, (Y/N).'' Daemon said, looking at you softly. You thanked them and apologized as you left them, wanting to greet your other family members. You spotted Baela and Rhaena sitting near your brothers and quickly walked over to them.

''Finally. I thought you would never come and talk to us.'' Baela complained and got up from the chair and hugged you tightly, ''I missed you, cousin.''

You returned the hug tightly, smiling at her words, ''I missed you too, cousin.''

Rhaena cleared her throat and stood up, hugging you as you and Baela separated.

You smiled at the squeeze and said, ''I missed you too, Rhaena.''

Joffrey got out of his chair and jumped into your arms, laughing loudly when you caught him in a tight hug.

''You're getting too big for me to keep doing this.'' You laughed and rolled him over, placing him on the floor. Russing his dark hair, you smiled when he laughed. You hugged Luke, who seemed especially clingy today. Jace also hugged you tightly and wished you a Happy Solstice.

After talking for a while with your brothers and cousins, you went to greet your paternal grandparents. Rhaenys and Corlys were sitting next to Otto, oddly enough, and the three of them looked at you with affection.

''Grandmother.'' You kissed Rhaenys's cheek who kissed yours back.

''Grandpa.'' You hugged Corlys and he hugged you back and complimented the blue details on your outfit.

''Otto.'' You greeted your great-grandfather, who smiled warmly at you. He seemed relaxed and calm, more so than he normally was.

''Shall we have dinner in honor of this happy day?'' Viserys's loud voice sounded in the room and everyone focused on the King. There was a bit of tension about where you should sit, but you chose next to Viserys and Rhaenyra, who shook your hand under the table.

Servants brought silver trays loaded with delicious delicacies. Large roasts of meat browned on skewers, exuding a tantalizing aroma of exotic spices. Tables were adorned with fresh fruit, from crimson apples to juicy grapes, and freshly baked bread that looked like it had come straight from the oven.

Plenty of wine circulated among everyone and soon everyone was laughing and talking. Your heart felt lighter when you saw your entire family happy, getting along for the first time in a long time.

After the banquet, you all went to one of the rooms of the castle, where the gifts were. The exchange went well, you received gifts from everyone individually and you presented them with what you carefully chose. Ser Criston was present and you gave him a gift too, under the watchful eye of your family, a pure Valyrian steel sword. He smiled in thanks and said he would give you a gift later.

When it seemed like the exchange of gifts was over, Otto said, ''We have a special gift for you, (Y/N). From all of us.'' He gestured to your entire family, who looked on expectantly. You took the gift from his hand, a wooden box with gold details, which was well packaged.

As soon as you opened it, all the color in your face disappeared. It was a head, a human head. You felt like you were going to throw up when you recognized the head. Diane, your servant.

''W-What is this?!'' You groaned, the words stuck in your throat as you held the box, your legs shaking as terror invaded your body. Everyone seemed calm, even Viserys.

''This is our gift to you, my child.'' Rhaenyra said and approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder, ''To remind you not to approach anyone.''

''They can't be trusted,'' Alicent began to say, ''Diane couldn't be trusted. Criston was the one who cut off her head and Rhaenyra, Helaena and I cradled her. The choice of the box was Daemon's.''

They looked at you expectantly, as if they hoped you really liked the gift. Your hands were shaking so much that the box fell to the floor, Diane's severed head falling to the floor.

A perfect ending to a loving Winter Solstice with your family, from their perspective.

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springtyme · 3 months ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬 ♡

Spencer Reid x reader || Main masterlist || Spencer playlist

summary: You and Spencer spends a beautiful autumn afternoon together.

word count: 1.1k

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏) 𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩

The satisfying sound of fallen leaves crunching under your boots is the soundtrack to your afternoon with Spencer. You’re currently walking hand-in-hand through the park near his apartment, the crisp autumn air making you shiver despite the warmth of his hand in yours. His other hand, which isn’t occupied by holding yours, is buried deep in the pocket of his jacket.

He’s quiet, lost in his own thoughts with his gaze turned to the ground, analyzing the leaves, their colors, their shapes, their different levels of. decay.

You love hearing him talk, love hearing him share the fascinating thoughts and facts that swirl in his mind like the leaves dancing around your feet. But you also love when he gets quiet like this, a reflective look in his eyes as he studies the world around him.

You glance at him, the soft light filtering through the trees casting a warm glow on his features. His brow is slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. You can’t help but smile; there’s just something so captivating about the way he immerses himself in the moment, as if the universe is unfolding its secrets right in front of him.

“Spencer?” you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence, pulling him out of his reverie. He lifts his head, his gaze meeting yours, a spark of curiosity flickering in his hazel eyes.

“Yeah?” he replies, a hint of surprise in his voice as if he was pulled back from another dimension.

“What are you thinking about?”

He chuckles lightly, the rich sound warming the cool air between you. “Just the leaves, the way the light filters through them... it’s quite fascinating.”

You smile. His fascination with the simple things never fails to charm you.“Yeah, they’re beautiful,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, and he looks at you, his eyes shining with a warmth that sends a jolt through your heart. “I think this is my favorite time of the year.”

“Did you know that the color change in autumn leaves is due to the breakdown of chlorophyll?” he begins, his voice low and soft, like a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. “As the days get shorter and the temperature gets cooler, the tree stops producing chlorophyll, revealing the other pigments present in the leaves.”

You smile, glancing at him. “No, I didn’t know that. That is so cool.”

He nods, clearly in his element now, animated by the topic. “It’s amazing how life works, right? Like how the trees prepare for the winter. They let go of what’s no longer necessary and focus on survival. It’s a beautiful metaphor on so many levels.”

You listen, captivated, but the chill in the air nudges you, sending a shiver down your spine. Spencer notices your distress immediately, his eyes softening with concern. “Are you cold?” he asks, his hand reaching for your scarf , his touch lingering a beat too long as he carefully adjusts it around your neck, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

“Just a little.”

“You know,” he says, his voice a comforting murmur, “there’s this new coffee shop that opened just around the corner. Maybe we should go get warmed up?”

You nod, a grateful smile spreading across your face. “That sounds perfect.”

As you walk with Spencer toward the coffee shop, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet accompanies each lightweight step. You steal glances at him as he walks, the warm hues of autumn illuminating his features like a natural spotlight.

As you approach the coffee shop, you feel the intoxicating aroma of fresh coffee wafting through the air. The shop itself is cozy and inviting, with warm browns and creams dominating its aesthetics, filled with the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans and the chatter of other patrons. It’s a stark contrast to the quiet of the park, but the same feeling of peace envelops you.

As Spencer orders your drinks, you find yourself drawn to a bookshelf filled with well-worn paperbacks. You pick up a book, its pages filled with the scent of old paper and coffee. It’s a worn copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’, a book you’d always meant to read but never got around to. You find a table, a cozy spot in a quiet corner where you and Spencer have a good view of the window.

“Found something interesting?” Spencer asks, his voice a warm rumble beside you.

“Mm,” you hum, showing him the book, and he smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Ah, Wuthering Heights, that’s quite the classic. I have always liked it, even though I found it to be really sad, I can see why it intrigues so many. The tumultuous love story and the moody landscapes—it has this certain haunting beauty to it. The way Emily Brontë captures the rawness of love and despair, how it can be both beautiful and completely destructive… It’s pretty remarkable,” he says.

You nod, flipping through the dog-eared pages, feeling the weight of history in your hands. “I’ve heard so much about it, but I never took the plunge. It always seemed a bit daunting.”

Spencer leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sometimes, it’s those daunting books that end up surprising you the most. They take you on a journey you didn’t even know you wanted to go on.”

You glance outside where the leaves are rustling in the mild wind, streaks of red gently dancing on the trees. “I think I’m ready for a journey,” you reply, a hint of excitement in your voice.

“I’ll read it with you, if you want that,” he offers, his smile widening. “We can discuss it over coffee. I’m definitely down for that adventure.”

“Really?” You can’t help but smile at the idea. “That would be fun.”

Before you can say more, the barista calls out Spencer’s name, and he stands up to retrieve your drinks. As he walks away, you can’t help but notice how the light catches his hair, and an unexpected flutter of anticipation dances in your chest.

When he returns, he hands you your drink before settling back into his chair, eyes gleaming with warmth. “Thank you,” you say, wrapping your hands around the warm ceramic, relishing the soothing heat that seeps into your palms. You take a sip, and the smooth flavor envelops your senses, making you smile even more.

“You're welcome,” he says, watching you with an amused expression before taking a sip from his own mug.

You both settle into a comfortable rhythm, sipping your drinks and sharing stories about the most memorable books you’ve read. As the conversation flows, laughter mixes with quiet moments of contemplation, each sip warming the air around you like a cozy blanket.

Outside, the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the park, a brilliant backdrop for the end of a beautiful day.

#springtyme writes #springtyme october challenge 24 #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #flufftober #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid drabble #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagine

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natsaffection · 1 year ago

Text

Kingdom of Secrets | Prologue | N. Romanoff

Knight!Natasha x younger!princess!Reader

MINOR DNI!! (18+!)

warnings: age gap (Natasha is 16 when she comes to the palace and the reader is 4 years old. At the end of this chapter Natasha is 33 and reader 21) fingering, begging, crying

word count: 4,5k

A/n: welcome to the prologue of Kingdom of Secrets! (Yes the title has a meaning) This is just the opening chapter. So it's not the first real part. It cost me already tears because I wanted it to come across the way people spoke back in the Middle Ages..so please give feedback!🫂

In the heart of the great kingdom of Celestria, where emerald fields stretch as far as the eye can see and spires kiss the sky, there was great anticipation in the royal court. King Alistair and Queen Seraphina Dawn, the beloved rulers of the realm, had long yearned for an heir to carry on the legacy of their noble lineage. The palace echoed with the whispers of courtiers as news spread of a momentous event.

Queen Seraphina was expecting a child.

Months passed, each one accompanied by prayers and whispered hopes echoing through the halls of the palace. The kingdom collectively held its breath, waiting for the joyous news that would bring new life to the royal family. The gardens adorned with blooming flowers bore witness to the ebb and flow of the seasons, reflecting the anticipation within the palace walls.

And then, as the golden colors of autumn tinged the landscape, the long-awaited moment arrived. Like a melody of hope, the announcement resounded through the kingdom and spread from town to town. Queen Seraphina had given birth to a daughter, a shining beacon of joy in the embrace of her parents' love.

The kingdom erupted in jubilation. Banners swayed in the fresh breeze, their colors dancing to the rhythm of the joy that flowed through the streets. The citizens rushed to the gates of the palace in their finest clothes to join in the royal rejoicing. The sweet scent of flowers was in the air and the distant sounds of musicians tuning their instruments heralded the great celebrations to come.

Inside the palace, the little princess lay in her mother's arms, wrapped in a tapestry of delicate silk. Queen Seraphina's eyes, glistening with tears of happiness, met King Alistair's gaze, a silent exchange that spoke volumes about the unspoken journey they had traveled to reach this blessed moment.

As the sun sank below the horizon, the palace gates opened to welcome the many well-wishers. The Great Hall, decorated with golden tapestries and crystal chandeliers, shone in the light of a thousand candles. Laughter and chatter filled the air as nobles, commoners and dignitaries alike joined in the celebration.

In the midst of this splendor, the little princess lay in her crib, surrounded by a symphony of admiration. Her tiny fingers, like rose petals, grasped at the air as if reaching for the love that surrounded her. The flickering candlelight painted her delicate features and cast a warm, ethereal glow on her.

Y/n, as she would later be called, became the beacon of hope that united the kingdom. Her laughter echoed through the palace like silver bells, eliciting smiles from all who basked in her innocent radiance. The court musicians, attuned to the heartbeat of the celebration, played melodies that blended with the collective heartbeat of the kingdom, a harmonious testament to the unity created by the birth of the princess.

Over the years, the princess's birthdays became a cherished tradition. The kingdom celebrated with greater fervor each year, turning the anniversary of her birth into a grand spectacle. The gardens, where once the whispers of anticipation could be heard, now bloomed in vibrant colors that reflected the princess's exuberant spirit.On her birthdays, the people of Celestria gathered to honor their beloved princess. The streets were lined with stalls selling sweet treats and enchanting trinkets. Musicians played lilting melodies and performers brought fairy tales to life through dance and theater. But amidst the splendor, it was Y/n herself who was in the spotlight.

Her laughter, the elixir that had breathed life into the kingdom years ago, echoed through the air. The joy that emanated from her was infectious and transformed the celebration into a mosaic of smiles and shared happiness. Y/n had become the living embodiment of the kingdom's dreams with her sparkling eyes and a heart full of kindness.

As Y/n grew, so did the kingdom around her. The once silent halls of the palace echoed with the footsteps of a vibrant princess whose spirit danced like the sunlight that fell through the leaves. She became a symbol of hope, bridging the realms of royalty and commonality - a beacon of unity for a kingdom that had waited with bated breath for her arrival.

And so, under the golden skies of Celestria, the royal court and citizens celebrated the birth of their princess, whose laughter echoed throughout the kingdom, mingling with the melodies of joy that had marked her grand entrance into the world.

But a shadowy group lurked in the hidden corridors beneath the splendor of the kingdom. Unseen and unheard, this gang shrouded in mystery plotted insidiously to infiltrate the royal house.

In the dimly lit chamber adorned with ancient symbols, the agents of the group - Shadows of Darkness - received a chilling instruction. The leaders, shrouded in the cloak of shadows, readjusted their strategy. Princess Y/n, an unforeseen variable, demanded an adjustment to their malevolent plans.

As Y/n's laughter rang through the palace, the group's secret game unfolded on an invisible chessboard. The birth of the princess upset their carefully laid plans and brought an element of unpredictability into play. Beneath the surface of the festivities, a calculated dance played out, where joyful echoes collided with the malice lurking in the shadows. Citizens and royalty revelled in blissful ignorance, unaware of the ominous threat lurking in the hidden corners of the palace. A dangerous dance began. One in which the laughter of a princess served as an eerie soundtrack to a covert operation that would reshape Celestria's destiny.

As daylight bathed the kingdom in golden hues, the shadowy group moved in secrecy. Their ominous influence extended to unsuspecting future queens. The dark puppet, manipulated by unseen hands, infiltrated the royal court and left a menacing presence.

The king, who had followers in every country, became aware of the terrifying power. Fearing for his family and the future of his country, he had his troops strengthened and also looked for a guardian for his daughter. So he spread the word throughout the country that a tournament was to be held in the late evening and that the bravest and strongest fighters were to take part.The anticipation of the great tournament was in the air that day. The king, seeking the perfect protector for his most precious treasure, gathered warriors from faraway lands. Men vying for the honor of protecting the jewel of the realm presented themselves in the arena.

The tournament, a spectacle of skill and courage, began with the clash of swords and the thundering hooves of warhorses. Knights from all corners of the realm showcased their skills, a dance of blades played out under the watchful eyes of the royal court.

As the dust settled and countless fighters succumbed to the skill of their opponents, there was a quiet tension among the spectators. The king, seated on his magnificent throne, surveyed the remaining warriors, his keen eyes searching for the one who would serve as a shield against the impending danger to the princess. Then, amidst the remaining fighters, a lone, young figure emerged, clad in armor that seemed to absorb the essence of the shadows. The air fell silent as this knight stepped forward, exuding an aura of fear and admiration. A murmur went through the audience, a collective acknowledgement that a formidable force had entered the arena.

The king, mesmerized and wary, leaned forward in his throne, a silent question etched on his regal countenance. "Tell me, what is a child doing on the field?" he asked his 1st in command. He bowed to his king, "Forgive me, my majesty, but you emphasized that the gates were open to anyone carrying a sword." The king forced the moment back into his mind and now looked further down, at the person.

At that very moment, the mysterious knight removed the helmet, revealing a cascade of fiery red hair framing a face marked by the scars of countless battles. Her piercing gaze, a mixture of steel and determination, met the king's eyes with an unwavering intensity. A murmur went through the hall as the realization set in. "Lady, Natalia Alianovna Romanoff," someone breathed, the name inspiring both awe and fear. As the first young woman to be knighted, Natasha was widely known, and her accomplishments on the battlefield were whispered about in saintly tones. The king, who also learned of her presence, widened his eyes.

As she approached the king, Natasha dropped to one knee, a sign of respect and submission. Her armor bore the marks of countless victories, and the sword at her side was a testament to her skill as a warrior.

"Your Majesty," Natasha's voice, a symphony of authority and humility, echoed through the arena. "I am Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, sworn to protect those deemed worthy of the Empire's protection. I offer my skills and loyalty to defend your princess, the jewel of Celestria." The king, observing the steely determination in Natasha's eyes, pondered her words. Isn't she too young to be a knight? Presently good..She could form a bond with Y/n. He thought.

The court remained in a collective breathless pause, awaiting the monarch's decision. After a moment's thought, the king nodded, a gesture that echoed through the arena like a decree.

"Lady Natasha Romanoff, rise. You have proven that you are an excellent Fighter. May the realm be witness to your service as my daughter's protector."

The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and whispers in appreciation of the gravity of the moment. Natasha rose from her knees and hid her features behind her helmet again. With measured steps, she returned to the ranks of the assembled knights, her presence leaving an indelible impression on the tournament and setting the stage for a new chapter in the kingdom's saga. Since then, the unique bond between the young princess and the fearless knight began to grow. Y/n, a little bundle of joyful energy, zoomed through the flowerbeds. "Tasha, look, I can fly!" she cried, spreading her tiny arms. Natasha, with a smile on her lips, leaned down. "Really? Show me, little whirlwind." And chase her through the field.

"Tasha, why are you so strong?" asked Y/n three years later, while they were playing in the halls. Natasha, with a mischievous smile, replied, "Strength comes not only from muscles, but also from courage and determination, my Princess."

The royal parents, from their thrones, watched the scene with warm smiles. "Look how Natasha is teaching our daughter," said the queen. The king nodded proudly. "A bond strengthened not only by duty, but also by the heart..I could not have chosen anyone better."

In the shelter of the pavilion, Y/n and Natasha talked about the years of shared experiences. "Promise me, Natasha, that you will always be by my side," Natasha, serious yet tender, replied, "As long as I breathe, I will watch over you, Princess."

Over the years, not only did Y/n grow up, but so did the love between her and Natasha. Adventures together, laughter and tears formed a bond that blurred the boundaries between princess and protector.

At the age of 20, Y/n found herself in the midst of an inner turmoil. The years had passed since Natasha had taken up residence as her protector, and a subtle change was creeping into the princess's mind.

In the quiet moments when the sun slowly disappeared behind the palace walls, Y/n discovered a growing urge to seek Natasha's closeness. Every look from the knightess, every gentle touch, seemed to break through an invisible barrier within Y/n.

The glances Natasha cast across the ballroom as they shared in royal festivities carried a deeper meaning. Y/n recognized the warmth in Natasha's eyes, which came not only from her proximity to the king, but betrayed something more intimate. Uncertainty gnawed at Y/n as she thought about these growing feelings. Society, royal expectations, all created a veil that kept her growing affection for Natasha hidden.

The Royal Mother observed the subtle changes in Y/n's behavior, but the secret remained hidden between the lines. Y/n felt her heart beat faster when she faced Natasha, and the soft sighs that escaped her were carried on the winds of fate.

One day, Natasha, bathed in sweat from the rigorous training session, gracefully moved through the courtyard, effortlessly wrestling each knight that dared to cross her path to the ground. As Y/n strolled through the palace, she unexpectedly caught sight of Natasha in action, sans her usual formidable armor.

Mesmerized by the raw power and agility on display, Yn found it challenging to look away. Natasha's every move seemed like a choreographed dance of strength and finesse. It was the first time Y/n had seen her like this, vulnerable yet invincible

Natasha, engrossed in her sparring session, sensed Y/n's eyes on her. Mid-wrestle with one of the knights, she subtly shifted her gaze to meet Y/n's, exhaling almost imperceptibly. In that brief connection, Natasha's intense focus softened, and a ghost of a smile played on her lips, as if she had caught Y/n in the act.

Y/n, startled by Natasha's awareness, quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be absorbed in the palace architecture. The blush on her cheeks, however, betrayed her attempt to conceal the intrigue Natasha's athleticism had sparked.

She continued her training, each movement deliberate and powerful. Y/n, despite her efforts to remain discreet, stole occasional glances, hoping Natasha wouldn't notice..

When a maid approached, unaware of the silent exchange, Y/n stammered, "I-I was just, you know, walking around," as she tried to divert attention from the fact that Natasha had momentarily captured her focus. Natasha, still engaged in her training, shot Y/n a knowing look, her eyes betraying a hint of amusement, silently acknowledging the unspoken connection while respecting Y/n's attempt to keep her feelings concealed.

Several hours passed, and Y/n immersed herself in the demands of royal duties. As she diligently attended to matters within the palace, she couldn't shake the memory of Natasha's training session. Much to her surprise, as she returned to the main hall, there was Natasha, seamlessly transitioning from warrior to protector, resuming her role by Y/n's side.

Their eyes met once again, and this time Natasha's expression spoke volumes. A playful glint in her eyes suggested a shared secret, referencing the earlier stolen glances. Y/n couldn't help but smile in response, a subtle acknowledgment of the connection they had formed.

Weeks later when the moon towered over Celestria, Y/n dared a tentative look into Natasha's eyes. It was as if the universe melded their souls together, and in that moment, Y/n knew it was more than mere reverence for the brave knight. The realization that her heart was following a path of love was like the blossoming of a delicate flower within her. But the world she lived in demanded secrecy - a love that blossomed in the shadow of royal duties.

Another year passed and Y/n's duties to the throne drew ever closer. Her parents now saw her as an adult woman who would later rule the people. However, this could not be done alone and the time had come to find a suitable mate. So they embarked on various journeys to neighboring countries to consider their princes and princesses. A point Y/n is proud to show. With all the fuss she secretly has about Natasha, her eyes opened to another part.

It was a sunny day when the royal family were visiting another kingdom. The family was welcomed with joy. But the festive atmosphere was pervaded by an underlying tension. As Y/n strode through the hall in royal garb, she was swarmed by the polite remarks and advances of the foreign prince. The looks he gave her were full of obvious interest, and the smile on his lips betrayed intentions that went beyond polite courtesies.

Natasha, standing in her imposing armor alongside the royal family, felt a flame of jealousy flare up inside her. Every passionate look, every touched hand, felt like a stab in her chest. In a quiet moment, when the prince engaged Y/n in a private conversation, Natasha could hardly bear the sight. Her hands clenched into fists as she inwardly fought back the burning sting of jealousy.

Finally, the festive gathering broke up and the royal family returned to their chambers. The opulent chambers of Y/n awoke to the pale glow of candles as the evening shrouded the royal estate in an atmosphere of twilight. The prince, wearing a polite facade, had made his intentions clear. But Natasha sensed the unease in the air. When the prince attempted to cross the boundaries of politeness and seek out Y/n in her chambers, Natasha turned cold as ice. Her eyes, normally as impenetrable as the darkness, bore into the young nobleman. Without a word, her gaze spoke volumes, and the prince retreated as if he had entered an invisible barrier.

When Natasha entered Y/n's chamber, the discomfort was reflected on Y/n's face. "Thank you.. I was so uncomfortable, but I didn't mean to be rude," Y/n murmured, her voice low in the intimate atmosphere. Natasha stepped closer, her touch cooler than the night breeze blowing through the open window. "My princess, you never have to compromise for politeness."

In a calculated move that blurred the line between protector and seductress, Natasha lifted Y/n's hand and stroked her fingertips over the delicate skin. "Don't let anyone enter your world if you don't want them to. You deserve respect and so much more."

The darkness of the room seemed to tighten around the two of them as Natasha continued, intensifying her own touch. "And maybe, there is someone..who is willing to go deeper than politeness allows."

The words echoed between the walls as the coolness of the night turned into a dance of desire. Y/n sensed the play of shadows as Natasha, took on the role of seductress. A passionate revelation that in the twilight of her chambers revealed a connection that transcended the duties of the royal hall.

The room lost its dimensions in darkness as Natasha and Y/n were caught in a mesmerizing dance of tension. Y/n's heartbeat quickened as Natasha's words sounded like a breath in the night, a promise that implied more than it stated. "Natasha, I don't know what you mean..." whispered Y/n, her voice caught between curiosity and an underlying desire that lingered in the air. Natasha stepped closer, her gaze like the dark veil of night that hid everything and yet revealed everything. "I speak of desire that goes deeper than any protocol that exists within the walls of a palace."

The atmosphere thickened as Natasha began to loosen Y/n's royal robes with deft fingers. "You can feel it, can't you? This suppressed energy between us. It's time to explore the shadows that lurk in the corners of our connection."

Y/n's breathing quickened as the warmth of Natasha's hands touched her skin. A mixture of fear and desire flickered in her eyes as she embraced the unknown.

"N-Natasha, I... Is this right?" asked Y/n, but her reticence was swallowed up by the darkness.

Natasha replied with a cool smile that betrayed a deep, hidden passion. "Right or wrong, Y/n, does not exist in this world of shadows. There is only what you desire and what you are willing to experience." The air between them was charged as Natasha gently placed her lips on Y/n's. A passionate kiss that burned down the blurred lines between duty and desire. Still, Natasha paused for a moment and looked her princess in the eye, “I notice your looks, your breath when I sneak up on you..you’re begging when I retreat to my chambers..” Natasha pushed the princess onto the bed. The redhead had Y/n's legs wide open. Open for her to devour.

Natasha licked her lips, staring at Y/n's underwear, a hungry look in her mouth. Y/n still felt the slight urge to protest. What is she doing here? What happens if her parents find out about this? Are they allowed-

But all words of resistance melted into a moan in her mouth as Natasha opened her entrance with her tongue. She lay down in front of Y/n, lifting the princess's legs by her thighs onto her shoulders. Natasha's tongue turned her princess's moans into groans and then shouts of ecstasy. After tasting Y/n for long enough, Natasha lifted her head. Her mouth was covered in Y/n's fluid, giving her face a glow that Y/n found simply intoxicating.

"How are you feeling? Can I continue?" Natasha's eyes widened as she saw the sight of her ruler. Spread wide and with her hands clenched in the pillows, "K-Keep going please..” Natasha smiled and climbed up to Y/n to take off her dress and while she undressed Y/n, Natasha kissed Y/n and she tasted herself on her lips. Without breaking the kiss, Natasha inserted two of her fingers into Y/n. In response, the young princess let out a deep moan into Natasha's mouth as she slowly penetrated her. As Natasha alternated between driving her index and middle fingers in and out of Y/n's cavity, Y/n was disturbed by the amount of armor Natasha still had on and set about removing it.

Natasha smirked again as she realized what Y/n's plans were and sat back up, "You could have asked, my highness..." Y/n's eyes were wide as she watched Natasha remove every single piece of metal from her body. Eventually it just tinkled on the floor and Natasha stood before her in a white shirt. She wasted no more time and pounced on the young girl again.

"What do you want me to do, princess?" Natasha now asked, breathing in unison with her aroused ruler. She had already slipped a hand between Y/n's thighs and was leaning on her shorts. Y/n knew what Natasha wanted to hear. "Please.." she begged, "fuck me." Natasha watched Y/n's flushed face. It was so, so lewd. This time, however, Natasha stroked a finger over the edge of her labia and felt how far the wetness had spread.

"You really want it, don't you?" said Natasha with a hint of smugness in her voice. Y/n knew it wasn't to humiliate her, but rather to increase her sense of exposure.

Yes, I really fucking want it, Y/n wanted to say, but managed to hold back. Natasha, however, didn't miss the look on her face before she leaned in and slowly kissed Y/n again. She began to run her fingers up and down the wetness between Y/n's legs, stroking slowly and rhythmically.

Y/n held back any sound that wanted to come out of her mouth, knowing there was more to come. A touch slipped past a certain spot so briefly and lightly that Y/n's body flinched in response. Natasha had to keep her senses together, just a little longer. The stroking and kissing gradually became faster, without either of them noticing against the backdrop of their growing arousal. Natasha's fingers were touching Y/n's clit more and more frequently now, and Y/n couldn't keep up, the tension between her legs growing and her mouth remaining slightly open.

"A-A-hh..." she gasped, and her body arched back more and more. She was crying out now, twisting and turning, her clit at the center of the movement, her hands wrapped around Y/ns, her face pressed into her shoulders, her upper body arched so that her breasts and erect nipples moved against Natasha's body in the same rhythm as the caresses between her thighs. "Nat-..Natasha...!" She cried out. "I'm... ah, I'm..."

Natasha kissed her neck in response and concentrated fully on bringing Y/n to climax. She wanted to hear her princess scream, to feel her thrusting against her body in a frenzy of pleasure. She wanted Y/n to lose all inhibitions and move against her hand like a horny slut. Y/n couldn't take it anymore. Her hips and buttocks began to move against Natasha, thrusting towards her with desire, begging her not to stop. It felt so dirty to cooperate and beg so earnestly, but Y/n didn't care about any of it. Natasha moaned along with Y/n and couldn't hold back either after listening to Y/n feel this way about her.

“Cum for me.”

When Y/n heard Natasha's soft and loving voice moaning like that, she shook with pleasure. Her mind went blank. The room disappeared, the bed vanished. The world consisted only of her body, which contracted and pulsated to release all its pent-up arousal in one go. Y/n didn't know how much time had passed while she trembled and shook and moaned, even though she didn't want to. All she knew was that Natasha had been holding her the whole time and watched every single facial feature of her beloved princess.

TAGLIST: @taliiiaasteria @natty-taffy @natashaswife4125 @lifebyinez @aemilia19 @natwifesblog @clearcoloredlenses @ragoshmog @eringranola

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha smut #natasha romanov x reader #dom!natasha x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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hd-junglebook · 9 months ago

Text

It's Always Been You

Part 1 - Word Count 3670

Masterlist

Jack and Y/N had been best friends for as long as she could remember, their lives intertwined like the threads of a tapestry woven by fate. Every day since their mothers met had been spent in each other’s company.

From the innocence of school dances, where the soft melodies filled the air and they'd sway to the rhythm, to the milestones of graduations where the crispness of their graduation gowns brushed against their skin, marking a new beginning.

His hand often found its way to her shoulder, offering comfort during heartfelt moments or playfully nudging her when teasing. Throughout it all, Jack had been a constant presence in Y/N's life, his laughter a familiar sound, and his touch a reassuring gesture.

Y/N's affection for Jack didn't blossom until their freshman year in high school—a tender, all-consuming love that left her breathless, her heart pounding at the mere thought of him. The warmth that spread through her cheeks whenever he smiled in her direction was unmistakable.

She found herself stooping to petty tactics, her hands nervously fidgeting as she whispered rumors about any girl Jack mentioned, her eyes darting around to gauge his reaction, hoping to keep his focus solely on her.

Her body language betrayed her insecurities, her shoulders tense, her posture slightly hunched when around other girls, trying to mark her territory.

She yearned for his attention, her eyes often seeking his across crowded hallways, her fingers subtly tracing patterns on her desk whenever he was near, a silent plea for him to notice her.

Yet, despite her efforts, Jack's gaze never lingered on her the way she longed for. To him, she was nothing more than a cherished sibling, a confidante, and a friend. Y/N's heart would sink like a stone dropped into water every time she caught his eye quickly darting away from her.

Her fingers would nervously twirl a strand of hair, a habitual gesture she adopted when feeling anxious or disappointed. She'd often catch herself biting her lower lip, a subconscious attempt to hold back the feelings threatening to spill out.

Y/N had always known that she wasn't Jack's type, but it didn't make the truth any less painful. As they grew older, the sting of reality felt like a cold gust of wind against her face, sharp and biting. Jack's dream of playing in the NHL became a reality, she resigned herself to the fact that his heart would never belong to her.

When he was drafted, Y/N expected him to leave her behind, to start a new life without the weight of their shared history.

But to her surprise, Jack begged her to come with him, to be his anchor in a strange city where he knew no one.

…

Everyone gathered around the television, waiting for the announcement that would change the course of Jack's life. Luke, Ellen, and Jim had done their best to ease his worries, their laughter echoing through the room as Jack rambled on, his nerves getting the better of him.

Y/N shifted nervously as her vision remained fixed on the television screen in front of her, awaiting the verdict that would change Jack’s life forever.

Her body felt heavy as she leaned against the kitchen island for support, anxiety mounting in her chest with each passing moment as their lives hung in the balance.

The tension of the moment was unbearable, yet she remained silent, praying that the outcome would be positive.

Ellen and Luke had gone all out, decorating the house in the team's colors of red and black. They had invited close friends and even convinced Quinn to come back from Vancouver to support Jack.

The cheering and applause filled the room as the result was announced, filling the air with excitement and joy. Jack’s voice rang above the noise, his eyes searching the crowd for her as his hands raised to his head in disbelief. She had never seen him this excited before, the thrill and joy radiating from him in a way that made her feel a strange wave of happiness wash over her.

The intensity of his gaze swept over the faces, his pupils darting from one to another, the crease in his brow deepening with each passing second. “Y/N?"

The room seemed to spin around him, the bright lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors as he desperately sought the one person he needed to share this moment with.

His heart raced, thudding loudly in his chest, as he desperately scanned the faces of his loved ones.

She was slightly surprised that he had even noticed her among the crowd of people. She had stayed relatively hidden away, standing quietly near the edge of the celebration. She felt slightly touched by the fact that he had called her out, a small smile crossing her face as she stepped forward.

y/n took a deep breath, preparing herself for the impact of his embrace, knowing that it would be both a source of comfort and a reminder of what she could never have. The crowd shifted around them as she moved closer to Jack, the people parting around them as they gave them space.

Jack's eyes locked with hers, and for a moment it seemed like the entire world had come to a halt. His eyes burned with purpose as he moved quickly toward her, his long strides filling the space between them. He slammed into her smaller frame, his arms wrapping firmly around her waist to stead her as he held her close.

She stumbled backward, his warm grasp keeping her upright. His body pressed up against hers, filling her senses with the warmth of his touch. As he held her, she could feel his heart pounding against her chest, the pace matching her own.

The sounds of the celebration around them seemed to fade away as Jack began to cry, his grip on her tightening as he buried his head in the crook of her neck.

The warmth of his body pressed up against her, the feeling of his warmth filling her with an odd mix of joy and heartache. She wrapped her arms around him, cradling him close to her as she held onto him tight, embracing his warmth as she savored the feeling.

"Congratulations, J," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the blurred celebration.

She ran her fingers through his hair, a familiar gesture of comfort that they had shared countless times before. The familiar and almost-automatic nature of the action made her heart ache, reminding her of all the moments they had shared, and all the moments they would never have.

Jack squeezed her tighter, burying himself further into her neck as they remained in a close embrace. His breath came in small hitches, and his body trembled slightly against hers, the adrenaline still coursing through him while the celebration raged on around them.

He pulled back slightly, his hands carefully cupping her face. His eyes were red-rimmed and filled with a mix of happiness and something else that Y/N couldn't quite place. As he leaned his forehead against hers, his breath mingled with hers.

"I couldn't have done this without you, Y/N. You've always been there for me, through everything. I don't know how to do this without you by my side."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, the words she had longed to hear falling from his lips. But she knew that they didn't mean what she wanted them to. Jack needed her as a friend, a confidante, not as a lover. The realization made her throat tighten, but she forced herself to smile, to be the support he needed.

"Come on, don’t get sappy on me,” she choked out, her voice wavering like a fragile leaf caught in a gust of wind. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, the salty taste of them already on her lips. “I'll always be here for you, J. No matter what."

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, a promise that she knew would only bring her more pain.

While party continued, Y/N found herself drifting further into the background, her silence a stark contrast to the festivities that surrounded her. She watched as Jack was embraced by his loved ones, their pride and happiness evident in every hug and handshake.

The thought of Jack leaving, of not having him by her side every day, was almost too much to bear. Y/N had always been there for him, through every triumph and every setback, but now she felt like she was being left behind. She wanted to be happy for him, to share in his joy, but the pain of unrequited love was a heavy weight on her heart.

…

Once the celebration at Jack's parents' house wound down, Y/N found herself standing in the backyard, the cool grass tickling her feet.

The fading hues of blue and orange painted a mesmerizing picture above, mirroring the tumultuous swirl of emotions within her heart. The gentle breeze caressed her skin, teasing the hem of her dress as it fluttered softly around her.

Y/N found herself lost in her thoughts. Unbeknownst to her, Jack watched from the porch, his own thoughts a whirlwind of emotions.

He observed Y/N, captivated by the way the evening light danced upon her features, casting shadows that seemed to dance in harmony with the gentle sway of the trees.

He sat on the porch steps, the soft glow from the porch light casting shadows on his face, she could see he was lost in thought. The glimmer of sadness in her smile went unnoticed as she watched him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the palm of her hand.

She settled beside him, their shoulders barely touching. Jack looked forward, his gaze piercing through the distance between them until it locked with hers. jack took her hands in his, his touch gentle yet firm.

"Y/N," he said softly, his blue eyes shimmering with innocence and sincerity. "I need to ask you something."

She nodded, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a drumbeat, the sound resonating in her ears.

"Will you come with me? To New Jersey?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, filled with hope and uncertainty.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her fingers tightening around his, seeking reassurance as she searched his face for any hint of hesitation or doubt. Confusion mingled with amusement, escaping her lips in a soft laugh. "Jack, stop playing around, it’s not funny."

His expression grew solemn, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a depth of earnestness. His grip on her hands tightened as well, his fingers intertwining with hers in a firm embrace, grounding her in the moment. "I’m serious," he murmured.

"Think about it, we could leave it all behind for a little while," he continued, his voice soft yet persuasive as he continued. "I want you to come with me. I'll take care of everything, I promise," he assured her, his words wrapping around her like a warm blanket. "You won’t have to worry about a thing out there."

Y/N's mind reeled, trying to process his words. Jack proceeded to try and convince her, his voice filled with excitement. "Imagine the life we could have together, Y/N. A fresh start in a new city, just the two of us. We've always been there for each other, and I don't want to do this without you."

She searched his face, looking for any sign that this was a cruel joke, but all she found was innocebce. Her heart ached, the temptation to say yes nearly overwhelming her. But the rational part of her brain reminded her that Jack's feelings for her were not the same as hers for him.

"Jack, I..." she started, her voice trembling. "It’s so sudden and I haven’t prepared anything. What if we stop being friends or what if..."

He pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. "Please, Y/N. I need you. We've always been a team, and I can't imagine doing this without you by my side."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N's eyes as she struggled with the decision. The thought of leaving everything behind terrified her, but the idea of being separated from Jack was even more unbearable.

In that moment, staring into his pleading eyes, she knew she would follow him anywhere, even if it meant sacrificing her own heart in the process. The desperation in his voice tugged at her heartstrings, and despite the agony of being so close to him yet so far from his love, she couldn't refuse him.

…

Y/N plopped down into her seat behind the glass, the arena buzzing with enough energy to power a small country.

It had been a year since Jack's draft day, when she'd made the brilliant decision to uproot her entire life and follow him to the glamorous state of New Jersey. She scanned the ice, trying to spot her best friend among the sea of red and black jerseys.

Tugging at the sleeve of her Hischier jersey, Y/N couldn't help but cringe. The fabric felt like it had been woven from a blend of sandpaper and poison ivy.

"Never letting Jack do the laundry again," she grumbled, glaring down at the oversized jersey that made her look like a kid playing dress-up in her dad's clothes.

Trusting Jack with laundry had been a rookie mistake, but in her defense, she'd been too busy juggling work and her new role as an unofficial NHL WAG (without the benefits) to do it herself.

The Devils had just taken the ice for warmups, and the crowd was already on their feet, cheering like they'd been promised free beer for every decibel they could produce.

Y/N spotted Jack skating around, his movements so fluid and graceful that she half-expected him to start pirouetting at any moment.

Suddenly, he glided up to the glass right in front of her, a coy smile on his face as he took in her annoyed expression. The girls around Y/N screamed, their shrill voices making her eardrums beg for mercy.

Jack tapped his stick against the glass, a playful gesture that made Y/N's heart skip a beat, "You're lucky you're cute, Hughes," she mouthed, narrowing her eyes at him. His grin widened, and he mouthed back, "You love me."

But then, his eyes dropped to the jersey she was wearing, and an angry pout formed on his lips. "Hey, that's not my jersey," he mouthed, his brows furrowing in a way that was both adorable and infuriating.

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, and she silently cursed her face for betraying her emotions. If only Jack knew just how true those words were, and how much she'd given up to be there for him.

But before she could come up with a witty retort, Jack was off, skating away to join his teammates in their pregame rituals.

She leaned back in her seat, resigning herself to a night of itchy fabric, eardrum-shattering screams, and the bittersweet torture of watching the man she loved chase his dreams while she cheered him on from the sidelines.

…

The Devils and Hurricanes were locked in a fierce battle, the scoreboard showing a frustrating tie that refused to be broken. The tension in the arena was palpable, and Y/N could feel it thrumming through her veins as she watched the players slam into each other, their skates carving intricate patterns on the ice.

Her gaze was fixed on Jack, his #86 jersey a beacon amidst the swirling sea of red and black. He lined up for the faceoff, his body tensed like a coiled snake ready to strike.

Even from her seat, Y/N could see the fierce determination burning in his eyes, the set of his jaw that spoke of an unbreakable focus.

This was Jack in his element, a force to be reckoned with, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at the sight of him.

The ref lowered his arm, the puck balanced on his fingertips. Y/N held her breath, her fingers digging into the armrests of her seat.

The arena seemed to freeze, suspended in a moment of anticipation that stretched on for an eternity. And then, with a flick of the ref's wrist, the puck dropped, and all hell broke loose.

The ice exploded into a whirlwind of movement, players slamming into each other with the force of speeding trains. Sticks clashed and skates flashed as they battled for possession, the puck zipping back and forth like a bullet.

Y/N's eyes strained to keep track of it all, her heart in her throat as she watched Jack dart and weave through the chaos.

He moved like a man possessed, his skates cutting through the ice with a grace and precision that left her breathless. Jack dodged checks and spun past defenders, his stick a blur as he fought for control of the puck. Y/N's pulse raced as she watched him, her body instinctively leaning forward as if she could somehow will him to victory.

The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity as the two teams clashed. Jack's face was a mask of concentration, his brow furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

And then, with a burst of speed that left everyone in the dust, Jack broke free. He charged down the ice, the puck clinging to his stick like a magnet.

Y/N's heart soared as she watched him go, her breath catching in her throat as he bore down on the Hurricane's goalie. This was it, the moment they'd all been waiting for, the chance to break the tie and seal the victory.

Y/N gripped the armrests so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her entire body tensed as she watched Jack close in on the net. The arena held its breath, every eye glued to the ice as the drama unfolded. And then, with a flick of his wrist that was almost too fast to see, Jack sent the puck flying, a black blur streaking towards the goal.

The final buzzer sounded, and the Devils left the ice victorious. She made her way down to the locker room, her heart racing with anticipation. She couldn't wait to see him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him how proud she was.

…

Her heart skipped a beat as Jack walked into the locker room, his eyes instantly locking with hers. The rest of the world seemed to fade away as he made his way towards her, his tall frame towering over her smaller one. His hair, still damp from the postgame shower, fell into his face in an unruly mess that somehow only added to his charm.

"Hey, pretty girl," he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. The term of endearment rolled off his tongue with an ease that spoke of familiarity, and Y/N couldn't help but melt a little at the sound of it.

She looked up at him through her lashes, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Hi, love," she whispered back, the words feeling both natural and thrilling at the same time. Around them, the locker room buzzed with activity as Jack's teammates celebrated their hard-fought victory.

"You were amazing out there," she murmured, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I'm so proud of you, Jack."

He grinned down at her, his eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and adoration. "I couldn't have done it without you, Y/N. Knowing you were up there, cheering me on... it means everything to me."

Y/N's heart swelled at his words, a lump forming in her throat.

She felt like she was floating on cloud nine, until the sound of footsteps echoed through the locker room, and Y/N felt Jack stiffen in her arms. Reluctantly, she pulled away, her eyes fluttering open just in time to see a tall, stunning woman enter the room.

The newcomer was breathtaking, with golden hair that seemed to shimmer under the fluorescent lights. She moved with a grace and confidence that was almost otherworldly, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy in her presence.

It was like looking at a living, breathing goddess, someone who belonged on the pages of a magazine or the silver screen.

As the woman drew closer, Y/N's heart began to race, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced up at Jack, searching his face for any sign of recognition or explanation, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the approaching figure.

The woman came to a stop beside them, her full lips curving into a smile that was both dazzling and unsettling. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she took in the newcomer's flawless features, her porcelain skin and piercing blue eyes. It was like staring into the face of perfection, and Y/N felt a sudden, irrational surge of jealousy and fear.

"Jack," the woman purred, her voice like honey and silk. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Y/N's world tilted on its axis, her mind reeling as she tried to process the implications of the woman's words. Who was she? What did she want with Jack? And why did Y/N suddenly feel like an intruder in her own love story?

The air felt heavy with tension and unspoken secrets, and Y/N's heart raced as she struggled to make sense of it all.

She looked up at Jack again, silently pleading for an explanation, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. Instead, he cleared his throat, his voice strained as he replied, "Daph. What are you doing here?"

The woman – Daph, likely Daphne - laughed, the sound like tinkling bells. "Can't a girl surprise her boyfriend after a big game?"

And with those words, Y/N's world shattered, the pieces falling around her like shards of broken glass. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

…

@ivy-34 @rebelatbay

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crossfandomslut · 7 months ago

Text

At Peace in Your Fire (pt2)

Summary: Y/n goes into the the Cauldron, and ends up in Velaris. A strange place with a sentient house and hopefully some new friends. Y/n much navigate what being fae means for her now.

Pairing: Future Eris x Reader ! Eris is in this chapter y'all! It's not much haha I'm dragging it out !

Word Count: 4,900

Notes: I'm so glad people liked the first chapter and I hope you stick with me to see where this story goes ! I wanted to get to know the reader a bit more, and have interactions with the other characters to add depth to the story and who the reader is so that she's not just some rando haha Please comment your thoughts and opinions, I love hearing what you liked about it so I can try to make each chapter better than the last ! Hugs <3

Find part 1 here

Her life flashed before her eyes as the Cauldron scanned through her every memory, as if in search of an answer, but she didn’t know what the question was. All she felt was cold. As the Cauldron raked through images of their mother and her neglect as Feyre and Y/n did whatever they could to get her attention. Even if she was yelling at them, it was better than being ignored. It took Y/n a long time to realize that Nesta wasn’t ‘lucky’ for having all their mothers’ attention. The cold continued to settle into her bones as she watched her mother get sick and their father fall deep into depression after losing his fortune. Flashes of what she had to do with the baker’s son to feed the family some weeks, of Feyre being taken away by Tamlin, of Nesta looking so hopeless as they searched for their sister, and finally of tonight, being taken from their home in the night, the pain of her sister’s faces and the fear that shot through her as her toes touched the Cauldron’s edge. Deeper and deeper the water soaked through her too thin nightgown, into her skin, and settled in her bones. the water the warm when she first touched it, but as she felt herself drift further toward the bottom, an icy cold took over her senses.

At last, a flicker of warmth ran through her as memories played of watching Feyre, Nesta, and Elain try to fit into the too small bed of the cabin as Y/n curled up right in front of the fireplace, laughing at her sisters bickering for space and urging Nesta to move her cold feet away from them. Eventually, her sisters stopped bickering and they too started laughing. Those were the glowing moments of joy they were able to find in the darkest times. The warmth in her body spread as the next memory played; the four of them dancing around a bonfire in the late Summer, early Autumn. Laughing and dancing like idiots because Y/n was able to convince the baker’s son to sneak her a cake. They hadn’t had a real cake, with icing and candles, in years, but she had seen it through the window and knew she needed to share it with her dearest sisters. The leaves were just starting to change color and the warm fire light casted the already orange and red leaves in the most stunning light.

The last memory that played was the night that Nesta brought home paints for Feyre. In the low light of the evening fire, Y/n begrudgingly gave up her spot directly in front of the flame so that Feyre had the best light to paint in. She painted their tiny dresser drawers with something to symbolize each of them. Nesta had her own dresser, full of the beautiful-and large-dresses their mother used to make her wear. Nesta requested her dresser be painted black. Simple, but a bold sentiment. Y/n’s drawer, of course, was painted with flames. It was a well known fact to everyone who met her that Y/n was drawn to the heat and comfort of fire. Sweet Elain’s drawer was painted in the flowers she loved to tend in the rather pathetic gardens. And for a reason she didn’t understand at the time, Feyre painted her drawer with the night sky. Dazzling stars and a bright moon to look down on her wherever she may be.

Y/n’s chest started to glow at that memory and finally she felt warm again, seeing that dingy old cabin, that fireplace lit, and the lives it made brighter, warmer, safer.

A sudden rush of the Cauldron’s freezing water had Y/n gasping for air that was no where to be found. She wasn’t drowning, but she wasn’t breathing either. She was stuck in this terrible, dark, cold place and feeling like all was lost. So, she spoke into the void, “you may take my body and soul, as long as you promise to watch over my sisters. Keep them safe and happy and whole.”

“Your eldest sister took something from me. Something very dark and very important. You are in no position to make a bargain for her safety.” The voice came as a harsh whisper that sounded like death itself. “I will get back what she took, and more, but I haven’t met a being a very long time who was willing to give. For that, I will reward you. What gift I have bestowed upon you, you must find out for yourself. It will either breathe life into what you love most… or suffocate it.”

With those final words spoken straight into her heart, Y/n felt the world shift as she was dumped from the Cauldron, back onto the ice-cold stone floor, soaking wet. The King of Hybern’s magic lifts just enough for Feyre to rush to her and cling to her like life depended on it.

The following events at Hybern will be scarred into Y/n mind for the rest of her newly immortal life. Lucien's painful screaming that Elain was his mate, the human queen going into the Cauldron and coming out old and decrepit because of what Nesta stole from it, Tamlin demanding that the King break the bond between Feyre and Rhysand, and Feyre saying that Rhys had her under a spell all this time.

If it weren’t for their relationship as twins seeming to strengthen now that they were both Fae, and for Feyre’s daemati powers, Y/n would have freaked the fuck out. Lucky for them all, Feyre explained the whole plan, albeit almost too rapidly for Y/n to understand given what she just went through in the Cauldron. Y/n played along and acted disgusted by Rhys and horrified as he winnowed her away. The cry of her sister's name was not forced or faked.

When they landed in what she could only assume was the Night Court, a beautiful female with eerie silver eyes and black hair came rushing around the corner. “Where is she?”

Rhysand explained everything. Only after calling for his best healers to help Cassian and Azriel. By the time he finished, Mor appeared after hiding Y/n's sisters away somewhere that they could rest and process.

“She is your mate, not your spy. Go. Get. Her.” The one with silver eyes, Amren, demanded.

“She is my mate. And my spy. And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.” Rhysand said softer, but not weakly.

“What?” Mor gasped.

Rhysand explained it all, and finally said, “Your High Lady made a sacrifice for her court, and we will move when the time is right.”

“Until then?” Amren asked sharply.

“Until then,” Rhysand spared each of them a glace, “we go to war.”

Mor showed Y/n to her room, told her to ask the house for whatever she needed, and that she should rest for as long as she needed. And that they were all here for her when she was ready to come out.

The first thing Y/n asked the house for was a fire to be lit. She was ready to get on her knees and beg for the heat of it, but when the house responded immediately, Y/n let out a sob and threw herself on the floor in front of the large hearth. She sat with her legs tucked under her, staring into the dancing flames as tears streamed down her face and choked sobs rocked her body. She stared into the blaze. Fire, she thinks, looks alive but is not. It dances and sways in the phantom wind and dries the tears that had long stopped coming. Y/n wished she could climb straight into the inferno and wrap it around herself to make her bed. For a moment she wonders if her new Fae body would allow such a thing, before she grabs a plush red dyed wool blanket, and a soft enough throw pillow from the couch, and she curls up in front of the glowing heat and sparkling embers. Right where she feels the safest and most at home.

Y/n slept off and on for four days if she’s been keeping track of time correctly. The house delivered food, that at first, she was hesitant to touch, because what does a house know about cooking? But once she got hungry enough to try the steaming soup and heavily buttered bread it delivered for dinner on night two, she ate her words. Literally. The house quickly learned that Y/n preferred black tea and something sweet to eat at breakfast, something light and fresh for lunch, and a hearty dense dinner. The fire had remained lit since the first night, when the house thought it would be okay to let it die out once Y/n fell asleep, and Y/n woke up screaming and shaking, nightmares plaguing her. The fire had not gone out again. Not even a flicker.

Y/n was feeling rested and eager to learn if there were any updates about her twin in the Spring Court. She needed to know if Feyre was okay. When she swung the door of her bedroom open, Rhysand was standing there, smirking, looking like he knew every thought in her head.

“I’ll need to teach you about mental shields.” His smirk grew, “you’re just as bad as Feyre was when she first got here, practically shouting your thoughts. I could probably hear you from the house of wind.”

Y/n blinked at him. Sure, she knew that Feyre’s daemati powers allowed her to speak into people’s minds, but to just openly heard other’s thoughts? How miserable that must be.

Rhysand gaped for a fraction of a second after hearing her thoughts, before his brows furrowed. “You- you’re not angry or afraid about the invasion of privacy?”

“I mean, would I prefer you not listen? Sure, but you just said you’d teach me to block you out, so really, I just feel bad for you both. I never want to know what’s going through other’s heads. That’s their business and it probably gets gross and annoying.”

There’s a silent pause before Rhysand throws his back and laughs, “It does get gross, and annoying,” He straightens again and says, "thank you, Y/n. Not many understand that or think about how it feels for us.”

“So then you probably already know that I was about to come find you and ask about Feyre?”

“Yes. Let’s talk about it once you’ve had a bath and change into clean clothes. Have you been sleeping and living in that for four days?” He eyes her absolutely filthy, no longer white, nightgown that she had been wearing when the Hybern soldiers took her.

“Yes. Yes, I have, Rhysand. But I will take that bath and clean clothes. I smell like the deer I killed the day we first met.” Y/n’s face scrunched at the memory of the stench that she never got used to, even after all those years of hunting with Feyre. “I’d say I would come find you, but you’ll probably know exactly when I’m ready.” She winked and tapped her finger to her temple before turning on her heel back into her room. The house must have been listening, because a hot bath was waiting for her in the bathing chambers. Soaps and oils that smelled like pine and cedar, a crackling fire, and the forest after it rains. Y/n had never smelt anything so lavish. Never smelt anything that captured the feeling of home so thoroughly.

Ridding herself of the disgusting nightgown, Y/n went to dip a toe in the steaming water and stopped. It felt so much like the Cauldron. But Y/n, like always, reminded herself to be adaptable. She was fine. This room was nothing like that place. This place had bright windows that lit up the room. She could see the bottom of the tub, nothing like the dark mirky waters she was forced into. She was fine and she was safe. Y/n prided herself on being able to choke her feelings down. She thought that if she could intellectualize her feelings, they wouldn’t be able to control her. It hadn't come to bite her in the ass yet. She calmed her racing heart, and plunged into the hot water and washed herself clean of the memories using the soaps that smelled like home. Those smells soothed her soul like a balm and she started to feel like herself again.

After taking her merry time in the tub, the house keeping the water hot as long as she needed it, Y/n stood and grabbed a towel from the vanity in the corner of the room. Y/n hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror yet, but figured now was as good of a time as any. She sat on the round cushioned stool and slowly lifted her head. She tilted her head back and forth, examining the subtle changes that suddenly made her Fae. She tucked her hair behind her ears to reveal the exaggerated, but soft, pointed ears. Smiled at herself to get a look at the elongated canines, and noticed how bright and sharp her eyes looked. She didn’t have her twin’s steely blue eyes, her father said she had his mother’s eyes. Y/n looked into her own y/e/c eyes and just blinked a few times. She was most definitely Fae now. And she would adapt.

Getting dressed quickly, Y/n stepped into the hall to find Rhysand, already waiting for her. He examined her loose, flowy brown pants, and the soft grey seater she chose. “No Night Court black?”

She tripped over her own foot at the words, “oh- oh no, I’m sorry, I’ve offended you. I’ll go change-!

“No! No, Y/n stop,” he gently griped her arm to prevent her from running back in her room. “It didn’t even occur to me that you might feel comfortable in something else. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He tilts his head, so their eyes meet.

“I just feel better in colors that remind me of the woods we grew up in. It makes me feel like myself in their new, strange body and this new world we’ve been brought into. I did not have any intention of disrespecting you or your home, Rhysand.”

“Please, Y/n, call me Rhys. We are family now, right? Humans would call us, ‘in-laws’?” His smile grew as Y/n’s lips twitched into their own smile, his hand dropping from her arm.

“Of course, Rhys. I’m glad to know my sister has found someone who loves her so well. I look forward to getting to know you as we work to bring Feyre home.”

“Yes, let’s get to work on that. Follow me.” Rhys guides her down the hall and through the foyer into a large seating area. Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren are all speaking lowly. Rhys clears his throat as he and Y/n enter the room, and all eyes fall on Y/n. More is the first to stand up and wrap her in a tight embrace. Y/n is shocked for a brief moment, before wrapping her arms around Mor in return.

Mor pulls back with tears in her eyes to say, “we love your sister so much. We are honored to have you in our family too. We will get her back.” Y/n smiles at her fondly and Mor turns to sit back down next to Cassian. Cassian and Azriel both smile and wave at her, just like they did the first time they met in the human lands. Amren and Y/n exchange nods, and Y/n predicts that is the most emotion she’ll ever see from the female.

Rhys is the first to speak next. “Let’s get started shall we?” He took a seat in the remaining armchair, and Y/n took up a spot on the floor, directly in front of the fireplace. Her favorite place to be. “Y/n, you don’t have to sit on the floor. We can ask the house to provide another chair.”

“I’m perfectly content right here, but thank you, Rhys,” Y/n went as far as to shuffle further back toward the heat.

Azriel’s usually calculated expression fell as he stared at her in total confusion. Never had he seen someone look like they wanted to be consumed by flames. He couldn’t even comprehend it. He schooled his features when he felt Cassian pop him in the ribs with his elbow and clear this throat.

“As you wish. Azriel, I know you’re still recovering, and I do not want you to push it, but have your shadows told you anything?”

“Not much. Feyre is still hardly allowed to leave the house, Lucien is still warry of her, and Tamlin is none the wiser. She isn’t eating enough.” He says the last part so quietly and with so much anger, a shiver runs down Y/n spine. She decides to never get on Azriel’s bad side.

“Have you heard from her? Can’t you two talk through your minds or something?” Cassian asks.

“Not much. We don’t want Tamlin, or Lucien for that matter, to get suspicious. But when we do speak, she sounds so far away and it’s an effort to keep the line open. Something isn’t right, but I don’t know what it is. When she was in Spring before it wasn’t this hard. It has to be Hybern’s presence there.”

“So all we can do is sit around and wait for more information?” Mor asks incredulously.

“I wish it could say otherwise, but for now, yes. Azriel and Cassian, you need to heal and get back to training, so we’re prepared when something changes and we have to move.” They call nod their agreement and accept that it’s all they can do right now.

“I want to train too.” Y/n’s voice startles them, as if they forgot she was there.

“Of course, we’ll work on your mental shields and-“

“No- I’m sorry- I don’t mean to interrupt. I mean, yes, I do want to train with you to build my mental shield, but I also want to train with Cassian and Azriel. I want to feel strong. I want to be strong. I never want what happened in Hybern to happen again. I never want to feel helpless like that and I want to help my sister.” Y/n was firm and confident when she locked eyes with Rhys, even as tears welled in her waterline.

“Okay. Whatever you need, we’ll do it.” Rhys looked at her like he could see right through her. To the scared little girl who lost her mother, who had to learn to hunt and steal and sell her body for godsdamned bread. She had never felt so vulnerable, and she quickly broke the stare.

“Are you okay with that?” Y/n asked Cassian and Azriel.

“Yes.” “Of course.” They replies in unison.

“Thank you.”

The day turned into evening and the group is still sitting around the tiny coffee table in that grand living room. Just relaxing in each other’s presence and sharing stories with Y/n, learning more about her. “Everyone thinks that the fire painted on the drawer was for Nesta because she is so fierce, but it’s not true,” Y/n chuckles fondly as she thinks of her sharp tongued eldest sister. “I have always been drawn to the flames. Even as a baby, my parents had to keep candles far away from me.” That gets a laugh from everyone in the room. Even Amren lets out a short breath that could be considered a laugh.

“So which one was Nesta’s? Don’t tell me it was the flowers,” Cassian asked. You could tell he was attached to her, even though they had only a few brief interactions and Nesta was far less than pleasant.

“Nesta had her own full wardrobe, painted black and full of dresses our mother stuffed her into when she gave her those awful etiquette lessons.” Y/n shuddered at the memory. And then paused, just now realizing that she had no idea where her sisters were. Her heart started racing and her eyes shot to Rhys’s, knowing he had already heard every thought.

“They’re safe. They aren’t adapting as well as you are, but they’re safe and they’re okay. I promise you; I will not let anything happen to them.” Y/n laughed internally as that word. Adapting. It’s what she was best at she supposed.

Weeks had passed and Y/n had been dedicated to training with Cassian and Azriel at least once every day, sometimes twice if her energy is pent up enough. And she has a lesson with Rhys everyday too. She’s learning to read, and her mental shield is solid. Her body had never felt so strong. It was a real hit to her ego though to learn that she had been carrying her body weight wrong and lifting deer over her shoulders incorrectly her whole life. Training with Azriel was calmer than training with Cassian. Azriel moved with so much grace and control and was making you learn all the movements and balance exercises. Cassian was intense. Teaching you how to move swiftly to block and avoid kicks and punches. The fact that was going easy on you was an even bigger hit to your ego.

On this particular day, Y/n trained with Azriel in the morning, noticing how much more balanced her body felt, could isolate muscles and utilize them. After lunch was her lesson with Rhys. She’s able to push him out of her mind now, still with some effort, but she doesn’t break out in a sweat now. She spent the afternoon resting and reading when Cassian stormed into the library and asked if she wanted to train. That brought them to the training area on the townhouse. Cassian complains that it isn’t as big as the one at the house of wind, but it did the job. Cassian had just gotten back from visiting the house of wind and he was angry. He was throwing punches and seeming to forget who he was sparring with. He was moving too fast and punching too hard, but Y/n couldn’t seem to get the words out to tell him to stop. He advanced forward and as she backed up, she stumbled, allowing Cassian to land a punch straight to her jaw. Her head rattled but before she could even register the pain, she yelled, teeth bared and fists clenched to her side, “ENOUGH CASSIAN!”

The world stopped, and after two, three, four heartbeats she realized Cassian wasn’t breathing. He was staring at her as his eyes went wide and he grabbed his throat. He crashed to his knees and reached for her hands. Releasing her tight grip on her own fists, air rushed back into Cassian’s lung. He gasped for breath as Y/n fell to her knees too and let out a sob. “I am so sorry Cassian. I am so so sorry; I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry.” She somehow managed to get the words out between sobs and gasping for air.

“Y/n, Y/n it’s okay! I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t believe I hit you, I am so sorry Y/n. Please, look at me, I need you to breathe. I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He held her and rocked her back and forth until her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace and she could lift her head to look at him. “Shit. Rhys is going to kill me when he sees that bruise on your face. Mor might beat him to it though. I’m so sorry.”

Y/n stands up and walks to the bathing room down the hall. Cassian ran to her when he heard her start…laughing? The picture in front of him as he skidded around the corner was one he could never have predicted. Y/n was clutching her stomach, leaning over the sink and laughing hysterically at her reflection. Cassian had punched her so hard that the bruising started at her jaw and gave her a black eye. Cassian was horrified, but Y/n just kept laughing, so eventually, he did too. Mor, Rhys, and Azriel came running around the corner too, wondering what the commotion was about. When they saw Y/n face, a collective, “what the fuck Cass?” Was sounded by the other three Fae. This made Y/n and Cassian double down and laugh even harder.

When they caught their breath again, Cassian stood up proudly, patted Y/n on the back and said, “I helped Y/n discover her powers today. No big deal,” he said with no small amount of smugness.

“You mean you needed a punching bag and I had to defend myself?” Y/n quirked a brow at him.

“Semantics!” He argued.

“Wait wait wait, Y/n has powers?” Rhys’s eyes went hazy as he mentally called for Amren. “Tell me everything.”

Y/n recounted the events of their fight and how she literally took his breath away. She didn’t know she was controlling any magic; she hadn’t felt it rise up, but it must have subconsciously come to her defense.

“You’re going to have to drop down to one lesson with Cass and Az a day and pick up an extra with me and Amren. We need to learn more about this power. Power gifted by the Cauldron itself is new territory for all of us. We don’t know what the boundaries of your power are.” The sudden seriousness in Rhys’s face felt sobering as Y/n and Cassian were pulled out of their laughter and back into the reality of who and what Y/n was. Cauldron made.

Another few weeks passed of training non-stop. The magic was a lot harder for Y/n to figure out than the fighting. As of today, she can suck the air out of a room that’s about 12ft by 12ft and hold it for five minutes before faltering, and she can send a blast of air and knock Cassian over from 30ft away. Cassian was used as the dummy for both tests as an apology for decking her in the face.

Y/n was in the middle of her reading lesson for the day when Azriel came crashing into the room. “We found her. Feyre got out of Spring; we have to get her. We need your help and your magic.”

She was up in an instant. She didn’t care that she wasn’t in fighting leathers, she just needed to get to her sister. Before she had a chance to ask any questions, Azriel grabbed her and jumped from the balcony. Y/n hadn’t flown before. Never wanted to be a burden to the Illyrians. But wow, what an experience. Azriel quickly caught up to Cassian and the three of them flew swiftly and precisely.

“Where are we going?” Y/n noticed the moment they left Velaris and the landscape changed to an icy tundra. She missed the heat and comfort of her spot in front of the fireplace in the library already.

“The Winter Court. I’m sorry there wasn’t time to get you in warmer clothes. I know you have a hard time with the cold. I should have prepared you.” Azriel felt terrible, but Feyre needed them. Y/n would adapt.

“It’s okay, Az. Feyre is more important. I’m okay,” and she meant it.

The touchdown was quick. Not a lot of time to slow down and land gently. The Illyrians landed and shook the ground. Azriel was softer about letting Y/n down. Before her was quite possibly her worst nightmare unfolding. Her twin sister, her favorite person in the entire world, was being restrained by the thing that brought her the most peace. A strange male was standing above her sister, using his gift of fire to hold her at her wrists and her neck. Y/n was frozen in place. Her mind went blank as her body was slammed with fear and disgust at the gross misuse of the flames licking at her sister’s throat. It felt like a violation to her very core. Her very soul was raging at the sight. Not only for her sister being in danger, but because of the way the male was using the thing Y/n held closest to her heart and found the most precious, as a weapon to do harm.

“Y/n! Y/n!” She was thrust back into reality by Cassian’s large hands shaking her back to consciousness. She blinked at him a few times before looking over his shoulder to see Azriel already taking down the other red-headed males and saving another. Lucien. Lucien was on Feyre’s side? Blinking again and trying to remain present, she and Cassian turned to the male holding Feyre. “Now, Y/n.”

With those two words form Cassian, Y/n approached the male, and he had the audacity to laugh at her. Granted, she was still in her house slippers, baggy linen pants and oversized sweater, so she wasn’t looking her most intimidating. But he quickly stopped laughing as Y/n lifted her hands above her head, closed her fists, and threw her hands down to her side. It didn’t take long for the male to realize that he could no longer take a breath. So focused on clawing at his throat, he didn’t notice that his flames had no oxygen to restrain his hostage either. Cassian, being well versed in her magic, ran into the void she’d created, grabbed Feyre, who unfortunately also couldn’t breathe, and got her out of your field of magic. Azriel was there with Lucien in a second, Mor winnowing in to grab Y/n, Cassian, and Feyre.

They landed in the townhouse seconds later, Azriel and Lucien not far behind. Y/n was in her sister’s arms before anyone could blink. They held each other tightly, but Feyre looked over Y/n shoulder to Mor.

“He’s on his way. He’s far away, but he is rushing home to you as fast as he can. He felt the bond and sent us ahead to get you.” Mor was crying too, and Y/n turned to wave her into their hug. Right now, her sister was home and everything else could wait for tomorrow. Even if Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that red haired male on the frozen lake today. the way he laughed at her and made her feel small, and she sucked the air from his lungs like it was nothing. She thought it would have made her feel good. but it didn't, and she wasn't sure why. She would fall asleep picturing his fearful face for many nights.

Taglist: @abysshaven @minaethrym @ivy-34 @stained-glass-eyes0708

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #autumn court #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x reader

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ficandkaboodle · 12 days ago

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The Stroke of Midnight (Copia x Fem!Reader) - NSFW

A/N: Veteran smut-writers, y'all deserve a hillside of marigolds and picnics complete with pasta and endless breadsticks 🫡 (Seriously, though, thank you to all who've put up with me on this beast. It put me on life-support just long enough to finish it in time! Y'all deserve the pasta picnic and some cookie boxes with dope-ass cookies) It’s my first attempt at non-blurb smut so you’ve been warned… Banner Credit Goes to @saradika-graphics! Word Count: 5897. Shoot dang, almost made it to 5900! CW: Reader and Copia are buzzed so expect many, many references to alcohol and its consumption. And you know what happens when Copia gets buzzed . . .👀 So on that note . . . MDNI for sexy times while intoxicated!

Shady business and unfeasible expectations be damned (or perhaps blessed): the Satanic Church knew how to throw an actually good New Years Eve party. Of course, it would've been given enough if it relied solely on the expectation that alcohol flowed like water. But no: They went the extra mile and actually included food. Not dinky little cocktail wienies and room temperature hors d'oeuvres – honest to Beelzebub food!

Now that was a commitment to making sure everyone in the congregation was having a good time, in your opinion. Everywhere you looked, there was some form of excitement: Siblings dancing; Clergy members opening party crackers while drunkenly cackling at the curse of glitter they'd inflicted on each other; ghouls challenging each other to shot-downing competitions; and everything in-between.

In short, it was a beautiful bacchanalia with which to welcome another year of spreading the Old One's word.

The only thing that could make it actual perfection, though? Perhaps if your boyfriend of a month and a half were actually by your side. Or, at the very least, within eye shot!

You weren't entirely shocked that he'd disappeared. Being Frater Imperator, it was only an expectation that he might get pulled away for some ass-kissing from residential and visiting eminences alike. But it had been almost half an hour, and your own friends had wandered off to makeout or have other types of fun with their own significant others at this point.

Far be it from you to consider yourself clingy – you liked your independence. But . . . Okay, maybe some sappy part of you still lingered inside, coloring your thoughts and expectations. Specifically, they were colored with the same black and pink of Copia's lips.

Part of you wondered what cheesy holiday romcom you were trying to replicate, holding out for something as cliche as a kiss on New Years. You’d even gotten dolled up in a cutesy mini dress like one you’d probably see in such a sappy flick!

But then again, Lilith and Eve sinned so that man could be born and kiss the way that he did. Deadline aside, getting one at anytime tonight would be the perfect assurance that you were truly entering a brand new era of your life.

So . . . It was probably understandable that you may have looked a little pouty to the sober-enough onlooker. Your eyes scanned the crowd, taking a sip of the cocktail you'd been nursing in order to pacify yourself. By now, you were starting to realize a burning hum in your ears and cheeks as the alcohol began to seep into your blood.

You were beginning to contemplate giving in and venturing to the snack table for some garlic-dipped pita chips (you'd been staring longingly at them since you first arrived, only holding off because of the coveted Kiss), when –

There! Finally! You knew that jacket! It's hard not to, considering it was a glittery gold. It caught so much light that it was frankly a wonder how you hadn't found his gilded disco ball ass sooner. Especially given how . . . awkward his movements are. Uneven, always moving too far left, then too far right before barely uprighting and –

Oh. Oh no.

At one point, he stumbled to a wobbly stop, head cocking and eyes squinting before flying open wide.

A smile grew on Copia’s face as his arms flew up in front of him, hollering out a notably slurred, "There she iiiisssss! Amore mio, la mia vita, la mia mela – " He paused to make a singular yet violent hiccup. "Mela alla cannelaaaaa!!"

You met him halfway in his path towards you, worried that he might collapse on the marble floor if you didn't at least try to catch him. Copia wasn't an especially heavy person but in his drunken state, he seemed to disregard the courtesy of not foisting his entire self onto you. Instead, he was far too focused on hugging you close, mushing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Ahhh, topina. I -hic- missed you!" Your nose wrinkled as a waft of a powerful alcohol flowed down to your nose. You had a bit of a buzz going yourself but at least you had a cute little cocktail to thank for it. Judging by your burning olefactories, Copia was on some of the harder stuff.

"I – ugh – I missed you, too," you responded carefully. It was an awkward act to try and balance the remainder of your drink while also getting Copia to balance flat on his own two feet but you somehow managed. Call that a New Year’s Eve Miracle. "Geez, what happened to you?"

You may as well have told a corny little joke with how he giggled.

"Some Clergy members gave me some shots of rum from Ja -hic-maica! Coconuts!" You couldn't tell what he was laughing at now: The fun time he was having, or the look of horror on your face. Harder stuff indeed.

Now you had an important decision to make: Either you found a seat, prayed that he sat still long enough for you to build up a plate of fried and greasy foods for him to sober up on; or you played the part of the boring old partner and marched him to his chambers for an early evening (well, as early as 11:18pm could be considered).

You heard a sigh slither into the middle of your thoughts as Copia's arms wrapped around you once more, nudging you back into him. The threat of him putting his weight back on you was enough for you to come to a quick decision: Sober him up just enough to where he could take ten steps without the threat of collapse, then take him to bed. With how he was standing, there was just no way you were going to be able to make your way to the other side of the Great Hall, never mind the other side of the building.

You felt confident with your choice just by the journey to a free chair and table alone.

"Okay, oookay," you grunted as you tried to angle his rump into the seat. Copia let out a disappointed sound too young for someone of his age as you gently de-tangled yourself from his embrace. Inconveniences aside, you had to fight back the desire to coo at how adorable he was being. Copia was always affectionate with you, but it appeared that alcohol added a whole different layer to that.

"Don't worry, Caro " you softly assured. "I'm just going to get you a little something to nosh on, okay? I'll be right back. But only if you stay put, alright? If you leave – even if it's just to go find me – I won't be able to find you. So can you be a good boy and do that for me? Stay put?"

When you saw his expression collapse into a somber pout, you wondered if perhaps he found your tone patronizing. Judging by the sulky "fine" he uttered, however, it was apparent that he was more upset by the fact you couldn't be fused at the hip forever.

You could work with that. It wouldn't be long anyway. Even when you returned with a flimsy red paper plate covered in tortilla chips, a scoop of veggie lo mein, and two egg rolls, you could tell that the look of joy on his face was only meant for you. He would've disregarded the little spread entirely and latched himself back on you if you didn't take the time to place both it and a cup of water before him with the gentle instruction that he tuck in.

"Carefully," you were sure to add. A tipsy gait was bad enough; if he ate himself sick, you'd be even further out of your depth than you were already beginning to feel.

To your relief, he listened, proceeding to nibble on an egg roll's crunchy wrapping. Good. Now all you had to do was sit and wait for his system to clear up a bit. Your back and feet cried with relief as you plopped yourself down on the seat next to him – your first and only real mistake of the evening.

In hindsight, you would compare it to being like a living lava lamp. Maybe there was some science to it or whatever, but you were becoming increasingly unable to apply logic. All you knew was that the longer you sat, the warmer your face began to feel and the more bubbly your brain seemed to become. The flare of alcohol was rising inside of you like a hot river, flowing upwards, into your chest, into your cheeks, and into your brain. You could practically feel your sensibilities flickering like a lightbulb threatening to go out.

Crap. Curse that cute cocktail, it had betrayed you after all! Your eyes fluttered as though that would do literally anything for you besides make you look frazzled.

"Wha’s the matter, Schricchio?" Copia sounded only slightly less slurred, though the fact that he was able to pin your shift in demeanor after only an egg roll and a half stood as a good sign. All the more reason for you to remain firm and stand your ground against the liquid possession threatening to take over your senses.

Copia needed you to be the sober one here, even if he didn't really know it. You shook your head and nudged your cocktail further away from the both of you.

"Bad aftertaste is starting to hit," you claimed. A part of you mourned that you would have to abandon it so soon. The dull pain was slightly remedied when Copia wordlessly offered you a bite from the remainder of his fried treat. It was nice to know that there were some things about Copia that not even alcohol could change.

"Are you mad at me?"

He sounded quiet. The sounds of the party grew softer and softer as you both walked further from the Great Hall. On occasion, you'd pass a couple making out or a Sister of Sin drunkenly sobbing over her phone while her equally sloshed friends warned her against texting "him" back.

Otherwise, though, most of the Abbey's residents and attendees were either back where the action was happening, or making some action happen in their rooms. Which was where you, as a Sibling yourself, would probably be heading to once you got Copia situated in his own quarters. As sweet on you as he was, your relationship was still new; you didn't feel it was right to impose and spend the night without his permission.

And even if you had it, you'd have to second guess if it was a situation where anyone was being taken advantage of. He seemed slightly better than he did nearly half an hour ago, no longer launching himself on top of you in an unsuccessful effort to fuse. Even his balance seemed somewhat improved. However, the rum was clearly still in his system, making his cheeks and nose run red and his sensitivities run tender.

That was probably why he sounded so nervous and shy when he'd asked you his strange question.

You knew he couldn't see the confusion on your face, not when he was trailing behind you, but you nonetheless wore it. "No? Why would you think that?"

You probably weren't convincing, given that you barely turned to glance back at him, but you needed to keep your purposeful stride going. Evidently, Copia had a better handle of his alcohol than you did, seeing as the bit of egg roll you'd eaten did virtually nothing for you.

If you broke the intense concentration it was taking for you to avoid wobbling, your barely concealed cover would be blown – and you'd probably faceplant and force a buzzed old man to drag you off somewhere to hide your shame. He’d probably throw out his back and then you’d both enter the new year with wounded bodies and wounded pride.

Copia worried his bottom lip. "For getting silly. And for making us leave the party early."

You nearly scoffed with amusement. Did he really think that that would be all it took to upset you? The poor dear, so darling and worried even when on the brink of being absolutely sauced.

You sighed, the fruity smell of your cocktail fluttering back at you. "Issa New Year's party, Co: Everyone is drunk."

Including me, you thought with guilt. You winced as you realized a bit of slur was beginning to drip into your speech but carried on. "But I dun really care about everyone; I care about you. And a little while ago, I was worried our dear Frater was going to get himself hurt, y'know?"

"I know . . ." he mumbled. The hushed tone of his voice implied a guilt of his own, and it hurt your heart to hear him like that.

You knew good and well that Copia's onstage persona was more confident and bombastic than who he really was offstage. But to see him question or be uncertain about something still tugged a saddening chord inside you. And the alcohol no doubt made it worse . . .

Fuck it. Your conviction to maintain speed was tossed out the nearest window as you slowed your pace until you were right alongside your glittery guy.

"Hey." You entwined your fingers with his, flesh meeting warm leather. At fifty-something years-old, Copia wore the expression of a young child experiencing the wonder of their crush talking to them. Even in your fizzling state, you adored it and hoped you'd remember it forever.

"I mean it."

You gave his hand an affirming squeeze. "I was worried about you, y'know?" The cocktail told you to lean in and burrow against his arm, and you found yourself obliging. The sequins of his coat weren't the most welcoming texture, but the fact that they were on him made them 100 times more bearable to you.

"I wan' take care of you . . . 'Cause you're mine." Welp. There went the goal of trying to bite back your slurring. But Copia didn't seem to mind. Far from it, if his response was anything to go by, in fact.

Returning the gentle squeeze, he sighed dreamily. "You're so nice . . ."

You lightly giggled either from the cocktail further encroaching your senses or from feeling your partner press a small kiss to your hair. "You're not so bad yourself, Frater."

You felt him nuzzle his nose against the spot a kiss had previously been place, then a flutter of a deep inhale and respective exhale. "'Smell nice, too . . ." You almost wanted to make a sarcastic comment about how sure, the residual smells of debauchery from the party definitely made for an intoxicating bouquet. But as his hand released yours, only to wander to your waist, you couldn't help but feel that might've actually been apt in this moment.

A gasp popped from your lips, followed by a light squeal of delight and ticklishness as he gave the tender flesh a teasing squeeze. Your reflexive wiggling only stopped when his other hand crept further up your back. As he drew your bodies closer, you couldn't help but notice how his personal heat felt . . . more intense. Even in the drafty halls of the old structure, Copia was more than enough to set your cheeks on fire.

Well, that, and the intoxication wafting from him.

The gleam of his left eye pierced through the darkness like the stare of a predator on prey. And even in the haze of euphoria, there was a steadiness in them that made sure to lock in on you and only you.

"You feel nice . . ." The low rumble of his voice made a shudder run through you.

Oh, yeah: That Jamaican rum was still there. And no amount of food or water was going to hold it back from taking control of your Copia. Like a devil lying in wait, it struck at the perfect time: A barely-lit corridor, no Siblings or Ghouls or Clergy patrolling, far enough away so that the sounds of the party were just barely above a loud whisper.

Even a more sober you wouldn't have stood a chance. Petrified with lust and intrigue, you were the perfect kill. The rough kiss he pressed to your lips came easily, and you could only welcome it with a heady moan.

The tastes of cocktails and hard rum mingled together between your tongues, overpowering any other taste including your own. In your increasingly buzzed state, you were beginning to understand why perhaps Copia bothered to drink more than one shot of rum: At least when coming from him, it tasted diabolically divine.

A soft whimper for more filled the space between your separated lips, then muffled and obliged when they wetly reunited once more.

Uncoordinated and stumbling footsteps echoed through the corridor as you felt Copia gently but insistingly ushering you backwards until your back found purchase against the wall of an alcove.

There was a stark juxtaposition in that moment, where the cold and uneven stone biting into your bare back urged you even closer against the burning, soft hold of your beloved. The contrast had a dizzying effect, and you weren't sure which temperature made your nipples pebble beneath your clothing more as you released a trembling sigh.

Your thighs twitched out of reflex but that was all the rum demon needed to secure yet another opportunity to take and take. A low, spicy, coconut-scented moan was coupled with gloved hands removing themselves from the curve of your waist and back before returning to your body – with one traveling upwards to your chest and its twin sloping downward to grip at the meat of your hip.

In the short time you'd been an official couple, Copia had made many things clear: That he was the sort to treasure the one he loved, and that he had a fondness for breasts of all shapes and sizes had been but a few of them. And given how he gently cupped yours, relishing in its weight and warmth against his palm, it was apparent that this held even through the haze of inebriation. Not even the ambitions of the rum could blind him to the want of cherishing your body.

If he'd only remained fondling you, you would have been plenty happy. Both parties were enjoying themselves as Copia's thumb glided back and forth over your nipple as though it had found a new toy to play with; and the bead itself seemed to crave his stimulation even through the material of your dress, bending to his touch and tickling your senses.

But with a hardening grip, you were reminded of where his other hand had gone. It pinned your hip as close to the wall as possible, not allowing for even the slightest wriggle away.

"Amore." A single word made uneven by laborious panting. But even then, you knew what he intended: He needed you to stay put, to not move an inch. All the easier for him to position his hips against yours.

Even though your dress made the contact somewhat awkward, Copia's reaction portrayed utter bliss. It was just enough for his hardening dick to become aware of even the slightest softness of your mound. That was all it took for his head to tilt back to release a sound that combined a whine of pleasure with a groan of hunger.

He gave the connection a tentative movement, pressing himself against a slot only the barrier of clothing prevented him from fully entering. The friction proved to be all he needed to give your warmth a few more, testing thrusts before giving way to more frequent, eager, and harder ones.

When his hardness finally found the tenderness of your awakening clit (as evidenced by the full-body jolt and hiccuped, "Oh!" you gave), he knew he'd finally found the angle he wanted.

In the nanoseconds between his hips pulling back and rushing forward, you found yourself just sober enough to remember something. You had never paid mind to because it appeared to just be rumors from ghouls and slander from the Ministry's former director.

But as Copia's hips began to dig into yours, accompanied by hot pants that fanned against your face, you had confirmation: The Frater, when just drunk enough, loved a good frottage.

You squeaked with warm delight as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, forcing your abdomens closer as your lower bodies began to meld together in one humping blur. He, of course, accepted the embrace, shakily endearing you as "Schricchina" as your cute little noises continued.

What probably had once housed something as insignificant as a potted plant was quickly becoming the world’s smallest shrine to lust. The liturgy came in the form of whimpers and moans, your prayers coming from slurred utterings of "please"s and "fuck"s and garbled Italian he had yet to teach you the meanings of.

When it wasn't being attacked with sloppy, tonguing kisses, your mouth hung open, puffing out small pants and tiny "oh"s. You didn't care how you must have looked as drool threatened to fall from your lips; all you cared about was getting Copia to nudge at your swelling clit again and again and again and so on until you grew tired. (Which, of course, would be never.)

The glittery sequins of his jacket bit into your fingers as they gripped against his back and shoulders, but you felt none of it. Nor did you feel the grit of the alcove wall against your back as Copia's feverish movements caused your body to rock against it.

If it wasn't the feel of his hands squeezing and playing with you; his mouth nipping and sucking and licking at whatever flesh he could reach; or the enthusiastic thrust of his dick searching for your wet warmth, then you weren't physically or mentally able to pay it any mind.

Copia himself didn't seem to know what to do with himself; caught in a stupor of his own desires, he wanted to do it all, taste it all, and feel it all. His forehead would press against the junction of your neck, only for him to raise almost immediately so that he could carve his teeth there before applying wet suckles there to salve the reddening spot. His hands would leave their positions, only to instantly regret it and miss the bounce of your breast and the twitching of your hips with every thrust he gave.

He was delirious in a concoction of his own drunkenness, lust, and greed, and he only wanted it more. Unfortunately, this current position, with how your dress lay over your thighs, wasn't going to cut it! A growl rumbled from deep within his heaving chest as he roughly gripped your thigh before hoisting it up to rest against his hip. Your body would have slipped from the position if not for his own thick thigh coming up to seat half your jiggling ass against.

The change in positioning was awkward only for the amount of time it took for him to assure you were situated into place. Otherwise? The blast of pleasure was immediate. With your thighs now properly spread, so, too, did your lips, causing your wetness an easier escape to be collected by your panties. Every thrust against them smeared your slick and created a sticky sound that only seemed to spur Copia on once he realized it lay beneath the rustling of your clothing and your collective noises.

Gritting his teeth did nothing to sharpen the oozing, rasping purrs of "Yes"s. The mantra almost sounded as though he were even thanking you; for what, you were in no headspace to determine. All you knew (or cared to know) was that the feelings were mutual.

"A-Amore," he managed to wantonly string together. "A-are you cl-close? You gonna cum with me?"

His voice had gone husky by now, but even the roughened edges couldn’t take away from how pleading he sounded. The effect it had on you was almost shameful as you could feel your walls clenching, grasping desperately for a dick that wasn’t even inside it yet. A moan, the loudest you’d uttered yet, burst forward from your awaiting lips.

"Yes, yes, yes! Please! Right there, Co, right there –!!" All you could do was murmur mindlessly, begging, pleading for him to just. Keep. Going. There! And ever the dutiful lover, your Frater was more than happy to oblige.

Through eyes fluttering through wave after wave of sensation, you could make out how your lover’s expression began to tighten. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth wore into his kiss-swollen lip. It was as though he were concentrating. And judging by the increase in tempo and form, he very well may have been.

Thrusts that had been straight forward until now began to curve and rotate, not at all unlike the effortless hip movements he would perform during his frontman days. The devilish thrusts that just watching footage of would send your pussy salivating and craving him. Feeling them on you, experiencing how direct they were, how thoroughly they hit all the sweet spots on such a small target –

You could've broken into sobs with how good the friction felt. How every streak of his cock left a trail of blissful fire lapping at your needy little clit. Your hips would trail after his own, desperately trying to mimic his movements and catch each rut his body applied to yours.

Your breaths pitched higher and higher as words melted into incoherent, single syllable sounds. If any more direction for what you needed to get off were required, you would have to fight to give them form. It was perhaps by sheer luck (or the interference of Asmodeus himself) that all Copia needed was to listen to your whimpers, your screeches that only vaguely resembled cries for more, and note how your hands struggled to commit to one place to know precisely what his good girl needed.

You'd long since stopped caring who all heard you – all that mattered was that you came, even if it was only on Copia's clothed cock. And you would have only been able to hear the sounds of your dry humping session, if not for the collective sounds of the Abbey raising in unison.

It rippled from back where the party was at, came from behind muffled doors, was cried out into the night from the rooftops outside:

"TWENTY . . . NINETEEN . . . EIGHTEEN . . . SEVENTEEN . . ."

The numbers were sharp and sobering. The countdown! The New Year!

"C-Copia," you gulped. You tried to reorient your grasp on the man but the continued rolling of his hips made doing so difficult. Your body continued to bounce, threatening your semblance of mind. Worse still, your body continued to gobble up every sensation and threatened to render you no better than a dumb animal once more.

"Copia, the countdown – " You could feel your thighs beginning to quiver, your stomach beginning to do that telltale clench. Your clit popped demandingly as your petals fluttered in their mess. Without thinking, your hand flew to the back of Copia’s head and snagged at the hair.

The shriek this man made! Not only that, but the hold he had on you: Your tugging had clearly registered to his poor brain that this was a demand – he had to go all out. N o w.

". . . ELEVEN . . . TEN! NINE!"

"C-Cara, amore mio, tesoro mio," he practically choked before his words dissolved into a puddle of Italian and English and a third language you couldn't place. The final time he regained any semblance of coherency, it was only to demand one thing:

"Cum."

It was not rugged in any sense. It was husky, rickety. Desperate. For you and only you.

The leg that had been hoisted instinctively curled around Copia’s tensing backside in an effort to pull him in close and keep him in place. His hips stilled in a frozen thrust, tiny quakes shaking between the both of you in the spot you connected most. A white-hot flood overtook his senses, robbing him of the ability to even utter of moan of completion.

But for you, you still experienced everything in one overwhelming blanket: Stars and fireworks unlike those you'd ever seen on New Years flooded your vision. The final rut of his cock striking against your tender nub was all you could feel shocking your entire body, tingling your fingers and toes to the point of numbness. All you could smell was Copia's cologne mingling with the perfume you'd no doubt mostly sweat away. All you could taste was, yet again, the addicting taste you and Copia had created, as his tongue once again swirled into your mouth with an animalistic groan.

And all you heard was a cluttered chorus:

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

The whistling and booming of fireworks roared into the night as distant sounds of cheers and party horns and pots banging pans went off.

They weren't even the first thing you noticed as the waves of your orgasm began to ebb. In fact, even as the familiar sounds and smells of the new year began to wisp into the hallway from windows and passageways alike, all that filled your senses was . . . Copia.

The feel of his warm body slouching against yours, the impact of his orgasm rattling him weary. It was welcoming compared to the sloshed mess he’d been earlier; he hovered as much as himself above you as possible, as though putting his full weight on you in such a state might break you. You noted how his aftershocks caused his hips to reflexively twitch, as though even while overstimulated, his cock still longed to be with you. He grunted softly, quietly every time. The cute little noises and reactions tickled your own sensitive arousal, making your aftershocks vibrate your shivering thighs.

Perhaps egg rolls and party foods weren't what was necessary to sober either party up; perhaps a good old orgasm was exactly what you both needed.

The unfortunate cost, however, was that you now realized the position you both were in. Thank Satan nobody had been in the hallway at any given time. Otherwise, they would've been treated to the image of their dear old Frater Imperator madly humping away in an alcove, cumming at the stroke of midnight, then separating from a fierce tonguing while leaving a strand of spit between both his lips and the lips of his lover.

. . . Wait.

You gulped down some air, trying to even out your still heaving breast. You'd gotten your New Year's Kiss! Sure, it wasn’t the cute, romantic Hallmark movie-style you’d always imagined. But clearly your imagination sucked because this was legions better than anything you could have ever concocted! The absurdity of it all managed to make it through the still evaporating fuzz of your mind. You couldn't help but giggle breathlessly, causing your tired old man to look at you nervously.

"W-what? Is – Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" he asked, his sobering up giving way to nerves and insecurity.

You tried to catch your breath to form the right words, but Copia couldn't help but babble on even through burning lungs.

"I'm so sorry! I – I was being stupid and horny and – "

"H-happy," you paused to gulp, "new year. Amore mio."

You inhaled just enough to soothe your lungs before leaning in for a kiss. It had much less tongue than most of the ones you'd shared this evening, but it was filled with passion regardless.

You didn't see how his eyes widened with shock, given that your own drooped shut, but you could feel how he quickly got over it just in time to return it. He even trailed after your lips as they separated. You would have gladly met him halfway once more, but you really needed to breathe. Even if the once crisp air had since turned hot and stinking of alcohol and sweat. And faintly of slick.

. . . Y’all really needed to get out of this nook.

You grunted lightly as you moved your thigh down from its perch over Copia's own. While the position had been blissful in the moment, you knew you were probably going to need to sleep on a heating pad tonight. But even before that . . . you were going to need a shower. The slick in your panties was cooling fast in the chilly January air, creating an uncomfortable feeling that squished against your thighs with every movement. Really, a bath was more preferable for such a mess but the communal bathrooms offered no such option.

You winced as you realized how wobbly you now stood even with the wall of the alcove supporting you from falling backwards. That shower was going to be difficult . . .

"U-uh." Your eyes flew up to a now sheepish-looking Copia. The redness on his face and ears no longer came from the rum demon possessing him, but clearly from that cute, almost schoolboyish nature he tended to have whenever it concerned you.

". . . Yes?"

"W-well. If it's okay with you, I – The Imperator Suite!" He paused, realizing he'd probably been a bit too loud. "I mean. The Imperator Suite: It – there is a bathtub. It’s really nice. Gets the best water and. And seeing as we both – Er, I made us both a mess, I think it's only fair if . . . If – And only if you're okay with it – If you'd like to maybe clean up . . . with . . . me? And then we can relax and cuddle and . . . "

His voice trailed. He cringed. Eyes screwing shut and all. As though he hadn't just dry humped the bejesus out of you in a hallway where you could've easily been caught.

Damn this adorable man.

You hummed adoringly as you placed a hand to his warm cheek, prompting him to look at your post-orgasmic haze.

"I would really like that, Frater," you assured.

You could have collapsed right then and there was his gloved hand overtook your own in a loving hold before bringing it to his lips for its own kiss.

No, really. You absolutely could have: The final wisps of sexual adrenaline had begun to give dissipate, leaving the full aches and pains of grinding at such an awkward angle (and with your back pressed against a stone wall, no less) to truly kick in. Copia, too, for all that limber hip action was worth, began to feel a dull soreness heat up in the bones.

It was going to be a long trek to the Imperator Suite, you both realized.

But between the hisses of discomfort from wet undergarments, the quiet "ouch"s, and assurances of how he had a stash of Tylenol back in his nightstand drawer, you were still glad for the experience.

Hand in hand, you weren't hobbling into the new year alone.

#the band ghost #copia x reader #the band ghost x reader #papa emeritus x reader #copia x female reader #papa emeritus iv x female reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia imperator x reader #frater imperator x reader #frater imperator #frater imperator x female reader #uh so...ta-da? *awkward pose*#*the cops take the opportunity to cuff my hands* Aw man :(#i can't say i wrote smut. but i can say that i tried #it should also be mentioned that New Years Day is on a Wednesday. aka...HUMP DAY!!!!!!#anyway: happy new year! I know this year won't likely be easy but that's all the more reason to carry on out of spite!#where your independence like a crown. bewitch someone in the moonlight. never walk alone. and all that spooky jazz!!!!!

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shuenkio · 7 months ago

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Kissing I hope they catch us | 💋

Paring: Whipped!Sunghoon x m!reader

Genre: fluffy, very fluffy?

Cw: just a pure hidden feeling.

Summary: He wants to brag about you to the whole campus.

Non proof read.

Words: 1.2k

English is not my first language!

Being friends with Sunghoon was not an easy move, since he's quite popular because of his charm, especially his face. You'll also find him very attractive as a boy yourself; he looks cold on the outside, but all his friends have said otherwise. He's actually timid, which gives you another reason to get close to him even more; curiosity could kill the cat, they say.

He's the heartthrob of the campus; whenever he walks, he can grab all the attention with his presence. Why would he be a college student when he could make millions of bucks by posing in front of the camera?

Later on, as the times passed, you decided to experience new things by joining a club, and it's a music club. You've always been passionate about it; you love singing and playing instruments such as the piano, electric guitar, and violin. Not only that, you're also fond of dancing, based on the club's requirements.

You're thinking students would choose other clubs besides music because it's less popular. And there's more thrilling, excited, and amazing clubs out there than just playing an instrument while singing.

You open the music club room to fill out your application, but not until your gaze lands on someone you've always wanted to say hi to, Sunghoon Park.

Despite being stunned on the spot at the doorway, you, yourself, have already grabbed everyone's eyes toward you. In return, Sunghoon moved his lip muscle, smiling softly at you.

You snap out before dragging your feet to the leader, known as Jungwon. He was a friendly student, though; you know him since he's the same year as you. He will take your paper and inspect your answers. While he's busy, he then introduces you to the other members who are standing there doing nothing.

You move shyly, greeting them by asking for a handshake. It was normal with the other; nevertheless, when your hand lands on Sunghoon's palm, you find yourself on the edge of exploding. Why is his hand so cold yet so calm? A red blurry blush spread across your face; you couldn't help it at the moment; you've met the campus's celebrity. They wouldn't lie when they said Sunghoon is an iceman on the outside, because in reality, he's friendly and talkative to those who approach him first.

And since then, the music club has been completed with you. The name of the group is "ENH." Connection and passion mixed together created a temporary group of artists.

Hanging out was not enough; Jungwon wanted everyone to stick together always, so he asked us to move into his mansion that his grandparents left just for him.

Your mind was blown to the fact, surprised at his statement, but you wouldn't mind making music together without leaving anyone.

To do that, you have to get close with them first, get more comfortable with them, and have a conversation with them in order to grow closer so you won't be awkward with your surroundings. It's also beneficial for the charming guy since he's timid.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. By breathing in the same air, you regret your decision to befriend Sunghoon, whom you thought was an angel on the inside. As a matter of fact, once he got comfortable with you, he began to show his true color. Not only is he wild, but he's also a really loud introvert you've never seen in your entire life.

He said, "I don't like skin ships, eh?" That was back in the day, as you asked him, and in reality, he's super duper clingy like Golden Retriever, but in a calmer version.

He only acts crazy when you're alone with him. He would randomly hug you back, cuddle in the same bed, take care of you secretly, and give you cheeks a kiss out of the blue with his non-sense mumble, "Just because.".

You're also finding those very weird; you don't go and question him about whether he likes you by making sweet gestures like friends would; however, his signals and behavior speak a different language as he keeps getting more and more suspicious.

You gather the courage to speak to him personally, somewhere private, one day. Randomly, you asked him to meet you at the music club room since all the other members were already running for their schedules, leaving only him and you on campus, having a free period, coincidentally.

While waiting for him, you take a seat as you move your fingertip, tapping the piano note as far as you remember, and playing an elegant song by" by ENH.

As you trace down your palm, still focus on playing until you finish with the last final note. When you heard a clapping sound behind your back, You turn your head to the sauce, revealing Sunghoon, who was standing with a bubbly grin on his handsome face.

"Bravo teddy bear, that was incredible."

He moved his feet to your place, and he then pressed a big hug as a greeting.

"You said you wanted to ask me something private?" He said, pulling out of the embrace slowly, looking at you with his lovely eyes, as if you were the most precious thing ever.

You take a deep breath and assemble your strength to ask him about your soaking thought that had no answer.

"Would you be mad if I went straight to the point?" You spoke, throwing your hands together at the back. He raised one of his eyebrows in return, oblivious to your question.

"Why would I be mad at someone as cute as you, Mn? Go on, hit me up." He replies without any awkwardness, giggling under his throat at what will come at him as you have a flashback to the time when he couldn't even ask you to pass the water.

"Did you like me or not? I don't care what you would think of me as gay or whatever, but I want a real answer." You stated that you were seeking his answer to your unanswered.

Sunghoon was rubbing his chin and pouting his lip before he unexpectedly took a quick peek at your lip.

"This should be enough for you; don't be afraid to tell me if you want more. Details." He folded his hand after he left, and you zipped your mouth. He careless his lip, still having those quick kisses against your pretty kissable lip.

You're standing there, unable to move an inch; not only has he left you shocked, he's also left you hanging still. Is he playing with you or is this for real?

"Y-you... Hmm... So you like me? How much? Don't tell me you are playing with my feelings!" Concerned about your own feelings, his quick kiss is still fresh on your lips, but you brush it off as you mumble again. This feels untrue in no way.

"If I say I'm actually obsessed with you, would you believe it?"

"...hell nah"

"Exactly. You won't believe it, although I want to shout at the whole school that you're my boyfriend."

"What are you saying, Hyung? Don't joke with me!!" Your face was catching fire at the moment, processing the words that left his mouth. There's no way he likes you, yet his gesture already proves it.

"Whenever they like it or not, I want to show you off that I want you to be my boyfriend!! I want to brag to everyone about you, Teddy Bear."

"Please accept my love, I—like—you, and I'm sorry~ ijbol."

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥🗣️ bare with me with this one 😔👊 I suddenly write this when I heard Agora hill, no plan. Fluffy Sunghoon fic let's go 🫨

🗣️ crd to all pic&dividers especially anitalenia for dividers!

#enhypen #enha imagines #enha fluff #enhypen x male reader #enha x male reader #enha x you #enhypen scenarios #kpop x male reader #park sunghoon #enha sunghoon #enha scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enha x reader #enha fanfic

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romerona · 16 hours ago

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The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

Feat Abbot Staff!!

Carmy hated Sundays.

The Bear was closed and for a man used to the relentless pace of a kitchen—orders flying in, knives slicing, pans clattering—the stillness of a day off felt more like a curse than a blessing. Without the chaos to ground him, he was left alone with his thoughts, something he avoids at all coast. He’d tried to fill the hours: cleaning his already spotless apartment, flipping through a cookbook he’d read a dozen times, even going for a run. But nothing seemed to stick. The quiet only made the knots in his chest tighten.

That’s why he was here, walking aimlessly through the park, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. The air was crisp, the kind of late-autumn chill that bit at your nose but wasn’t cold enough to send you running for cover. Leaves crunched under his sneakers, their vivid oranges and yellows scattered across the path like nature’s version of confetti. The walk wasn’t fixing anything, but at least it gave him something to do. Something to focus on other than the gnawing sense that he should be doing more—even if he wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.

The distant sound of cheering, music, laughter, and the unmistakable squeak of sneakers against asphalt drew his attention. Rounding a corner, he spotted the commotion: the park’s basketball court was packed with people, all gathered around a lively game. A colorful banner hung crookedly above the entrance: Teachers vs. Parents Fundraiser—Help Abbott Elementary Score New Desks!

Carmy slowed his steps, curiosity tugging at him. Abbott Elementary. He’d heard you mention it in passing—how you loved your chaotic fourth graders, even when they tested your patience. You’d shared stories that had made him laugh more than he expected, like the time students were ‘desking’ and one of her coworkers splint her ankle.

On the court, two teams—one in bright shirts labeled Teacher Squad—were in the middle of a heated game. The crowd around the edges was just as lively, holding signs and hollering encouragement. Kids raced around with ice cream cones, parents juggled snacks and folding chairs, and a few teachers shouted at their teammates with varying levels of enthusiasm... And cameras?

Carmy’s gaze drifted toward the sidelines, and that’s when he saw you.

You were holding a clipboard, looking equal parts coach, cheerleader, and chaos manager, laughing as a tall man in a Teacher Squad t-shirt tried to dribble past a petite woman in braids who had the energy of someone far too invested in a friendly game.

“Janine!” you shouted, waving your clipboard. “Stick to defense, not interpretive dance!”

Janine threw her arms up. “I am playing defense! I just happen to be expressive about it!”

Another man—who Carmy guessed was not a regular athlete—tried to block someone but ended up tripping over his own feet.

A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd as a woman with an air of authority rolled her eyes. “Jacob, for heaven’s sake, plant your feet!”

“I’m working on it!” The man, Jacob, shouted back, sweating bullets.

Meanwhile, on a DJ setup at the edge of the court, a woman stood at a table with a microphone in one hand and a portable turntable in the other. She was wearing oversized sunglasses and a sparkly "Finest Principal of the Year" t-shirt.

She leaned into the mic, her voice dripping with confidence. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and everyone else lucky enough to witness this greatness, welcome to The Ava Coleman’s Show! Featuring basketball, fundraising, and these fabulous beats brought to you by yours truly.”

Carmy was unable to look away from the scene. It was chaos—absolute, unfiltered chaos—but there was something oddly magnetic about it.

You caught sight of him before he could decide whether to leave or stay. Your eyes lit up in recognition, and you broke into a grin, waving him over. “Carmy? Hey!”

He froze, realizing he’d been caught observing, he hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to you. “Uh, hey.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, jogging over to the sideline with a bright smile.

“Just walking,” he said, his tone casual, though his eyes lingered on you a little longer than he intended. “Didn’t know there was an event.”

You grinned, gesturing to the chaos behind you. “Yep! Teachers vs. Parents fundraiser. Most desks in my classroom are about two good elbows away from falling apart, so here we are.”

“That bad?” he asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You have no idea." You laugh.

Carmy glanced at the court, where a small woman—Janine, if he recalled correctly—attempted a layup… and missed. Spectacularly. The ball rebounded off the rim and smacked into Jacob, who yelped and stumbled backward into an older woman, spilling her lemonade.

“Jacob!” The woman scolded, dabbing at her blouse with a napkin. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you made it this far in life.”

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” Jacob said, raising his hands defensively before being yanked back into formation by a red haired woman.

“Quit standing there like a scarecrow, Jacob,” she barked. “Play defense, for crying out loud! And somebody get Barbara another lemonade.”

“Looks... intense.” Carmy tells her.

“Oh, it is,” you said with mock seriousness. “Melissa’s out for blood, Barbara’s refusing to play, and Janine... well, she's... enthusiastic. The only one that can give us a fighting chance is Gregory." You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder toward the court.

On the court, a tall man with a serious demeanor—whom Carmy guessed was Gregory—executed a perfect jump shot, earning cheers from the teacher's side. Nearby, Janine with a bright smile, clapped enthusiastically.

"Nice shot, Gregory!" Janine called out, her admiration evident.

Carmy chuckled softly,“Sounds like you’ve got it covered.”

Before you could respond, the DJ's, Ava, voice boomed over the mic again. “Heads up! This next track is dedicated to the parents who thought they could outplay me.”

She hit a button, and Jump Around blared from the speakers.

“Is she always like this?” Carmy asked, nodding toward Ava.

“Always,” you said, grinning. “But we love her. Mostly... she's what I like to call a creative leader."

“So, this is what you do on Sundays?” He asked.

“Not every Sunday,” you said, shrugging. “But when the kids need desks, we show up. Gotta support the cause, right?”

He nodded, shifting his weight. “Seems like a good cause.”

“It is,” you said warmly, then tilted your head at him. “You can stay if you want. No pressure. But, it’s more fun than wandering around on your own, I promise.”

He hesitated, his instinct to keep moving clashing with the unexpected comfort of your presence. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “I’ll even buy you a cupcake from the snack table. Chocolate, with sprinkles. The good kind.”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s your pitch? A cupcake?”

“Best ones in town,” you replied confidently. “Baked by Barbara herself. And trust me, if you’ve never had a Barbara Howard cupcake, you haven’t lived.”

For a moment, he debated it. Sundays were his least favorite day for a reason. But here, in the middle of this chaos—your chaos—it didn’t feel so bad. Finally, he let out a small sigh and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

“Good choice,” you replied, patting his shoulder before gesturing toward an empty spot on the sidelines. “Park it there, Chef Carmy. You’re about to witness the greatest—and messiest—game of all time.”

He watched as you jogged back, clipboard in hand, before stopping in front of Barbara, who was comfortably seated on a folding chair with her arms crossed and a bottle of water balanced neatly on her knee.

“Alright, Barbie, the game's still on track and we are five points down,” you said, tapping your clipboard against your hip with mock authority.

Barbara didn’t even flinch, raising a single unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh no, dear. I’ve done my part. My knees are not built for this level of foolishness.”

“But the kids need you!” you countered, raising your hands in a dramatic display of desperation. “Think of the desks, Barbara. The desks!”

Barbara waved a hand dismissively, though Carmy caught the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at her lips. “The children will survive, desks or no desks. But I will not survive chasing a basketball like a teenager. It’s your turn.”

You let out a dramatic, theatrical sigh, tossing your clipboard onto the bench. “Fine! Guess I’ll have to take one for the team. Again. The things I do for education.”

Barbara chuckled softly, waving you off. “Do your best, dear.”

Carmy leaned against the fence, arms crossed, as he settled in to watch. His eyes tracked your movements on the court as you threw yourself into the game with unrelenting enthusiasm. It was almost endearing—almost. You darted toward the ball, arms outstretched to block a pass—only to misjudge your angle entirely and slam directly into Jacob, who yelped as he tumbled to the ground in a heap of limbs.

The ball ricocheted off Jacob’s head, soaring through the air and narrowly missing Melissa, who jumped back with a glare.

“Watch it!” she barked.

“Sorry!” you shouted, grimacing as you crouched down to help a dazed Jacob to his feet. “That one’s on me.”

Jacob groaned, rubbing his elbow. “No worries. Just another day of being collateral damage.”

“You’re a champ,” you said, patting him on the back as the ball was scooped up by one of the parents. “Shake it off!”

“Classic,” Ava’s voice boomed from the DJ table. “That’s why you don’t mix bad aim with too much confidence. Someone get this on video for the highlight reel.”

Carmy huffed a quiet laugh, leaning further into the fence as the game pressed on. Watching you, he felt the restless tension in his chest begin to ease, replaced by something lighter.

You weren’t the most graceful player on the court—far from it. Within minutes, you’d tripped over your own shoelaces, collided with Janine during an overly enthusiastic pass, and accidentally launched the ball straight into Gregory’s face. But every stumble, every misstep, was met with your laughter—a sound so warm and genuine it seemed to ripple through the air, softening everything around it.

Carmy’s smirk deepened as he watched you jog back to your spot, waving apologetically to Gregory, who gave you a long-suffering look in return.

“C’mon, Chef Carmy,” you called out suddenly, spotting him on the sidelines. “Don’t just stand there! Grab a cupcake or something! Ava promised to drop the bass for every basket we score.”

“If you score,” Ava chimed in over the mic, smirking as she adjusted her oversized sunglasses. “Let’s not set unrealistic expectations.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ava!” you shouted back, rolling your eyes.

Carmy chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him here or why he’d stayed, but as he leaned against the fence, watching the chaotic mix of personalities on the court, he realized something. For the first time in months, he wasn’t thinking about work. He wasn’t worrying about what needed to be done, what had gone wrong, or what could go wrong next.

Instead, he was just... here. Watching you light up the court with your unrelenting energy, the way you made even the smallest moments feel big like they mattered. Watching the Abbott crew—imperfect, loud, and utterly ridiculous—made his day feel like the best day of the week so far.

And when the game ended with a triumphant, if not entirely skilful, shot from Melissa, Carmy found himself clapping along with the rest of the crowd, the tension in his chest completely gone.

You jogged over to him, grabbed a water bottle and flopped onto the bench, tilting your head back as you took a long drink.

“You alive?” Carmy called out, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

You lowered the bottle, looking at him breathlessly but grinning, wiping sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “Barely, but I’m thriving in spirit. Pretty impressive, right?”

He shook his head, his smirk softening into something closer to a smile. “Impressive isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Rude,” you said, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “But I’ll take it. Cupcake?”

“Sure,” he said, his voice quieter now, but warm.

And as you handed him a cupcake from the snack table, your fingers brushing his for just a second, he felt something unfamiliar—a flicker of ease, of belonging, of something good.

The sun was starting to dip lower, casting a golden hue over the park. Carmy took a bite of the cupcake, savoring the quiet moment. For the first time in a long time, the restless churn inside him had stilled.

And as he stood there, beside you, surrounded by laughter and warmth, he realized that this Sunday, chaotic as it was, might just be the best he’d had in years.

A/N: Heyyyy, thank you so much for the support. I'm on fireee lol. I hope you enjoyed it and tell me if you would like to be tagged. <3

Tags:

@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe

@akornsworld @khxna @ruthyalva96 @beingalive1

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #reader-insert #reader insert #the bear #abbott elementary #abbott elementary x reader

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rootedinrevisions · 3 months ago

Text

Birthday Girl

SUMMARY: Jasmine Harris, a confident WWE superstar, has spent years dancing around her feelings for her best friend and fellow wrestler, Damian Priest. When her birthday night spirals into frustration after Damian’s jealousy over a colleague spills into the open, the tension between them finally ignites. Fueled by a heated confrontation, old feelings resurface, and Damian takes it upon himself to show Jasmine how she truly deserves to be treated—both in and out of the ring. What starts as a volatile argument soon turns into an unforgettable night, where Damian's patience and Jasmine's long-buried desires collide in a whirlwind of passion.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to my bestie @caramara3 for requesting this one! I hope I did your idea justice, babes!

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT.

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: @miss-kuki-nz I @just-another-personal-side-blog I @caramara3 I @yana3sworld I @terrortwinunicorn I @hotwheels1108

If you would like to be added to my WWE Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The Orlando club pulsed with energy, a mix of colorful lights and throbbing bass that enveloped Jasmine as she stepped inside, her birthday dress hugging her curves in all the right places. She had chosen a fitted black dress with a daring neckline, paired with strappy heels that made her legs look impossibly long. It was her night to celebrate, and she intended to make the most of it.

Jasmine spotted a few familiar faces among the crowd, but her gaze was drawn to the dance floor, where the music pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. She laughed, throwing her head back, the sound a melody of confidence as she made her way to her friends. The night was just beginning, and she felt a surge of excitement course through her veins.

“Jazz Hands!” a voice called from behind her, breaking through the music.

She turned, a wide smile spreading across her face as she saw Damian approach, his tall frame cutting through the crowd effortlessly. He had a way about him that made him look effortlessly cool, and the tattoos that adorned his arms were a reminder of the fierce man he was in and out of the ring.

“Happy Birthday!” he said, wrapping her in a warm embrace that felt both familiar and electric.

For a moment, she allowed herself to bask in the comfort of his presence, the years of friendship wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.

“Thanks, Damian,” she replied, stepping back to look up at him. “You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Got a special birthday drink waiting for you,” he said with a playful wink.

She rolled her eyes, smirking. “You mean the one that’s mostly fruit juice and sugar? Very manly of you.”

“Hey, I have to keep you alive for the after-party, don’t I?” He chuckled, but his gaze flickered past her shoulder, and she sensed a shift in his demeanor.

Turning to follow his gaze, she saw Carmelo Hayes, a recent addition to WWE, casually approaching. He was exuding confidence, and when he spotted Jasmine, his smile widened as if she was the only person in the room.

“Looks like you’ve caught the attention of the new kid,” Damian said, his voice low.

There was a hint of something in his tone—possessiveness?—that made Jasmine raise an eyebrow.

“Carmelo’s just being friendly,” she replied, shrugging off his concern, even as her pulse quickened under his intense gaze.

The night progressed, and as the drinks flowed, Jasmine found herself drawn to Carmelo’s magnetic presence. He was charming, witty, and had a way of making her feel seen and appreciated in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. They danced together, their bodies moving in sync, and for the first time in what felt like ages, she felt free.

Damian watched from the sidelines, a storm brewing inside him. Every laugh she shared with Carmelo, every playful twirl, was like a knife to his chest. He was supposed to be the one making her laugh, the one pulling her into his arms.

As Jasmine tossed her head back in laughter, Damian could no longer contain himself. He stormed over, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to pull her away.

But in his frustration, he accidentally knocked into Carmelo, causing a drink to spill all over Jasmine’s dress.

“Damian!” she exclaimed, stepping back, the anger in her eyes cutting through him like glass. “What the hell?”

“I—” he started, but the hurt in her expression stopped him cold.

Jasmine was fuming, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She glanced at Carmelo, who looked equally shocked, and then back at Damian.

“You just ruined my birthday!” With a growl of frustration, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the club, the sound of her heels echoing on the pavement.

Damian followed her outside, his heart racing. “Jazz!” he called, but she didn’t stop.

“Why would you do that?” she yelled, spinning around to face him in the dimly lit parking lot. “Why would you make an ass out of yourself like that?”

“Because I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Damian shot back, his voice low but fierce.

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You don’t get to dictate who looks at or touches me. You’re not my boyfriend, Damian.”

His heart sank at her words, but he couldn’t let her walk away.

“I want to be!” he blurted out, the admission hanging in the air between them.

Jasmine scoffed, disbelief etched on her features. “Oh, really?” A few days, weeks, or months ago, maybe she would’ve jumped at the chance. But now? After he embarrassed her like this? “Well forget it. I would never date someone like you.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension, and Damian could feel the weight of his mistake pressing down on him. This wasn’t how he wanted things to be, but the longer she stood there, hurt and angry, the more he realized how much he had to lose.

With the air crackling between them, Jasmine’s anger hung in the air like a tempest ready to break. She stood there, her chest heaving, eyes blazing as she fought back tears that threatened to spill. Damian could see the hurt behind her defiance, and it twisted something deep within him.

“Jazz, please,” he started, desperation creeping into his voice. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night. I just... I don’t want anyone else to have you.”

“You don’t get to decide that!” she shot back, her words sharp like daggers. “You’ve had your chance, Damian. I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for years. I thought tonight would finally be different.”

“I was going to,” he replied, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “But you were having fun. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Too late for that!” she snapped. “You’ve already ruined everything.”

“Damn it, Jasmine! I’ve liked you for so long, and watching you dance with him, seeing him touch you... I lost it. I didn’t want to stand back and watch anymore.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, confusion mingling with her anger. He never called her Jasmine. It was always Jazz or Jazz Hands. Jasmine was reserved for when he was pissed off with her. Which only happened once before.

But her anger only faltered for a moment before it returned. “So, you just thought you’d spill a drink on me and that would somehow make it better?”

“No! I thought I would get him away from you,” he admitted, taking a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I thought I could show you that I’m the one who deserves you. The drink getting spilled on you was an accident. I’m an idiot, not an asshole.”

Jasmine’s heart raced at his words, the sincerity in his voice momentarily softening her anger. But she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend, but you’ve never even asked me out, Damian. You can’t just expect me to jump at the chance now.”

“I know,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And I’m sorry. I should have made my intentions clear a long time ago. I don’t want to lose you, Jazz.”

She took a shaky breath, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “And what if I’m done waiting? What if I want to see where things go with Carmelo?”

“That’s not what you really want,” he said, his gaze intense, as if he could read the very thoughts racing through her mind. “I see how you light up around me, Jazz. Remember that night we stayed up talking until dawn, sharing secrets that no one else knows? You were so animated, laughing like the world outside didn’t exist. Or the way your eyes spark when I mention something you love—like your favorite old wrestling matches or that stupid ‘90s sitcom we binge-watched together on plane rides. You don’t do that with anyone else.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I know when you’re pretending, putting on a brave face for everyone else, but when it’s just us, you let your guard down. Like when you told me about that tough match last month—the one you thought you’d lost. I could see the fire in you, but I also saw the vulnerability. You don’t show that side to anyone else, Jasmine. You trust me.”

Damian’s expression softened as he continued, “And what about that night at my place, when we were supposed to just watch some stupid reality show? You fell asleep on me, and I didn’t want to wake you. But just as you were drifting off, you sleepily whispered that you loved me. You probably don’t even remember it, but I do. That moment meant everything to me.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle between them. “I know you feel it too. You might want to act like you don’t care, but I can see it in your eyes, in the way you react to me. You’re not just pushing me away; you’re fighting against something real.”

She hesitated, the temptation to give in battling with the anger still simmering in her veins. “You think you can just flip a switch and everything’s okay?”

Damian stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “No, but I can try. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

“Then start by apologizing for being a jerk,” she challenged, arms crossed defiantly over her chest.

“I’m sorry for being an ass tonight,” he replied sincerely. “You deserve better than that.”

Her heart softened at his words, and she could feel the walls she had built around herself beginning to crumble. But the hurt still lingered. “It’s going to take more than words, Damian.”

“I know,” he said, determination in his eyes. “Let me show you. Just give me the chance.”

With her heart racing, Jasmine considered his offer. Could she really take that leap after everything that had happened? But deep down, the thought of finally giving in to what had been simmering between them for so long felt exhilarating.

“Fine,” she said, her voice steady. “But if you screw this up again, it’s over for good.”

A grin broke across his face, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding through him. “I won’t let you down, Jazz. I promise.”

As his words hung in the air, a warmth spread through Jasmine’s chest, melting away the remnants of her frustration. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way his gaze held hers with a mix of determination and tenderness. The weight of their unspoken feelings settled between them like a comfortable blanket, wrapping her in a sense of security she hadn’t realized she craved. For the first time in a long while, Jasmine felt a flicker of hope igniting within her. Perhaps this night could mark a turning point, a chance to finally explore the depth of what had been simmering beneath the surface of their friendship for so long.

“So, are you going to take me home, or should I get an Uber?” she teased, breaking the spell of the moment.

Damian blinked, pulled from his thoughts by her playful tone. “I’ll take you home,” he replied, a grin spreading across his face. With that, they made their way to his car, the atmosphere shifting as they stepped into a night filled with possibilities.

Damian opened the car door for her, a charming smile gracing his lips as he extended his hand.

“After you, birthday girl.” Jasmine took his hand, her heart racing slightly as she climbed into the car, feeling the weight of his gentle touch.

As he drove, the atmosphere inside the car shifted to something more comfortable, yet charged. Damian’s hand rested on her thigh, warm and reassuring. It was a gesture filled with respect, not invasive but undeniably intimate. She glanced sideways at him, catching the glint of determination in his eyes.

When they arrived at her place, Damian was quick to open her car door again, offering his hand to help her out.

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, his voice low. He placed a warm hand on her lower back as they walked to her front door, the touch igniting something deep within her.

They paused in front of her door, the air thick with unspoken words. Damian opened his mouth to say goodnight, wanting to respect her space and not push her limits. “Goodnight, Jazz. I hope you had a—”

“Are you going to come inside?” she interrupted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

He hesitated, a slight blush creeping up his neck as he stumbled over his words. “I— I wasn’t sure I’d be invited,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. “Well, I am still waiting on a birthday present from you,” she said, her voice laced with playful challenge. Before he could respond, she reached up, grabbed his tie, and pulled him inside.

Damian’s heart raced as he stepped over the threshold, running his tongue over his lips in anticipation. The door clicked shut behind them, and the playful air of the moment hung thick between them, charged with tension and unfulfilled desires.

Once inside Jasmine’s apartment, the atmosphere shifted again, charged with anticipation. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the cozy space, casting a warm light over the living room. She set her keys down on the small table by the door, stealing glances at Damian as he stepped in behind her, closing the door softly.

“I, uh, didn’t think I’d be invited in,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, a hint of nervousness breaking through his confident facade.

Jasmine smirked, leaning against the doorframe with an air of playful confidence. “You know, it’s not every day I get a ride home from a big, tall Puerto Rican,” she teased, the glint in her eyes revealing just how much she enjoyed his presence.

Damian chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Well, I’m glad I could offer my ride-share services. Just wait until you see what else I can do.”

Her heart raced at his suggestion, and the playful banter between them felt charged with something deeper. She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “You think you can impress me?”

He took a step forward, closing the space between them. “I’m hoping so” he murmured, his gaze locked onto hers, intense and full of promise.

Jasmine felt the heat radiating off him, the memories of their earlier conversation flooding back to her. She was still waiting for her birthday present, and the thought sent a thrill through her. “Speaking of impressing me,” she said, biting her lip, “I’m still waiting for that birthday present, Damian.”

A slow grin spread across his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, is that so?” he asked, stepping even closer, his presence enveloping her. “What do you want, Jazz?”

Without thinking, she reached for his tie again, gently tugging him closer until their bodies nearly touched. “Why don’t you come find out?” she challenged, her voice laced with flirtation.

Damian’s breath hitched, a mix of surprise and desire flashing across his face. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned, but the playful glint in his eyes said he was all in.

“Maybe I like fire,” she shot back, emboldened by the electricity crackling between them. “Maybe I want to get burned.”

With that, Damian closed the distance, his lips capturing hers in a deep, passionate kiss. It was everything she’d been longing for, a whirlwind of pent-up desire and unspoken promises. He pulled her closer, his hands sliding around her waist as if they were meant to be together like this.

As they broke apart, Jasmine could see the heat in his gaze, and it sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “So, about that birthday present…” he said, his voice low and teasing, filled with unspoken intentions.

Jasmine smirked, her heart racing as she looked up at him, feeling emboldened by the kiss. “I’m curious, Damian. What do you have in mind for this birthday present?” she teased, her voice playful yet laced with desire.

He took a step back, giving her a thoughtful look as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Well, I was thinking something unforgettable,” he replied, his gaze scanning her features as if he were memorizing every detail. “Something that makes you feel special… because you are.”

Jasmine felt a warmth spread through her at his words, but she kept up the playful banter. “I mean, a simple ‘happy birthday’ would have sufficed,” she replied, her tone light, though her heart was racing.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he countered, stepping closer again, the heat radiating off him as he enveloped her in his presence. “You deserve more than just a few words. You deserve to be treated like the queen you are.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over her. “I’ll take that compliment, but let’s see if you can deliver,” she challenged, her confidence shining through.

Damian chuckled, leaning in, his breath brushing against her ear. “Oh, I can definitely deliver.”

Jasmine felt the heat of his body so close to hers, the anticipation hanging in the air as she tilted her head slightly, catching his eye. “Then show me,” she whispered, the challenge hanging between them.

With a smirk, he took her hand, leading her deeper into the apartment. The atmosphere shifted, becoming heavier with the promise of what was to come. He stopped in the living room, looking around before focusing back on her. “Do you want to play a game, Jazz?”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What kind of game?”

“I’m going to make you a deal,” he said, his tone serious but with an underlying playfulness. “If you can guess what I’m thinking right now, I’ll give you whatever you want for your birthday.”

She crossed her arms, a challenge in her eyes. “And if I can’t?”

He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper. “Then I get to have my way with you. No questions asked.”

Jasmine felt her breath hitch at the implication. The thrill of the challenge ignited something deep within her, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I’m in. But you better not go easy on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jasmine took a moment to consider. She stepped back, trying to think like Damian. He was intense, and brooding at times, but he had a playful side that came out when he was comfortable.

“You’re thinking about… how much you want to kiss me again?” she guessed, biting her lip as she watched him closely.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Not even close.”

She feigned disappointment but quickly recovered, trying to think of another guess. “How about… you’re wondering if I’m going to actually make you work for it?”

“Getting warmer,” he said, leaning closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “But still not right.”

The tension between them was palpable, and Jasmine was beginning to feel the heat rising in the room. “Okay, okay. How about… you want to know if I’m going to scream your name tonight?”

Damian’s gaze darkened, and the playful challenge melted away, replaced with a raw hunger. “Now you’re just trying to get under my skin by giving me ideas,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

“Maybe,” she replied, stepping even closer, her heart racing. “Maybe I like it when you get frustrated.”

In one swift motion, he closed the gap, pinning her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Jasmine Harris,” he warned, his eyes blazing with intensity.

She could feel her heart racing, the thrill of the moment coursing through her veins. “I know,” she breathed, a smile teasing her lips. “But you’re the one who made me do it. You wanted to play a game, remember?”

Damian leaned in, their lips just inches apart. “I think it’s time to remind you who’s really in control here.”

With that, he pressed his lips against hers once more, deepening the kiss, pouring all the frustration and desire he had been holding back into that single moment. Jasmine melted into him, feeling the weight of everything that had come before them and all the possibilities that lay ahead.

The kiss ignited a spark that traveled through Jasmine like wildfire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she melted into him, deepening the kiss. Damian’s hands roamed her sides, his touch igniting every nerve ending in her body.

As they pulled away, both breathless, Jasmine could see the heat in Damian’s gaze, the tension still crackling in the air between them. “I didn’t know you had it in you to be so bold,” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you thought,” she shot back, her confidence growing with every passing second.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with desire. “Oh, I know you, Jasmine. I know how fierce you are in the ring and how soft you can be when it’s just us. You can be both, and I find that incredibly sexy.”

Jasmine felt her cheeks heat at his words. “You always had a way with compliments, Damian,” she said, her voice teasing. “But I’m still waiting for that birthday present you promised me.”

He took a step back, contemplating her challenge. “Alright then, how about we make this a little more interesting?” he proposed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll give you a taste of what you’re missing, but only if you can guess what my next move is.”

Her heart raced at the idea of another game, the thrill of the chase reigniting her playful spirit. “Challenge accepted,” she replied, a smirk dancing on her lips.

Damian stepped away and moved to the living room, glancing back over his shoulder with a devilish grin. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

Without thinking, Jasmine lunged forward, her competitive nature ignited. She dashed after him, laughter spilling from her lips as they raced through the apartment. He moved quickly, his long legs easily outpacing her, but she was determined.

Finally, he stopped in front of the couch, turning just as she reached him. With a swift motion, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground. “Gotcha,” he whispered, his breath warm against her neck.

She laughed, feeling exhilarated as he set her down, their bodies still close. “You’re going to pay for that,” she teased, shoving him playfully.

“Bring it on, Jazz,” he challenged an edge of excitement in his voice.

As the playful banter continued, Jasmine felt a magnetic pull toward him. She stepped closer, her heart racing as she leaned in, teasingly brushing her lips against his cheek. “So, what’s next?” she asked, her voice a sultry whisper.

Damian’s expression shifted, the playful nature giving way to something more serious. “I want to show you how I feel, but I need you to let me know I can first.”

Jasmine’s breath hitched at his words, the weight of his sincerity hitting her. “I… I want that, Damian. But I’m scared,” she admitted, her vulnerability slipping through.

“Trust me,” he said softly, cupping her face in his hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I won’t let you down. I promise to take care of you.”

With his words hanging in the air, she felt the last of her defenses crumble. The intensity of the moment wrapped around them like a cocoon, and she knew she wanted to dive deeper. “Then show me,” she whispered, leaning closer.

He didn’t hesitate. His lips captured hers again, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken promises. As they kissed, the world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them in that intimate space.

When they finally broke apart, Damian searched her eyes. “Are you ready for your present?” he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Jasmine nodded, feeling exhilarated. “Absolutely.”

“Then let’s make tonight unforgettable,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her back toward the couch.

As they settled onto the couch, Damian turned to her, his expression shifting to one of complete devotion. “Tonight is all about you, Jasmine. I want to know everything you like,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “What makes you feel good?”

Jasmine felt a thrill run through her at his words, excitement and vulnerability mixing in a delicious blend. “You really want to know?” she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his gaze steady, unwavering. “I want to make you feel amazing. So tell me.”

She bit her lip, feeling a flutter in her stomach. “I don’t want a quickie or something casual,” she confessed. “I want to feel every touch, every kiss. No rushing. Just… savoring the moment.”

Damian nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.” He leaned closer, brushing his fingers along her arm, igniting tingles that spread across her skin.

Jasmine nodded, her heart racing in anticipation. He leaned in, placing gentle kisses along her collarbone, trailing down to the soft curve of her neck. Each kiss was deliberate, full of intent, making her body arch toward him instinctively.

“Tell me if I’m doing it right,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and intoxicating.

She inhaled sharply, her pulse quickening at the sensation. “You are,” she whispered, reveling in his touch. “More… just like that.”

His hands traveled to her waist, fingertips dancing over the fabric of her dress, sending shivers down her spine. “I want to know what makes you moan, what makes you squirm,” he urged, his voice thick with desire.

Jasmine felt bold and liberated under his attention. “I love when you take control,” she admitted, looking into his eyes.

With that, he began to explore, his hands roaming her body with a mixture of tenderness and strength. He pulled her closer, making her feel like the only person in the world. As he kissed her, each movement was slow, deliberate, meant to draw out every moment, every reaction.

He paused, meeting her gaze. “What else do you want, Jazz?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I want you to take your time,” she replied, her voice slightly breathless.

Damian smiled, the kind of smile that made her heart race. “Good. I want to worship you,” he said, dipping his head to plant soft kisses along her shoulders, trailing lower as he reveled in her reaction.

With each kiss, he took his time, teasing her with his lips, igniting a fire deep within her. He pulled the hem of her dress up slightly, exposing more of her skin. “Tell me what you want. I need to hear it.”

“I want you to touch me,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper, the heat rising to her cheeks. “I want you to show me how much you want me.”

“Then I will,” he promised, his voice low and commanding. He shifted, moving to kneel before her, his hands sliding up her thighs, sending electricity coursing through her veins.

“Damian,” she gasped, the anticipation building as he hovered just inches away from her most sensitive spots. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” he replied, looking up at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “I want you to feel that. Just remember, it’s all about you tonight.”

With that, he leaned in, placing soft kisses along her inner thighs, teasing her, making her squirm with need. Jasmine’s fingers grabbed the top of his head, her fingers digging into his dark hair as she urged him closer, her body arching instinctively toward him.

“Please,” she breathed, desperation creeping into her voice. “I need you.”

“Be patient,” he replied, his voice thick with desire as he continued his exploration, each kiss a promise of what was to come.

Jasmine let out a soft whimper, the tension and anticipation coiling tightly within her. “You’re doing a good job,” she praised, her voice shaky. “I promise.”

“Just wait,” he murmured, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. “We’re just getting started.”

As Damian lavished attention on her inner thighs, Jasmine squirmed, every kiss igniting more need within her. His warm breath caressed her skin, and she could feel the heat radiating from him, fueling her own desire. “Damian,” she breathed, gripping the couch as she tried to contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

“Just let go, Jazz,” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “Trust me to take care of you.”

With a slight nod, she surrendered to him, leaning back against the cushions. He captured her gaze, his eyes dark with intent as he trailed kisses higher, teasing the edge of her lace underwear. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “I want you to feel every second of this.”

As his fingers danced along the waistband of her panties, he paused, looking up at her with a smirk. “Tell me what you want,” he coaxed, his voice dripping with desire.

“I want you to touch me,” she admitted, her heart racing as she felt the heat of his hands so close. “I want to feel you.”

Damian’s smirk widened as he slowly peeled her panties away, exposing her to him completely. “You’re so responsive,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I can’t wait to make you feel so good.”

With deliberate slowness, he let his fingers glide along her most sensitive areas, coaxing out soft gasps and moans from her lips. Jasmine arched her back, feeling herself unravel under his skilled touch. “Oh God, yes,” she breathed, her voice a mix of pleasure and urgency.

“Keep talking to me,” he encouraged, his fingers expertly working to build her up. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels amazing,” she panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re driving me wild.”

“Good,” he replied, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you, Damian. I want you to make me feel good,” she gasped, her body craving more.

“Then I will,” he promised, leaning in to capture her lips with his, the taste of her mixing with the intoxicating air around them. He kissed her passionately, his tongue dancing with hers, the rhythm matching the movements of his fingers, drawing out every sound, every reaction from her.

As he continued his teasing, he could feel her tensing, the pressure building within her. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured against her lips, his fingers moving with precision.

“Damian,” she whimpered, her body begging for release. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promised, deepening the intensity of his touch. “I want you to come for me.”

With each stroke, he expertly pushed her closer to the edge, Jasmine’s breath hitching as pleasure washed over her like waves crashing against the shore. “Yes! Oh my God, I’m—”

“Come for me, Jazz,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, just the way she liked it.

With a final stroke, she shattered, a wave of ecstasy crashing over her. Jasmine cried out, her body arching off the couch as she let herself fall into the pleasure he’d given her. Every sensation was amplified, sending her spiraling into bliss as he held her, guiding her through it.

“That's it, baby. Just let it all go,” he whispered, his fingers slowing to a gentle caress as her body trembled with aftershocks.

As she came down from her high, Jasmine felt a warm sense of satisfaction wash over her. Damian pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around them like a comforting blanket.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased lightly, his fingers playing with her hair.

Jasmine chuckled softly, still riding the wave of pleasure. “You really know how to treat a girl.”

“I told you I’d make it about you,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. “And I plan to keep that promise.”

With newfound confidence, Jasmine tilted her head to meet his gaze, her heart swelling with affection. “So, what’s next? More of this?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Absolutely,” he grinned, leaning in to press his lips against hers once more.

“I want you to make me feel even better,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I want all of you, Damian.”

“Then let’s take our time,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “I want you to enjoy every second of this, birthday girl.”

With that, he began to explore her once more, ensuring Jasmine felt cherished and desired, every kiss and touch a testament to the connection they were building. Each moment was filled with promise and passion, a dance of intimacy that drew them closer together, pushing the boundaries of what they’d once shared.

#Damian Priest #Damian Preist Fic #Damian Priest Fanfic #Damian Preist Fanfiction #WWE #WWE Fic #WWE Fanfic #WWE Fanfiction #Damian Priest smut #WWE smut

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siythn · 8 months ago

Text

I Forgot That You Existed (feat. Satoru Gojo) [Limited Edition CD]

GOJO X READER! You'd long forgotten your ex-boyfriend Satoru Gojo is what you'd like to tell yourself. No, you didn't miss him, not one bit. But, when running into him at a club, is that what you can keep telling yourself? Or was it just the shots and high emotions you keep endorsing in? ❝IT ISN'T LOVE, IT ISN'T HATE, IT'S JUST INDIFFERENCE❞ ᥫ᭡ LOVER; MASTERLIST

The neon lights of the club pulsed in time with the heavy bass of the music, casting a colorful glow over the crowded dance floor.

You sipped your drink, trying to enjoy the party your friends had dragged you to. It was a welcome distraction from the routine of exorcising curses and the loneliness that had settled in your heart over the past year.

Going to grab a shot for your friend from the bar before suddenly freezing, feeling a familiar—powerful presence behind you. You turn around, now face to face with the one person you never expected to see here—Satoru Gojo. His striking white hair and signature sunglasses made him impossible to miss, even in the dim, flashing lights.

"Is that you?!" he shouted over the music, his voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

"Satoru?" you responded, your voice barely audible over the thumping beats. The crowd jostled you both, pushing you closer together.

"Long time no see!" he said, leaning in so you could hear him, grin lighting up his face. His breath brushed your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Yeah," you replied, slipping a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. "What are you doing here?"

"Got dragged here by some friends," he shouted back, his lips getting dangerously close to your ear. "You?"

"Same," you said, feeling the tension build as the crowd pressed you closer. His proximity was intoxicating. You can’t help but reminisce on the memories where he had been this near; you’d been trying to bury for weeks.

The music changed to a slower, more sensual beat, and the crowd around you shifted, swaying to the rhythm. You and Gojo were pushed even closer together, your bodies almost touching.

"It's so crowded," you muttered, eyes slightly starting to glare at the people around you. You failed to pick up the tone of your voice, and how it tinged with frustration and something else—something you didn't want to admit.

"Yeah, it is," Gojo agreed, his eyes locking onto yours after taking a glance at the crowd. The playful smirk you remembered so well danced on his lips. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you lied. The truth was, being this close to him was stirring up a whirlwind of emotions you thought you’d be done with a long time ago. It’s why you’re out here at a club, trying to get wasted, right?

The crowd surged again, causing Gojo to stumble slightly. He reached out to steady himself, his hand landing on your waist. The touch was electric—a faint shiver went up your spine from his cold hands. You could slowly feel your promises breaking.

Opening your mouth to respond, you get interrupted by your friend, who had lost track of you earlier, appearing out of nowhere from the back of you. Shouting over the music with two new drinks found in her hand.

"Hey! There you are!" she yelled, grabbing your arm. "Come on, you have to get on the dance floor! It's insane out there!"

You turned to her, trying to explain, but before you could get a word out, she noticed Gojo standing in front of you. Her eyes widened, and a sly grin spread across her face as she recognized him.

"Oh," she said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "Never mind, enjoy yourself. Text me if you need me."

She gave you a wink and a knowing look before disappearing back into the throng of dancing bodies. You would murder her if you could. Not even the beaming lights could help your embarrassment. Slowly turn back to Gojo, who was watching the exchange with a bemused smile.

"Friends," he said, leaning in closer so you could hear him over the music. "They always know, don't they?"

"Yeah," you agreed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "They always do."

He lets out a hum. "Look," he said, his voice softer now, almost lost in the noise around you. Almost like he was now embarrassed, but not enough to break eye contact. "I've missed you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Satoru, this isn't the time—"

"Maybe not," he interrupted, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as another wave of people pushed you together. "But I've been thinking about you a lot. About us."

You tried to pull away, but the crowd was relentless, and his touch was making it impossible to think clearly. "We ended things for a reason, Satoru."

"I know," he said, his voice full of regret. "But maybe we were wrong."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for the sincerity you needed to hear. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," he replied, leaning in closer, "that I don't want to forget you. That I want to try again."

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in. The music, the lights, the crowd—all of it faded into the background as you focused on him. It was too much, the drinks, the overwhelming about of people, him. "What if it doesn't work out?"

"Then at least we tried," he said, his voice full of conviction. "But I have a feeling it will. Because we belong together."

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, hear rushing up your neck. This is so stupid. So so stupid. "Satoru, I—"

Before you could finish, the crowd surged once more, pushing you into his arms. He held you tightly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Just think about it, okay?"

You nodded against his shoulder, unable to find the words. The music shifted again, and the crowd began to thin out as people moved to different parts of the club. Gojo loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, moving back slightly to stare at your face.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, his eyes never leaving yours. "Someplace quieter, where we can talk."

You took a deep breath, looked around as if to find an answer to your problems, feeling a mix of hope and fear. "Okay."

ᥫ᭡ᩚ

The bar was a welcome change from the chaotic club, with a more relaxed atmosphere and soft jazz playing in the background. You took a seat at the bar, and before you could say anything, Gojo waved the bartender over and ordered a drink.

"A classic margarita please," he said with a confident smile, as if he was bragging.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," he replied, turning to you with a grin. "Some things are hard to forget."

The bartender quickly returned with your drink and a whiskey for Gojo. You took a sip, the familiar taste bringing a small smile to your lips. "Thanks you"

Gojo clinked his glass against yours. "To new beginnings?"

"Maybe," you said, dragging out the word with a hint of caution in your voice. "Or to understanding the past."

He nodded, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down, turning to face you. "Fair enough. So, how have you been, really?"

You sighed, staring off to the arrow of alcoholic bottles while swirling your drink in your hand. "It's been a tough year. A lot of work, just trying to keep busy."

"I know the feeling," he noted, arms crossing against his chest. "I've missed you, more than I realized."

You looked at him, seeing the genuine regret in his eyes. A part of you wants to take him up on his offer immediately, your past with him was unlike any other. It was intimate, it was love. "Why now, Satoru? Why reach out after all this time?"

A mix of a sigh and hum come out his throat as he runs a hand through his white hair. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. About us. There was just so much going on—and I realized that maybe we gave up too soon."

"It wasn't easy at all," you admitted, feeling a lump form in your throat as you slightly wince at the memories. "I had stuff going on—you did too. It just got to a point where none of us had time for each other. It wasn’t healthy, Satoru.

"True," he muttered while nodding. "But I've been thinking. . .that it wouldn’t hurt to try again. For us to try again.”

You looked down at your drink, the emotions swirling inside you as chaotic as the crowd you'd just left. "But, what if it just turns out like it did before?"

"We did something, we tried at the most,” with a soft tone, he reaching out to gently take your hand. "But I have a feeling it will. Because I still care about you. And I have a good feeling you still care too.”

You felt your practically melt at his words. You hate to admit, but the walls you had built around your feelings started to crumble. Starting to let him in once more. "I do care, Satoru. I mean, I never stopped."

"Then let's not waste any more time," he stated, a hopeful smile spreading across his face. "Let's go on a date. A proper one. And make up for lost time."

You took a deep breath. Being honest, you didn’t know how to feel. If truthfully nothing worked out to plan, how bad would it hit you? Would you be okay with that? But looking into Gojo's eyes, you saw the sincerity and the longing, and it made you believe that maybe, just maybe, this time things could be different.

"Okay," you squeeze his hand twice. "One more try."

Gojo's smile widened, and he raised his glass again. "To new beginnings."

Clinking your glass with his, you can’t help the massive smile that breaks out on your face. The redness on your cheeks doesn’t make it any better.

“To new beginnings."

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