#Curtain tie backs

[dragonmom-art]

One thing that I love crocheting is big plushies… It’s so satisfying to see a big piece come to life, stitch by stitch! I realized that for the first time when I crocheted this sweet couple of monkeys that are also curtain tie backs for a commission. I want to redo them with my new skills… I think they’ll turn out even better! Too bad I don’t have curtains on my window…

This pattern is called “Mike The Monkey” and was created by Sugaridoo.

[mohithandicrafts]

Discover the Beauty of Mohit Handicrafts

Discover the artistry of Mohit Handicrafts, a Delhi-based haven for exquisite handcrafted treasures. Since 2002, they've captivated customers with intricate tassels, elegant curtain tie-backs, and luxurious fringes, all showcasing India's rich cultural heritage. Explore their handcrafted macrame, coasters, and ornaments, each piece reflecting the meticulous skill of their artisans. Mohit Handicrafts combines tradition with innovation, offering high-quality, durable, and stylish home decor with global reach and personalized service.

[lushescurtains]

🔥 Elevate your home decor to the next level with luxury #curtain #tiebacks! Discover the secrets to choosing the perfect tie backs, installation tips, and expert cleaning advice. Get ready to transform your #curtains and wow your guests!

#HomeDecor #CurtainTieBacks #InteriorDesign

[sakshikaribykriti]

Curtain tie backs are a popular accessory used to hold curtains open and create a beautiful look in any room. They come in a variety of materials, designs, and colors, from simple cotton ties to decorative macrame curtain tie backs. Here are five benefits of using curtain tie backs in your home.

[milo-is-rambling]

Quick Netflix play the Tuca and Bertie episode where Bertie has intrusive pastry pete memory/fantasy masturbation and then has panic attacks and tries to get rid of her vibe and her bed to magically fix herself. Umm. No reason why I wanna watch that one tho. It’s fine. No comment.

[rosymiel]

i got a fern baby yesterday, i’ve never (successfully) had a plant before so i have some pots and hangers coming in tomorrow. i also made some temporary crochet curtain tie backs, there’s so much sunlight coming into my room now

[tieback]

Transform Your Space with Elegant Tie Backs for Curtains

When it comes to home décor, the details matter. One often overlooked yet impactful accessory is the tie back for curtains. These small additions can make a significant difference in the overall look and feel of a room. Whether you're aiming for a classic, modern, rustic, or nautical theme, tie backs provide both aesthetic appeal and functional benefits. Let's explore the various aspects of tie backs for curtains and how they can enhance your living space.

What Are Tie Backs for Curtains?

Tie backs are decorative and functional elements used to hold curtains open. They come in a variety of styles, materials, and designs, allowing you to customize the look of your window treatments. By keeping curtains neatly pulled to the side, tie backs allow natural light to flood into the room, creating a brighter and more inviting atmosphere.

Materials and Styles

1. Fabric Tie Backs: Fabric tie backs are versatile and can be made from the same material as your curtains or a contrasting one. Common fabrics include cotton, silk, velvet, and linen. These soft and flexible tie backs can add a touch of elegance and cohesiveness to your window treatments.

2. Rope Tie Backs: Rope tie backs are perfect for adding a rustic or nautical charm to your space. Often braided or twisted, they can be plain or adorned with decorative elements like tassels or knots. Rope tie backs are durable and bring a cozy, countryside feel to any room.

3. Metal Tie Backs: For a sleek and elegant look, metal tie backs are an excellent choice. Available in brass, iron, and stainless steel, these tie backs offer a sturdy solution that complements modern and traditional décors alike. They come in various shapes and finishes, adding a touch of sophistication.

4. Wood Tie Backs: Wooden tie backs provide a natural and earthy feel, making them ideal for rustic or nature-inspired interiors. They are available in different stains and carvings, allowing you to choose a design that best suits your room's theme.

5. Beaded Tie Backs: Beaded tie backs are perfect for adding a touch of sparkle and glamour. Made from glass, crystal, or acrylic beads, these tie backs can range from simple to intricate designs, suitable for both casual and formal settings.

Functional Benefits

Aesthetic Enhancement: Tie backs add a decorative element to your curtains, enhancing the overall look of your room. They can complement your existing décor and bring a polished, finished touch to your window treatments.

Light Control: By holding curtains open, tie backs allow natural light to enter the room, creating a brighter and more welcoming atmosphere. This is especially beneficial in rooms that require ample daylight, such as living rooms and kitchens.

Space Optimization: Keeping curtains neatly pulled to the side with tie backs can make a room feel more spacious and organized. It prevents curtains from obstructing walkways and maximizes the use of space.

Versatility: Tie backs are easy to adjust or remove, offering flexibility in how you display your curtains. This allows you to change the look of your window treatments without the need for permanent fixtures.

Installation Methods

Hooks: Most tie backs are used with hooks installed on the wall. The tie back wraps around the curtain and hooks onto the wall fixture, providing a secure hold.

Magnetic: Magnetic tie backs clip around the curtain without the need for wall installation, making them easy to use and reposition as needed.

Loop: Some tie backs feature loops that simply slip over the curtain, offering a quick and temporary solution.

Care and Maintenance

Fabric Tie Backs: Typically machine washable or can be spot cleaned, depending on the fabric type.

Metal and Wooden Tie Backs: Wipe with a damp cloth and dry thoroughly to prevent rust or damage.

Beaded Tie Backs: Clean gently with a soft cloth to avoid damaging the beads.

Choosing the Right Tie Backs

When selecting tie backs for your curtains, consider the following factors:

Match with Curtains: Choose tie backs that complement the color, pattern, and style of your curtains.

Room Décor: Ensure the tie backs align with the overall theme and décor of the room.

Functional Needs: Think about how often you’ll adjust the curtains and select tie backs that offer the necessary ease of use.

Conclusion

Tie backs for curtains are a small yet impactful accessory that can enhance both the functionality and aesthetic of your window treatments. With a wide variety of styles, materials, and designs available, there is a perfect tie back for every curtain and room décor. Whether you're looking to add a touch of elegance, control natural light, or create a more organized space, tie backs are a simple and effective solution. Explore the possibilities and transform your living space with the perfect tie backs for your curtains.

[allurilove]

Calm Yandere x you

“Your expressionless boyfriend.”

Rated 18 + — mature short content!

Includes: calm yandere x talkative gender neutral reader, mutual pining?, strangers to friends to lovers, cute fluff in the beginning… other stuff later on. wink wink. ♡

Calm yandere was known to be a little cold. His default face is an unamused one, the ends of his lips always downward, and it certainly scared you away from him when you first saw him. He didn’t like to socialize as much as you did, and when you talked to him, he only seemed to nod. “Mhm,” and “uh-huh,” was all you could get from him. He didn’t hate nor dislike you— you’re an absolute perfect specimen, and a normal, and adaptable human being. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted, period. He started to form a crush on you, and it was a minuscule one at first. He appreciated how you were able to carry a conversation, how bright and confident you looked compared to him, and you were this bright light in his grim dark reality.

Calm yandere was surprised when you made the first move. You wanted to be friends, and being just friends with you felt like torture. Although, he agreed—not wanting to miss the opportunity to be by your side even more. He followed you around, agreed to show up to all hangouts you planned, and he even invited you to his house. His house was surprisingly warm. He had soft white curtains, light pink decorations here and there, and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet was what you would describe him now that you got to know him. He was the perfect host. He was showing you around the backyard, and he pointed out a couple of butterflies that liked to come by. His voice was flat and monotonous when he explained his favorite butterflies to you, but you could see a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. And most importantly, he showed you his bedroom. He had manga books on his shelves, Smiski figurines, and one of the compartments was just filled with snacks. He had an old dog named “Mini” that was sleeping on his huge bed, loudly snoring, and kicking her feet as she dreamt of running around.

Calm yandere had asked you to be his partner months later. You were shocked when he confessed his feelings for you, and here calm yandere was, thinking that he had done a good job of hinting at it. You did notice the glances he would send your way, and how they would linger a bit longer than before. You then started to think back to the times he would do things for you. He would bend down and tie your shoelaces. He gave you his jacket when it was raining, and he would walk home soaking wet. He carried you on his back when you tripped and hurt your ankle. He let you into his house when you fought with your parents, and tried his damn hardest to crack a worried expression on his stone-like face. It wasn’t like you weren’t into him, you tried to give him signals too.

Calm yandere was oblivious, just as you were oblivious. You had literally invited him to every place you could think of. You made pottery with him, and even put your hands on his to help him shape his clay into a vase. That was a very intimate act. An act that made you flustered and blushing when you had pressed your body behind his. Him, on the other hand, didn’t even blink at the action. When you had told him that you found him cute and adorable, he just said “okay.” OKAY?? Clearly that meant he didn’t like you back, and you quickly put on a strained smile and went on with your day.

Calm yandere was an active listener, not really a replier, but a listener. He might look like he was disinterested, but any subject you brought up was the most interesting, and fascinating, topic of all time. You would talk his ear off, and you liked to speak your mind. “So, as I was saying…” you continued. He nodded along, his cheek resting on his hand, and he leaned even closer to play with the strands of your hair. He liked feeling and touching you. It reminded him that you were real, that you were in front of him, and you were officially his. Your lips were perfect, always moving and speaking, and it would form the world’s most beautiful smile. He could tell that some days you didn’t want to hear any solutions from him, and only wanted to have someone to talk too. So, he does exactly what you want.

Calm yandere was happy to advance the relationship even further! He would show finally show some PDA. An arm would casually be slung around your shoulders while you two walked. Whenever you sat next to him, and he didn’t like the distance between you two, he would grab onto the leg of the chair and pulled it in closer. He then would kiss your cheek, and as fast as it came, he had pulled back before you could reciprocate. He knew that being a boyfriend meant that he had to do some certain things… He was feeling bold when he saw you wearing shorts, and without really thinking, his hand reached out to touch at your thighs.

Calm yandere was taken aback by the overwhelming positive reaction. He didn’t imagine that a single brush from his finger tips would cause your brain to go haywire. You had pushed him onto the couch, and he fell back with a little grunt. He saw that you had climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on a sensitive spot of your body. He felt up the flesh, and his fingers slipped underneath your shorts. He kept a watchful eye on your facial expressions, and he hummed in delight when you spread your thighs even further for him. He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of your privates, and he started to collect some of the wet substance that had leaked out. He heard you breathe out his name, and when your voice soon became whiny and you had pleaded for more, he knew you had to be close.

Calm yandere had you on your back. He pulled your shorts down your legs, flinging them to the side after he revealed your lower half to him. He leaned down to greet your sex with his tongue. You were loud and talkative in bed, just as you were out of it. Your back arched, and your hands painfully gripped at his hair. Your body started to tremble, almost trying to squirm its way out from underneath him. His hands had to keep your legs from closing on him, “don’t try to keep me away from you.” your boyfriend said firmly. He then gestured to the growing tent in his pants, “this is all your fault. I’ll make you feel good if you can do the same for me.”

Calm yandere liked to lick his fingers in front of you. His tongue swiping at the salty cum before he fully puts his digits inside his mouth. He could feel the wrinkles and ridges of his pruned fingers, and he gleefully sucked off the excess cum and saliva that had gathered on there. You were lying on the couch with a bit of a daze, your chest rising and falling, and you could still feel his eyes wandering on the work he had done. You had love bites on your neck, trailing down to your inner thighs, and lower towards your ankles. He had bit you down there to keep his voice down while he had himself buried deep inside of you. What could he say? You knew how to press his buttons and drive him wild.

Allure: this is calm yandere after you had called him cute.

Allure: A little update: I’ll work on the master list soon after this, and I’ll have to update a couple of lists such as the yandere kink ones… so that should be done next!

[jezebelblues]

𝐓𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭)

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬’ 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐂𝐖: smut18+ (piv) oral (f!receiving), softrry, drunkrry, needy!h, alcohol, fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 8k (I GOT CARRIED AWAY)

❏ before anyone anons me i made the gif 😧 and thank u for the request anon !! this was so fun to write :) i hope it met ur expectations

masterlist

harry was in the kitchen, holding a wine glass half-filled with straight tequila, his pinky finger looped over the rim like it was fine champagne. YN stood next to him, one hand on his arm, steadying herself—or maybe steadying him.

"you're a liability, you know that?" she giggled, her words slurring just enough to make him grin.

"me?" he huffed, leaning into her slightly, his drink sloshing dangerously close to the edge of the glass. "'m the liability? you've been clingin' to me all night, petal, can't walk straight without me."

she smacked his arm lightly, laughing. "it's 'cause you keep givin' me tequila! this is your fault."

he tilted his head, his eyes squinting like he was genuinely considering this. then he shrugged, nonchalant, dimples flashing. "s'pose you're right. but i reckon you love me for it, yeah?”

"love you despite it," she corrected, but she was smiling, her fingers curling into the sleeve of his shirt.

the flat was warm, soft yellow light spilling over cluttered corners and half-empty glasses, the air thick with laughter. it was the kind of late evening that felt like the exact middle of spring—windows cracked open, a cool breeze sneaking in, ruffling the edges of the curtains. someone had put on a playlist an hour ago, though the music had long since melted into the background, now just a hum beneath the chatter. the small group, crowded into the cozy living room, was exactly the right size to make the space feel alive but not cramped.

their flat always smelled faintly of cedarwood and something clean, though tonight it carried undertones of tequila and lime. he’d insisted on tequila because, as he explained with a wide grin and an unconvincing shrug, “s’just easier that way, innit?” no one really argued, though mitch had given a (poorly executed) rick sanchez imitation as a counter, something that harry didn’t quite understand, leaving him to furrow his eyebrows and dart his eyes around as he mulled it over, mumbling, “why are y’speaking like that? i don’t get it.”

now, hours later, harry was sprawled in the corner of the couch, long legs stretched out, a glass balanced precariously on his knee.

“i swear—i’m swearin’ right now—this is the last one.” he mumbled, lifting his glass as though making a toast. his speech was just a little slurred, the tips of his curls sticking to his temples. YN, perched beside him, nudged his side with her elbow, laughing.

“you said that half an hour ago, baby.” she teased, leaning closer to steal a sip from his glass. his free hand immediately looped around her waist, pulling her snug against his side.

“’s different this time,” he insisted, his voice dipping low, mock serious. “i mean it now. promise.”

“oh, you’re so convincing.” she smiled, her fingers absently running along the seam of his shirt, her touch light and familiar.

on the other side of the coffee table, mitch snorted, tipping his head back against the edge of the sofa. his hair, always a little unruly, had fallen out of whatever loose tie it had been in earlier. sarah, seated on the floor beside him with her legs crossed, nudged him in the ribs.

“you’re not much better,” she pointed out, gesturing to the glass in his hand.

“oi, don’t start,” he shot back, lifting a hand in mock defense.

the back-and-forth had been going on like this for the better part of the evening—easy, unfiltered, slightly nonsensical. everyone was comfortably slouched, shoulders loose, cheeks warm, the kind of drunk that makes the room feel like it’s spinning just the tiniest bit, but not enough to care.

harry had been stealing glances at YN all night, grinning at the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, her cheeks flushed from a combination of alcohol and the warmth of the room. she caught him staring at one point and poked his chest, her voice dropping conspiratorially.

“what are you looking at?”

“you.” he shrugged simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, blinking at her as if she was blurry and needed to come into focus.

YN rolled her eyes, though her smile gave her away. she parted her lips to speak, though harry cut her off before she could bother.

"you're all–” he gestured vaguely at her face, his voice lilting like he hadn't figured out the rest of the sentence yet. "and i'm–" another aimless wave of his hand, this time at himself.

"you're what?" she asked, tilting her head, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.

harry leaned closer, his knee brushing hers. his curls had started to flatten at his temples, damp from the heat of the room, and his cheeks were flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “i’m in love.” his words were slightly sing-song, punctuated by the tilt of his head.

the room dissolved into chaos not long after, though no one could say for certain what triggered it. maybe it was the tequila. maybe it was just the kind of energy that builds when a group of close friends is together in one place, everyone feeding off the same shared sense of silliness.

“right,” mitch announced suddenly, sitting up straight and nearly spilling his drink in the process. “i bet—” he paused, frowning in concentration as though piecing the words together took effort. “i bet i could do more push-ups than you.”

he blinked, the challenge taking a moment to register. then his brows lifted, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“you’re jokin’, right?”

“nah, m’serious.” he leaned forward, setting his glass on the table with a decisive thunk.

“you’re both idiots.” sarah breathed, though she was already pulling her phone out, clearly ready to document whatever was about to happen.

YN groaned, burying her face in her hands. “please don’t encourage them.”

“what, you don’t believe in me?” harry asked, feigning hurt as he turned to look at her.

“you’ve had, like, seven shots of tequila, h.”

he held up a finger. “six. maybe five and a half.”

she looked at him, tongue in cheek, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “not helping your case.”

in the end, there was no stopping it. mitch had already shifted to his knees, clearing a space in front of the coffee table. harry followed suit, swaying slightly as he stood and then immediately dropping down to the floor.

“’s not fair, though,” harry slurred as YN slid a pillow beneath his fists. “i’ve got longer arms. more distance t’cover.”

“what kind of logic is that?” sarah asked, laughing.

“solid–“ hiccup “–solid logic.” he muttered, lowering himself into position.

for the first few push-ups, they were evenly matched. mitch, whose hair kept falling in his face, managed to hold his form pretty well, his elbows bending at clean angles. harry, despite the tequila, seemed entirely unbothered, his movements smooth and steady.

“oh, this is ridiculous,” YN mumbled, though she was grinning now, leaning forward with her chin resting in her palm.

“keep count.” mitch grunted, while sarah angled her phone to get both of them in the frame.

“seven,” YN called, her voice louder over the sound of their laughter.

“eight,” sarah chimed in.

“nine,” she smiled, though by this point, mitch was visibly struggling. his arms trembled, his breaths coming out in quick puffs, his hair falling into his mouth. harry, on the other hand, was still going strong, his movements punctuated by muttered comments.

“easy.” push. “light work.” push–hiccup. “this one’s for you, petal.” he added, shooting a quick wink at his girlfriend.

“oh my god.”

“thirteen,” sarah announced, though she sounded doubtful as mitch wobbled dangerously, his arms nearly giving out.

"how's he doin' that?" sarah asked, watching harry like he was some kind of anomaly.

harry started to strain just a bit, "core strength, love.”

"core strength my ass," mitch shot back, collapsing flat onto the floor. "he's built like a fuckin' slinky. bounces back."

YN laughed so hard she snorted, and harry immediately glanced up, his expression melting into something soft and dopey the second he saw her.

“i’m—i’m done.” mitch declared, already rolling over onto his back.

harry sat back on his knees, raising his fists in mock triumph. “and the crowd goes wild,” he said, grinning up at YN.

“you’re arrogant.” she sighed, though she reached for his wrist, tugging him back onto the couch beside her.

“what can i say,” harry mumbled, settling against her. “m’good at everything.”

the evening wound down slowly after that, the energy softening into something quieter, sleepier. sarah scrolled through the video on her phone, narrating bits of it for everyone’s amusement.

“look at mitch,” she said, laughing. “he looks like he’s dying.”

“i was dying,” mitch muttered from the floor, his arm thrown dramatically over his eyes.

YN reached for harry’s hand, threading her fingers through his, her voice low and teasing.

“are you proud of yourself?”

“very.” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple.

and for a while, no one said much of anything. the playlist had shifted to something softer, the kind of music you hum along to without thinking. the tv, still on in the background, flickered faintly, casting shadows across the room. harry’s arm rested around YN’s shoulders, his eyes fluttered closed, his thumb drawing slow circles against her skin.

mitch was still on the floor, sprawled out like a martyr, while sarah waved her phone in his direction, wobbling as she stood.

"y'done, jesus christ?" she asked, her words swimming together in a way that made her laugh at herself. "need any help, or you reckon you'll just ascend back t'heaven on your own?"

“ha fuckin’ ha," mitch mumbled, lifting one hand in a weak attempt at a rude gesture. "perfectly fine, thank you."

"you're not," sarah replied, flopping onto the arm of the sofa. she nearly slid off, catching herself with a giggle before poking YN with her foot. "and neither's your fella."

YN glanced sideways at harry, who was leaning so far into her that she might as well have been holding him upright. his nose was tucked against her temple, and he was humming something under his breath—a soft, disjointed melody that might've been a song or might've been nothing at all.

"all good," he muttered, his words smudged around the edges. "better'n mitch, anyway."

"low bar.”

he opened one eye, a mischievous glint sparking through his drowsy expression as he glanced at mitch, then back toward YN. "m in love with you, y'know," he breathed, loud enough for the whole room to hear.

"we know.” mitch groaned from the floor.

"no, but like–” he pushed himself up slightly, though his movements were clumsy, his balance swaying like a tree in the wind. "like, really in love. like, proper. s’serious.”

“oh yeah?” she asked, though her hands flew to her cheeks, trying to cover the pink that bloomed there.

he reached out, his fingers fumbling to gently tug her hands away from her face. "don't hide from me," he pouted, his voice soft and warm. "can't handle it when you hide."

sarah made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, shaking her head as she leaned over to prod mitch with her foot. "we need to leave before he gets worse," she said.

"worse? how can he get worse?" he replied, his voice muffled from where he was still sprawled on the rug.

harry didn't seem to notice them. he was focused entirely on YN, his gaze heavy and unflinching as he settled his head into her lap.

"you're so pretty," he hummed, his words slow and drawn out like he was tasting them for the first time. "have i told you that tonight?"

"a couple of times.”

"doesn't feel like enough.” he frowned, his fingers brushing against her knee like he was grounding himself in her. "you're... you're unreal. sometimes i look at you and i can't believe—" he trailed off, shaking his head like words weren't enough.

"he's gonna make me cry.” sarah whispered, half-laughing as she leaned into mitch's shoulder.

"you'll get used to it.” YN rolled her eyes, though she was still smiling.

harry frowned deeper, looking up at her. "don't roll your eyes at me. 'm being serious."

"oh, i know you are, dork.” she grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a small, pleased sound escaping his lips.

"if i don't call an uber now, i'm never getting out of here.” sarah said suddenly, sitting up and reaching for her phone.

"why would you wanna leave?" harry asked, turning his head to squint at her. "you're comfy. stay."

"gotta leave before this turns into a whole bloody soft-core," mitch muttered, finally pushing himself into a sitting position.

harry’s eyes narrowed in slight confusion, his lips parting as he whispered the word soft-core in different tones over and over as if it might click.

mitch let out a noise that was half a laugh, half a sigh. "you’ll get it eventually, mate.”

sarah stood, brushing off her jeans as she looked down at YN. "you gonna be alright with him?"

she glanced at her boyfriend, who was still nestled into her lap, mulling mitch’s response still. "he's harmless," she shrugged. "just annoying when he's drunk–”

harry interrupted with a sharp clap of his hands that turned into a point in mitch’s direction, shoulders shaking in slurred, squeaky laughter. “s-soft–core porno!” he giggled, his cheeks flushed and eyes crinkled. “that was a good one. this guy.”

mitch rolled his eyes, waving harry’s laughter off before he looked at YN. “have fun with this fool in the morning.”

"love you.” he mumbled immediately, moving his hand to give her thigh an exaggerated squeeze.

"yeah, yeah.” she laughed as she pried his hand off her.

"alright, we're off," sarah announced, grabbing mitch's arm and pulling him to his feet.

"safe travels! love you guys!” harry called weakly, his words slurring together as he waved at them from where he lay.

YN walked them to the door, leaning against the frame as they stepped out into the hallway.

"text me when you're home.” she insisted, earning a nod from sarah.

when she turned back into the flat, harry was sitting upright on the couch, his legs tucked under him like a kid waiting to be told a bedtime story.

he pouted slightly, "you left me.”

“and you lived!” she smiled, as if she was astonished. “my boy’s a survivor.”

"barely.” he groaned, flopping dramatically back against the cushions.

YN crossed the room and plopped down beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "you're so much worse than usual tonight."

"can't help it," he shrugged, his head tipping to rest on her shoulder. "you bring it out in me."

"oh, so this is my fault now?" she teased, her hand sliding into his hair again.

he only hummed an, “mhm,” before he tried to push himself closer toward her.

"stay here forever," he mumbled.

"i already live here," she reminded him.

"no, like—forever," he insisted, his fingers brushing hers where they rested on the couch. "promise you won't leave me. not ever."

YN turned her head to look at him, her heart twisting at the vulnerable expression on his face. “baby, where's this coming from?"

he shrugged, looking down at their hands. "just love you so much it scares me sometimes."

"i'm not going anywhere.”

"promise?"

"promise.” she whispered, leaning forward to press her forehead to his.

his breath hitched, and for a moment, they just stayed like that, the quiet settling around them like a blanket.

"alright," he breathed finally, his voice shaky but lighter now. "but you have to keep scratching my head or i'll revoke your girlfriend privileges."

the flat felt too quiet now that mitch and sarah were gone, the absence of their voices leaving only the faint buzz of the tv and the occasional sound of cars splashing through puddles outside. the mess of empty bottles and glasses scattered across the coffee table didn't seem to matter. nothing did, really. just him. just her.

harry's lips found hers eventually, and god, it was all so drunk and messy. the kind of kiss where his mouth didn't quite find the right angle, and she ended up laughing against him, her hands pushing gently at his chest.

"you're so bad at this," she teased, her words soft and slurred, her face warm with the alcohol coursing through her.

he pulled back just enough to look at her, his brows furrowing dramatically, lips parted in mock-offense. "bad at this? me?"

"yeah," she said, biting back another laugh. “you're awful. terrible. completely hopeless."

"hopeless?" he repeated, his accent thicker, vowels stretching and tangling together. his hands slid down her back, settling on her hips with a grip that was just firm enough to make her breath hitch. "you're sittin' with me, kissin' me, tellin' me i'm hopeless. 's'not very nice, is it?"

"maybe you deserve it.” she grinned, her forehead leaning against his.

he made a low, disbelieving sound in his throat, but his lips were twitching, caught somewhere between outrage and affection. "you're trouble, you are. absolute trouble."

"and you love it."

"fuckin' right, i do," he said, smiling as his hands tugged her hips forward slightly, pulling her more firmly into his lap.

the movement had her tumbling into him, her face pressed against his neck as they both laughed, a breathless, bubbling kind of laughter that only made her feel warmer. his breath tickled her ear as he spoke again, voice soft but tinged with that familiar teasing edge.

"bet i'm not that bad at it," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.

"you are, though," she insisted, but her voice was quieter now, a little unsteady.

"mm, don't think so," he hummed, his mouth trailing clumsily down her neck, his stubble rough against her skin. "reckon you'd've gone t’bed by now if i was, wouldn't you?"

her fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly at the curls at the nape of his neck. "reckon i'm too drunk to leave," she teased, but the way her voice caught on the last word betrayed her.

"nah," he said, one hand drifting under the hem of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her bare skin. "you're drunk, but not that drunk. you like me too much."

"you're so full of yourself," she whispered, laughing again, but it came out breathier this time, her body leaning into his touch without thinking.

he hummed, his thumb tracing slow circles over her side. "but y'don't seem t'mind."

she didn't. not one bit.

his lips found hers again, slower this time, a little steadier despite the alcohol making his movements clumsy. he kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like they weren't surrounded by a sea of half-empty glasses and the faint smell of tequila.

things felt hazy, lazier, punctuated by quiet giggles and the occasional whispered comment that sent them both into fits of laughter. his hands were warm and wandering, slipping under her shirt, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding up her back.

"you're gonna get me all tangled," she muttered when his hand accidentally caught the hem of her bra, tugging it sideways.

"oops," he said, grinning sheepishly, his fingers clumsily fixing it. "sorry, petal. too drunk f’precision, aren't i?"

"you're too drunk for a lot of things," she teased, leaning forward to press a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"uh-uh," he murmured, his hands settling on her hips again, adjusting them roughly, sloppily as he shifted her back to rest against the cushions. "not for this. not for you."

her chest tightened at the way he said it, his voice soft and so full of affection that it made her feel like the center of the universe.

the couch creaked under their combined weight, and harry was leaning too far into her, half on top of her, his body slumped and heavy in that jellied, boneless way. his mouth was pressed to her neck, leaving messy kisses between murmured half-thoughts, most of which didn't even make sense. '…m’tellin' you," he mumbled, his lips brushing against her skin. "you're too beautiful for your own good. s'gonna be a problem f’me."

"a problem?" she repeated, laughing breathlessly as her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, trying to steady him. "harry, you're literally falling over."

"no m’not," he insisted, though his weight shifted again, and his elbow slipped off the armrest. he caught himself just in time, his hand landing somewhere between the cushion and her thigh.

"you are!" she laughed a bit harder now, her body shaking with it.

he looked at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his hair a mess of curls that kept falling into his face. "i’m not," he said again, grinning in that slow, drunk way that made her heart trip over itself.

then, as if to prove his point, he leaned in closer, nudging her chin with his nose before kissing her again, clumsily and so, so sweet.

"har–” she started, but she barely got the word out before his knee slipped, and suddenly he was gone, tumbling sideways off the couch.

it happened so fast she didn't even have time to grab him. one second, he was on her, warm and heavy and everywhere, and the next, he was on the floor in a heap of gangly limbs and laughter.

"jesus,” she gasped, leaning over the edge of the couch to look at him.

but harry wasn't upset. not even a little bit. he was lying on his back, laughing so hard his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving with it.

she covered her face with her hands, though she couldn't stop laughing either. "you okay?"

"all good.” he said through his laughter, his voice a little high-pitched from how breathless he was.

he rolled onto his side, one hand braced on the floor, the other wiping at his face as he grinned up at her. "just... miscalculated. s'all."

"think that’s an understatement, baby.” she shook her head as she sat up on the cushions, still giggling.

“see?” he pushed himself up to his knees with a dramatic groan, "you’re too gorgeous for me t'function right now."

she watched him, her laughter softening into a fond smile as he sat back on his heels, looking up at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

his hands, big and clumsy but warm, found her knees, gently pushing them apart as he shifted closer, his breath still unsteady from laughing.

"harry,” she murmured, a little breathless now, her voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a warning.

he shushed her, his fingers brushing up her thighs, just barely slipping under the hem of her shorts. "just…lemme,”

"lemme what?" she asked, though her body was already responding to him, her knees falling wider apart.

he grinned, tilting his head to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh. "taste you," he slurred, his voice low and warm and so full of affection that it made her toes curl. "s’been all i can think about."

her tummy flipped, and she bit her lip, her fingers curling into the edge of the couch cushion. "you’re too drunk for this."

he shook his head, pressing another kiss to her thigh, this one a little higher. "no, m’not. i’m exactly drunk enough. look–” he gestured vaguely at himself, nearly losing his balance before catching himself on her leg. "perfectly steady."

she couldn't help it—she laughed, her head tipping back against the couch as she looked down at him.

his hands slid farther up her legs, feather-light and teasing, enough to make a heat pool between her thighs, harry gazing up at her through his eyelashes.

she tried to say something, but the words got caught in her throat as he leaned forward, his face so close now, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. the heat of him, the desperation in his touch, sent a shiver racing up her spine.

"baby–” she breathed, her voice softer now, less sure.

his eyes were hazy but so full of love it made her chest ache. "please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, something that sounded dangerously close to a whimper. "lemme taste it, yeah? promise i’ll be good."

her breath hitched, and for a moment, all she could do was nod, her hands trembling slightly as they moved to his hair.

"yeah, petal?” he asked, his grin widening, and the sheer joy in his expression made her heart feel like it was going to burst.

“yeah.”

his hands were unsteady, but they were so careful, so sure of their purpose as they slid further up her thighs, the soft cotton of her shorts bunching under his fingertips. he was still grinning like an idiot, lips hovering just above her skin, his curls brushing against her as he peppered sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her leg. "you're so soft," he mumbled, voice muffled against her thigh, his words sticky with alcohol and affection.

"it feels good.” she whispered back, her hands carding through his curls, tugging gently when his teeth scraped just a little too hard.

"you love me?” he asked, turning his head to rest his cheek against her, blinking up at her like a puppy who'd just been caught making a mess.

her fingers stilled in his hair as he looked up at her, all wide, glassy green eyes and flushed cheeks, his lips parted slightly as he waited for her answer. she bit her bottom lip, feeling the words catch in her throat as she stared down at him.

"you already know i do.” she murmured, her voice soft and shaky, her hands sliding down to cup his face. her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, his skin warm beneath her touch.

"say it, though," he slurred, a little whiny now, his lips forming into a slight pout.

"i love you, h.” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm, and his expression softened immediately, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his face into her palm.

"love you too," he muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear, though his words were followed by a sloppy kiss to the inside of her wrist, his lips warm and soft against her skin.

and then, without missing a beat, his mouth was back on her thigh, moving higher with a desperation that had her legs trembling.

"smell so fuckin' good," he muttered, his voice muffled against her skin. his hands slid up to the waistband of her shorts, fumbling slightly as he tugged at the fabric. "need these off, petal. lemme see you."

her breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing as she lifted her hips slightly, helping him ease the shorts down her legs. his hands were uncoordinated, tugging too hard at one side and almost making her laugh, but the intensity in his expression stopped her. he was looking at her like she was something sacred, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he pushed the shorts off and tossed them aside.

"you're s’beautiful," he said, his words slurring together as his hands settled on her thighs again, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there. "you know that? d'you even know?"

"you're drunk.”

"no such thing," he muttered, shaking his head as he leaned in, his lips brushing over her panties. "could be fuckin' blackout and i'd still want you more than anything. always want you, YN."

she couldn't help it—she whimpered, the sound surprising even herself as her fingers slid into his hair again, tugging gently to pull him closer.

he looked up at her with that soft, pleading expression that made her heart stutter. "gonna let me?”

her voice caught in her throat, and all she could do was nod, her fingers tightening in his curls as he grinned, his dimples flashing even in his drunken haze.

"that's m’girl," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hip before hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties and sliding them down.

the cool air made her shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth, the way he pressed soft, deliberate kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, working his way higher.

he let out a breathy laugh as he settled between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her steady. "smell like heaven. taste like it too, i bet."

she whimpered, her head tipping back against the couch as his tongue flicked out, the first slow, teasing stroke making her whole body jolt.

he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, and she couldn't hold back the moan that spilled from her lips, loud and unrestrained.

"that's it," he sighed, his voice muffled as his tongue moved against her clit, his hands tightening on her thighs. "that's m’good girl. so sweet for me."

his words were slurred and incoherent, broken up by the way he licked and sucked at her pussy like she was spilling honey, like he couldn't get enough.

her hands clutched at his hair, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as her legs trembled on either side of his head.

his tongue swirled and flattened against her until her hips bucked more than once, a shaking mess in his hands as he pulled her closer to his mouth—so close he could drown in her (not that he’d mind).

“fuck–” she moaned, a shaky exhale leaving her lips as he dipped lower, his tongue flicking against her hole, sloppy and eager.

he hummed against her, the sound low and rough and completely unselfconscious, like he couldn't help but lose himself in her. "could stay here forever," he muttered, his lips moving against her like a prayer. "live here. die here. s'worth it."

his hands gripped her thighs tighter as she let out the lightest giggle from his words, pulling her closer, spreading her wider. he kissed her deeper, his tongue sliding into her, slow and deliberate and so desperate it made her chest ache.

her breath hitched, her legs trembling on either side of his head, and he groaned like she was the best thing he'd ever tasted, like he couldn't get enough. "god, you're so good," he slurred, his voice unsteady as he pulled back just enough to look up at her, his lips slick and swollen. "so, so good, YN. d'you even know? fuckin' perfect, petal. can't believe you're mine."

the rest of his words melted into incoherent sounds, soft groans and murmured praise that blended with her own breathy moans as he delved back in to lap at her, circling her clit like it was the only thing that mattered.

her head tipped back, her body arching into his touch as he dragged her closer and closer to the edge, his movements clumsy but so desperate, so full of love that it made her chest ache.

when she came, it was sudden and all-consuming, her body shaking as she cried out, her moans spilling into the quiet room like music. harry didn't stop, his hands holding her steady as his tongue worked her through it, his own groans muffled against her as though he was enjoying every second as much as she was.

when her body finally stilled, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, he pressed one last soft kiss to her inner thigh before leaning back, his face flushed and glistening, his grin wide and satisfied.

harry shifted up the couch with all the determination of a man who was too drunk to move properly but too stubborn to let that stop him. his arms framed either side of her, his body hovering as best he could, though it was more of a slow collapse than anything elegant. he grunted softly as he settled his weight, pressing her deeper into the cushions, their bodies flush in a way that made both of them shiver despite the warmth of the room.

she let out a quiet laugh, breathless against the way his curls brushed against her face, sticking to his damp forehead. he huffed at the sound, lips tugging into a sloppy grin before pressing them clumsily to hers. the kiss was slow and sweet at first-warm and gentle, his mouth barely brushing against hers like he was trying to memorize the feeling.

but then she shifted slightly beneath him, her fingers curling into his sides, and it was like something broke loose in him. the kiss deepened, messy and urgent, all soft gasps and the taste of tequila lingering on his lips. he kissed her like he was starved for it, as if every second that passed without her mouth on his was unbearable.

his hands roamed her body as if he didn't know where to settle, tugging at her waist, smoothing over her thighs, curling under her back like he needed to feel every part of her. his hips pressed against hers instinctively, and he groaned into her mouth, the sound loud and unfiltered as he broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead falling to hers.

harry looked down at her, his eyes blown wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly. he tried to push himself up further, but his movements were clumsy, his arms wobbling under his own weight. she couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her lips, and he scrunched his face into a dramatic pout, shaking his head slightly like a sleepy puppy.

his hands fumbled at the hem of his jeans, tugging once before stopping completely, his shoulders sagging. he groaned softly, his head dropping to her shoulder with an audible thud.

"bloody things," he mumbled against her skin, though the words were barely coherent.

she smiled softly to herself, her hands sliding up his back, her fingers brushing over the waistband where he'd given up.

gently, she nudged at his hips, wordlessly guiding him upward until he sat back on his knees, his hands resting heavily against her thighs for balance. his breathing was heavy, his cheeks flushed pink, his curls damp against his forehead.

there was a quiet kind of helplessness in the way he looked at her then—needy and desperate, his lips parted, his brows furrowed slightly like he couldn't figure out how to do this on his own. she didn't make him ask.

her hands moved to the button of his jeans, quick but careful as she popped it open. he let out a soft, shaky exhale as she tugged the zipper down, his body trembling just slightly under her touch. the denim caught on his hips as she tried to push it down, and harry huffed again, adjusting his weight clumsily to help her pull the fabric free.

"lift," she murmured softly, and he obeyed without hesitation, planting his hands firmly on either side of her hips and raising his body just enough to let her drag the jeans down.

he collapsed back onto his knees with a relieved groan as the fabric pooled around his legs, his head tipping back, his chest rising and falling like he'd just run a marathon. she reached for the waistband of his boxers next, her movements slower this time, deliberate, her fingers brushing against the bare skin of his hips as she slid the fabric down.

his breath hitched at the contact, and he swayed slightly, his hands curling into the cushions beside her for balance. for a moment, he just stared down at her, his expression soft and hazy and so full of need that it made her stomach flip.

"there," she whispered softly, her hands moving to rest against his thighs, steadying him.

harry blinked slowly, his eyes dragging over her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. then, without a word, he leaned back down, his body pressing hers into the cushions again as his lips found hers.

the kiss was desperate now, sloppier than before, their teeth bumping together as they both tried to breathe and laugh through it. his hands slid beneath her, wrapping around her back like he was holding her in place, his chest pressing firmly to hers with every ragged breath.

he just rocked against her instinctively, his movements uncoordinated but eager, drawing a quiet gasp from her lips. harry groaned softly in response, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as he muttered something incoherent.

his body was heavy against hers, his warmth and weight overwhelming, but there was something grounding in the way he held her, in the quiet hum of his breathing against her neck. she threaded her fingers into his hair, stroking softly at the curls, and he shivered, his hips pressing closer against hers with a whimper that he didn't bother trying to hold back.

"feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled and thick, each word dripping with need. "fuckin—love you. need–need to be inside.”

her chest ached at the way he said it, so raw and honest, and she pulled him closer, their bodies tangling together in the dim light of the flat. harry kissed her again, his hands curling around her waist, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him steady.

he was desperate and clumsy, but god, he was hers. every part of him, hers.

harry moved in desperation, his body heavy and warm against hers as he lined himself up, his forehead pressing to hers. his breathing was ragged, sharp exhales mingling with hers, their chests rising and falling in time. every movement he made was tinged with an uncoordinated eagerness, like he couldn't bear to wait any longer.

he pushed in slowly at first, a groan catching in his throat as he sank into her dripping cunt, his hands gripping at her waist, rough and unsteady.

her body arched instinctively beneath him, her breath hitching as the stretch of his cock pulled a quiet gasp from her lips.

he froze for a moment, his chest pressed to hers, his arms trembling just slightly from the effort of holding himself up. it was like the sensation alone had shattered him, that raw, shaky pause where the world stopped and all that was left was her.

a shaky exhale escaped him, his lips brushing against her cheek as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. he groaned low and drawn-out, the sound muffled against her skin, his grip on her hips tightening as though he was trying to catch his breath.

he started to move, slow and unsteady, his hips rocking forward with a rhythm that was anything but precise—clumsy and needy but so full of need it didn't matter. every thrust drove him deeper into her velvety walls, his body trembling with the effort, soft curses slipping from his lips as he moved.

his weight pressed her further into the cushions, the creak of the couch mixing with the faint, unrestrained sounds escaping them both—her breathless moans, his whiny, broken groans, sounds neither of them were capable of stifling. everything felt louder in the quiet of the flat, the slow slap of skin against skin, the occasional sharp intake of breath when he hit just the right spot.

her hands slid up his back, her nails scraping lightly against his skin, and harry's body jolted in response, his thrusts faltering. he let out a choked whimper, his face still buried in her neck, his lips pressing sloppy kisses against her skin between ragged breaths.

"fuck," he groaned into her ear, though the word wasn't clear, his voice so shaky and low it dissolved into nothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his angle, and the next thrust pulled a gasp from her lips—a sharp rut right against the spongy spot where she felt him the most.

her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer, and harry groaned again, his movements growing rougher, needier.

his arms shook where they braced against the cushions, his entire body trembling from the effort as he picked up his pace, the steady slap of his hips against hers becoming louder, more insistent. there was no rhythm to it, no finesse—just harry losing himself in her, fucking into her like he'd come undone, like his body couldn't stop itself from chasing the feeling of her pussy wrapped around him.

his curls brushed against her cheeks, damp with sweat, his breath hot and uneven as he nuzzled into her neck. the sounds he made were broken now—small, helpless whines and whimpers escaping him between harsh, ragged breaths.

her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly, and his whole body stuttered in response, his hips driving forward with a sharp snap that had her gasping, her voice loud and unrestrained. the sound pulled another whine from him, his hands slipping from her hips to drag up her sides, his thumbs stroking over the curve of her waist, up toward the swell of her tits, the sensitive bud that tightened with his touch.

the couch creaked with every frantic movement, the room filled with the echo of their ragged breaths and soft cries. harry's body never stilled, his thrusts erratic and desperate, his chest pressed tightly to hers their sweat-slicked skin sticking together.

his body tensed as he started to lose control, his pace faltering, his movements turning jerky and uneven. his arms gave out then, and he collapsed on top of her, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as his hips snapped into her, over and over, his entire body trembling.

her breath caught, her back arching as the pressure built between them, everything else blurring into the background—nothing but the feeling of his cock, the sound of him, the weight of him.

and then she felt him shudder, a broken groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself deep, the twitch of his length as he spilt himself inside her, his entire body going rigid. he trembled against her, his hands clutching at her waist as though holding on for dear life, his voice dissolving into breathless whimpers against her neck.

harry didn't pull away, didn't move. he stayed draped over her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his face still buried in her neck. his hands smoothed over her sides, shaking slightly as he traced soft, lazy patterns against her skin, grounding himself in the warmth of her.

the silence settled over them slowly, the only sound left in the room their breathing, loud and uneven as they both came down. harry pressed a kiss to her shoulder-soft, tender, nothing like the desperation from moments before.

"fuck," he mumbled finally, his voice hoarse and muffled. "m’addicted to your pussy. swear it."

she let out a soft, breathless laugh, her hands still tangled in his hair as she scratched lightly at his scalp. his whole body relaxed at the motion, a quiet, contented sigh escaping him as he melted further into her.

they stayed tangled together on the couch for a while, the quiet hum of the flat settling around them, their breathing slowly evening out. harry didn’t move much—just shifted enough to nuzzle his face further into her neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to her skin like he couldn’t quite help himself. her fingers carded through his hair, slow and steady, the repetitive motion lulling him into a contented daze.

“you comfortable there?” she murmured, her voice soft, muffled slightly by the way her cheek pressed against the curls at his temple.

“mmh,” he hummed, the sound low and heavy. “too comfortable. can’t move.”

“i’m not carrying you to bed,” she teased, her lips curving into a tired smile.

he let out a quiet groan, a sound so dramatic it made her laugh softly, her body shaking beneath him. he lifted his head slowly, resting his chin against her chest as he blinked up at her, his green eyes sleepy and glassy.

“‘s not fair, you’re too pretty,” he mumbled, grinning softly. “don’t wanna leave you here.”

“stuck with me either way, baby.” she whispered, brushing his curls back from his face, her fingers lingering at his temple.

his smile softened at that, his eyes fluttering shut briefly as he leaned into her touch. then, with an exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself up, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated.

“alright,” he said, though his voice was still thick with sleep and leftover drunkenness. “bedtime. c’mere.”

before she could protest, his arms were already curling around her, one under her knees and the other cradling her back as he lifted her off the couch.

“harry—” she gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. “you’re gonna drop me.”

he scoffed at that, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip, pulling her closer against him. “m’gonna pretend i didn’t hear that.”

she sighed into him, letting her cheek rest against the crook of his shoulder as he carried her across the room, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. her fingers slid into his hair again, stroking gently, and he let out a quiet, pleased hum at the sensation.

he moved slowly, carefully, his steps deliberate despite the weight of the tequila still sitting in his veins. he was headed toward the bedroom, but as he passed the kitchen, something caught his eye.

a glass—half full of tequila, a lone lime slice floating lazily in the liquid.

harry paused mid-step, his arms tightening around YN to keep her secure as he turned his head, squinting at the glass like it had personally called his name.

“oh, for god’s sake,” she muttered, though her voice was warm and amused, her fingers still playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

harry ignored her, shifting her weight slightly to free one hand, his arm still wrapped firmly around her waist. with the other, he reached for the glass, his movements slow and exaggerated, like he was performing a high-stakes maneuver.

“i can’t believe you,” she said, her laughter muffled by his shoulder.

“can’t leave it there,” he replied, lifting the glass to his lips and draining it in one go. the tequila burned down his throat, and he winced slightly, his face scrunching up before he set the empty glass back on the counter with a quiet clink.

“all better now?” she teased, tilting her head slightly to glance up at him.

“much.” he grinned widely, bunny teeth and dimples as he adjusted his grip on her again, turning back toward the bedroom.

he carried her the rest of the way, nudging the bedroom door open with his foot before stepping inside. the room was dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the curtains, casting faint, golden shadows over the rumpled sheets and pillows.

harry eased her down onto the bed, following after her almost immediately, collapsing onto the mattress with a soft groan. she laughed as he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face in her neck again, his legs tangling with hers.

“this is where i’m stayin’,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her skin.

“good,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, her fingers brushing through his curls again.

they settled into the bed together, the weight of the night pulling them under like a blanket, warm and heavy and sweet. harry’s breathing slowed, his arms still tight around her as if he was afraid she might slip away in the dark.

“love you,” he murmured, the words barely audible, slurred with sleep.

“love you too,” she whispered back, her voice soft as her eyes fluttered shut, her hand still tangled in his hair.

[please-destroy]

It Only Takes A Moment

Natasha Romanoff x Shy!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

“I feel like shit.” 

Natasha commented out of nowhere from the sofa across the room. 

You startled at her unexpected statement. Your cereal-filled spoon froze halfway to your mouth. You’d never had a one-on-one conversation with Natasha since you joined the Avengers six months ago.

Then, you noticed Clint shuffling bleary eyed towards the fridge. Your shoulders relaxed.

He yawned, rubbing his face as he regarded Natasha assessingly. You were perched at the breakfast bar, unobtrusive as usual.

Natasha was on the opposite side of the large space, feet curled beneath her on the tiny sofa. 

A purpling bruise on her cheek and a split lip were the painful remnants of her last mission. She looked pale too, tired in an almost chronic way, despite the empty coffee mug next to her.

“You look like shit, too.” Clint decided at last with a lazy grin. 

Natasha smirked back, obviously satisfied with his teasing response. You remembered your cereal and took another spoonful. Curiosity always burned inside you when you watched the two of them interact. You’d never had a mission with either of them before. You didn’t understand the lightness of their back and forth.

As you chewed on your breakfast, eyes roaming over Natasha’s injured face, you felt concern build inside you.

Clint gave you a friendly nod as he stacked a pile of snacks in his arms and left the room.

A steady silence returned in his wake. You were unbearably shy around Natasha as a rule. Something about her calm confidence and unreadable expression made you feel nervous. 

You knew the other Avengers just thought you were quiet.

Natasha was staring absentmindedly out the large window, her coffee long since finished. You followed her gaze outside, glancing up at the pale yellow sun that was still new in the sky.

You watched Natasha’s mouth twist into a subtle grimace of pain as she lifted her hands to try and tie her hair back in a ponytail.

You felt certain as you watched her that her injuries were more than just a bruised cheek. The worry bubbled inside you.

Eventually, Natasha gave up, letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders in a loose curtain. She looked entirely unlike herself. Until today you’d never seen her hair out of a braid.

You slipped off your bar stool and cringed at the way it squeaked on the tiled floor. You hesitated as you put your dishes in the dishwasher. Every day usually followed the same pattern. You knew Natasha was paying no attention to you, expecting you to leave the kitchen and go back to your room. 

When you turned instead to the coffee machine, you felt Natasha’s eyes flicker back to you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

.

When you walked over to her, fresh cup of coffee in hand, it was the first time you’d ever surprised Natasha. 

You handed her the mug with a wordless smile.

Natasha’s answering smile was soft but her eyes held a subtle confusion. 

‘Thank you.’ She breathed, blowing automatically on the hot liquid. 

Nerves fluttered inside you. You forced yourself to speak.

‘Are you really okay?’ You asked, as your worry escaped you.

For a brief moment, shock rendered Natasha silent. Her head tilted to the side as she stared at you.

You didn’t know where your bravery was coming from. A burning embarrassment began to build inside you.

Natasha’s expression softened suddenly. She hesitated and then started to speak. 

‘I’m okay. Just had one of those missions.’

You nodded in response, your eyes lingering automatically on the painful looking bruise. From the things you’d overheard about the mission, you knew she was underplaying it. You bit your lip. Natasha watched you silently. 

‘Can I help with your hair?’ You asked at last, in another worried burst that you couldn’t seem to control.

A slight flush caught Natasha’s cheeks. Something like shame flickered in her eyes, gone a moment later.

Your breath caught. She was more human than you’d realised. More beautiful too. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha replied quietly. ‘I think I’ve hurt my shoulder.’

You nodded again, moving to stand behind the tiny sofa. You lifted her hair tie from the side table and slid it over your wrist. 

You felt Natasha’s body freeze at your first hesitant touch. 

You knew she was expecting you to tie her hair back in a quick ponytail. Instead, hardly daring to breathe, you tried something different. 

Natasha’s breath hitched when she realised what you were attempting. 

You started carefully, twisting pieces of hair together.

‘You don’t have to braid it.’ Natasha whispered after a moment, her quiet voice burning with a sudden rawness. You found yourself wishing that you could see her face. 

‘You like it braided.’ You answered simply. 

Natasha held herself impossibly still as you tried your best to replicate her usual braid. You noticed the light goosebumps raised on her skin.

Eventually, you tied the last piece, your fingers lightly brushing against her neck. 

You moved back around the sofa to face her. 

You weren’t sure if it was the flushed cheeks or your imperfect braid that made Natasha look so young. Her gaze searched yours, her eyes vulnerable.

‘It’s not very good.’ You apologised quietly. 

Natasha shook her head.

‘It’s good.’ She countered simply. There was a raw, raised scar on the back of her hand. You wondered how you’d never noticed before.

Natasha nodded to the space next to her on the sofa. She smiled suddenly, a flash of her usual cool confidence.

‘Do you want to watch some TV?’

You nodded, feeling a warm rush at the familiarity of her tone. A barrier had fallen between you. 

As you settled on the sofa, Natasha switched on the television. The daytime show was familiar, often left playing in the background of the room. 

Natasha touched the end of her braid as she watched. Her gaze stayed on the show, a picture of relaxed attention. 

You couldn’t say the same for yourself. Her light joke to Clint played in your head. The bruises, the scars, the pained movements. 

 After a few minutes, another question fell from your lips. 

‘Was it scary?’ You asked suddenly.

You watched Natasha freeze momentarily, a difficult emotion filling her eyes. You watched her blink the feeling away. She didn’t reply. 

You turned your gaze back to the television, stomach twisting for what she didn’t share. 

Eventually, you settled back against the sofa cushions, finally beginning to relax in her presence. Natasha sipped the last of her coffee.

Your usual shared silence returned.

You hoped you hadn’t ruined everything with one question.

The show ended and a commercial break began.

‘It was.’ Natasha murmured unexpectedly. Your head turned towards her.

‘It was scary.’ She whispered into the air.

This was not Natasha. Not the person everyone else saw. This was someone else. You saw her entirely for the first time.

Unspoken sympathy filled your answering gaze. 

You took her scarred hand in yours and rested it on your lap.

[misswynters]

A new dawn

featuring. zayne x wife! reader

a/n. in honor of nightly rendezvous coming out tomorrow (which i know im going to spend money to try to get all four cards) here’s this. the aftermath of zane’s card ‘Absolute Zeal’

Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, a soft warmth that painted streaks of gold across the bedroom walls. Your body stirred lazily under the sheets, the familiar scent of Zayne wrapped around you. He lay beside you, one arm draped loosely over your waist, his presence steady and reassuring.

Fingers idly brushed against his as you blinked into wakefulness. The events of the previous night lingered faintly in your mind, moments filled with whispered laughter and gentle touches. But this morning, something unfamiliar sat in the pit of your stomach.

Zayne shifted, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheek as he opened his eyes. The sleepy smile he wore was enough to melt away any lingering worries. “Good morning, my love,” he greeted softly, his voice low and gravelly.

Your own smile surfaced, though your thoughts seemed elsewhere. “Morning,” you murmured, letting your fingers trace lazy circles on his chest.

“Something on your mind?” His voice held that calm, knowing tone that only Zayne could pull off.

You hesitated. He always knew when something was bothering you, even when you couldn’t quite put it into words. “I just feel… off. I don’t know.”

His lips twitched into a smirk as he leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “Off how?”

“I can’t explain it.” You shook your head lightly, brushing it off. “It’s nothing.”

Zayne didn’t push further, but the look he gave you said he wasn’t entirely convinced. Instead, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. “Well, whatever it is, breakfast will fix it,” he declared, his voice lighter now. “I’ll make something for the three of us.”

His words gave you pause. “Three of us?” But he was already gone, his retreating figure leaving you puzzled.

Walking into the kitchen some time later, you found him bustling around, his movements precise and efficient. The counters were lined with plates of food: fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and crispy bacon. It was enough to feed an army. Well that’s what you thought.

Your brows arched in surprise. “Did I miss an invitation? Are we expecting guests?”

Zayne turned to face you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he broke into a playful grin. “Not exactly.”

You folded your arms, leaning against the doorway. “So, all this food… is just for us?”

“Yep.” He turned back to the stove, flipping the last pancake with an air of nonchalance. “Figured we’d celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes briefly darting down to your stomach before returning to your face. “Life.”

You frowned, trying to piece together his cryptic behavior. Before you could question him further, a sudden wave of nausea surged through you, sharp and unrelenting. Without thinking, you spun on your heel and bolted for the bathroom.

Kneeling on the cool tile floor, your hands gripped the edge of the toilet bowl as your body heaved. The sensation was overwhelming, your stomach twisting and churning as the nausea refused to let go.

Footsteps approached quickly, Zayne was beside you, his hand resting gently on your back. “Hey, hey,” he soothed, his voice low and steady. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.”

You managed a shaky exhale, though your body still felt tense and uneasy. “I’m fine,” you croaked, though the words lacked conviction.

Zayne didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached for a hair tie from the counter and carefully swept your hair back, securing it with practiced ease. His fingers brushed against your neck, warm and comforting.

When the worst of the nausea subsided, you leaned back against the wall, your breathing still unsteady. “Guess I wasn’t ready for all that food,” you joked weakly, though your tone was half-hearted.

He chuckled softly, his gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “Or maybe your body’s just adjusting.”

You looked at him, the realization dawning slowly. “Morning sickness,” you murmured, the words tasting strange on your tongue.

His lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s my guess.”

Your brows furrowed as you studied him. “You… you already knew, didn’t you?”

Zayne leaned back on his heels, his smile widening. “Had a pretty good idea.”

. . .

The smell of warm pancakes and freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Zayne sat across from you at the table, his sharp features softened by the golden morning light streaming through the windows. Between you was a plate piled high with food meant for three people, though your stomach was still uncertain about all the rich aromas.

You toyed with a piece of toast, tearing off small chunks as Zayne dug into his plate with enthusiasm. His gaze occasionally flicked up to meet yours, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips as though he knew a secret he couldn’t wait to share.

Finally, after swallowing a bite of eggs, he leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he began, his tone teasing.

You arched a brow at him, pausing mid-chew. “What moment?”

His eyes gleamed as he set his fork down, folding his arms across his chest. “The moment you’d finally figure out you’re pregnant. I’ve known for weeks.”

Your mouth dropped open, incredulous. “Weeks? Zayne!”

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “What? You think I wouldn’t notice? I’m a doctor, my love. And more importantly, I know you better than anyone.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Well, maybe you could’ve clued me in sooner instead of letting me figure it out by puking my guts out.”

His smirk softened into something more tender, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he admitted. “I figured you’d realize when you were ready. Besides, it’s been… kind of nice keeping the secret to myself for a while. Watching you without you knowing. Noticing the little changes.”

“Like what?” you pressed, though your heart fluttered at his words.

He smiled warmly. “You’ve been glowing lately. Not in the cliché way people say about pregnancy. There’s this… peace about you. You’ve been eating more fruit (as you should), sleeping on your left side, and touching your stomach without even realizing it.”

The sheer attentiveness in his words made your cheeks heat. You reached out impulsively and pinched his cheek, making him laugh from the sudden action.“You’re too observant for your own good,” you teased, though your heart swelled with affection.

Zayne chuckled, rubbing at his cheek as he leaned closer. His voice softened, losing its playful edge. “I’m serious, though. I’ll take care of both of you, anything you need. You’re my whole world.”

His words stole the breath from your lungs, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, overwhelmed by the love shining in his dark eyes. He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch achingly gentle.

“Okay Mr. Doctor,” you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

Zayne looked at you with the same adoration and love in his eyes, the kind that made them look like stars shined within. The two of you fell into easy conversation, enjoying the meal he had so lovingly prepared. You managed to eat a bit more this time, though you took it slow, wary of your still sensitive stomach.

But it was too good to be true, you set your fork down than the familiar nausea struck again. You shot up from your chair, barely managing to mumble, “Excuse me,” before bolting for the bathroom.

Zayne was right behind you, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he abandoned his half-eaten plate. By the time you reached the bathroom, he was already there, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you knelt over the toilet.

“Second round already?” he murmured, his tone gentle.

You groaned in response, too focused on trying to breathe through the nausea to form a coherent reply.

When it finally passed, you leaned back against him, letting his steady presence ground you. “This kid really doesn’t like pancakes,” you muttered weakly, making him chuckle.

“Well, good thing their dad’s a doctor,” he quipped, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

“Lucky me,” you teased, though your voice was filled with genuine affection.

Zayne helped you back to the couch, insisting you rest while he cleaned up the kitchen. When he returned, he brought a glass of water and a damp cloth, gently wiping your face with the kind of care that made your heart ache in the best way.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded, offering him a tired smile. “Much.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his gaze so soft and full of love that it made your chest tighten. He reached out, his hand warm against your cheek as he murmured, “You’re going to be the most incredible mom.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you reached up to cover his hand with yours. “…you’re going to be the most annoying, overprotective dad,” you joked, though your voice wavered with emotion.

“That’s true,” he replied, grinning as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Later, the two of you sat on the couch, the remnants of breakfast forgotten. Zayne’s hand rested lightly on your stomach, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt in slow, deliberate motions.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your own hand covering his. “Does it matter?”

“Not at all,” he replied quickly. “As long as they’re healthy, I couldn’t care less.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “If it’s a girl, she’ll have you wrapped around her finger in no time.”

“And if it’s a boy?”

“Then he’ll look up to you as a hero, i assume.”

Zayne smiled, his gaze far away for a moment. “Well either way, I’m spoiling them.”

Your laugh was louder this time, your heart swelling with affection. “Of course you are.”

a/n. wrote this quick at work just because of this random thought

[prettybabybaby]

rating: 18+. mdni.

pairing: stepbrother!sirius x reader x stepbrother!regulus

content: stepcest

“see, reggie?” sirius grunted, his head hung, a curtain of onyx hair shielding his face and the expression of pure bliss. “it’s not so hard to fucking share.”

regulus merely rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, further creasing what was once a crisp white dress shirt. “as if you would share, you selfish bastard. you never-“

sirius cuts him off with a groan. “I'm the oldest. I don’t need to share.” he finally lifts his head, his eyes instantly locking with yours as your chest heaves up and down in time with his thrusts. “much less our pretty sister. she was mine first.”

regulus scoffs, “it doesn’t work like that you sick freak. she-“

sirius cuts him off again, adding to regulus’s growing frustration. “reggie, shut up already. can’t you see that your older siblings are busy? go play or something.”

regulus scowls, unable to resist giving sirius a childish shove. he glares venomously, “idiot. you’re not even doing it right. you don’t know what she likes.”

you let out a whimper as sirius’s cock slips out of you as regulus shoves him, your pussy on full display to their eyes. you gasp, cold air from the room sending a shiver down your spine as it blows against your sore clit. your brothers don’t dote on you as they normally would at any sign of the smallest distress, focused on their childish argument. you pout further at the loss of attention. “would you two please just-“

sirius snarls at regulus, shoving him back. “and you do?” he scoffs, pushing his hair back with one hand, the other tangling into yours, yanking the hair tie from your hair. he wraps it around his silky locks, shorter strands of his messy haircut falling from the loose ponytail.

you yelp, slapping his hand. you rub your scalp with a pout, “sirius! that fucking hurt!”

sirius ignores you, his own breath rough and ragged, his cheeks flushed a soft pink as he’s focused on your younger brother. “you’re lucky she let you fuck her in the first place. baby.”

“don't patronize me, sirius.” regulus grits, “she came to me.” a smug smile then pulls at his lips as he takes in sirius’s glare as he tuts, tugging his slick cock. “she still does. and never has she spoken a word about you all of the countless times I’ve fucked her. every time she’s milked me dry all these years... I know exactly what she likes. does that make you jealous, brother?”

sirius rolls his jaw before answering, “hardly. of course she’d go to the baby first. probably pitied your micro-“

regulus shoves him again roughly, his cheeks reddening, “I’m bigger than you.”

your older brother snorts, settling between your legs again, mindlessly tapping the weeping tip of his cock against your throbbing mound. “sure you are. you probably fuck her like a little puppy in heat. no wonder she didn’t fight me off. she’s probably ready for a real man.”

you could practically feel the anger radiating off of regulus’s body, his arms tight inside his shirt, his fists gripping the bedsheets, jaw clenched so tightly you worry for his teeth. you sigh, exasperated, “reggie, please don’t get mad. I’ll…” you place your hand atop his, letting out a strangled whine as sirius slips back inside you, “I’ll let you have a go after siri, okay?”

[sleepyangelkami]

CLOSE CALL b.blake

☆ WORD COUNT - 4.1K

BELLAMY BLAKE X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - based on the episode, 'the calm', season one, episode eleven. during the hunt for food with clarke and finn, you find yourself faced with death, lincoln saves you before it's too late but it's bellamy who finds you running for your life in the woods.

 ☆ WARNINGS - shy!reader, brief mention of insomnia, blood, gore, fire, grounders, saviour!lincoln, death threat, weapons, violence, assault, panic attack, anxiety, sexism, (3) uses of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

bellamy loved sharing a tent with you. he loved being able to brush the hair from your face as you slept soundly while he stared at the tent ceiling, wishing sleep would come over him. he loved waking up to you giggling, pushing him to get up as he slept half the day away.

but it was mornings like this, when he was met with the sight of you leaving that he groaned to himself, hands on his eyes. "where are you going, sweetheart?" pasting his softest tone.

you shimmied the wide-legged jeans up your legs, grinning as you swiped his jacket, not your own. "'m gonna go see octavia." she was currently in the smokehouse, cooking. it was some punishment for something devious she'd done with her grounder boyfriend, 'lincoln'.

"princess." his tone was a warning. "she's in the meat tent for a reason, it's not punishment if her best friend goes and visits her."

you weren't too sure why she was being punished, you weren't sure about a lot of things around here. all you knew was that the group weren't too fond of lincoln seeing as he was a grounder but he saved octavia's life once and had done nothing but be kind to her since. that was enough to get him in your good books.

"okay, then i'll be really mean to her." slipping on your shoes and sticking them out to him.

he rolled his eyes, sighing before sitting upwards. he bent down to tie the laces of your shoes, knowing that he should be up by now already. "no you won't."

you ignored him anyway, smiling as you seated yourself on his lap. he wore his black jeans, that you swore up and down about when he wore to sleep and was currently topless.

"i'll be back to you before lunch." pressing a chaste kiss to your lovers cheek, smiling softly.

you left the tent with a pep in your step, hearing bellamy yell the words, "and tell my sister to stop stealing my girlfriend!" but you only grinned, walking quicker.

everyone was out now, bellamy seemed to be the last awake. you smiled at clarke on your way, deeming her a good friend by now and opening the curtain to the meat tent.

"hi, o." octavia whipped around, grinning at you.

"finally." she scoffed. "next time you see my brother, tell him to stop hogging my best friend."

a smile forced its way on your lips at the mere thought. octavia and bellamy were so alike yet they'd never know, both too stubborn to ever admit it. your eyes trailed to the other person in the meat tent. it was john murphy, infamous around the camp right about now. "oh, hi murphy." a friendly smile gracing your lips. he helped you and many others out when you got sick, it was only fair to return the kindness.

"hey, y/n." though he didn't miss the way octavia nudged your side causing you to frown at her. it was safe to say that they weren't the biggest fans of each other right about now.

your eyes trailed across your best friend, seeing her face glisten. "do you want me to take your jacket? you're sweating."

"good idea, thanks." before the girl could shimmy the jacket off and pile it in your hands, the sound of someone else's voice filled the tent, not murphy's either.

"let's get this party smokin'!" del was a member of bellamy's posse, the one you weren't so fond of, tossing firewood into the fire causing you to frown.

octavia must have shared the same expression. "you don't want the fire too big so maybe just try to knock it down with some wet leaves." you were too embarrassed to open your mouth, inching your way closer to octavia. you never found yourself one to speak freely in front of others.

"you get that from your boyfriend?" the boy retaliated. "grounder-pounder."

but as shy as you may have been, your face suddenly contorted to a deeper frown. you looked at octavia who merely kept quiet, turning and fixing the hanging meat. luckily, murphy spoke instead. "she's right. a hot fire isn't gonna preserve the meat as well."

"can't take the heat? get out of the smokehouse." he looked between the two, knowing better than to throw around looks to you. "you should be kissing our asses for being back allowed in this camp."

"leave them alone." your shaky voice still managed to speak, you followed the boy despite octavia grasping your arm. "i'll tell bellamy."

the boy suddenly froze in his tracks. he turned to look at you, biting his lip with a scoff before turning back around, leaving.

you sighed awkwardly, wishing the entire encounter hadn't happened but as soon as you turned around, you felt smoke engulf you. del should have listened when octavia told him to lay it off with the leaves. you found arms engulfing you, octavia's familiar scent filling your nose. she all but dragged you out of the smokehouse.

the tent went up in flames faster than you could blink.

octavia passed you off to bellamy while a cough ripped at your throat. bellamy questioned his sister's wellbeing, she stated that she was fine, dragging a hand across her forehead. "you okay? are you hurt?"

you shook your head, coughing while bellamy wrapped a hand on the back of your head.

"this is all your fault." murphy stood, his hands outstretching as he pushed del backwards. "we told you it was too much wood!"

bellamy only let go of you once del and murphy began throwing swings at one another, as if it would change a thing. he split the two up, yelling at everyone to stop.

silence engulfed the group. you were next to octavia, a gentle hand rubbing on her back, her face covered in smoke. "bell, now what the hell are we gonna do?" she yelled causing everyone to turn. "that was all our food!"

the food was burned to a crisp. even when people managed to stop the fire, the food was already destroyed. clarke and bellamy looked over possibilities but they only had enough nuts and water to last them a week, two if they were lucky. clarke suggested they hunt.

it wasn't everyday that you were left outside the gates. "can i come?" you excitedly tittered, despite the appauled look on bellamy's face.

"i can take care of her." clarke spoke before he even got the chance to refuse. multiple times, you'd left the gates with clarke, talking on about things that she hadn't a notion about, chiming in with a hum every few seconds.

but she always took care of you, bellamy couldn't dispute with that. "with the entire grounder army out there?"

you slumped but clarke only raised her eyebrows. "and how do you expect her to defend herself if she's starving?"

he knew she was right, as much as he would have prefered to believe she wasn't.

he lined people up, splitting them into groups and handing out guns but keeping it so that one person per group had a gun, the last thing they needed was to run out of bullets right before the grounders hit them. truth was, bellamy didn't know if you were safer out there than you were in here.

you were paired with clarke, finn and a boy called myles.

"don't stay after dark, you hear me?" bellamy was zipping the zipper of his jacket around you but it was clarke who he handed the gun to. "you see grounders, you run back, i don't care who you leave behind."

"i'll be fine." you stretched out the last syllable, placing your hands on the man's shoulders as he was currently crouched in front of you. "y'worry too much."

"i have to worry." he assured. "you don't worry enough." he pressed a kiss to your head as you grinned, then leaning in and pressing one against your smile. "i love you."

"i love you too." you couldn't help but giggle, turning on your heel. "see you soon!"

bellamy watched with a twisting gut, feeling helpless but anxious all at once. he would have gone with you, watching your every move but being the leader of the camp made that incredibly hard for him. he sometimes wished he wasn't in charge, maybe then you could be his only priority. but if he didn't, who would?

"you know, i don't think you're actually allowed to say that." myles was a sweet kid, you supposed but he had some pretty out there views. the forest was quiet, too quiet while finn and clarke trailed above you.

you supposed hanging back with myles couldn't be worse than whatever conversation they were having. "why not? is it so bad to want a traditional marriage?"

"not at all." you answered swiftly. "but it's supposed to be a choice." by now, finn had already caught two squirrels. "the woman should be able to decide if that's what she wants and if you want that, then be with a woman who does too. you can't just force someone into being someone they're not."

"well, we wouldn't have this problem if women just stuck to what they were good at." the comment made you frown.

"myles, can you just be quiet for a second?" the words came from clark who shared the same look of distaste on her own face. you watched as she and finn studied the tracks on the ground, apparently belonging to a boar. "what is it?"

you followed where they sat, kneeling down beside finn to see what was wrong while myles hovered over you all. "these tracks..."

once you got a closer look, you could see how close together they were, how stuck in the mud they truly seemed. "they're perfect."

"too perfect." finn added, his eyes casting upwards. "we're the ones being hunted." someone had planted the boar tracks.

instantly, a shiver ran up your spine while myles stood up, pointing his gun as he glanced around the woods. "i don't see anything." as if on command, there was a swooping sound and suddenly, the arrow landed in his leg, the next in his shoulder.

you could have screamed, instead you gasped out the boy's name, looking to clarke for help. your hands instantly sat on the wound, covering it so blood didn't leak out, clarke sat at the other side, doing the same to his shoulder. "guys, come on, we gotta leave him." finn was adamant, rushing the girls forward.

"we can't just―" you didn't get to finish your sentence for something hard hit you over the head and suddenly you were laying flat on the ground, dizziness swirling your vision. you could vaguely make out a grounder coming from behind finn and doing the same, you didn't see what they did to clarke.

then everything became nothing at all.

it turned black.

𝜗𝜚

when you woke, you were being forced onto the ground. your hands were bound in front of you and your knees smashed against the cold gravel, you could feel the flesh break apart, little cuts littering against your skin. finn and clarke were in the same position, sharing glances of worry.

your brows were knit together as your eyes scanned where you were, some kind of cave though it also appeared to be a room. your first thought was bellamy, how worried the boy seemed when you left, you could only imagine the worry when you didn't return. you'd imagine by the lighting that it was well after sunset.

"we walked for about three miles." finn began to whisper. it appeared as though he and clarke hadn't been hit as hard as you had. "after crossing that creek, another two or so before we got to the road."

"i don't think it matters, finn." clarke's voice had a sense of desperation in it. "they didn't blindfold us which means they don't care what we saw. they're gonna kill us."

a cold feeling settled in the base of your stomach, bile rising to your throat. bellamy was right, it wasn't safe out here and you just had to go and get yourself killed.

two grounders pulled you up by your shirt, you let out a whimper as they shoved you forward, others doing the same to clarke and finn. they led you down the cave's hallway and into another room where other grounders were waiting then shoving you right back on the ground.

a woman stood in front of you, wearing a long black coat. she unleashed her sword, suddenly stalking towards clarke. you made a move. "wait." you tried, shoving yourself in front of her but you were quickly hauled back by one of the grounders.

but the woman didn't kill her, on the contrary, she cut the ropes on her wrist, untying her. they shoved clarke to her feet, uncovering a girl who laid across a table, gasping out in pain. "help her. if she dies, they die." you gulped, turning to finn who shared the look of fear. "her name is tris."

"i can't do this." clarke looked at the body, turning her so she could see her face. "i don't have any equipment."

"we'll provide you with what we can."

"why do you think i can save her?"

"lincoln told her." finn chimed in.

"yes." the woman answered. "our healer is gone, there's nothing we can do for her. for their sake, i hope you can."

"clarke." finn's eyes were glued to the blonde's, adoration filling them. "you can do this."

the woman and the rest of the grounders began to clear the room until clarke's voice stopped them. "wait. what happened to her?"

a dark look was in the woman's eyes. "she was on the bridge when your bomb exploded. you did this to her."

𝜗𝜚

alcohol stained your hands, blood too.

"it's as sharp as it's gonna get." grounders now filled the room, watching as clarke did everything she could to save the girl. she was hit in the chest and was loosing blood, she needed more and desperately so.

"okay, thanks." clarke snapped the syringe from finn's hand who'd been sharpening it against the ground.

you were busy holding a cloth to the girl's chest, hoping to stop the loss of blood but it wasn't doing a great job. clarke stained the needle with bleach, hoping to rid it of any bacteria while your eyes scanned the girl's face. she couldn't have been older than fifteen, how could anyone send her to battle in the first place?

she was a child.

"okay." she stood in front of the 'leader' who went by the name of anya. "i'm gonna need your blood."

a grounder placed his hand in front of anya, pulling her away. "no." was his answer.

"you're from the same tribe, it's the best match we're gonna get." clarke was adamant but so was anya, neither of them willing to take the risk.

"clarke, she's gonna die." your hands were shaking desperately, tears floating your eyes. "use mine! just use mine!" clarke took you up on the offer, pulling your hands from the girl's body and sticking the syringe into your arm. you winced as she sucked the blood into the syringe, you instantly felt sort of dazed but shook it from your head.

clarke handed the syringe to finn and she searched the girls arm. "i can't find a vein." frantically searching her. "she's clamping down, she's lost too much blood."

your faint voice could be heard. "clarke..."

"oh, come on." desperately trying to save her.

but you shook your head, icy fear withering you away. "clarke, she's not breathing."

a simple sentence that silenced them all.

clarke backed away, meeting in the middle between you and finn while anya stepped forward with her knife, cutting a braid from the girl's hair and nodding to one of the grounders. he picked the girl up, gently as possible, leading her out of the room.

you couldn't bear to look, chest feeling hot.

anya suddenly turned to the grounders in the room. "take them away." eyeing you who held your tied hands close to your chest. "kill them."

your breath caught in your chest. "wait." tears filled your eyes as one of the grounders grabbed you, hauling you upwards. "wait, wait, wait, no, no, no, please." he harshly pushed you forward, carrying you away.

"no, no, no, no, please!" one grounder held clarke back as she pushed at him, trying to get to you. "no, i did everything i could, please!"

but the sound of her voice suddenly faded out as they carried you away. you pushed at them, thrashing in their arms but it was no use, the grounder hauled you away from the room. he suddenly set you down, holding your tied wrists down as his face came close to yours. "don't move." his gruff voice could be heard as you looked away, tears filling your eyes.

another grounder walked behind you while he walked in front of you, leading you to the front room of the cave. your mind suddenly turned to bellamy, how worried he must be. you could see the darkness from the entrance.

you couldn't help it, you ran.

but you didn't get far. instantly, you were picked up by the grounder from behind. you whimpered, thrashing against him but it was no use, he shoved you inside the room, practically throwing you. your head hit off the stone floor and you brought your hand to the back of your hair, metallic liquid staining it.

you pulled it away, shaky eyes spotting the blood dripping down your fingertips.

"w-wait." tears pooled your eyes, fear lacing your tone. "please, please, i didn't do anything wrong, please don't do this―"

you gasped out as a grounder took a fist of your hair into his hand. "your punishment shall be death by a thousand cuts." and before you could take in what he said, you felt a knife scratch across your face, cutting your cheek.

you cried out, hand coming to grab your bloodied cheek as you dragged your body backwards, crawling into yourself. a fat tear rolled down your cheek as your body caved in, huddling your knees up to yourself.

it was no use to cry out and beg them to stop, the grounders were simple beings, once given an order, all they could do was follow it. but still, your mouth uttered the whisper, "please." at the same time as you felt a slash against your left leg.

suddenly, a sword crashed through the grounders head. this time, you screamed. the sight was horrific, blood spewed outwards and you held a hand over your mouth. the body dropped to reveal lincoln, the man who adored your best friend more than anything.

"natrona." the grounder suddenly whispered, the word meant 'traitor'. he yelled out and charged at lincoln who pushed him backwards, guarding him against the wall.

lincoln stabbed a sword through the grounder's abdomen, who yelled out again. "go!" lincoln yelled to you, staring at your terrified form. "go, now!"

and you had no choice.

a whimper left your lips as you ran forwards, lungs collapsing. you worried for lincoln, not wanting to leave him alone but if you stayed, it'd meant lincoln did it all for nothing.

your feet ran towards the exit, tears swamping you as your legs moved at a super speed, running the fastest you'd ever run in your life. never, had your calves burned like this and never had your lungs ached so horribly. all you could see was the moment you were thrown into the room, the horrifying look on the grounder's face. you'd do anything to escape it.

running as though your life depended on it, and perhaps it did.

you managed to look backwards, worried something or someone was following you but as you looked back, you felt yourself run into something solid.

someone.

your mouth opened to scream at the same time as a hand wrapped around your mouth clamping down on it as he turned you to hide behind a tree.

your eyes opened to reveal bellamy, staring at you with eyes full of concern. "what happened?" he frantically searched you as his hand left your mouth. "why are you bleeding? where are the others?"

"b-bells." your cry shook your voice, eyes turning behind you, you swore you could see people between the trees, though they vanished as soon as they appeared. "we have to go, we have to leave. they're-they're gonna find us."

bellamy had never seen you so shaken, shallow breaths making way to your throat but not seeming to find their way out. "hey, hey, look at me." his hands grabbed at either side of your face. even in the darkness, you could make out his pretty dark curls and his enlarged brown eyes. "you're okay, 's just me, you're okay, sweetheart."

and you couldn't hold yourself back any longer. you threw your arms around him, holding him close as nervous sobs wracked your body, chest heaving out as if it were on fire.

"'s okay, you're fine." his hands smoothed your back, doing his best to reassure you but by no means did your shallow breaths slow. "you're safe, princess."

"can we go?" you pulled away, nervous eyes scanning the forests. "please, bells, i wanna go home."

he couldn't deny your scratchy voice or blotchy cheeks. "okay, okay let's go, angel." he helped you walk though you stumbled better than you walked. his eyes glanced down at the blood seeping through your jeans. "your leg." he didn't bother to inspect it, merely hooking his hands around your legs and lifting you up.

your head lolled against his shoulder, arms around his neck.

you began to feel dizzy but bellamy carrying you seemed much better than trying to run again. still, your eyes danced everywhere they could, searching high and low for a grounder, a surprise attack.

you must have run far for it didn't take long for the clear vision of the camp to fall into line's view. as soon as the gates opened and bellamy carried you inside, you found air falling back into your lungs.

"y/n?" the sound of octavia's voice was the first to fill your ears. you must have looked a wreck, covered in blood, carried limp in bellamy's arm. "oh my god, y/n. what happened?" though her voice was directed at her brother, not you.

"it was lincoln." your scratchy voice suddenly spoke, causing her brows to crease. "lincoln saved me."

her eyes fluttered and questions began rolling in. raven suddenly stepped forward, demanding to know where finn was, others began to question about clarke. suddenly, you couldn't breathe again. "okay, listen up!" bellamy's voice rang through the camp, silence followed. "everyone get back to your tents! we'll continue the search in the morning!"

he didn't wait for them to follow his orders, knowing they would anyway. instead, he carried you towards a tent.

everything was suddenly spinning, nothing seemed to make sense. black dots began to cloud your vision and you couldn't see which tent he had carried you to. you could see a woman, very vaguely and he was speaking to her, at least he looked like he was. his lips were moving but you couldn't register the words coming out of his mouth.

the girl must have been something to do with a medic because you could feel her lifting your head up and inspecting between the strands of your hair. you saw bellamy's face contort, but it was turning to mush, practically a mere squiggle now.

he stepped backwards and your hand suddenly reached him.

he looked back to your face, eyes softening. it was apparent that you weren't really there and how could he blame you? the blood loss was already obvious.

"don't..." it seemed like a chore to get syllables to pass your lips but nonetheless, you willed yourself to move, grasping his large fingers in your hand. "don't leave me."

"'m not going anywhere, princess." and to prove it, he sat against the chair next to you, letting the woman inspect your wounds. "okay? you can rest now, i'm right here."

through the haze, his voice was the only thing your mind could grasp to.

you slowly nodded as your eyes fluttered shut.

"you're safe, sweetheart." being the last thing you heard before everything went black.

main masterlist/bellamy's masterlist

[moonlightwritingf1]

A Bold Surprise | LN4

ᡣ𐭩 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N has been dating Lando for a month, and despite their undeniable chemistry, they haven't crossed the final line. One evening, Y/N decides to surprise him with a daring gesture—wearing sexy lingerie to show a bold, more confident side of herself. 

ᡣ𐭩 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᡣ𐭩 word count ━━━━━━━ 4.6k

ᡣ𐭩 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

Y/N stood in her bedroom, heart pounding in her chest as she glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Lando would be here any minute. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the garter belt, making sure every detail of the crimson lace was in place. The set was a bold choice—delicate yet daring, a stark contrast to the more modest clothes she usually wore around him. But tonight, she wanted to push boundaries. She wanted to show him a side of herself she rarely let anyone see.

She took one last look in the mirror, the city lights filtering through her curtains casting a soft glow on her skin. Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the sheer audacity of her plan or the anticipation of how Lando would react. Probably both.

When the doorbell rang, her stomach flipped. She grabbed the silk robe draped over her chair and slipped it on, tying it loosely around her waist before heading to the door. She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself, then opened it.

Lando stood there, a boyish grin on his face, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “Hey, love,” he greeted, stepping inside. His eyes swept over her, lingering for a second too long on the curve of her neck exposed by the robe. “You look… cozy.”

She smiled nervously, closing the door behind him. “Thanks. You didn’t have to bring flowers.”

“I wanted to.” He handed them to her, his fingers brushing hers briefly, sending a spark up her arm. “They reminded me of you.”

Her heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice, but she quickly busied herself by placing the flowers in a vase. “Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the sofa. “I have a surprise for you.”

Lando’s brows shot up, curiosity and amusement dancing in his eyes. “A surprise, huh? Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” she replied, the corners of her lips twitching upward. “Just… stay here. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her, the quiet click of the latch sounding louder than it should have. Her breathing was uneven, shallow, as she leaned against the door for a moment, willing herself to calm down. Her hands trembled as she reached for the tie of her robe, fingers fumbling clumsily with the knot.

Get it together, she told herself, though her heart continued to race, the frantic drumbeat echoing in her ears. Finally, the knot loosened, and she hesitated for a beat longer, the cool air brushing against her skin as she let the robe slip from her shoulders. It fell silently to the floor, a soft puddle of fabric at her feet, but she didn’t move right away. Instead, she stood frozen, her chest rising and falling quickly, trying to gather the courage for whatever was coming next.

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. Outside the closed door, the faintest shuffle of movement signaled his impatience. A chair creaked softly, then silence, followed by a muffled sigh as he shifted again. Still, she remained where she was, the weight of her own thoughts pinning her in place, her mind racing through a hundred scenarios but finding no clarity in any of the

Y/n stood in front of her full-length mirror, taking a deep breath. The delicate lace of the lingerie brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She wasn’t used to this—showing off so much of herself—but tonight, she wanted to surprise Lando. Wanted him to see her as someone who could be bold, daring, even if it was just for a moment.

“Y/N, you’re driving me insane!” Lando groaned loudly from the couch, his voice a mix of frustration and teasing. His head tipped back, and he ran a hand through his curls. “What kind of surprise takes this long?”

From behind the closed bedroom door, Y/N’s soft laugh floated out, light and melodic. It sent a ripple of warmth through him despite his impatience.

“Patience, Lando,” she called back, her voice laced with amusement. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the smirk tugging at his lips. He knew exactly what kind of tease Y/n was—subtle, calculated, and utterly devastating. She could make him wait all night if she wanted, and he’d be left writhing in anticipation, begging for just one glimpse of whatever she had planned.

She checked her reflection one last time, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on the sheer fabric. Her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to give away her nerves. But she reminded herself why she was doing this. Lando had been nothing but attentive, charming, and relentless in his pursuit of her. For a month, they’d been dancing around each other, their chemistry undeniable, their conversations teasing and flirtatious. Yet, they hadn’t crossed that final line. Not yet.

Tonight, she decided, would be different.

Steeling herself, Y/n walked out of her bedroom, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. The living room was softly illuminated by the glow of the city lights outside, casting a warm hue over everything. Lando sat on the edge of the couch, his back straight, his hands resting on his thighs. He looked relaxed, but there was a tension in his jaw that betrayed his calm demeanor. When he heard her approaching, he turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto hers.

His breath hitched.

Her silhouette framed the light from behind her, casting soft shadows across her body. The lingerie clung to her curves like a second skin. The sight of her nearly robbed him of his ability to breathe.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the two of them, lost in each other’s gaze. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, slow and lazy, like he was savoring the sight before him.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and husky, “you weren’t kidding about a surprise.”

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “Do you like it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando pushed himself off the couch, moving toward her with deliberate steps. He stopped just inches away, his towering presence making her feel small despite the confidence she’d mustered earlier. His eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of the lingerie, lingering on the way the fabric hugged her hips, the curve of her thighs, the dip of her waist.

“Like it?” he repeated, his tone playful yet serious. “I love it. You’re… you’re art. Fucking breathtaking.''

She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away. “You don’t have to say that,” she muttered, though her heart raced at his words.

“I don’t have to,” he agreed, closing the distance between them until he was standing directly in front of her. His hand lifted, calloused fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. “But I want to. Because it’s true.”

His touch sent electric shocks through her body, and she fought to keep her composure. “You’re such a flirt,” she accused, her voice shaky.

“Only with you,” he replied smoothly, his thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. “And only because you make it impossible not to.”

She shivered under his touch, her knees feeling suddenly weak. “Stop it,” she whispered, though her protest lacked any real conviction.

“Make me,” he challenged, his lips curving into a sly grin.

Before she could respond, his other hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of her lingerie, making her pulse quicken. She could feel the solid length of him pressing against her, a firm reminder of the effect she had on him.

“Lando,” she breathed, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders, unsure if she was pushing him away or holding on for balance.

“Hmm?” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “What is it, love? Tell me what you want.”

The way he said it—so casual, so confident—sent a wave of longing crashing through her. She swallowed hard, her mind racing. Did she want this? Yes. Was she ready for it? She wasn’t sure. But the way he was looking at her, the way he was touching her, made it impossible to think clearly.

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his lips trailing down the side of her neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “Let me hear you say it.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “I want…” She paused, her breath catching in her throat. “I want you.”

His grip on her tightened, and he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Then, without warning, he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and commanding.

Her arms slipped around his neck as she kissed him back, her fingers tangling in his hair. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open for him. When she did, his mouth moved over hers with a hunger that matched her own. He tasted like mint and something wild, something untamed that sent her spiraling.

His hands were everywhere—cupping her face, sliding down her back, gripping her hips. Each touch was deliberate, possessive, like he couldn’t get enough of her. And she couldn’t get enough of him. Every brush of his fingertips, every press of his lips, sent waves of pleasure coursing through her veins.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together. “You drive me insane,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

“Likewise,” she managed to reply, her voice breathless.

He grinned, the expression lighting up his face. “Good. I like keeping you on your toes.”

Before she could retort, his hands migrated lower, pulling her even closer. She could feel every inch of him, hard and demanding against her softness. Her body responded instinctively, arching into him, craving more.

“Lando,” she gasped, her hands tightening on his shoulders.

“Shh,” he hushed, his lips finding hers again. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his hands were moving again, sliding beneath the lace, cupping her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried her to the couch, never breaking the kiss. He set her down gently, his body pressing her into the cushions as he continued his relentless assault on her senses.

Lando’s lips trailed down her throat, his tongue flicking over the delicate skin just above the neckline of her lingerie. Y/n shivered, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. She could feel his hardness pressing against her thigh, a constant reminder of his desire for her. His hands roamed freely, one creeping beneath the lace to cup her breast, the other sliding up her side, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his voice low and gravelly with need. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She whimpered, her breath hitching as his fingers found her nipple, teasing it into a hard peak. He pinched gently, his teeth grazing her collarbone as she arched into his touch. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling with want. “Please… I need…”

He pulled back, his eyes burning with intent. “Tell me what you need, love.”

Her cheeks flushed, heat pooling between her thighs. She hesitated, her shyness threatening to hold her back. But Lando’s gaze was relentless, piercing through her defenses. She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. “I need you… inside me.”

His lips curved into a wicked smile, his hand slipping lower, brushing against the proof of her arousal. “Not yet,” he said, his tone laced with playful mischief. “First, I need to taste you.”

Before she could protest, he lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest as he carried her toward the bedroom. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her body flush against his, every step bringing them closer to the edge of something explosive.

He laid her down gently on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he knelt between her thighs. Her heart raced, her breath quickening as she realized what he intended to do. He leaned over her, his fingers brushing the lace of her panties, tugging them aside to reveal her glistening core.

“So wet for me already,” he teased, his voice dripping with admiration. “You’re going to drive me wild, aren’t you?”

She bit her lip, unable to speak, her mind too consumed by the way his gaze lingered on her. He lowered his head, his warm breath cascading over her sensitive flesh, sending shivers down her spine. Then, without warning, his tongue darted out, swirling around her clit in slow, torturous circles.

“Oh God!” she cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily.

He chuckled softly, his tongue moving faster, delving deeper. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as he explored her with an intensity that left her breathless. One hand slid up to cup her breast, squeezing gently as his thumb flicked over her straining nipple.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice muffled against her.

She nodded frantically, her nails digging into the sheets as his mouth worked its magic. He alternated between gentle licks and firm sucks, his movements deliberate and unrelenting. Her body trembled, her orgasm building with each passing second.

“Lando… I’m… I’m gonna…” she gasped, her voice breaking.

He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Let it go, love,” he urged, his voice soft but commanding. “Let me feel you come apart for me.”

Those words were her undoing. With a strangled cry, her body convulsed, waves of ecstasy washing over her as she tumbled into bliss. Lando didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to work its magic as she rode out her climax, his name spilling from her lips in a breathless chant.

When she finally stilled, her chest heaving, he raised his head, beaming with a smile. 'That’s my girl,' he murmured, his voice tender. ''You’re incredible.''

She smiled weakly, still recovering from the intensity of her orgasm. “You’re unbelievable,” she managed to whisper, her voice thick with emotion.

He kissed her thigh, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened up, his eyes locking onto hers. “Now,” he said, his voice low and husky. “It’s my turn.”

He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs. His cock pressed against her entrance, the heat of him almost too much to bear. She moaned, her body instinctively opening for him.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, his voice serious despite the lust burning in his eyes.

She shook her head, her hands reaching up to grip his shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered. “Please, Lando… I need you.”

Lando’s hands gripped her hips, his breath steady as he aligned himself with her. His cock pressed against her entrance, the heat of him radiating through her core. Y/n’s body trembled beneath him, anticipation coiling deep within her. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as if the world around them had paused to witness this moment.

“Look at me,” Lando murmured, his voice low and commanding.

She obeyed, meeting his gaze. His eyes were intense, filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something that made her heart race. He was always so sure, so unwavering in his focus on her. It both scared and thrilled her.

“I want you to feel every second of this,” he said softly, his words brushing against her like a caress. “Every movement, every touch… I want it to be slow.”

Y/n bit her lip, her eyes flickering down to his chest for a moment before returning to his. She nodded, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please… just like that.”

With a soft groan, Lando began to move, his hips pressing forward ever so slowly. His cock slid into her inch by inch, their bodies merging in a seamless union. Y/n gasped, her nails digging into his back as he filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, building slowly but steadily, like a tide rising against the shore.

“You feel so good,” he muttered, his voice strained with effort. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin lightly as he continued his deliberate pace. “So tight… so perfect.”

Y/n moaned, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She could feel every ridge of his cock inside her, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her mind felt hazy, lost in the sensation of him moving within her.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice breaking. “Oh god…”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “Patience, love,” he teased, his lips brushing against her ear. “We have all night.”

But Y/n wasn’t sure she could wait. Already, the pressure was building, spiraling higher and higher with each thrust. She wanted more, needed more. Her hands roamed over his back, her fingers tracing the curve of his muscles as he moved.

“Harder,” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please… faster.”

Lando hesitated, glancing down at her with a smirk. “You asked for slow,” he reminded her, his tone light but teasing. “Now you want it hard? Make up your mind, sweetheart.”

Y/n groaned in frustration, her hips bucking slightly against him. “I don’t know! Just… do whatever you want,” she practically whined, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re driving me crazy.”

His grin widened, and he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with an intensity that matched the rhythm of his hips. He pulled out almost completely, only to sink back in slowly, prolonging the ache between her legs. Y/n cried out against his lips, her body arching towards him as the need for release grew unbearable.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice rough and demanding. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” she gasped, her hands gripping his arms tightly. “Only you. God, Lando… please…”

Her words seemed to ignite something within him. His pace quickened slightly, though not enough to lose the slow, deliberate rhythm she loved. He cupped her face in his hands, gazing down at her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice fierce and possessive. “Do you understand? Every part of you… belongs to me.”

Y/n couldn’t speak, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he claimed her again and again. His words echoed in her mind, stirring something deep within her—a sense of belonging, of being utterly consumed by him. Her body tightened around his cock, her orgasm building rapidly now.

“Lando… I’m close,” she managed to whisper, her voice trembling.

His hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit and circling it gently. “Then come for me,” he commanded, his voice low and raw. “Let go, love. Show me how much you want this.”

The combination of his words and his actions pushed her over the edge. Y/n cried out, her body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as her orgasm consumed her entirely.

Lando grunted, his thrusts slowing as he rode out her climax. His grip on her tightened, his breathing heavy as he fought to maintain control. When she finally relaxed against him, he kissed her forehead tenderly, his movements still slow and deliberate.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft and comforting. “Let me take care of you.”

Y/n smiled faintly, her eyes fluttering shut as she nuzzled into his chest. She felt safe, protected, and utterly devoured by him. Everything about him—his touch, his scent, the way he made her feel—was intoxicating.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please… I need more.”

Lando’s breath hitched at her plea, his eyes locking onto hers as if searching for confirmation. He didn’t want to move too fast, didn’t want to spook her or push her beyond her comfort. But her words—her need—was a fire that burned brightly in her voice, and he couldn’t ignore it.

“You sure?” he asked, his tone low and teasing, though there was an edge of urgency to it now. His grip on her hips tightened just slightly, the only indication of how badly he wanted to give her what she asked for.

Y/n nodded, her cheeks flushing with heat as she met his gaze. She could feel the weight of his desire pressing against her, slow and steady, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “Yes… don’t stop. Please, Lando.”

His name on her lips was a whispered invitation, and he couldn’t resist any longer. With a soft groan, he began to move again, this time picking up the pace just a fraction. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the quiet room, a symphony of skin on skin that only heightened the tension between them.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers digging into her thighs as he lifted her legs higher, wrapping them around his waist. The new angle brought him deeper, and Y/n gasped, arching her back as pleasure surged through her.

“God, you feel so good,” Lando murmured, his voice ragged as he fought to keep his control. He kissed her neck, nipping gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. “So fucking tight… like you were made for me.”

Y/n moaned softly, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she tilted her head to give him better access. The way he spoke, the way he moved, it was all so deliberate, so calculated to drive her wild. And it was working. Every thrust of his hips sent waves of pleasure crashing over her, building and building until she thought she might explode.

“Lando…” Her voice broke, a mix of desperation and pleasure that made his heart race.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked, his tone dripping with sweetness and seduction. He slowed his rhythm, pulling out slightly before sinking back in, drawing out the moment just to see her reaction.

Y/n groaned in frustration, her nails lightly scratching down his back. “I need… faster. Please, faster.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Patience, love. Just let me hear you beg a little more.”

Her jaw dropped, a mixture of surprise and indignation flashing across her face. But before she could protest, he picked up the pace again, this time rocking into her with a steady, relentless rhythm. The sound of their flesh meeting grew louder, more urgent, filling the room with a primal energy that left no room for doubt about what they were doing.

Y/n’s head fell back, her breath coming in short, gasping breaths as she clung to him. The pleasure was overwhelming, cresting higher with each movement of his body. She could feel herself getting closer, the pressure building inside her like a storm waiting to break.

“Lando… I’m…” she tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat as another wave of sensation washed over her.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice softer now, less teasing and more intent. “Let go for me, Y/n. Let me feel you come apart.”

His words were her undoing. With a cry that echoed through the room, she arched her back, her body tightening around him as she reached her peak. Her walls clamped down fiercely, milking every ounce of pleasure from his cock as she rode out her third orgasm.

Lando growled, his thrusts growing erratic as he felt her pulsing around him. He had been so close already, and watching her fall apart pushed him over the edge. With one final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his release hitting him like a tidal wave.

For several long moments, they remained locked together, their bodies trembling with the force of their shared climax. Lando’s forehead rested against hers, his breathing heavy as he struggled to catch his breath. His arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her close as if afraid she might slip away.

“God… Y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much I needed that.”

She didn’t respond right away, still caught in the haze of her own thoughts. But when she finally looked up at him, there was a softness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. A vulnerability that she rarely showed to anyone.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s heart clenched at her words, at the sincerity behind them. He cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Don’t thank me, love. This… whatever this is between us… it’s not just about tonight. It’s about everything. About us.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her eyes searching his as if trying to find the truth in his words. For the first time since they’d met, she allowed herself to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he meant it. If he saw something in her worth fighting for, worth loving.

Before she could say anything, Lando leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, tender kiss. It was different from before, softer and more reverent, as if he was savoring every second of being close to her.

The bed beneath her shifted slightly as he leaned closer, his hand brushing gently against her cheek. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, filled with warmth and something deeper that made her breath catch.

A playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he whispered, “Comfortable enough?”

Y/n let out a soft laugh, her cheeks flushing as she realized how easily he’d made her feel at ease despite the rush of emotions coursing through her. “I think so,” she replied, her voice light but edged with nervous excitement.

Lando grinned, clearly pleased by her response. He shifted, propping himself up beside her, his fingers trailing lazily over her arm as if he couldn’t bear to break the contact. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, but in the best way, her heart racing under the weight of his gaze.

“Stay right here,” he said softly, his tone carrying a mix of playfulness and command that sent a shiver through her. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched as he rose from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the silence, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her mind raced, each second feeling impossibly long as she tried to steady her breathing.

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to stop. Why am I like this? she thought, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing at herself. But just as quickly as the nerves bubbled up, they faded when the bathroom door opened, and he returned.

Lando’s smile was soft and reassuring, his movements unhurried as he crossed the room to rejoin her. He sat beside her, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch grounding her instantly.

“Still okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with genuine concern.

Y/n nodded, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. Whatever happened next, she knew she could trust him.

[florencemtrash]

In a year's time - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, jealous Azriel, fluff

Masterlist of Masterlists

"But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him."

Mor narrowed her eyes at the Shadowsinger, watching as he adjusted the collar of his newly tailored suit jacket and then combined his hair back with scarred fingers. 

Azriel had always been annoyingly beautiful - even during their middling years when their voices cracked and they hadn’t yet grown into their long, slender limbs - and so he’d never needed to take special care of his appearance. His hair dried in perfect waves, his skin was smooth and clean despite the scars, and his training had carved out a silhouette as strong and capable as it was alluring. So why did he keep smoothing down his waistcoat like he was nervous?

Mor darted out a tongue, cleaning up the drop of wine that threatened to fall from her ruby red lips, “Azriel? What in the Mother’s name are you doing?” 

His eyes barely flicked over to where she lay sprawled out on his bed. She had no intention of attending this ball sober, and if the near empty bottle of wine balanced precariously against her knee was any indication, she would exceed her goal before they even stepped outside his bedroom. 

He picked up the tie - midnight blue and hand-embroidered with silver thread - and flung it around his neck.

“Getting ready for the ball.” He answered blandly.

She rolled her eyes, “Obviously,” then continued to stare at him expectantly as he finished knotting the tie, folded his pocket square, and then slid his weapons into place as a last measure, cobalt blue siphons flashing from the backs of his hands. 

It clicked all at once as he strolled for the door, forcing Mor to abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle. 

“Oh my gods.” She said, mouth agape. Her shoes clicked along the marble floors of the River House like the beating of drums. 

Azriel groaned internally. Even tipsy and wearing seven-inch heels, Mor kept up with his long strides easily, prodding his side accusingly with her wine bottle. It magically refilled itself with every jab.

“You’re trying to impress Y/n!” 

Suddenly it was as obvious as the sun rising in the east. He’d chosen the tie you complimented him on last Starfall, despite his hatred of its fanciful nature. He was wearing the silver moonstone cufflinks you’d bought him for his birthday. He’d even combed his hair because he knew you’d notice and muss it up for him.

“Mor-” He warned, color beginning to dust his cheeks. His shadows darted around the hallway, climbing the velvet curtains and peering around the corners to watch for any potential eavesdropping. 

“I knew it! I knew it!” She said, swatting him with a frustrated hand. Her red silk dress clung to her waist and thighs before fluttering out in a halo around her knees as she chased after him, aiming to slap him across the head. 

Azriel stopped in his tracks and grabbed at her wrists, desperately hoping no one else in the house had left their rooms yet. If he was really lucky, the two mated couples would be making enough noise of their own to drown out Mor’s excitement.

“Mor, stop it. And be quiet.”

“You loooove her.” She crowed, dragging out the sound. Suddenly she straightened up, hands on her hips and frowning, “Is that why you’ve been so irritable lately? Because you miss her?” 

Azriel said nothing, gave away nothing, even though Mor had hit the nail on the head in her drunken stupor. 

It had been a great honor when Thesan offered to take you under his wing and train you personally. More than a favor to Rhysand, he’d seen your healing talent and wanted your expertise to be well represented in the Dawn Court. So a year ago you’d packed up your things and said your goodbyes.

“It’s only temporary.” You’d promised him, “I’ll be back before you know it. In a year’s time.”

But a lot could change in a year. You’d sent plenty of letters back and forth to each other, and Azriel would be loath to admit that he slept with them clutched against his chest every night so whispers of your scent would chase the nightmares away. 

But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him.

He was happy for you and had been the one to encourage you to move to Dawn. But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss you terribly. You’d been missing from his side like a torn limb, and Azriel had been walking through life at a crooked angle ever since. 

“I don’t-” He sighed, he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love you. He just couldn’t, “It’s none of your business, Mor.” He amended. 

He released her wrists breezed past her, but she sprinted ahead of him, splaying her limbs out on the staircase to block his path.

“You need to tell her you love her. Tonight.” She commanded. Her words slurred out gently, the faerie wine finally kicking in when she’d wanted it to. “I mean it, Az.” 

He shook his head, “I can’t tell her tonight.” 

“Why not?” 

“I haven’t seen her in a year! I can’t drop that kind of truth on her.” 

“Yes you can!” She fought back. There was some muddled piece of information hanging at the edges of her mind, something important she needed to tell Az. But the wine held it back. Fuck. She cursed inwardly.

“No. I. Can’t.”

“Yes. You. Can.” She was practically seething, pearly brown eyes unfocused but unrelenting. She knows something I don’t, Azriel realized in a burst of shock. 

“What is it, Mor? What did she tell you?”

She blinked, dropping her arms from the burnt umber railings. His heart quickened. Had his worst fears come true? Had you found someone else in Dawn worth staying for?

“I-” Damn it. She shouldn’t have finished the second bottle. She cradled it protectively against her chest, feeling the glass cool her hot skin, “I don’t fucking remember.” 

“What do you mean you don’t remember?”

“I mean, I’m drunk, Az. And drunk Mor doesn’t remember shit.”

His heart quickened further, a crushing sense of guilt and loss wrapping around his chest like a corset and tightening. Mor at least was saved from further useless interrogation when Rhysand and Feyre bounded out from down the hallway, tastefully disheveled and looking sinful in Night Court black. 

Rhysand cleared his throat, straightening his dinner jacket and absent-mindedly straightening Feyre’s crown for her, “Everyone ready to leave?” His eyes glazed over, calling out to the last missing members of their party. 

Cassian and Nesta spilled out of their room next, the braids of her coronet slipping out and spilling over her heaving chest. Azriel tipped his head to the ceiling and cursed silently. Mother have mercy…

Nesta pulled up on the strap of her lace dress, only to find that it had been torn to ribbons. 

Cassian was in no better shape - the collar of his white shirt was smeared with lipstick, although he didn’t have the same sense as Nesta to look annoyed at the interruption to their… activities. A toothy grin bloomed on his face, shoulder-length hair tangled like someone had been yanking it for hours.

“Can’t make it tonight, Rhys.” He said. He glanced down at Nes, “I’m not feeling well.” 

“Me neither.” Nesta said hastily, slipping back behind the door and hauling Cassian inside with her like he weighed as light as a feather. Four months after their mating ceremony and they were as insatiable as ever. 

“You’re full of shit, Cass!” Rhys called out just before the door slammed shut. A muffled Fuck you! Came from within, followed by a, Tell Y/n we’ll see her at home! From Nesta. 

They winnowed to the outskirts of Daybreak Hill, landing in a field of cushiony moss dotted with pink and violet heather that stirred in the breeze like the dusk-painted clouds above. 

Feyre sighed deeply, breathing in the scent of lavender and rosewater. She loved Velaris and no one could hold a candle to the beauty of the Night Court… except perhaps Dawn. 

It was like someone had laid a mirror flat on the earth. Periwinkle skies kissed rolling sage green hills dotted with red-roofed villages and sank into lakes of pearl and lavender until it was impossible to tell where the sky started or ended. 

The Dawn Court Palace’s twisting spires of honey marble glowed brighter than the setting sun. So brightly in fact that Mor had to help shield Azriel’s eyes with her soft hands as he carried them up through low-hanging satin clouds. Dots of scarlet and midnight black soaring through cotton skies. 

His hands turned clammy and the tightness in his chest felt like a giant’s fist squeezing his heart, but he convinced himself it was the thin air that was responsible, and not the raging longing in his heart for you. Still, he had to appreciate the beauty of the red-roofed villages below, tinkering hands hard at work inside chestnut workshops filled with glistening bronze and copper. 

They dove through the columns into the open-air hall, any dampness from the mist magicked away by Thesan’s careful hands as he stepped down from the golden dias to greet his honored guests. His rich, copper-colored skin radiated light, melting with the darkness that rippled off Rhysand and Feyre’s shoulders as they shook hands and exchanged the usual pleasantries. 

Mor stretched her silky arms above her hands, catching the eyes of a cherub-faced female reaching to grab a flute from the champagne tower. Normally, Mor would have been flattered, but with Emerie at home and a wine-drunk haze over her mind, she was feeling more anxious than anything else. What the fuck was it that she was trying to remember?

Faelights bloomed above him, tinkered in the shapes of roses that gently pulsed, fluttering petals propelling them across the room in a sway of light. 

But Azriel was barely paying attention. His eyes skimmed the crowd, searching for a silhouette he knew as intimately as the ridges of his hands. 

There. 

You stood across the room, half-hidden in the stone archway beside Thesan’s lover, Herades. You bowed your head towards him in silent conversation, nursing a glass of champagne in your hand to try and cool your nerves. Azriel would be arriving soon, if he wasn’t already here, cradling the walls in search of dark corners like he was bound to do. You’d been imagining all the ways you’d greet him - with a joke, with a meaningful embrace, with a kiss. You shook her head, pushing the last thought out of your mind and focusing on Herades’s story again. 

Your laugh was a flare of light blooming at the end of a match. Azriel stared utterly captivated. Time moved slower than syrup when you finally met his eyes and smiled with an affection more precious than gold. 

“Az!” You squeezed Herades’s arm, politely excusing yourself, and then you were off. You sprang across the room in a billow of cream fabric, like milk poured into coffee. The tips of your pleated skirts were touched with blue like you’d waded out into the night sky. The color matched the ribbon in your hair, and the siphons of a certain lovestruck Shadowsinger. 

“Y/n,” He breathed out. You flowed into his arms and he gathered you into them like a bouquet of wildflowers, breathing in your familiar scent of rosemary and peppermint. Gods I missed you. He whispered in his mind, hoping that somehow you’d hear it at the end of that glowing thread.

But the hug was short-lived. Too short-lived. 

“Mor!” You sang in that melodic voice he loved so much, grasping for her next, then Rhys, then Feyre. 

Thesan looked on humbly, sighing faintly when Herades caught up to you and immediately slid to Thesan’s side. 

“Oh I’ve missed you all so much.” You said, rocking back and forth. 

“We missed you,” Feyre said into your hair. She was the one to pull away, smoothing out ribbon and giving you a once-over look. 

Your time had been well-spent at the Dawn Court. Extra color bronzed your cheeks and tinted your lips a pale berry shade. You stood up straighter, smiled a little wider, and walked with an extra height to your step. You’d always been beautiful and graceful, but it was like you were aware of it now - like you’d grown the last few inches into your body. 

“You look lovely, Y/n.” Feyre said and Mor agreed enthusiastically, commenting on your dress and your hair and your… well everything.

“Thank you,” You said, blushing, “Thesan’s treated me very well.” 

That was an understatement. He’d set you up in his personal household, paid you handsomely (even more than Rhysand paid you if that were possible), and had had the royal seamstress sew ten dresses for you to pick from for tonight’s ball alone. It was your party after all in commemoration of the advancements you’d made in child birthing practices. You’d handled twelve pregnancies alone in the past year across Dawn and Winter, all of the children delivered safely and as plump and rosy as summer cherries. 

“And you’ve repaid it to my court ten-fold.” Thesan said and held up his drink. Even Herades smiled, tawny feathers flaring out with pride. You were responsible for the safety of his sister-in-law and the birth of his nephew - hawk wings and all. 

It was a flurry of activity following the Night Court’s fashionably late arrival. You dragged Azriel and Mor up to the dais after Rhys and Feyre. Traditionally the table was only meant for High Lords and their partners, but Thesan was a unique and progressive leader in more ways than one. 

Herades and Thesan sat in the middle with Feyre and Rhysand, leaving you, Azriel, and Mor at one end and Thesan’s sister and her husband at the other. 

Azriel was eternally grateful when Mor lunged for the center-most seat, forcing you to sit between her and Azriel. You bumped knees with him, leaning close as you whispered about the Court gossip you’d managed to overhear from the cooks or discussing the progress you’d made in the Winter Court. 

Course after course appeared in front of him and disappeared, hardly touched. He wasn’t hungry for anything other than you, focusing on the crease within your brows as you tried to remember all the news you couldn’t write to him about or the twist of your perfect, flushed lips as you displayed your displeasure and your joy. 

If he believed himself to be worthy of your affection he would have whisked you away hours ago, disappearing into whichever room in the palace was yours and pressing you against the wall, lip-locked until the need for air forced him to stop. 

“How are Kallias and Viviane doing?” Mor asked, perking up at the mention of the Winter Court.

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with color, “I’m not supposed to say, Mor, so you must promise not to tell anyone. Anyone.” Mor locked her mouth and threw away the key. Your lips brushed against the sharp curve of her ear, “She’s pregnant.” 

Mor clapped a hand over her mouth, nearly upsetting the glass of wine balanced precariously on the edge of the table. One of Azriel’s shadows darted out, pushing it safely out of the way of her swaying arms.

“Stop.” She hissed in disbelief. Her golden hair seemed to brighten with her cheeks. 

You nodded, “With twins.” 

Tears flooded her eyes, “That wench didn’t tell me.” 

“She’s been busy, if you can imagine.” 

“Still!” Mor muttered under her breath, eating her food slowly and sipping on her wine quickly. She gave up on being sober the more males approached her from the base of the dais, bowing deeply with proud, puffed up chests and asking for a dance. Word had gone around about her… preferences, and far from dissuading suitors, it seemed to have been offered up as a challenge as to who could change her mind. Thank the gods Emerie had declined the invitation to join them. She would have castrated half these males in an instant, if Mor didn’t beat her to it. 

Thesan, gratefully, put an end to it once he caught onto the pattern. One sharp look from him sent them scampering back, coattails between their legs. 

There was one final male though who ignored the previous warnings, humbly bleeding out of the crowd as remnants of rose cake disappeared from the tables and the quartet swelled to include twelve musicians plus a singer. Full, cream-colored wings hovered above the ground, tawny-tipped and lush. Even Mor had to admit, with his olive skin, amber eyes, and warm honey curls he was stunning. Like liquid gold poured out of the setting sun. 

He bowed deeply, a subtle smile on his face. Azriel went rigid, seeing you lean forward out of the corner of his eye with a blush coating your cheeks. 

Mor closed her eyes and groaned. Fuuuuuuuck. That’s what she’d forgotten about. Or rather whom she’d forgotten about. 

Naemon - the golden boy who’d begun to court you seven months back. You’d dropped his name only a handful of times in your letters to Mor. Not enough times to convince Mor you were actually taken with him, but enough times for her to remember the bastard’s name. 

“Y/n,” His voice was silky smooth and kind, “May I have the first dance with you?” He asked politely. 

Your breath caught in your throat and you risked a glance over at Azriel. He looked… bored and unaffected. He reached for his glass, looking more interested in the faerie wine than the male who’d just asked for your hand. It was stupid of you to think he would care for you  as anything more than a friend, and even more foolish of you to think he might be jealous. 

You pushed away from the table and floated down the dais, taking the strong and sturdy hand Naemon offered you. The first song was too spirited and quick to reveal any true feelings. It was a blur of silks and lean arms as you wove through the sea of dancers and were gently tossed from partner to partner. But the second song was slower, more intimate. Naemon flashed a look of gratitude to the singer, who winked in return, before scooping one arm around your waist, hand flat on the small of your back. You rested one hand on his shoulder, feeling the rolling of muscle beneath his crisp linen tunic, and held his free hand. 

Naemon was a kind and gentle male. After the death of his parents, he’d all but raised his younger sister Namia on his own, relying on the money he earned in the Peregryn legion to make ends meet. It was his care for his sister that had first drawn him to you - any misgivings he’d had melting away as you grew close to Namia from among the other healers. You’d supported her throughout her pregnancy, become her friend, and served as a balm to his anxieties whenever his duties took him away for long stretches of time. 

You looked down bashfully, apologizing for missing one of the dance steps and crushing his toe, “I’m better at the quicksteps.” You explained. 

Naemon smiled brilliantly, and you couldn’t stop the faint flutter in your chest, “I can’t blame you. The slow ones can get boring. Leaves too much time for overthinking.” 

“Exactly.” Too much time for overthinking about a certain Shadowsinger.

 You’d never given Naemon any false pretenses about your feelings, always reminding him and Namia that your position in Dawn was temporary. But still… It felt nice to be courted by someone as open as him. With Naemon you never had to guess whether he wanted you or not - you knew he did. The flowers he often left in the healer’s temple, or the offers to take you out to dinner or to dances like this one proved it. 

A curl of guilt coiled in your stomach. Maybe now was a good time to bow out and return to your seat. Surely the slow waltz would be finishing soon. The-

“You’re overthinking again.” Naemon said, his full lips brushing against the sharp curve of your ear and heating the gold cuffs you wore. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Y/n. If you’re enjoying yourself - if you like dancing with me - keep doing it.”

“Naemon-” You began apologetically.

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” He said honestly, “I just want to dance with you tonight. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You stared into his eyes, finding nothing but truth in them. A portion of your nerves melted away and you found that when the cello began to hum out a simple tune, you were still holding onto him and letting him move you through the next movements. 

Azriel was barely holding on by a thread. Wine glass now empty and clenched dangerously between shadow covered hands. Rhys shot him a look, and when his attempts to breach his brother’s mental shields were met with resistance, he turned to Mor. 

What’s wrong with him? His eyes flashed the question.

He’s being an ass who can’t come to terms with his emotions. Mor grumbled back, sinking into her seat with a fling of yellow-gold waves. 

Rhys’s eyes went from confused to wide open as he shot a look to you across the dance floor. Fuck.

Feyre followed her mate’s attention with a look of concern, and then traced Azriel’s steely gaze to the dance floor where you were smiling reservedly up at Naemon. You two made a handsome couple, weaving a clear path through the other dancers as they parted for his magnificent feathered wings. 

Azriel stiffened. He’d never been particularly proud of his Illyrian heritage, but his wings… his wings were one of the few true beauties he possessed. But in comparison to the golden-boy warrior that smiled at you and brushed back a loose strand of hair with his soft hands, Azriel found himself lacking… once again. 

Naemon was a gentle breeze where Azriel was blistering wind. He was a wide open door, every look he gave you filled with clear affection. Azriel was a dozen locked boxes, each one nestled within the other with all the keys rusted and thrown away. Naemon looked reserved and in control. Azriel felt completely out of it, and it took every inch of willpower to keep the mating bond from driving him mad enough to launch across the dancefloor and bruise Naemon’s high, perfect cheekbones.

But then the dance ended and Naemon parted from you long enough to reach behind his back and pluck a feather from his wing. A few shocked gasps scattered throughout the room. Even Thesan and Herades looked on with raised eyebrows, leaning close enough to touch. 

The feather was a beauty - the length of Naemon’s forearm and such a pure white it glimmered like moonlight. You froze, staring down at the treasure he offered you with bated breath. 

Peregryns were fiercely protective of their wings and rightfully so. To be allowed near them alone was a great honor. To touch them was an intimate act reserved for family members and lovers. To be offered a feather?! In some circles it was akin to being gifted a thousand roses. In other circles it was tantamount to a marriage proposal.

Both offers were completely overwhelming to you.

“Naemon-” You began carefully, backing away, “I-I can’t.” 

He smiled softly, eyes flashing briefly up to the dias where the Shadowsinger had gotten up to his feet, something like desperation and longing buried deep beneath the layers of his hazel eyes. 

“Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” Naemon said resignedly, “But please, take this,” He begged, spreading open your fingers before curling them again around the feather, “For everything you’ve done for my family.” 

And because I love you, even if you don’t love me back - were the words he didn’t say aloud.

“Naemon-” A shadow fell over your feet, curling around your ankles and skirts and tugging you away like a child seeking attention.

Naemon, for all his relative youth and gentle disposition, didn’t seem surprised or affected by the Shadowsinger’s presence. Azriel hovered close behind you, eyes blown open and desperate. 

Please don’t. He silently begged. Please don’t say yes to him.

He almost melted with relief when Naemon only dipped his head in acknowledgement and kissed the palm of your hands. Even that innocent touch made Azriel’s stomach turn. 

You turned when Naemon finally disappeared into the crowd. “Azriel, I-”

You had half a mind to hide the feather behind your back, but you couldn’t do such a cruel thing to Naemon. And it wasn’t like Azriel hadn’t watched the whole thing unfold in front of him. You clasped the feather in your hands, careful not to ruffle the delicate barbs.

Azriel was no longer bored and unaffected. In fact he seemed unnaturally flustered and nervous. 

He swallowed thickly, mindful of the curious stares you were attracting. Not only had you just been proposed to, but now you were being approached by a male from your past after an ambiguous response - you’d accepted the feather, but Naemon had left alone. The court gossips would have a field day, if they weren’t already.

“Y/n,” He said, his voice thin and quiet. A mere whisper among the riff raff that was steadily building up again in a crescendo, “Can we please talk?” His wings fluttered nervously, and he shot a dangerous look at a male who came too close to you, “In private? Please?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You’d barely recovered from Naemon’s dramatic display and you were scared about what Azriel might offer next. 

Still you mumbled, “Oh-um… yes.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before Azriel’s hand was on your wrist, delicately leading you through the crowd towards the archway and into the hallway beyond. Fae mingled about in their finery, happy to escape the music and the sweep of dancers. 

Azriel scowled. This was hardly any more private. 

“My quarters are further down this hall,” You offered, pointing down a sky bridge that connected the public wings of the palace to the private ones. Azriel exhaled in relief, nodding and following you as you cut through unfamiliar halls draped in rich reds, golds, and turquoises. 

You stopped at a door of solid oak, hand painted to look like it had been lifted from the pages of a storybook. Resplendent gold filigree traced the footsteps of maidens running along hills dense with colorful flora. Water trickled down from the mountain tops, so realistic that Azriel was amazed to find the handwoven carpets in your room were dry. 

You peered down the hall before closing the door with a gentle whisper. Only the songbirds nesting in the high crevices bore witness to your activities. 

You hesitated and then tucked the feather into one of the empty jewelry boxes on the vanity. Out of sight, but not out of mind. 

Azriel stood motionless by the door, watching as you closed the box and slid it back against the mirror.

“Did you say yes?” He whispered, hating the way his voice caught in his throat, “Do you love him?”

You turned around quickly, the length of ribbon in your hair rippling through the air to land on your collarbone. Azriel was upon you in an instant close enough for you to feel his shallow breathing, but all he did was trace the blue ribbon with his fingers and then push it back over your shoulder.

“I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stuttered and your face burned with feeling. Azriel had asked you for privacy so he could ask you about Naemon? 

Azriel clenched his fists once. Twice. “The male you were dancing with. The feather-”

You blushed deeply, turning your face away to hide your embarrassment. You had hoped he didn’t know about that Peregryn custom.

He gently gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling your gaze back to him. You blinked in surprise. For once Azriel looked… scared.

“Did you say yes to him? Please. Tell me.” 

If you had said yes he might just shrivel up into nothing on the spot. Why had he waited so long to tell you his feelings? Why had he waited so long to tell you about the bond? But if he did it now it would just be terrible timing all around. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You shook your head and Azriel’s wings dropped in relief, eyes closing as he murmured a quiet thanks to the Mother beneath his breath.

“He-it wasn’t even a real proposal. He gave it to me as thanks for helping his sister. That’s all.” 

He gave you a pointed look like he knew you were lying. There was no questioning Naemon’s feelings for you. No questioning at all.

“You never answered my second question.” 

You crumpled under his gaze. Gods, he looked beautiful tonight. Torturously so. It wasn’t fair. Naemon had loved you openly, never given you cause to doubt his intentions nor made you feel guilty for not returning his feelings. And yet here you were, still pining after the male who’d never seen you as more than a friend. A male whose intentions were never clear. A male who always made you question how well you knew him, and whether those small touches and reserved smiles and affectionate letters were just a polite kindness or something more. 

“No.” It felt wrong of you to admit it so callously, even if it was the truth, “No I don’t love him.”

Azriel looked ready to kiss the ground and something about that set a fire within you. Leave it to Azriel to ignore any romantic advances from you, to chase after other females left and right for literal centuries, and then get upset the moment another male found you appealing. 

You huffed, pushing him away harshly and crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s none of your business anyhow. I’m allowed to have my lovers and my almost lovers. And if you truly thought Naemon was proposing to me, I don’t know why you’d want to fucking interrupt it!”

Azriel flinched at the coldness in your voice, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Az?” You exclaimed, clearly irritated now, “Gods, you never just say what you mean.”

Azriel tried again, grasping at straws. “I would never judge you for your choices, even if you said yes to him or-I just-fuck.” 

On any other day you’d be laughing. Azriel was a male of few words, but the words he did say were always perfect and calculated. Nothing about this was calculated or thought out.

“I… you’re my best friend, Y/n. And I haven’t seen you in over a year. I just…” He cringed. Hard. Cauldron boil him. He was doing this terribly, “I was scared.” He finally admitted, and rather pathetically.

“Scared?” You dropped your arms. That wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, “Scared of what? You’re hardly ever afraid of anything.”

He shrank away, hands clasped tightly behind his back, “That you’d leave me-us. That you’d find a reason to stay here instead of returning to Velaris. And when I saw you dancing with him tonight - the way he was looking at you and the way you were looking at him - I thought… I thought Naemon would be that reason.” 

Now you were confused and even more irate than before.

You stalked up to him, jabbing his chest with an accusatory finger, “You were the one who encouraged me to do this. You were the one constantly writing to me about the importance of making friends and “putting myself out there.” You were the one who practically shoved me out the door when I left-”

“Because I thought you wanted this!” 

“I did! I-I do!” 

“Then what was I supposed to do, Y/n?!” He cried out. His shadows, which had been held back so tightly on a leash throughout the night, exploded outward, coating the bright colors of your bedspread and the rugs and the curtains in inky black. They swirled there, as agitated and timid as their master. 

“What was I supposed to do?” He whispered again. He sounded tired. Defeated. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold you back from what you wanted. From the happiness and opportunities you deserve.”

“You could’ve at least said something! You could’ve at least told me that you were upset with me leaving. That you were going to miss me and that you-you-” 

That you love me and that you wanted me to stay. You shoved the thought out of your mind, slamming the door and turning the lock. Useless, lovestruck pipedreams would do you no good now. 

“Instead you just pushed me out the door and it’s been nothing but empty letters from you since.” 

“They weren’t empty.” Azriel said weakly. He’d never been a man of words or poetry, but in that moment he desperately wished he was. “And I did miss you. Y/n, I missed you so much some days it felt like I couldn’t breathe.” 

You deflated, your anger slowly ebbing away like the ocean during low tide. Sometimes you forgot that beneath all those hard-won layers of shadow and muscle, Azriel was still that little boy that had been abandoned in a cellar and taught to believe he was worthless. A waste of time and a waste of space. Nothing more than an inconvenient bastard. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were all doing fine. That I’d come back and it would be like nothing had ever changed. I would’ve-I would’ve made time to visit. Or-or come back sooner.”

Azriel chuckled without humour. He had not been “doing fine” without you. He hadn’t been “doing fine” since the moment you’d stepped across the doorway and winnowed out of Velaris.

“You make it sound like I was going away forever.” You added softly.

“It felt like it.” Azriel admitted quietly, “I always worried there was a chance you’d decide you liked things better in Dawn. That you liked the people better. So when I saw you with Naemon I just…” His voice trailed off and he slowly backed up to your bed, sinking down into the pillowy comforter. Even the beds seemed softer and kinder here. Softer and kinder than him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

He felt the bed dip beside him, your knee pressing against his in a burst of warmth. The blue tipped pleats of your dress slowly waved with his shadows as they once again curled around your feet, inching up your dress and closer and closer to your hands. Now that he was looking down he noticed the shoes you were wearing - cobalt blue with matching velvet ribbons tied up your calf. Same as your dress. Same as the ribbon in your hair.

“I wanted to believe you wore those colors for me tonight.” He said quietly, aching for your touch. Your hands were so close to his he could almost imagine that-

You covered his hands with your own, smoothing the rough skin with gentle caresses, “I did.”

It had seemed like such a stupidly hopeful choice at the time - some not-so-subtle declaration of love for all the months you’d spent apart - but when the seamstress had laid out all the dresses, you’d taken one look at the cobalt blue accents and the shoes and snatched them up in a heartbeat. 

Azriel’s eyes were wider, more open, than the moon, shimmering with disbelief and hope, “You did?” He whispered.

“I did. They reminded me of you.” You stopped looking him in the eyes. It felt like too much. Too much emotion. Too much feeling. “I missed you too, you know.” 

Azriel stayed quiet for a long while, sorting out the myriad of feelings roiling in his chest and trying to latch onto a single coherent thought. Finally he murmured, “I guess we could both work on saying things outright.” 

You laughed softly, shaking your head and wiping at the corners of your eyes, “Yes. I guess we could.” 

“We could start now.” Azriel offered hesitantly. His heart hammered away in his chest like a blacksmith at his anvil until he was sure his sternum would crack. 

You raised your eyebrows. Curious.

“The next five minutes. We say everything honestly. No holding back.” 

“I don’t know, Az. I-”

“Please.” He begged, holding onto your hands a little tighter. His shadows had traveled all the way up to your waist now, ghosting over flesh that he didn’t dare touch. He didn’t want to lose you. He’d thought he could handle being apart from you physically - that it would be no different from the decades he’d spent quietly loving you from right by your side - but he’d been horribly wrong. And he didn’t want to risk another, better male than Naemon coming to whisk you away before he had the chance to do things properly. To do things honestly.

His hands were shaking now, gripping your hands like you were the anchor to his ship trapped in raging waters, “I’ll start.” 

“Ok.” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

Azriel swallowed and tried to stop the trembling in his hands and in his voice. In this he managed quite well, falling into a rigid, flat silence.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years now, actually.” He dared to look at you. Your lips were parted in shock and he wished he could taste them, “Is that…is that ok?” 

“Is that ok?” You repeated dumbly. “Is that ok?” You repeated a little louder, “Are you serious, Azriel?”

“Y-Yes?” He was trembling again, face open and terrified. He was offering you up his heart on a platter and praying to the Mother you wouldn’t crush it beneath those velvet blue shoes. Even if you did, he would find some solace in knowing you were the one to destroy him. He loved you so dearly that it was only within your right to do so. 

Your lips broke in a stuttered smile, opening and closing like you didn’t quite know what to do. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. I’d hoped you might feel that way but I… I was never sure. I…” You cradled his face in your hands, tracing the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones with your fingertips, “I love you too, Azriel. I love you so much.” Your voice cracked, silver gathering in your eyes no matter how fiercely you tried to blink them away, “Gods, Az, you don’t even know.” 

He gripped you close enough enough to bruise, arms locked around your waist and hands laid flat on your back. It was a sweet pain that grew even sweeter when you kissed him, searching for breath like you’d find it in his lungs. Azriel was just as desperate, ravenous even as he tugged at your clothes and flipped you flat on the bed. He wanted your lips again. You tasted like strawberries and cream, and he was starving. 

He climbed on top, slotting himself between your legs as you yanked him close.

“Your hair,” You muttered, “It’s too neat.” The next minute was all teeth from Azriel as you mussed up his hair and he grinned wildly against your lips.

“Five-” He groaned, sinking further into you when you wrapped your legs around his waist, “Five minutes aren’t-” He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at your flushed face as you gasped for breath and finally untangled your hands from his hair, “Five minutes aren’t up yet.” 

“You’ve been keeping track?” You dropped your head back on the bed with a disgruntled hmph. Had he been counting the whole time he’d been kissing you?

He kissed your chest, then the sensitive skin of your neck. But there wasn’t any expectation in the brush of his lips, just quiet, honest love. 

You raised your head, finding that Azriel once again looked scared. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” He said seriously. “Before… before anything else.” 

You drew yourself onto your elbows, craning your neck for one more kiss, “You can tell me, Az. You can tell me anything.” 

The bond sang in his chest like a songbird in a cage. It wanted to be released. To be acknowledged in words if it couldn’t be acknowledged through feeling at this moment. Because Azriel knew you didn’t feel it yet. You didn’t feel the burning he felt in his chest that made it hard to breathe when you weren’t around. 

What if she doesn’t want this? What if she doesn’t want me? Azriel swallowed thickly, tears springing into his eyes. He wanted so desperately to be worthy of you - to be the kind and gentle lover and mate that you deserved. He’d been born crooked even before he’d been tossed into that cellar, before his half-brothers had set his hands on fire. But… but he was yours completely. He’d offer whatever meager, broken shards of himself that he could in hopes it might be enough. 

“Az,” You whispered his name lovingly and slid a wayward curl behind his ear so gently he thought he might break apart into a million pieces, “Tell me. Please. Tell me.” 

“You’re my mate.” He confessed. 

The words hung in the air, unaccepted, unrejected, and you went preternaturally still. 

He had no feathers to pluck out and present to you. But he had his shadows. You tipped your head curiously to the side when Azriel knelt on the ground, holding your hand in his. 

“I don’t have any pure white feathers. I don’t even have a ring on me right now-”

“Az, you don’t need to-” You stilled when a shadow flickered down Azriel’s wrist onto yours. It was a small, delicate thing. Willful too. You could tell by the way it traveled confidently down your ring finger, curling there tastefully like a castle spire reaching towards the sky.

It hovered over your skin like mist hanging over wetlands. A proposal in and of itself.

“Yes.” You said before Azriel could open his mouth again. He hesitated, afraid to believe he’d heard you correctly, “Yes.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” He teased weakly. 

But this time you knew exactly what he meant, even if he didn’t say it out loud. 

The bond burst to life in your chest as the shadow sank into your skin, settling there like a tattoo. Like a promise. 

Azriel stumbled, actually stumbled, clenching at his chest at the wildness growing within him. He chased after you, hurtling down the bond and finding you wide open on the other side. You were anxious and surprised and so so so happy. So happy you felt like you might just die from it, and Azriel felt it all. 

Hello, Y/n. He called out.

Hello, Azriel. You responded. My mate. 

Azriel groaned, slamming his lips and his body against yours. You held steady as you always did, letting him press against you as if you could keep him there forever.

I am yours and you are mine. You gripped his hair again, feeling the silky strands caress your skin. With one smooth motion he pulled out the ribbon and started to undo the buttons of your dress.

Promise?

You grinned. Promise.

___________

Author's note:

Nothing like a declaration of love after a year spent apart to make my heart swoon.

But honestly I would have fallen in love with Naemon... sorry Az...

[rosymiel]

it’s so funny trying to do anything in the morning because i have a huge east-facing window in front of my desk and my eyes are constantly attacked by the sun so i can’t see