#I need more people to talk about A Constant Love/A Constant Love Series with. it's so good you guys.

[vesseloflukola]

People like intrigue…but they are also impatient.

How would you react if/when Lukola officially launched as a couple? Here are some outcomes I think would happen:

-Lukola’s will be happy. I think most of them will continue to follow both Nic and Luke, but many of them will slowly start to engage less and less with them on SM.

-Antuke’s and Jakola’s will be disappointed/upset/mad and a lot will stop following Nic and Luke.

-The GA will be happy for them (because they saw what they saw at the SAG’s, and caught on to what could be happening). They will continue to follow them in the same manner they had before.

-TikToks, Tumblr blogs, and X posts about them will go down significantly, as people are either happy they are together or sad that they are not with their adjacent’s.

I DO believe in possible NDA’s and other agreements going on bts. I think there could possibly be more at play though.

I fully believe that they (or members of their team) are constantly on SM (including tumblr blogs), finding out what the fandom is saying about them. I believe that they are fully aware of the split fandoms (Lukola, Jakola, Antuke) and what each fandom (and sub-fandom) is saying about them. I also think they are fully aware that by not launching, how many people in these groups continue to talk and speculate about them.

Nic and Luke are both pretty new to fame and what comes with it. I don’t believe that either one of them loves dealing with the not so fun parts of fame. However, I think they realize that they need to adjust (and most likely do some things that they are not 100% comfortable with). I think along with that, sometimes they have to “play the game”.

Now, being an actor can seem glamorous, and I believe it is, to an extent. However, acting is so much different than a “normal” job.

“Normal” jobs can have all kinds of variables (working different times of the day, working long hours or overtime, working in different environments, and having different schooling or training to get the job). However, they have one thing in common. They are constant and consistent for the most part.

When a person applies for a job, and gets it, they will work at that job until one of 3 main things happen. They could decide to quit and get a job elsewhere, they could be fired for various reasons, or they could be laid off either because the company is shrinking, moving, or going out of business.

Actors don’t get the kind of job security that people with “normal” jobs have. They work more like contractors. They have to go on a lot of auditions and do a lot of networking to get jobs or brand deals. They are constantly looking for their next job, by going on more auditions and doing more networking.

Unlike a lot of jobs that have set hours or set days that they work, actors do not. They have work when they are rehearsing or filming/performing. They are also working/networking when they go to events, when they promote the projects they are working on, or even when they are in public and fans want to interact with them. They are constantly working.

Sometimes they do luck out and get a recurring role in a long standing series. However, every series is not the same. Some series have a season to put out every year, so they are busier and the actors in them maybe don’t have as much time to do other projects in between filming.

Streaming shows generally do not have a season every year. For Nic and Luke, being part of an ongoing series that is more spaced out in the timing they film leaves them with time in between filming Bridgerton (and even some time during the filming of Bridgerton since they are no longer our leads) that they might want or need to fill with other projects.

Part of what people looking to hire actors look for is how many followers actors have on social media, how they engage with their fans and how much their fans are invested in what they are doing.

For brand deals, companies want to make sure that their spokesperson is well liked, popular and influential on their fans. For movies, series, and theater, producers and directors want to make sure that people’s interest is not only in the type of production they are putting out, but also that the actors in their production will bring fans and followers who will want to see the production simply because an actor is in it. So many are looking at the popularity of an actor.

I think Nicola and Luke are playing the long game. I think they want to have as many people following them, engaging with them and talking about them as possible.

With filming for Season 4 wrapping up (and without even an announcement of a season 5, for which filming would be a good amount of time away), both Nic and Luke are probably looking for new projects right now. This is NOT the time they want to publicly launch a relationship, losing them followers and engagement.

I don’t believe there will be a launch in the very near future. However, I fully believe that they will launch in plenty of time before Season 4 comes out, so that they don’t take away from build up for that season and its leads.

On to my opinions about the British Vogue and Netflix BAFTA party last night…

Nic and Luke’s PR teams are trying to push a certain narrative. This narrative is that Nicola is with Jake and Luke is with Antonia.

In my opinion, Nic is working overtime trying to sell this by lovingly looking at Jake with smiles that don’t quite reach her eyes. Luke, on the other hand, is having a rough go of it as he seems to really dislike being around Antonia and is having a hard time not showing his true emotions.

Speaking of true emotions, both Luke and Nicola could not keep their true emotions from showing at the SAG’s. Even the GA clocked how happy they seemed to be together.

I believe because of the reaction to the SAG’s, Nic and Luke were not allowed to be anywhere near one another last night. The PR team did not want a repeat of the SAG’s.

I know we got a couple pictures of Luke and Antonia this morning where Luke is actually smiling! Wow! I know the PR teams (and possibly Nic and Luke themselves) read these Tumblr blogs. They KNOW the things that are said about how miserable Luke looks.

I think one of two things brought on those happy pictures of the two of them (after more than a year…come on!!). I think either Luke was told he HAD to step it up and make it believable (look happy with her), or this is the final obligation he has to her (come on…how on EARTH did she get a solo photo on the red carpet??) and he IS genuinely happy that this is the last thing (and it is finally “done” as far as obligation goes).

As I write this, Luke just posted Antonia to his grid for the very first time ever. The timing screams obligation to me. Also, a kiss on the cheek can easily be referred to as a friend thing at a later time. He also did not tag her on their picture.

I believe that Nic will like it pretty quickly to continue to sell the narrative. I mean, she does follow Antonia on Insta now…so they are friends, right? If that is the case though…why is there not a pic from last night of the three of them being chummy and having a good time? Huh? Could it be the fact that Nic and Luke CAN’T hide their true feelings about one another when they are together?

I continue to be unbothered and still happily waiting for the truth to come out.

[venusfe-art]

Okay so I have a THEORY, I have already talked a bit about it in the discord but Tumblr needs to know too.

Silverborn spoilers ahead!!

At the end of Hollowpox we find out there’s someone, or something, more dangerous than Squall. I feel it’s very hinted at/obvious this thing is either President Maud Wintersea or just the Wintersea Party and Republic in general. I’m leaning more towards the party BECAUSE what if the other Wundersmiths aren’t dead, but kept captive?

There has been multiple fake deaths in the entire series to this point, from Jupiter faking Morrigan’s death with Mesmerism dust or whatever he calls it, to Bertram Crow basically doing the exact same thing as Morrigan, running off with/being kidnapped by some Wundrous Society dude to join the entrance trials and live in Nevermoor. We also don’t know if Mildmay is dead or not, although Squall’s “I took care of him” absolutely makes it sound like he murdered him.

There is still SO much we don’t know about the Courage Square Massacre. Why it happened, how it happened (the buildup), and what happened after. Squall does not talk about it despite Morrigan’s constant reminders that he’s a murderer, but she has never actually asked for his side of the story. Squall has never actually gotten to explain himself, and we know he doesn’t tell Morrigan more than he deems necessary. There are no records of the Massacre in history books because it has all been abridged, removed, forgotten, and Morrigan isn’t allowed by Jupiter to return to the Gobleian Library to check out the other Wundrous Art volumes (although, if she really wanted to go she would. She had her mind elsewhere during Silverborn, poor thing).

We know some things about Wundersmiths and specifically how Squall views *being* a Wundersmith though. We know there are supposed to be nine, and when one dies, within everywhere from a few days to a few years the power will transfer and a new Wundersmith will be born. The fact that no new Wundersmiths have been born for a hundred years is WEIRD if you ask me. Maybe Wunder was shocked, tapped out, in mourning over its lost Smiths, Wunder’s interperator for the citizens of the world. Maybe it didn’t want to risk the same happening again. Wunder has an amazing memory, Jupiter says.

We also know about Squall’s frustration with being a servant to the public. “Wundersmiths take none of the credit and all of the blame”, talking about how Wundersmiths are made to do rich people’s bidding just because they have the power. I think he wanted to regain control over his own abilities and Wundrous Acts, so when the Wintersea Party offered him exactly that, control, he took the opportunity. But! Just killing all of the other Wundersmiths would be a stupid idea, because then they would all just be reincarnated and, even though they wouldn’t have any teachers to teach them the Wundrous Arts, cause trouble for Squall if he wasn’t able to track them down. He kills all Cursed children, but we know that most of the Cursed children, if not all of them except Morrigan, are not Wundersmiths. I think he, or his collaborators, made up the rumour about Cursed children to have someone to blame when things didn’t go their way. Humans love to have someone else to blame instead of putting the shame on themselves, it’s just manipulation.

It would also just generally be weird that 1. ALL Wundersmiths are born on eveningtide when it’s said to be random (it’s not specified all Wundersmiths are Eveningtide children, at least), and 2. that NO Wundersmiths are born in the Free State. It doesn’t add up, which means that Morrigan has to be the first Wundersmith after the Massacre.

But why was Morrigan born? What triggered it? Why did she become a Wundersmith, and how is she the first in 100 years?

Because a different Wundersmith died.

What if the reason for why Squall is so terrified of Maud Wintersea is because she or the Wintersea Party was the one to order the kidnapping of the eight other Wundersmiths of Squall’s generation?

I keep saying Maud specifically because I find it very possible she is either some kind of long-living species of human or she has a knack related to it, or, more likely, she gets Squall to use Tempus to stretch out her lifespan. We know very little about her, other than she’s sketchy as fuuuck.

Kidnapping the other Wundersmiths, maybe putting them in some kind of stasis, paralyzed, unable to do anything-state, would give Squall total control over Wunder. What he didn’t anticipate was falling into an even deeper trap by joining Wintersea.

I just generally find it so weird with how he acts in the Ghostly Hours, and Morrigan also points it out herself, his relationship with his friends seemed so “normal”. No maliciousness, no deep-rooted hidden hate, just a normal kid with friends at school. There was no hint to him turning on his friends and murdering them, so in my mind there HAS to be someone who influenced him or commanded him to do it. To me he almost seems regretful when snapping and ranting about Wundersmiths being servants and used by the elite. He didn’t want to hurt his friends.

[iamthepulta]

I love having one mutual who's name is basically i-love-mrbennet and one mutual who wants to stab Mr Bennet for Bad Father crimes. Peak tumblr.

[bueckers]

UNFINISHED BUSINESS ━━━ paige bueckers

i don’t wanna fight, but you got the wrong vibes. let me get you right, it’s how i apologize. ✶

synopsis: she broke it off, but has since had a hard time leaving her alone… especially when having to see her in person.

pairing: paige bueckers x fem oc

warnings: smut with plot, p eating ( p is literally EATING ), fingering, thigh riding, and slight angst.

notes: this is ridiculously long. in honor of her fit here, enjoy.. i loved writing this almost as much as i love the song lol. lmk if i should make a part two or maybe a series!

Nervous, excited, and borderline bald from tugging at my hair—these were all the things I had felt the moment I stepped into the WNBA 2024 All-Star Game.

I would be seeing Paige tonight. Paige would be seeing me tonight. Paige knew I knew she would be seeing me tonight, and I knew Paige knew she would be seeing me tonight.

When Paige and I first started hooking up, it was never supposed to be anything serious. She was sidelined with a torn ACL, and I knew she was in a dark place, struggling with everything that came with being forced off the court. I think that’s why it started, honestly. She needed an escape, something to make her forget for a little while, and I was there.

Paige and I have known of each other for years, though. We both came up in the basketball world at the same time, our names being tossed around in the same circles since high school. We’d cross paths at AAU tournaments and national showcases, always on different teams but always aware of each other.

Back then, our support for each other was more from a distance, and it wasn’t until college that things started to shift. We crossed paths more often, whether it was at games, media events. The rivalry between our schools added a new layer to our interactions, but by then, we had leveled up from distant competitors to something more like casual friends.

Those moments were what led us to where we eventually ended up. The more we talked, the more we realized how much we actually had in common—our experiences, our struggles, the pressure to perform, and the constant scrutiny. It felt natural, easy, to let our guard down with each other, which is why when her injury happened and everything else in her life felt like it was falling apart, I wasn’t surprised when we fell into it.

We had an agreement. Not one that was ever talked about soberly, but the way it happened just fell into place so perfectly that we didn’t need to. We’d meet up when it was needed, no commitments, no expectations. Just two people finding comfort in each other, filling a void that we couldn’t fill on our own. It was convenient, effortless, and most importantly, it worked for the both of us. I guess I figured if I kept things casual, I wouldn’t get caught up in something messy. I didn’t want to be the one to complicate her life even more.

We’d cross paths after games, during off-season, or whenever our schedules aligned, slipping into each other’s lives for a few hours at a time. She knew how to keep me at arm’s length, just close enough to keep me coming back but far enough to never let me in too deep. She knew exactly how to make me feel needed without ever giving too much of herself away. It was maddening, really—how she could be so vulnerable one minute, showing me sides of herself that no one else got to see, and then switch off just as quickly.

The more we hooked up, the more I started to realize I was getting too close. I could see it in the way she’d look at me sometimes, like she knew I was starting to care too much. And the worst part was, she didn’t seem to mind pushing me right to that edge. She’d say something that made my heart race, or she’d touch me in a way that felt like it meant something, only to pull back and remind me of our status. She was always in control, always the one with the upper hand, and I hated how easily I let her have it.

And then it was all done. She cut things off with a cold finality that I still can’t even believe. No explanation, no soft letdown—just a sudden, brutal end. It was like she knew exactly when I’d reached that point and she didn’t hesitate to remind me that it was never supposed to mean anything at all.

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks, alright? Try to look a little more happy for the jumbotron,” JuJu teases, getting up from her seat. I gasped, barely having any time to process her insult as she scooted between me to get to the stadium stairs.

“Very funny,” I muttered, watching her walk away.

Alone now, I focused on the game, doing an extremely good job at hiding the gnawing in my chest. I’d say I have a good poker face, but Paige would agree to disagree. My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts. It was her and she’d finally found you. She was on the other side of the arena, clearly getting a kick out of having you in her view.

you mad at me or just deep in thought?

I rolled my eyes back to the deep depths of hell. Another text from her.

you look good tonight

you too. how’s the game?

As soon as I hit send, I regret it. I should have ignored her. I should have said something snarky.

Her reply comes almost immediately.

could be better. thought about coming over

what stopped you?

You watched her text bubble practically stutter, making you quirk an eyebrow.

juju. i didn’t wanna make it awkward.

lol. okay.

actually, scratch that. leave w me.

I shifted in my seat, my hands suddenly clutching my phone a little tighter.

paige, no.

why not?

I shut off my phone just in time for JuJu’s return, watching as she squeezed through mounds of people to get back to me. She handed me a cherry slurpee, which would however be gone in ten minutes.

“Thanks, sugar,” you teased her, wrapping your lips around the straw and taking a nice, long sip. She shook her head at me as she focused on the game again, nachos in hand. Ping.

Tell her don’t get too comfortable 😂

I could even feel her eyes boring into me from the other side. I could picture the stupid smirk or gummy smile she’d have. I turned my ringer off and silenced Paige’s notifications before slipping my phone into my back pocket and reverting my attention back to the game. It’s almost over.

Fast forward to the final buzzer, and Juju and I made our way down to the court, weaving through the crowd of fans and players. I always loved the energy in a room of women’s basketball players and fans— there were always a million things going on at once. As we reached the court, we spotted Caitlin, who was already deep in conversation with a couple of other players.

“Great game, Cait,” I said, pulling her into a light hug. “Guess nobody busts your butt as good as SC, huh?” I pulled back first, resting my hands on my hips. I could say I’ve known Caitlin as long as I have Paige, but Cait doesn’t know me the way Paige does.

Caitlin laughed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, Miss Championship. but don’t get too cocky now.”

Juju laughed alongside me, adding a quick comment about how USC would give her a run for her money next time. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of post-game analysis and friendly banter. I scanned the court for a brief moment, knowing exactly who I was looking for.

Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flau’jae and Paige making their way over. I braced myself, knowing the cameras would be all over this reunion, and the media would have a field day with it. Paige looked as confident as ever, her stride always one that grabbed attention.

“Hey, y’all,” Paige said, her voice smooth, effortless. She exchanged hugs and high-fives with everyone, her presence commanding attention as always. When she reached me, she didn’t hesitate to pull me into a hug, her hand resting on my hip before snaking around to my lower back.

And then I felt it—her hand slipping lower, fingers grazing the fabric of my mini skirt. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. “Good to see you.” Just close enough to keep me coming back.

I pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. There was that smirk. My heart was pounding, a mix of frustration and something else I didn’t want to acknowledge. “You too,” I managed, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, pulling back with a tight-lipped grin that looked friendly enough to anyone who didn’t know what was going on. Which was everyone.

The group continued chatting, oblivious, obviously. You’d found out the one thing you hated about being around Paige was the overwhelming current of being the only ones in the room who knew how each other was feeling. Paige, ever the actor, kept up her usual easygoing demeanor, but I could feel her gaze on me, like she was waiting for something. I tried to focus on the conversation, but it was impossible with her so close, the warmth of her hand still lingering on my skin.

When the small talk finally wound down, and the others started drifting away, Paige moved closer, her eyes locked on mine. She leaned in again, her voice low, almost a whisper. “C’mon. Meet me,” she coaxed, her breath warm against my ear. Her fingers brushed lightly against my side, tracing a path.

I hesitated, the resolve I’d built up over the past hour crumbling under the weight of her presence. She was testing me, pushing every button she knew she could. And damn it, it was working.

I finally nodded, barely audible. “Okay.”

It was all she needed. A single, one-word confirmation that I wanted her as bad as she does. She took my phone out of my pocket for me, placing it my hand as she said her goodbyes to everyone else, leaving me there. I suppose it was smarter for her to do that anyway.

Shortly after Paige’s departure, I made my way out as well. JuJu wasn’t a tough barrier to get past. I told her to finish up her conversations, and that I’d see her back at the hotel. I wasn’t quite show how long my excuse would suffice, but I hoped she’d find her way to the bar or something after.

I don’t know why I listened. Watched my fingers click on her contact and give the driver her hotel’s address. It was like I was compelled from the moment she’d touched me, and to be honest, I don’t think I’d be surprised if that was the case.

The Uber ride felt interminable, each passing moment only heightening the anticipation and anxiety. I could barely focus on the city lights flashing by outside, my mind consumed with the impending confrontation and whatever would follow.

Finally, I was able to make my way to her room, feeling the cool air of the hallway against my skin as I knocked on the door. When Paige answered, her smile was as infuriatingly charming as ever, and she pulled me inside with a warm, yet testing glint in her eye.

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, Paige’s demeanor shifted. Before I could voice any protest, her lips were on mine, kissing me with an urgency that made my heart race. I barely had time to process the sudden change before she deepened the kiss, her hands roaming possessively over my back.

I tried to pull away, my mind still reeling from the fact that I was even here, but her grip tightened, pulling me closer. “Paige,” I murmured against her lips, trying to catch my breath. “We need to talk—” but as much as I tried to voice it, I knew that isn’t what we both really planned to do.

She silenced me with another intense kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair, guiding my head to tilt for better access. Her touch was relentless, her body pressing against mine with all the need in her body. “I don’t wanna fight,” she whispered between kisses, her breath hot and heavy against my skin. “Jus’ wanna be close to you.” She breathed in my scent, and I melted.

The words were almost lost in the heated moment, but I could feel the sincerity. She pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, her gaze smoldering with an intensity that made me rethink actually standing on business. She waited, trying to see if I was really against this. I licked my lips, glancing at hers.

I didn’t stand a chance.

Her lips found mine again, and the world narrowed to the press of our bodies. Our kisses were feverish and desperate, each touch holding some type of meaning. Paige’s hands roamed over my skin like there were so many options in a candy store and she couldn’t pick just one. In this case, one spot to focus on. Her mouth trailed down my collarbone, leaving a path of pinkish marks.

Our bodies were pressed together and refusing to let go. Paige guided me towards the bed, her hands never leaving my body, her lips continuing their assault on my skin. When she finally lowered me onto the bed, I was needy and breathless and finally feeling a little more realistic.

“P, I’m still mad,” I tried to insist, though my voice wavered as I watched her begin to undress. She unzipped her Nike vest slowly, the sound of the fabric sliding down her body making my pulse quicken. It fell to the floor, and she ripped off her shirt with a sudden, breathless intensity, revealing her sports bra. The sight of her, partially unclothed and vulnerable in front of me again left me speechless.

“I know,” she murmurs, her head slightly tilted as she looked at me all-knowingly. “And ima’ make it up to you, I promise. Just let me get you right.” Her fingers trailed up my bare legs, eliciting a small gasp from my lips. She tugged at the hem of my skirt, pulling the fabric down and grabbing my panties in the process. I watched her do it, in utter disbelief that this was how I was spending my night.

Her fingers graze teasingly against my kneecaps, sending shivers through my body, before she gently but firmly peels my legs apart. I look down at her. “You’re just trying to distract me,” I say, but there’s no heat behind the words.

Paige smirks, a knowing look in her eyes as she falls to her knees, her hands sliding over my thighs. “Maybe,” she admits, her voice dropping into a low, sultry tone as she tucks her lip between her teeth. “But you can’t say you don’t want this too.”

She’s right, and we both know it. The way she’s touching me, the way her eyes are locked onto mine with that look. The same one that knows she’s getting her way tonight. My worries seem so distant now, nothing more than a whisper of irritation in the back of my mind, easily drowned out by the way Paige’s hands are moving.

I begin to say something, but she easily cuts me off by diving into me with no warning, immediately humming against my cunt in satisfaction. Her eyebrows were furrowed as her tongue made some deliberate strokes, seemingly in disbelief of the way I tasted. She looks up at me as she delves in, a sight beautiful enough for the Louvre but way too sinful.

She says something I can’t hear, but I do catch a, “Can’t leave you alone, ever. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” I muster out, my breath a careless whisper.

Paige smiles against me, loving the cocky tone in my voice as she responds with a fast nod, the movement making me gasp. “Yeah.”

From there, every moan and gasp from me seems to fuel her desire, making her work even harder to drive me wild. Her hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me in place as her mouth and tongue continue their relentless assault. In the haze of ecstasy, all I can focus on is the feeling of her between my legs, making good on her promise to get me right, leaving me utterly consumed by the pleasure she’s giving.

I come, loud enough that the neighbors might know Paige’s name, but she keeps going. It becomes too much, enough for me to whine and pull away, scooting a little bit higher on the bed. She isn’t going for it, though, and immediately brings me back to her mouth, wrapping my legs in her thick arms.

“Where you tryna’ go, princess?” she teases. The sensation of her mouth and fingers on me is so intoxicating that I can barely respond before she pulls back entirely, rising to her feet. She begins to peel off her pants, her movements slow, leaving me breathless and frustrated.

“Seriously?” I complain.

“Chill,” she responds with a husky chuckle, towering over me in the sexiest way explainable. It’s like she contemplates something in her head for a moment, leaving me dripping wet and needy before her.

Finally, Paige steps closer, her hands sliding down to her sports bra. With a teasing glance, she pulls it off, revealing her bare chest. My eyes widen as I take in her form, unable to tear my gaze away. She then sits back down, positioning herself comfortably on the edge of the bed. “Want you to get on my thigh, baby, m’kay?” And there was no room for argument.

I crawl toward her, a mixture of urgency and anticipation in my movements. Once I’m seated on her thigh, I start to ride it slowly, the friction sending waves of pleasure through me. I truly can’t believe we haven’t done this before. The way she flexes, the way I can feel her muscle.. it’s all too much.

I roll my head back, needing more. My hands find Paige’s boxers, slipping into them with ease as she watches, her eyes moving more than her actual head. My fingers find their way to her core, exploring.

Paige’s breath hitches, her fingers gripping my hip as she watches me intently. “You like that, don’t you?” she breathes, her voice filled with a mixture of desire and all things Paige. “You’ve got me exactly where you want me.”

I stare at her. My body and arm moving repeatedly, my hair a bit puffy at this rate, and a panting mess. Paige raises her thumb to my plump and parted lips, slipping it in. I moan out, forced to suck around it as I squeeze my eyes shut.

Paige is in a trance, completely focused on the warmth around her thumb and how your small fingers disappear into her. “So, so, so good. Love seeing you above me, baby. So pretty.” I couldn’t understand how she could say things like these, and happen to not mean them, but it was the last thing on my mind.

“Mfmfmm, I’m gonna come. Again.”

Paige’s response is a series of breathy moans, her hands gripping my hips tightly as she keeps me pressed down, every thrust and touch pushing us both closer to the edge.

As she finally shudders, her release crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body trembling violently. The sensation of her coming around my fingers makes my own climax come shortly after. I cry out, my own pleasure peaking as I grind against her, my fingers thrusting in and out.

Our combined releases feel explosive, a storm of heat and passion that has us both gasping and moaning. I feel her tremors against my fingers as I continue to move, riding out the last waves of ecstasy before finally collapsing against her, both of us spent and tangled together in a sated, sweaty mess.

I think I’ll regret this in the morning. But right now? I’ve never been happier.

[hellobykittys]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 ✦ 𝐋𝐇⁴⁴

SUMMARY: Upon discovering you’re pregnant with your boyfriend’s child, you find yourself spiraling into a wave of insecurities, fearing his potential negative reaction and the impact it could have on your relationship. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. PAIRING: Lewis Hamilton x Reader! Girlfriend. WARNING: Established relationship; mild angst; unplanned pregnancy. WC: 2.8k

MASTERLIST | THE (IM)PERFECT PLAN SERIE

It was the second time that day you found yourself leaning over the toilet, your stomach churning relentlessly. Breakfast and the light snack you’d had earlier—both meant to be simple—had already made their way there, and with each passing moment, your suspicions grew harder to ignore. Yet, you stubbornly refused to acknowledge what was right in front of you.

Two weeks had passed since your period was supposed to start, something completely out of the ordinary for you. Your cycle was always regular. In its place came the nausea and constant vomiting.

You didn’t know what to do. The thought of taking a test was too terrifying. It felt easier to pretend this was just a passing illness. After all, how could you possibly be pregnant? You and Lewis were always careful, taking every precaution.

“You need to take a test,” your friend Anne said as she held your hair back, preventing the mess from worsening.

“Anne, I don’t know if I want to know the answer.” You spoke between breaths, rising to rinse your mouth at the sink.

“Eventually, you’ll have to face it,” she said gently, her hand brushing over your back in a gesture of comfort. “If it’s true, you’re going to have to tell him.”

“I don’t even know if he wants to be with me, let alone a child. He’s going to hate this news.” Your tired, worried eyes stared back at you in the mirror. “I don’t know what to do.”

“He won’t hate it. He loves you, and I’m sure he’ll love having a child with you,” Anne said, trying to ease your anxiety. “Y/N, don’t believe what people say online. They just want to bring you down.”

“You don’t understand.” You turned to her, your eyes full of doubt. “We’ve never talked about it—about starting a family. Whenever the subject comes up, he changes it. At first, I thought it was because we’d only been together a short while, but now… I think he genuinely doesn’t want anything more serious.”

“But you’ve been together for two years! How could he not want something more serious?”

“He was with Nicole for seven years, and that wasn’t enough for him to marry her.” You lowered your head, your chest tightening. “Deep down, I think the media’s right. He probably just wants to stay free until the last day of his life. His whole world revolves around Formula 1. Family isn’t part of his plans. Only the eighth title matters.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. The weight of your words felt unbearable, but you couldn’t stop thinking them. The fear that this was all a mistake, that Lewis simply wasn’t ready for more, consumed you.

Anne noticed your distress and stepped closer, her hand resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I know it seems hard right now, but you can’t make these decisions on your own. You have to talk to him. He deserves to know, and you deserve to hear what he has to say.”

You turned to face her, your expression reflecting the emotional storm you were caught in. “And if he doesn’t want it? If he tells me he’s not ready, that what we have isn’t enough? What am I supposed to do with this baby? With this… life?”

“Then you’ll deal with it in your own way. This isn’t about what he wants—it’s about what you want, what you need. He may be the person you love, but don’t forget who you are and what you deserve.”

Anne’s words echoed in your mind, but the truth still felt distant, shrouded in uncertainty. It felt like you were standing at a crossroads with your life taking a direction you’d never planned for. Lewis, with his fast-paced existence of racing, titles, and adrenaline, seemed worlds apart from your quiet longing for stability—perhaps even a family. Something you weren’t even sure he shared.

In the end, you knew you couldn’t avoid reality any longer. The test needed to be done. Procrastination wasn’t an option anymore. The fear was overwhelming, but the uncertainty hurt worse. And, above all, the result would only be the beginning. The real challenge would be telling Lewis.

“Will you do this with me?” Your voice came out softer than expected, almost a whisper filled with vulnerability. You looked at Anne, searching her expression for a strength you felt you’d lost. “I mean, will you buy the test and wait for the result with me?”

Anne smiled reassuringly, taking your hand in hers with a firm grip. “Of course. And if you prefer, we can do this at my apartment. No rush, no pressure.”

You shook your head in refusal. “I think it’s better to do it here. He’s not coming back today… probably not until tomorrow night. Maybe even later.” The emptiness of the house felt less oppressive when you spoke aloud, but the apprehension was still palpable. “I just need the courage to go to the pharmacy.”

Anne squeezed your hand, her eyes full of understanding. “You don’t have to do this alone. Let’s go together. Let’s get this over with.”

The trip to the pharmacy was quick, but each step felt like a monumental challenge. The way back home seemed even longer, with the weight of the small package in your bag growing heavier by the second. Back at the apartment, you locked yourself in the bathroom while Anne waited outside, offering encouraging words that barely penetrated the storm in your mind.

You held the test in trembling hands, your eyes scanning the instructions like they were an impossible puzzle. Time seemed to freeze as you waited for the result, the silence broken only by the relentless pounding of your heart.

When you finally looked at the small display, reality crashed over you like a tidal wave. Positive.

Your breath caught in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared at the lines that confirmed what you already suspected. Silent tears began to stream down your face as a flood of emotions—fear, anguish, and an inexplicable love for the new life now connected to you—washed over you.

“Well?” Anne’s soft, hesitant voice called from the other side.

You opened the door, holding the test in your trembling hand. Anne’s expression softened at the sight of your tears. She said nothing, simply pulling you into a tight embrace.

“What now?” you asked quietly, your voice laden with uncertainty.

Anne pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression calm but firm. “Now you take a deep breath, Y/N. Then, you tell him. No matter the fear, no matter the doubts. He deserves to know, and you deserve to be heard.”

You nodded slowly, but the lump in your throat remained. Her words were logical, exactly what you needed to hear, but the fear still loomed, beating loudly in your chest. How would you tell Lewis? How would you find the words that would change both your lives forever?

“Anne…” Your voice came out shaky, barely a whisper, as you wrapped your arms around her tightly, searching for any fragment of comfort. “I’m so scared. What if he… what if he doesn’t want this baby?”

Anne sighed, her hand gently rubbing your back with patience. “Y/N, even if he doesn’t, which I honestly find hard to believe, you’ll move forward. You’re stronger than you think.” She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her gaze full of conviction. “If you want to have this baby, that’s all that matters. We’ll take care of it. I won’t leave you alone, ever.”

You closed your eyes, trying to absorb her words, but the weight of the situation still felt unbearable. “But what if he leaves me, Anne? What if he thinks this was a mistake? That I was careless?”

Anne cupped your face with both hands, forcing you to look at her. “He loves you. And even if the idea scares him at first, he’s a good man, Y/N. But more than anything, you need to remember that his love isn’t the only thing that matters here. What do you feel? What do you want? That matters, too.”

Her question hung in the air, echoing in your mind as you tried to find an answer. Deep down, you knew what you wanted. You loved Lewis with all your heart, and despite the fear consuming you, you already felt an inexplicable love for the life growing inside you. But bridging those two feelings felt impossible.

As you stared at the positive test sitting on the bedside table, your heart pounded relentlessly, racing with uncertainty. That tiny object seemed to carry the weight of all your doubts and fears. You knew you couldn’t put off talking to Lewis forever, but the thought of confronting him was paralyzing. Each passing second only tightened the knot in your throat.

He was supposed to return the following morning, giving you one night to organize your thoughts, find the right words, and somehow gather the courage that felt so far away. But now, as the reality began to settle in, you decided to push it aside for a while. You needed to distract yourself, to focus on taking care of yourself—and the baby you now carried.

In the kitchen, you started preparing something simple to eat. The thought of being responsible for another life made every small action feel significant. You couldn’t ignore your health or choices anymore. Everything you did was for two now. And though the anxiety still throbbed in your mind, there was a small, strange comfort in that realization.

You were slicing fruit when the sound of the front door opening suddenly broke the silence of the house. Your heart nearly stopped for a moment. He wasn’t supposed to be back until the next morning.

“Y/N?” Lewis’s voice echoed from the living room, heavy with exhaustion and surprise.

You turned to see him standing in the hallway, still holding his travel bag. He was dressed casually in a black jacket and his signature travel cap. His eyes locked on you, then shifted to the plate of fruit on the counter before softening into a smile.

“I decided to come back early. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He approached, leaving the bag by the wall to pull you into a warm hug. The heat of his body against yours brought immediate comfort—but also a new weight.

You weren’t ready. Not yet. But the moment seemed to have chosen him—or fate had.

“Are you okay?” Lewis asked, pulling back just enough to study your face. His expression was laced with concern.

“I’m… I’m fine. Just tired.” Your voice came out low, but you knew he would sense something was off. Lewis always did.

His brows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head, his gaze probing. “You sure? You seem a little distant.”

With him standing there, just a few steps away, the idea of telling him felt even more daunting. Fear wrapped itself around your chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. Fear that the news could change everything between you, fear that the love you shared wouldn’t be enough to face what was coming. So, for at least one more night, you decided to delay. Tomorrow would be the right time. Tonight, you just wanted to savor your last moment of peace with him—if everything changed afterward.

But the memory of the test sitting on the bedside table sent a fresh wave of panic through you. If Lewis went into the bedroom now, he’d see it. There was no way to hide it in time.

“Nothing’s wrong, love.” You forced a smile, leaning up to kiss him, his lips still warm from the chill outside. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll take your bag and be right back, okay?”

Before you could grab his bag, Lewis held onto it firmly, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to do that. I can carry my own bag.” He smiled, the kind of smile that always made your heart flutter, and slung the strap back over his shoulder. “I’ll shower and then we can pick a movie, yeah?”

“No, seriously, let me.” You insisted, your voice slightly too quick. “You must be exhausted. Just relax, I’ll handle it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing your unease, but didn’t argue further. “Y/N, I’m not made of glass. I can carry my own luggage.”

Without another word, you followed him to the bedroom, your heart racing with every step. Lewis placed his bag by the wardrobe but lingered, his gaze drifting back to you.

“You’re acting weird,” he commented with a small smile, though he didn’t press further. “I’ll take a quick shower and be back. Pick us a good movie.”

As soon as he entered the bathroom and the door closed, you let out the breath you had been holding and quickly made your way to the bedside table. With swift movements, you grabbed the test and hid it in the deepest drawer, pushing it down beneath a few papers. When you finished, the relief was immediate, but brief.

You left the room and returned to the kitchen, trying to distract yourself with anything else. You prepared a bowl of fruit and placed it on the counter, but your mind couldn’t help but drift back to the inevitable moment that was coming.

Minutes later, sensing something was off with Lewis’s delay, you decided to return to the bedroom. When you opened the door, your heart nearly stopped at the sight before you. Lewis was sitting on the bed, his eyes fixed on the pregnancy test he was holding in his hand.

“Lewis…” your voice came out weak, barely a whisper.

He looked up, and for a moment, you couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t relief either. It was something in between—confusion, perhaps.

“How long have you known?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

The question hit you like a punch. “What? Lewis, I—”

“Were you hiding this from me?” He stood up, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and hurt. “Did you think you could handle this alone?”

“I didn’t… I just found out!” you retorted, feeling your eyes well up. “I didn’t even have time to think, to process. I was going to tell you, Lewis!”

But he didn’t seem to hear you. He ran his hands through his hair, clearly trying to organize his thoughts.

“I thought we were a couple, Y/N. That we trusted each other.”

Those words hit you cruelly, a blow to your vulnerability. “Lewis, I wasn’t hiding anything! I just… I didn’t have the courage to take the test until today. I needed a moment. A second to process what was happening to me.”

He paused, studying your face, his dark eyes softening as his anger dissolved into understanding. Finally, he shook his head, the weight of the tension lifting from his shoulders.

“When were you planning on telling me?” he asked, his voice quieter, but still firm.

“I was going to tell you tomorrow,” you rushed to explain, almost pleading for him to believe you. “I just… I didn’t know how to do it. Lewis, please, believe me.”

His expression changed completely. Without saying another word, he walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. The warmth of his body was comforting, but what struck you the most was the soft sound of a sob. He was crying.

“You should’ve told me as soon as you suspected,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to be here with you when you took the test.”

“Are… are you happy?” you asked hesitantly, the words coming out in a whisper full of doubt.

He pulled back slightly, cradling your face in his big, warm hands. A smile broke through the tears streaming down his face.

“Of course I’m happy, my love.” His voice was low, but full of conviction. “This baby is a piece of our love. How could I not be happy?”

You collapsed into his arms, your head resting on his strong chest as tears flowed freely down your face. The relief and love you felt in that moment were overwhelming.

“You have no idea how scared I was,” you confessed through sobs. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want this baby… that you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

He held you even tighter, impossibly so, and kissed the top of your head, lingering in the gesture.

“I would never do that, Y/N. Never.” He sighed, his voice thick with emotion. “You mean everything to me. And now, we’re going to be a family. I just wish I’d been there with you from the start.”

His words were a balm, soothing the storms that had built in your heart over the past few weeks.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, still hidden against his chest.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he replied, gently stroking your hair. “We’re both learning. But now that I know… I promise you’ll never face any of this alone again.”

You stayed like that for long minutes, not needing any more words. The moment was just for the two of you, and nothing seemed more important than the future you were beginning to build together.

[jo-speaks]

good graces ft. quinn hughes

in which…

quinn hughes realizes you'll be okay, with or without him.

warnings: MDNI. brief smut (again, it's like a paragraph), mature language, mentions of cheating, and i think that's all.

track three in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!

When I love you, I'm sweet like an angel

Drawin' hearts 'round our names

And dreamin' of writing vows, rockin' cradles

“What’re you doing?” Quinn asked, wrapping his arms behind you as you shut the oven door, leaving the sweet treat you made to bake.

You took off your oven mitt before sighing and leaning back into his hold. “Baking cookies. You said you wanted some this morning, right?

He let out a soft laugh, “Yeah. How did you hear that though?”

“It’s not like you’re quiet when you’re on the phone with Conor.”

Quinn rolled his eyes playfully, dismissing your comment about how comfortable he was when talking to his teammate. He set one of his hands to lean back against the kitchen island where he felt a piece of paper under his palm. He furrowed his eyebrows, creasing the sheet slightly to pick it up. 

After a quick examination, he realized it was the recipe you had written down for the cookies. In the top corner of it, he saw his initials next to yours, enclosed in a heart. Quinn felt a warm feeling in his chest knowing you had done that, not caring if he saw it or not.

He held the paper in front of your face, which you had buried in the crease of his right elbow. “What’s this?”

You traced your eyes over the paper, “The recipe for the cookies? Don’t tell me you can’t read all of a sudden.” He gave you a thin-lipped look before tapping his finger over the childish drawing causing your eyebrows to lift in realization. “Oh, that. Got bored, thought it was cute. Something we could show the kids.”

Now it was his eyebrows that rose, “Kids? Like our kids?”

“Yeah, two of them. One of each. We can have them after our billion-dollar wedding.” You stated that like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Quinn knew you weren’t entirely serious. The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and he knew you wanted him to focus on his hockey career while you focused on your career. You both agreed you didn’t want to rush into anything until you were settled. And since Vancouver had been his home for 6 years and yours for 5 of those when you decided to move in with him, maybe it was time to start putting down those roots together.

Don't mistake my nice for naive

“Y/N, please. You’re being ridiculous. You were the one who told me to come in the first place!” Quinn called out to you as you walked away from him.

You stopped and turned back to face him, “Because I thought you’d have fun celebrating with your team here! Not flirt with the bartender the whole night!”

He rolled his eyes, setting you off even more. “I wasn’t flirting with her! I was getting Brock his drink!”

“Whatever, Quinn. I’m going home.” You sighed, not wanting to continue arguing with him in front of a bunch of people.

“I wasn’t flirting.” He mumbled, defeated.

You almost felt bad for reacting the way you did, but you knew him. The half smile and constant nodding all while keeping his eyes on her lips as they moved. 

You weren’t stupid.

I don't waste a second, I know lots of guys

You do somethin' suspect, this cute ass bye-bye

Like, ooh

Baby, you say you really like it being mine?

So let me give you some advice

After the whole bar argument, you decided to repay the favour a few days later when you had gone out to that same bar with your girlfriends. The same night you knew the Canucks would be celebrating their victory there. You watched the door attentively before a tap on your shoulder caught your attention.

“Y/N, this is Josh. He thought you were cute!” Was the only thing your friend said before walking away. The stumbling in her steps was the only thing you needed to explain the situation. 

Josh rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he placed his drink down on the bar and took the seat next to you. He cleared his throat, “Hey. Pretty interesting friend you have there.”

You snorted, “Tell me about it. You should see her sober, she’s still the same way.”

He laughed, “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting alone?”

Before you could answer, you heard the bar erupt in whistles and clapping. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who had walked in. Josh glanced over your shoulder, getting a view of the team himself. His focus came back to you when you tilted your head to interrupt his view. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But to answer your question, I’m just here because I’m pissed at my boyfriend.”

You noticed his face drop before returning to the way it was before, “No way. I’m here because I’m pissed at my girlfriend!”

Your eyes widened at his confession, letting out a small chuckle. “Yikes, you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah?” He propped his arm on the bar, “How are you not?”

“Well for starters, I’m not approaching anyone. Second, my boyfriend just got here, so he knows where I am. And it doesn’t take a genius to know that your girlfriend has no idea where you are.” You answered, seeing the team take a seat at the tables next to where you were sitting.

As Josh sat in front of you, stunned at your words, you caught your boyfriend's eyes. He took a double take, not realizing it was you the first time. You looked away, bringing your attention back to the man in front of you as Quinn kept his on you.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” Josh asked.

You smirked slightly, “Quinn Hughes.

Josh’s eyes widened, “Bullshit.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer so you could talk in his ear and look over it to lock eyes with Quinn. “Don’t believe me? You’ll see who walks over to you when I leave.”

You backed up and got off your stool, heading to the bathroom as you kept eye contact with your boyfriend as you passed him. After you did, you heard him get up, his footsteps going the opposite way from where you were heading.

~

“What the fuck was that,” Quinn grumbled as he got into his car.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Quinn scoffed, “This is fucking gold, Y/N. You were all over my ass for doing the same shit on Tuesday, but when you do it’s all good.”

“Yeah, no. See, the difference between what I did tonight and what you did earlier this week is that I actually wasn’t flirting, I just wanted you to see what it was like to feel how I did when I saw you actually flirting with someone else.” You retorted, knowing how ridiculous the words coming out of your mouth sounded to him.

Yet on some level, Quinn knew you were right. He sighed before reaching over the center console to take hold of your hand. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sober, but I still knew what I was doing. I don’t want to lose you over this, so please tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” He whispered.

You turned to look at him, “You like being my boyfriend?”

He nodded.

“Then don’t lie to me.”

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

That was cool

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3

Yeah

“She’s the last person I’d want to piss off,” Jack told his brother over the phone as Quinn finished up telling him the whole bar fiasco the two of you had gone through a month ago. 

“Tell me about it. I’m not just saying this because she’s my girlfriend, but she’s literally always right. It’s getting scary.” Quinn confessed, pulling his car into the parking garage of the apartment complex.

Jack sighed, “Well, shit. Good luck with that, bro. Lukey’s calling you later, I gotta go.” 

Quinn said goodbye to his brother, hanging up the phone as he stepped out of his car, grabbing the bouquet of flowers he had gotten you for no reason. After the whole situation, he knew he couldn’t only make it up with verbal apologies. So he went old-school, settling for getting you flowers whenever he felt like they were needed. 

He stepped into the elevator, rocking back and forth on his heels as he reached your floor, walking out the second the doors opened. 

As he unlocked the front door of your shared apartment, he could hear you talking in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. I didn’t want to forgive him, but he’s making up for it.” You said to whoever you were talking to over the phone. 

Quinn stepped in quietly, your back still turned and your AirPods in your ears as you cooked dinner for the two of you. Still unbeknownst to you, Quinn walked to the hallway across from the kitchen, wanting to hear your conversation. 

Was it wrong to eavesdrop on you? Yes. Did Quinn know this? Also yes. Did he care? Not really. 

You let out a sigh, “Listen. He knows better than to do that to me. He also knows that I’m the last person he wants to fuck with because I can switch up incredibly fast. If he wants to cheat on me, he can go right ahead. But he knows damn well I’ll be out replacing him that same night.”

His face dropped. He knew that you were telling the truth, which is what scared him straight. 

“I don’t give a fuck if he wants to go out with Bella Hadid. If he does that without breaking up with me, I’m going straight to his mother and maybe even social media if I’m feeling petty enough.” You laughed, but there was nothing you were joking about. 

By now, Quinn wanted to ignore any woman that came his way.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love him so much. So much to the point where I would get down on my knee and propose to him. But, if so much as lies to me about anyone or anything, he’s gonna need a good lawyer.”

I'll tell the world you finish your chores prematurely

Quinn lined himself up in between your legs, pushing into you completely in one swift movement. You let out a breathy moan as your nails dug into his biceps. He didn’t move, letting not only you but himself adjust to the feeling. 

“Fuck, Q. You feel so good.” You mumbled, your brain foggy from the feeling of him being buried inside of you.

He mumbled something you didn’t quite understand before pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back into you completely. He did this a few more times before letting out a guttural groan, spilling into you.

This caught you completely off guard. Quinn had never finished this quickly before nor had he cum before you did. When he came to, he realized what had happened.

“Shit.” He mumbled, too embarrassed to move or even look you in the eyes.

You cleared your throat, pressing a soft kiss to kiss lips. “It’s fine, babe.” You pushed his body back, pushing him out of you. “I can just use my hand.”

He shook his head, finding his voice once again. “No, let me do it. I don’t- I don’t know what happened.”

Break my heart and I swear I'm movin' on

With your favorite athlete

Shoot his shot every night

Want you every second, don't need other guys

You were scrolling on your phone, swiping up on all the notifications you were getting from Instagram, seeing as you had just posted. 

Quinn was featured in a few of the pictures, drawing the attention of his friends and fans to your account. Your head was propped up on Quinn’s lap as you lay on the couch as he played his video game on the living room TV. 

One notification caught your eye as you furrowed your eyebrows seeing the DM request that had come through. 

‘rjosi90 wants to send you a message.’

“Hey babe? Who’s this?” You asked, turning your phone around to show him the account.

He paused his game, looking down to look. “You don’t know who Roman Josi is? He was that guy you met at the awards ceremony, remember?”

“Oh! The one you never shut up about!” You teased as soon as you remembered the name.

Quinn rolled his eyes, nodding at your words before resuming his game but keeping his attention on your conversation. “What did he send you?”

You opened the message, your eyes widening as you internally debated on telling him the truth, not knowing how he would react. But, you knew you wouldn’t want him lying to you if he got the same message from another woman, so you decided to be honest.

“He said he thinks I’m pretty and that you’re a lucky guy.” You read, eyes quickly flashing back to Quinn.

His cheeks were red and his eyebrows were knitted together. You looked at his hands, which were now gripping his controller so tight that his knuckles were going white. “Are you gonna respond?”

Hesitantly, you shook your head, “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

Quinn had never been an insecure person, but he wasn’t always confident. And your delayed reaction probably didn’t help. You let out a breath before grabbing the controller out of his grip and setting it to the side. 

You sat up, swinging your legs on either side of his lap and taking his face in between your hands. “Hey. I want you. Only you.”

You pressed a kiss on his lips which he barely returned out of his own frustration. Pulling back, you started to litter kisses all over his face in an attempt to cheer him up. Trailing from his lips to his cheeks, then to his jaw, and stopping on his neck. You sucked on a sweet spot that caused his hands to come up and settle on your hips. 

“I don’t want anyone but you, Quinn.”

You do somethin' sus, kiss my cute ass bye

As you stepped into his room, he quickly shut off his phone and turned it face down. You furrowed your eyebrows as you stood in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” You questioned.

He shook his head rapidly, clearing his throat as he rubbed his hands together before walking over to you. “Just caught me off guard.”

You scanned his face. His cheeks were flushed and his face was sweaty. Not wanting the answer you thought it was, you gave him a look before speaking again. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted to watch a movie with me. But if you’re… busy, I can just watch it by myself.” 

Quinn cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah. Let me just do something really quick and I’ll be right out.”

You simply shook your head, walking out of his room and heading back to your room and laying down on your bed with your laptop in front of you as you curled up in a blanket waiting for your boyfriend.

Even though the two rooms were separated by a small hallway, the walls were still relatively thin. You heard his door open and close but his feet remained still. You could hear the noise of his phone keyboard in front of your door, typing one last thing out before he walked into your room.

“So what movie are we watching, pretty girl?” He asked, setting his phone on your bedside table.

You eyed his phone before looking at him, “Everything okay?” 

He gave you a confused look, “Yeah, why?”

“Sounded like you were typing something important.” You shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of what could be nothing.

But, his wide eyes told you everything you needed to know. You sat up, raising your eyebrows in a way that said “Tell me what’s going on.”

Quinn shifted on his feet. “My ex texted me. She was saying she wanted to meet me for dinner and…” He cut himself off.

“And what?” You pressed.

“She wants to try again.”

You scoffed, “Okay. What did you say?”

He took a breath before answering, “I told her about us and that I’ll pass on the dinner because I’m very happy with you.” The way his words came out, you didn’t fully believe him. Yet at the same time, his face and body language told you he was telling the truth. You could tell he was nervous telling you, but you knew he wasn’t lying.

You nodded your head, “Okay.”

“Okay? What does that mean? I can show you the texts if you want!” He rambled.

Pulling him down onto the bed with you, you wrapped the blanket around him as well before setting the laptop in a way where you could both see it while lying down.

“I trust you, Q. If you say that’s what you told her, I believe you.” You whispered.

Boy, it's not that complicated

You should stay in my good graces

Or I'll switch it up like that so fast

'Cause no one's more amazin'

At turnin' lovin' into hatred x2

I won't give a fuck about you x3

Oh, no

I won't give a fuck about you (Oh) x3 

Oh

No, I won't

I won't give a fuck about you, no, I won't

(I won't, I won't, I won't) x2

Quinn sat in the parking lot of Roger’s Arena. You had driven home early, wanting to beat the traffic seeing as the score by the middle of the third period was 0-4. 

The loss of the game and your going home early left Quinn thinking. 

You didn’t need him. 

Sure, you loved him and you loved living with him and the company and affection he gave you, but at the end of the day, you were completely fine being alone. 

The realization had Quinn wiping a few stray tears from his cheeks as he started up the engine of his car. He drove back in silence, hoping you’d be showering and in bed by the time he got home. 

As he focused on the scenery around him in the late hours of the night, that feeling of sadness fizzled into a feeling of relief. If for whatever reason Quinn left you, you would be okay. And now that he understood that, he became even more determined not to lose you.

Because regardless, Quinn Hughes didn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t his.

[rosierin]

i used to love him | suna rintarou

synopsis; (y/n) talks about her feelings towards suna, from childhood to current day.

suna's pov here

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

I used to love him.

Not in a way you plan for. It just sort of… happened.

It was cute, honestly. Innocent. Simple. The kind of thing people call puppy love. At least, that’s how I’ve always seen it. Loving him came as easily as breathing, or blinking. It was quiet but constant—something that made the world feel a little brighter. Something worth waking up for. A little secret joy that sat behind everything else, like music playing faintly in the background of a really good day.

I think it started when we were around ten, in elementary school.

We were kids who got along without even trying. The ones who sat in the corner at birthday parties, trading sweets instead of dancing. The kind that didn't need to fit into larger friend groups. We were happy so long as we had each other, perfectly content as just a little duo.

Rin didn’t talk much—still doesn’t, actually.

He was my opposite in every way.

Quiet. Aloof. A little standoffish. I’m pretty sure people called him ��the weird kid,” which—yeah, he kind of was. He never really made the effort to make friends. Usually ate alone during lunch. Would rather work solo than in group projects.

I don’t really know why I approached him first… I guess I must’ve found him mysterious or something. Like maybe he was just pretending not to care, and I wanted to see if I could crack it.

I still remember our first proper conversation.

We were sitting next to each other during lunch, and I noticed Pokémon Platinum poking out of his backpack. I’m pretty sure I went into a full-on tangent that day, rambling about how Sinnoh was my favourite region and which Pokémon were criminally underrated.

I always laugh when I think about it. He must’ve been like, “Who the hell is this nutcase and why is she all up in my face?”

But I mean—he couldn't have been that bothered since he sat through the whole thing. Nodded along. Never looked away. Even at the time, I remember being weirdly struck by how good he was at eye contact.

He couldn’t have been that shy, then, I thought.

And clearly he wasn’t as anti-social as everyone said, because after that? We were inseparable. I’m not sure how it happened—though I’m almost certain I planned it—but before long I was going to his house nearly every weekend. We’d play DS together. Have sleepovers. We'd even share a bed.

He wasn’t chatty like me. But that never bothered me. I was more than happy to do enough talking for the both of us. I think even as a kid, I liked his silence. It meant I could ramble about whatever I wanted without worrying if I was being too much.

Rin never made me feel like I was too much.

Never told me to be quiet. Never told me to go away.

And somehow, despite being nothing like me, Rin quickly became my favourite person.

I remember sitting by the school gates before class, tracing patterns into my shoelaces while I waited for him.

Even if he was late.

Especially if he was late.

Even when he was sick, I’d wait for at least an hour, just in case he'd show up. (I sound kinda crazy now that I say it out loud.)

I always gave him the green highlighter. I think I told him it didn’t suit me. Told him it matched his eyes. (It did. I've always like his pretty eyes.)

Everyone called us a duo. Not in a weird way—more like we just made sense together. Wherever one of us went, people expected the other.

And honestly? I liked that.

I liked when teachers asked, “Where’s (y/n)?” or “Where’s Rin?” whenever one of us was missing.

I liked being his other half. Loved being his person.

And maybe that’s where it all started.

In the little things. The small, unnoticed spaces where love begins to grow—before you even have the words for it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I think I really knew when we were around thirteen, in middle school.

I started getting nervous around him—even though I never had before. And for the stupidest reasons, too.

My hands got all fidgety and clammy when we talked. My words jumbled. I noticed how close we sat. I noticed the way our hands brushed when we walked side by side. The way his arm felt warm when it pressed against mine during class. I noticed how much I noticed.

Rin's always been big on eye contact when he talks. It’s something I love now. But at thirteen? It was terrifying. I used to look away when he held my gaze too long, like I was going to combust or something.

It was that kind of crush. The teen rom-com kind. The hair-twirling, feet-kicking, doodling-his-name-in-your-notebook kinda love. Sweet, harmless, a little naïve.

I remember doing some pretty cringe stuff. Like trying to mould myself into his exact type.

If he complimented another girl’s outfit, you better believe I’d show up the next week wearing something eerily similar. Oh—he liked a certain perfume? I ordered it off Amazon that same night.

There was even this one time he mentioned he liked the “sporty girl” archetype in anime. And after that, I wore a ponytail. Every single day. No exceptions. Sometimes I’d even throw on a dad cap on weekends, just to really play the part.

It was embarrassing, honestly. And so painfully obvious. (Even though thirteen-year-old me probably thought I was being subtle.)

And yet, Rin never said a thing. Nothing changed. He never pulled away... but he never leaned closer, either.

I’m almost certain he knew. He had to know. I guess he just didn’t see me that way. Which was totally fine, for the record. No pressure. So I kept smiling. Kept laughing at his jokes. Kept pretending I wasn’t in love with him.

And for the most part? That was fine by me.

I was content loving him quietly. Just appreciating his company. Daydreaming in secret. Hoping, a little—but mostly just accepting whatever it was we had going on.

And eventually… it started to fade.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We started high school at fifteen. Same school, of course.

Choosing a high school was, at the time, the most stressful decision of my life. I genuinely thought if I made the wrong choice, I’d ruin everything. Like, full meltdown. I cried twice and made it everyone's problem.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn’t that deep.)

I considered just staying local. The town school was fine. Definitely the safer and easier option. But then Rin got scouted by Inarizaki’s volleyball coach, and that was it for me. End of story. Because going to a different school than Rin?

No way. That was... unequivocally, out of the question.

Going to a different school than him wasn’t just unappealing—it was impossible. I’d told him back in middle school that I’d follow him wherever he went, and I meant it. (I don’t think he believed me at the time, but he should’ve known better.)

My parents weren’t too fussed about it. In fact, when I mentioned Rin was going too, they were relieved and said something like, “ Well if Rin’s there, we know you’ll be fine.” Which… fair enough. They trusted him almost as much as I did.

Still, moving to a new region, staying in dorms, living away from home for the first time? It was a lot. I was excited, but also terrified. Everything was new and unfamiliar—new teachers, new routines, new slang I had to Google in secret.

But Rin was still Rin.

Still my person. Still the one I sat next to during orientation. Still the one I went to when I got homesick.

We weren’t just fine. We were solid.

We had different classes, sure. Different schedules at times. But it didn’t matter. We still ate lunch together. Walked back to the dorms together. Watched anime on his laptop together. Nothing between us had really changed. And that alone made everything else feel manageable.

It wasn’t long before I started watching him play.

Volleyball had always looked good on him. His movements were sharp, calculated and effortless. Watching him on the court made me feel oddly proud, even though I had nothing to do with it.

Eventually, I asked to meet the team. I always saw them after practice so I figured, why not? He agreed, of course. Told me they were all "pretty cool".

That’s when I met the Miya twins.

And honestly? My first impression? Pretty 50/50.

I'll let you guess which twin was my favourite.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn't Atsumu.)

Atsumu was loud, cocky, and honestly a little insufferable. He was your typical jock. A frat boy in the making. At least that's what my initial thoughts were. I'd later realize he's far too much of a softie for that kind of debaucherous lifestyle and actually cares about his education.

Osamu, on the other hand, was far easier to talk to. Calmer. Less... in your face. He still teased and was competitive like his brother, but he was a lot more grounded and mature. He actually listened when people spoke. He was a little more serious. A little more thoughtful.

He reminded me of Rin in some ways—same sense of humour, similar "vibe"—but I could tell he was just as hot-blooded than his twin, just better at hiding it.

I liked him straight away.

But Rin? Rin was still the one I looked for.

Still the one I cheered for during practice.

Still the one who made everything feel like home.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

By the time we were sixteen, something shifted.

It didn't hit me all at once. Nothing like that. No sudden realisation. It was... more of a slow build.

I think it started when I stopped waiting for him after class. Not because I didn’t want to—but because he stopped expecting me to, I think. We were older now, and maybe I just didn’t know how to ask if he still wanted me there. I think a small part of me was afraid he'd find be overbearing.

So… I found new people to walk with. I sat with the twins more often. Got to know them more. I found out Osamu was a massive foodie and a true sweetheart, and that Atsumu was actually just a massive poser—a big, fat jerk, yes, but one with a big heart for those in his circle. A circle I had somehow managed to weave myself into.

I was starting to learn how to hold my own in a school that didn’t revolve around Rin.

And it wasn’t about replacing him. Oh no—definitely not that.

He was still my safe place. Still the person who knew me best.

But I was starting to feel like… maybe I could be my own person too. I’d always been more of a social butterfly, but ever since I met Rin, my circle had mostly revolved around him. So making new friends felt really nice—refreshing, even.

I got close to the Miya twins pretty fast—faster than Rin did, actually. They were impossible to ignore. Loud, chaotic, but strangely grounding in their own way. Osamu was calm and dependable, with a wicked sense of humour once you earned it. We had our own inside jokes now—mostly at his brother’s expense.

Speaking of the latter—

Things got... strange between us. Well—not strange. But at some point, our bickering didn’t feel like bickering anymore. It felt like something suspiciously close to flirting. He started it, of course.

He was so not my type. Funnily enough, if I had to pick one of the two, it’d be Osamu. So imagine my confusion when I started to realize I had feelings for Atsumu.

I think it’s because he challenged me. Pushed my buttons. Pulled things out of me I didn’t know were there. He made me raise my voice. Made me dig my heels in. Made me fight for my space in a way that was oddly exhilarating.

We were fire and fire. Burned too bright on some days, but we always came back.

He was never quiet like Rin. Never still. Never easy.

But with Atsumu, I didn’t feel like I had to wait.

And maybe that was easier than reaching for someone who never reached back.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were seventeen when I realized I wasn’t in love with Rin anymore.

And it didn’t break me. It didn't make me feel particularly sad.

It just… passed. Quietly. Like something I’d outgrown. Like a sweater that didn’t quite fit the same, no matter how much you used to love it.

I still loved him, of course. I don’t think that part ever changed. But it wasn’t the breathless, giddy, daydreamy kind of love anymore. My love had settled into something softer. Like nostalgia. Like home.

Or at least… that’s what I told myself.

We were eighteen when the four of us moved in together. It felt like a natural next step—me, the twins, and Rin. Like starting a new chapter of a story we were all co-writing.

And then came New Year’s Eve.

Rin's house was quiet. The twins were back in Hyōgo. His parents were out. We were alone in his room, lights off, movie forgotten, fireworks going off in the distance like the climax of some cheesy shōjo anime.

And then… he kissed me.

No warning. No build-up. Just—one second we were sitting side by side, and the next, his mouth was on mine.

And I froze. Not because I didn’t want it. Just… because I didn’t understand it.

Because for one awful, beautiful second, it felt like everything came rushing back. Like my feelings had been waiting. Like they’d never really gone away at all.

I kissed him back. I kissed him like I’d always wanted to.

My hands in his hair. Chest pressed to his. His breath in my mouth.

And then his hands slid to my waist. He climbed on top of me. And I let him. I let him kiss me harder. Let him touch me. Let myself get swept up in it—drunk on him. On the weight of his body. The way he whispered my name. The way he called me beautiful like I was truly his to admire.

I think I was panting his name by then. I think I forgot how to think.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that—that’s when the confusion hit.

Because I didn’t know what I was feeling. Didn’t know what he was feeling.

What made him do it? Why now?

Surely not love. He’d never hinted at anything like that before. He’d never looked at me like that. Never touched me like someone who’d been waiting.

So was it lust?

And if it was… That stung. More than I thought it would.

I didn’t feel it that night, though. Not right away. That hurt only came later—once the adrenaline wore off. Once I was lying awake and remembering every second. Every sigh. Every touch.

But in the moment?

I was too busy getting lost in him. Too busy writhing beneath him. Too busy hoping—just for a second—that maybe I was wrong. Maybe it did mean something.

And then I panicked.

Because it was too fast. Too much. Too not us.

And I knew—deep in my gut—that this couldn’t be the way our story played out.

I didn’t want to be a one-night thing for him.

Didn’t want to ruin what we had just because my heart got caught in the crossfire of something he didn’t mean.

So I pulled away.

Didn’t say a word. Just let the moment pass.

And we never talked about it again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I thought maybe he regretted it.

Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Or maybe I’d imagined the whole thing meant more than it did.

It didn't help that he never brought it up. Not once. Still, he never looked at me any differently. But he never asked if I was okay, either.

And yeah… maybe that hurt a little.

Was it embarrassment? Was I a mistake? Was it just lust, some throwaway moment he didn’t want to acknowledge?

I didn’t know. Still don’t.

So I let it go. Buried it deep. Filed it away in that part of my brain labeled: “Don’t think about this unless you want to overthink yourself into insanity.”

I decided to move forward. I started laughing more. Smiling wider. Let myself lean into other people.

I grew closer to Atsumu—not to replace something I lost, but because he was there. Steady in his own chaotic, big-hearted way.

He made me laugh. Gave me hell. Challenged me. Made me feel seen. With him, I never had to guess. Never had to read between the lines or sit with questions I wasn’t brave enough to ask.

(Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time. But that’s a whole other can of worms.)

Sometimes—just sometimes—that night still comes back to me.

His hands. His breath. The way he said my name like it meant something.

And I still don’t know how to feel about it.

It’s probably nothing.

It’s all in the past.

And there's nothing weird about it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were nineteen when I started realizing how little I thought about Rin in that way anymore. Like—actually, this time.

Not because I didn’t care. I still care—very much so. I guess I just... stopped expecting anything to happen entirely.

He was still Rin. Still steady. Still there. Still my best friend who I deeply cherish and always will.

But whatever we used to be—whatever I used to feel—it's settled into something quieter. Something softer and easier to carry.

He never brought up that kiss. Not once. Never looked at me differently. Never made it weird. Just… carried on like it hadn’t meant anything. Like we were the same as we’d always been.

And eventually, I guess I believed him and moved on.

Even now, nothing’s really changed.

We’re almost done with college. On the cusp of whatever comes next.

Atsumu and I aren’t a thing. Not really. But there’s something there. A flicker, maybe. Or a fire I’m still figuring out.

I’m happy, though.

No, really—I am!

I’ve got three best friends. A home that feels like mine. Days that make me laugh until my stomach hurts.

Rin’s still a major part of my world. Still close, in that comfortable, familiar way. Still easy to be around. Still my best friend that I'd do anything for.

It’s rare—but sometimes, I wonder if he still thinks about that kiss.

Even rarer—but sometimes, I wonder if I should’ve let it happen.

I wonder if I ever really fell out of love with him… or if I just learned how to live without hoping.

But most days?

Most days, I don’t wonder at all.

Most days, I’m okay.

And that’s more than enough.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He’s looking at me now.

I smile—out of habit, mostly. But it’s real.

He smiles back, like always.

And for a second, something in my chest stirs. Something old. Something that used to ache.

But it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just… there. A quiet flicker of something that once mattered a little more than it does now.

I blink, and it’s gone.

Whatever it was—it’s not ours anymore.

Maybe it never really was.

And maybe I’m okay with that.

I’ve got my little home. My little family. A life that’s messy and chaotic and warm in all the right ways.

I’ve got the twins and their bickering. I’ve got Rin and his quiet, grounding presence.

I’ve got love, just… not the kind I used to dream about.

And honestly?

That feels more than enough.

[txttletale]

hello...what is this "eidolon playtest". i thought it was perhaps some kind of MTG since you like that and "playtest" but then i keep seeing like.....random character art. is this a tabletop thing. is it mtg and i just dont understand mtg. i know i can probably google this but jt seems like something you wnjoy and id like to hear you talk about it :^)

eidolon playtest is an actual play series in which the creators of the ttrpg 'eidolon: become your best self' and their friends -- as the name implies -- playtest aforementioned TTRPG. it has a pretty interesting format in which the same GM runs two separate campaigns for two different parties which slowly become more and more intertwined until they start crossing over directly. so far they have two pairs of campaigns finished, eidolon POP and ROCK (seasons 1 & 2) and eidolon SKA and DISCO (seasons 3 & 4), and season 5 (eidolon VGM and EDM) currently ongoing. they also have a couple of short mini-campaigns of 3-4 sessions each, which i'm not going to list all of because there's a lot.

eidolon playtest is really good for so many reasons i can't possibly provide a comprehensive account but here's some:

the tables are really, really good at taking something and running with it. the number of goofy, seemingly one-off jokes that get called back to and built up and end up becoming extremely serious and plot-critical has to be in the double digits by now

there is very much a lack of... for want of a better word 'preciousness' to the play -- like, one of the things i really don't like about dimension 20 is that because there is an entire production staff making all these little minis and sets, right, there is an investment and a need to put the money in front of the camera, it's basically impossible for e.g. combat encounters to be skipped or for anything to go too 'off the rails'. meanwhile in eidolon everyone will get excited when someone pulls a fucking insane plan out of nowhere that radically reshapes an encoutner, or when someone rolls/draws badly and something awful happens -- i fucking love that kind of play, where everyone is excited to see cool shit happen whether it's bad or good, and the eidolon playtest team do it really well

the characters are really good and bounce off each other really well. something i commented recently is that i love diska for the fact thaqt nonoe of the players are afraid to have their character just be a huge cunt sometimes. every campaign has some amount of interpersonal drama and it always seems like the players are really excited to have it, too. there are conflicts, some get resolved, some don't, some spiral into irreconcilable differences, some pave the way for extremely close bonds.

eidolon, the system (especially the 2e version that's used for diska onwards) is a great system which encourages fun and cool things to happen. every character has a jojo-style extremely specific power, which means that fights aren't boring slogs of people rolling dice (i hate combat in actual plays that use wargames, lol, even games with well-balanced combat systems that are fun to play often make horrible audio) but instead wacky and consistently dramatic encounters where the players make clever and creative use of their powers to take on a freak-of-the-week

the cast is just really damn good! i mentioned how the characters on all the shows have ineresting and complex dynamics, but even apart from that there's just so many characters on this show that i'm genuinely attached too, so many memorable and interesting pcs and npcs.

the show is funny as fuck!! constant laugh out loud bits throughout every campaign, often alongside the extremely heartfelt or dramatic ones. i've been refernecing a bit from eidolon disco so much recently it's been driving oen of my gfs crazy (you can buy rat poison for free at the store)

i, yknow, go back and forth on whether to mention this when recommending it bc i'm sure that the eidolon playtest folks don't, like, want to be pigeonholed as A Trans Podcast or whatever, but, like, when it feels like every AP podcast that advertises itself or is advertised as 'super queer' is like, two cis gay people and maybe one transmasc if you're lucky at an otherwise super cishet table -- it is such a breath of fresh air to listen to an actual play with a legit preponderance of transfem and nonbinary players playing all kinds of trans and queer characters.

tldr: its like homestuck but good

[juletheghoul]

distraction

a/n: I'm as shocked as you probably are with posting a full chapter today, along with a pretty extensive ask on Friday but here we are. I don't know why this character has inspired such devotion and creativity in me but I am not going to question it. This might be the most toxic chapter yet lol and If you aren't into it. no hard feelings! This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for being a light in a pretty rough week, and for listening to all of my rants and tangents. Love you girlie! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, gladiatorial violence, exhibitionism, Marcus being a possessive, jealous mess, creampie, heavily leaning into the ownership aspect of their 'relationship', master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.7k

reblogs are appreciated

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The sun rose, much like it did on every other day, and you rose with it. 

With a yawn and a stretch you dressed, cursing at the way your tunic tattered at the seams. You’d have to mend it later, you made a mental note to remember as you rushed to start on your chores for the day. 

You found him splashing water from the jug and basin in his room, and moved quickly and quietly to help him dress for the day ahead. Silently he moved throughout the room, letting you adjust his clothes so they looked their best, he let you push his hair into place and to take the basin to be emptied while he made his way to his study. The sun was still high in the sky when the messenger came for him, bringing him the invitation from the Emperor himself to oversee the gladiatorial games in honour of his victory. His brow furrowed at the news, he would be in the pulvinus with the Emperor along with other Romans of proper birth. 

He didn’t take the news well, to him it was a folly. He had absolutely no wish to be celebrated, as far as he was concerned, his march into the city had been more than enough but he could not deny the invitation. So with a clench in his jaw and a number of frustrated sighs, he accepted, and set about making the preparations. 

The day of the games came and as his constant shadow, you followed to see to his needs and to pour for him. It was difficult to keep the excitement in check, every so often you’d glance down to your new tunic, bright white with details of gold to match your Dominus. Despite your many years of service, none of the people you’d served before had ever brought you to the arena, let alone in the presence of the Emperor, or in such a high seat as the pulvinus. Your march through the city towards the Colosseum was filled with cheers and the screams of people clamoring to see the General of the Roman army up close. 

He did his duty, waved and smiled for their benefit despite his great discomfort, and you did your duty as well–kept your head down, and your attention on him. 

The pulvinus was blessedly covered by rich fabrics, shielding the esteemed guests and slaves alike from the unforgiving rays of the sun. With his cup full, and his attention with the Emperor, you used the moment of reprieve to take in the sights. The opening games had come and gone and now the main event was to start. The gladiators filed out and took their place, awaiting the words that would set them on their path of violence. 

They were a mixed batch of fighters, all of them fearsome in their own way. There was a small, stocky one, his face was all anger and his arms were covered in scars. There was one that towered over them all, his arms and legs long enough to keep anyone from getting too close. There were twins, both of them smiling for the crowd, clearly favoured from the cheers they inspired. There was another, and he was the one that drew your eye. His hair was black as coal with eyes to match and although on the leaner side, the strength in his limbs was obvious. His sword hand flexed at the hilt and you watched him twirl the weapon, test its weight before he looked up to the pulvinus, in truth he reminded you of your Dominus; twenty years younger. 

He smiled up in your direction and your stomach twisted, for a moment you imagined your Dominus down in the sand, fighting for the crowd and it thrilled you. You imagined meeting him as a younger man, what he might have been like, what might he think of you?

“Girl.” His voice cut through your musing, his cup outstretched and you stumbled for only a heartbeat, imperceptible to anyone but him. His eyes tracked what had distracted you, and found the young Gladiator smiling still, and said nothing. His mood soured though and at once you chastised yourself for letting the arena distract you.  

Marcus introduced the main games, the Primus, and he did so without flair, without embellishment but it mattered not, the people screamed and the men before you fought for their lives against a myriad of challengers. You kept your eye on your Dominus, on his cup but the young gladiator –Varus– kept drawing your attention, he looked so like your General that you idly wondered if he could be his son, could he have fathered him during his younger years? It was known to happen, did he see the resemblance? Did anyone?

Varus is relentless, and despite making sure your Dominus’ needs are met your eyes track him, enraptured. It is difficult to be sure who it is he smiles at when he glances up in your direction, it is most likely the high-born Roman women. His skill is undeniable, and again your thoughts drift to a younger, wilder Marcus, would your general have given you those smiles so brazenly at that age?

“He does like to put on a show does he not?” One of the high born ladies remarks and you cannot help but watch as Varus laughs, cutting down those who challenge him with ease, even as some of his brothers fall. “Look how he smiles, he is of a form today.” They giggle between themselves as he points his sword in tribute towards them, or you, or the Emperor, it is hard to tell. 

“He definitely draws the eye.” Marcus speaks, agreeing with them, but you hear his displeasure and when you meet his eyes they are already focused on you. Your stomach drops at the look of displeasure on his face, your momentary lapse had not been taken lightly. Heat and embarrassment fill you to the brim and from then on your eyes find themselves downcast. “More wine, girl.” His tone is colder than you’ve ever heard it, enough to set your nerves alight. 

“Yes Dominus.” Your tone, in turn, is demure and humble and you pray to the Gods that you get through the games without embarrassing him further.

Varus and the twins stand victorious, and the crowd loves them for it, enough to shake the ground with their cheers but you keep your head down. With your error, you expected Marcus to excuse himself and make his way home once the games were over but it wasn’t to be. The Emperor had arranged for his guests to exchange words with the victors, and so down into the sand you went, following where your Dominus went on shaky legs. 

Up close, Varus was taller than your General, but not by much. He was strong, and lean, and covered in blood and gore, it did nothing to take away from his allure. It didn’t seem to bother him, if anything, it only made him more appealing. The resemblance was there, not as close as you’d imagined but there was something there, in the profile, in the gaze, he was a handsome man, but no one held a candle to Marcus in your eyes. 

The Emperor bestowed words of congratulations, and they bowed dutifully. Varus smiled, boldly, unbothered by the ire of your Dominus, his eyes wandered and when they found you they raked over your form unabashedly. He drank in the sight of your thighs through the slit in your tunic, in the curve of your neck and although you had no real interest in this man, you couldn’t help but fidget. 

Your Dominus clenched his jaw, but offered his good will all the same, albeit in a curt manner and once the pleasantries were exchanged, you were blessedly away from the arena, and off towards the villa once more. He’s eerily quiet on the trek back home, even for him and although he’s usually quite forgiving despite his gruff exterior, you pray to the Gods that you haven’t offended him past the point of return. His horse whinnies underneath him while you and his personal guard follow behind, and all at once he is off his horse and handing off the reins. 

“Come girl, I have business here.” He barely looks at you, but you rush to follow where he leads, down a quiet street away from the chaos of the day. You have to take two steps for every one of his in order to stay close. You take it as a good sign, that he calls on you to attend to him after the business in the pulvinus, and you steel yourself to serve to the best of your ability in whatever possible way he may need. He winds through different alleys and it takes a moment for you to wonder idly just where exactly he needs to go before you find yourself pressed up against the wall. 

“Have you grown tired of your Dominus?” His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you up against the wall. Not tight enough to cut off your breath, but tight enough to make you stand on the tips of your toes. His eyes were cold as frost, but there was passion laced through his words as well as rage. 

“No Dominus–”

“Do. Not. Lie.” His grip tightened for only a second, “Do you think me blind, girl? I saw the way you watched Varus.” The gladiator's name was a curse and for a moment you frowned at him, was this jealousy?

“Dominus, I could never, I was merely distracted–” You brought your hands up, trying vainly to soothe him with gentle touch but the anger burned hot within him, and he stepped closer, kicking your legs apart to press his knee between them. 

“Yes, distracted by him, he caught your eye. Do you desire him?” You felt your heart racing, thumping against his palm at your throat, “Tell me girl, have you forgotten that you belong to me? Do you wish to belong to another?”

“No Dominus! Only you, I–I could not help but notice Varus–” His jaw clenched at the sound of the other man's name upon your tongue. “Because, because he resembled you, Dominus.”

His anger faltered for a moment, but the frown remained, and so you continued. 

“He looked so like you Dominus, and I couldn’t help but imagine you at that age, fighting and smiling at me. I do not desire anyone else, I do not wish to belong to anyone else.” You brought your hands up, tentatively placing one upon his at your throat, and the other on his chest. 

“Did that excite you? Do you wish me to be younger?” There was a vulnerability in his eyes then, obscured by anger but shining through all the same and had he been anyone else, you might have laughed at the absurdity of his complex. 

“It only excited me, to imagine you smiling at me, fighting for me Dominus. I do not wish you to be any other way.” Your hands moved in tandem, one stroking at his arm softly, the other sliding down his chest, towards where his passion grew and pressed against your hip. “Look into my eyes and see the truth in my words, I belong to you, mind, body and soul, only you.” His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go.

“Can you not see how much I desire you? How my heart beats only to the tune of your pleasure?” He isn’t unaffected by your words, you see him drink them down like a fine wine, and he sighs heavily at the feel of your palm on his manhood. “Take me, here and now Dominus, my want for you drips onto my thighs.” 

His eyes close and a heavy breath escapes his lips and you see your chance, you see the tiny fracture in his armor. “May I have your mouth Dominus?” You pulled him closer, while guiding his free hand to the Elysian fields between your legs. His fingers slipped under your coverings and found you wet and wanting and all at once his violence is coloured with passion instead of anger. 

“You will never belong to another, do you understand me girl?” Frantically he pulls at your tunic, moving it up, and pulling the neck down to bare your breasts to him, uncaring of the people who happen by. 

“You are mine, all of you, is mine.” His mouth pressed to yours roughly, stealing the breath out of your lungs. Your hands fumbled at his robes, joining in his madness and releasing his cock. He doesn’t let you touch it however, instead he turns you around and pulls your hips out. You hear him spit into his hand before lining himself up at the mouth of your sex, barely giving you a moment before burying himself to the hilt. 

You can’t help but moan and hold onto his arms, the grit of the wall pressed up against your face. His hand wrapped around your throat once more, holding you still while his hips drove forward, filling you over and over without respite, his other hand found your breast and held it tight, fanning the flames of your arousal for him. 

“This cunt—“ his mouth pressed against your ear, breathing harshly with the force of his exertion, “is mine, mine alone.” The moan clawed its way out from your throat, that he would be this affected by a simple glance should have scared you, but it didn’t. It only made your arousal flow like seawater.

Your cunt was the altar of his devotion, and his prayers were violent.

“Yes Dominus, yours alone.” You pushed back, turning your face as best you could to look him in the eye and his expression pulled another sound from your throat. He was enraptured, eyes blown black and mouth slack as his hips drilled, bouncing against the plump flesh of your backside. “I want to look at you Dominus, I want your mouth–” He groaned, pulling out quickly to turn you back around and within a breath he had one of your legs wrapped around his hip, his hand holding it at the knee, and his cock buried deep. His other hand held you firm by the throat. 

“Tell me girl, tell me you’re mine, only mine.” There was a desperation in his voice that pulled at something within you, something tender despite his brusque movements. 

“I’m yours Dominus, I belong to you–” You threaded your fingers into his hair and yanked him close to you, your grip tight and he moaned, unabashedly, “I only ever want to be yours.”

His eyes close before his lips have found yours, and you feel the way his pace stutters, he is close and all at once you need to feel him spill inside, his need to stake his claim burning you up like a fever. You move one hand down to your sex, to the swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, and with the other, you hold his hand to your throat. 

“Please Dominus, please fill me with your gift.” You moan the words out, and smile at the way he grinds himself deep with a low groan. The coil in your belly snaps as you feel him spill inside, and your flutters make him hiss, his mouth surging forward to claim yours hard enough to hurt but it matters not. Your heart and cunt are full with him just as it should be. 

His breath comes in pants as he removes his hand from your neck, and your breath hitches when he brushes his lips against your skin in silent apology. You know the moment will pass, and that soon, his mood will change and this interlude will end, as all interludes must but you seize the moment anyway, and pull his face up to meet his eyes. 

“I speak truth Dominus, my heart fills with joy to be yours.” Softly, you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close, for a moment you are worried that as his blood cools, so does his passion for you but he proves you wrong, and lets you kiss him. More than that, he keeps kissing you as he set your robes to right with gentle hands before pulling out with a hiss. He does not respond, there is no need to, his eyes speak for him. 

Within a few heartbeats, the look is gone and his usual mask is back in place. 

“Come girl, let us away.”

“Yes Dominus.” 

—

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[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | three

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, teasing, college au, smau/irl

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 2.1k

authors note: I just want to thank everyone for all the love this has been getting, I love that you love them just as much as I do. Also thanks to @rafesbabygirlx for helping me decide what to do with this part.

02 | 03 | 04

Wednesday

He was shocked, to say the least. But he would be lying if he didn’t find it appealing. Also, even a bit cute that you had chosen to ask him for this out of all your friends. 

“Wait, let me see if I got it right…” he paused. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for a night?” He asked, still shocked and trying to see if you were joking. But you never joked, at least not with him.

“Yes,” he knew you weren’t joking now so he decided to take the teasing route. 

“And what do I get from this?” he asked with a smirk on his face 

“A free dinner?” 

“Oh come on Y/N I know you can do better than that” he teased making you sigh 

“I don’t know… what do you want?” you start to feel actual panic setting in. How were you supposed to convince him? 

“I can think of a few things” he smirked, he was just making things difficult for fun, you didn’t find it funny. 

“Why do you have to be like this?” 

“It’s fun to see you annoyed” he smiled 

“You are the worst”

“Hate me all you want but we both know it’s all fake or you wouldn’t be here” he had to suppress the urge to boop your nose knowing it was going to piss you off. 

“I never said I hated you, you are just extremely annoying” 

“I like to say I’m charming”

“Full of yourself” 

“Who else am I supposed to be full of?” he lifted an eyebrow, and you sighed defeated.

“Rafe, please… I will owe you one no questions asked” 

“Oh well now that you say that” he smirked again taking a few steps to get closer to you. “I might take you up on that princess” he changed his tone to a more flirty one 

“You disgust me” 

“Ah don’t be like that, I’m your boyfriend now” he wiggled his eyebrows. His smirk was still plastered on his face. 

You felt a sense of relief at those words, he had agreed to help you. 

“Thank you” you gave him a half smile 

“Sure but I do have a few questions though”

“About?” 

“Why did you have to look for a pretend boyfriend?” 

“Long story” 

“Will I ever know?” 

“Maybe but not today.” you paused for a second “I’ll send you my location and let you know what I need you to do that day” 

“Fine by me” 

“Thank you again, really” 

“Thank me after I have charmed your parents” 

“Fine whatever, bye”

“Bye princess” 

“Can you not?” 

“You are my girlfriend now I have to be nice and sweet talk you” he smirked again, he was enjoying this a bit too much. 

“Fake one, and for a night”

“Let me have my moment” You rolled your eyes and walked away.

He saw you walk away with a big smile on his face. He shook his head and chuckled to himself before going back to his practice.

Thursday

Today - Friday

You had been anxious since the moment you woke up. Kelce hadn’t shown up to statistics that day because he had gone out with Nicki according to him to end things finally. So you had been left alone to deal with Rafe on your own. Anyone would expect him to be solely focused on basketball since he was captain, but no, he truly cared for classes and his grades. 

Just today he seemed a bit more chatty and you couldn’t wonder if it was because today was the day. Yes, THE day. 

“So tell me, why don’t you want people to know?” 

“Because I don’t. I’m not gonna tell people I had to look for a fake boyfriend because my parents pushed me to my limit” 

“Ah so there is a reason, and here I thought you didn’t want to share” 

“I said maybe so here I am, plus it seemed fair to tell you since you agreed to help me” 

“Aw thanks” he put a hand over his chest pretending to feel touched. “So tell me more” 

“My mom has been a bit worried I haven’t dated a guy in more than a year and lately she has been more pushy and all that so I lied saying I had been seeing this guy for the past two months to keep her quiet”

“And I’m guessing it didn’t work as you expected…” 

“Yeah, they asked for his name and all”

“Okay wait…”  he smirked “So you said my name?” You rolled your eyes and sighed. There was no point in denying it. 

“Yes but only because you were texting the group chat nonstop and then to my chat so I panicked and said your name” he felt the honesty in your words but he was going to take the chance and tease you. 

“No need to make excuses I feel honored that you thought of me” 

“You love to have something to tease me with” 

“Oh yes I do” 

You kept the small talk for a bit more until it was time to work. You did all your classwork together and finished first. 

“Okay so one more question, how did we meet? How did we start dating? I’m assuming they will ask questions” You turned to look at him; a sense of relief washed over you. He was going to help you. 

“Yeah… let’s just say Kelce introduced us, which is the truth, and…” he cut you off

“He invited you to a game, he introduced us and we hit it off” 

“Sound believable so it’s okay” 

“Now hobbies, I know you like reading but like things we do together” 

“Uh… watching movies, I guess I go to your games” 

“That’s kind of a given, let’s say you are my lucky charm” he teases and you chuckle. You had to admit it, he was being more positive than what you had expected. Maybe the dinner wouldn’t be that horrible.

After the unexpected call, you continued with your stress-baking. It always helped you to take your mind off things and for the hour and a half hour that it took you to bake, you had accomplished not thinking about anything else. You noticed the time and decided to start getting ready. 

You went to your room to get ready. The first thing you did was go through your closet to find something nice to wear, you settled on a floral dress you liked and called it a day. With your dress on you went to do your hair and after that, you sat down to put makeup on. As soon as you started doing your makeup and humming to the songs that were playing you got lost in the process and found comfort in something you did almost daily. 

By the time you were done, it was almost time and the nerves settled in for good this time. As soon as the doorbell rang you felt a pit in your stomach. You took a deep breath and walked down to open the door.

When you got downstairs, your mom was about to open the door. You tried to hurry, but it was too late, and she was already opening it.  

“Hello! You must be Rafe.”  

“I am, nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand to her.  

“Mom, I was going to get the door.” You finally entered his field of vision. He felt time stop for a second; you looked beautiful. You always looked put together, but today was different—your hair, the dress, the makeup; it was all different.  

“Well, look at you, princess! You look beautiful,” he said as he walked in, kissing the top of your head. You gave him a soft smile. Meanwhile, your mom looked at the scene in front of her, her heart leaping at what she was seeing.  

You felt extremely awkward, but after taking another deep breath, you took Rafe’s hand and guided him to your living room. For Rafe, the house felt cozy, and it made sense that you were how you were if you had grown up in a place like this.  

When you walked into the living room, you were met by your dad reading something on his phone.  

“Dad, this is Rafe… Rafe, this is my dad.” Your dad lifted his gaze and smiled as he stood up.  

“Ah! You are the guy she hasn’t stopped talking about all week.” You hadn’t done it on purpose, but they had been asking a lot of questions about him, and you answered. Rafe just chuckled and squeezed your hand gently, as if marking that comment to tease you later.  

“It’s a pleasure to meet the parents of this pretty girl,” your dad smiled at the comment.  

“Come on, sit down,” your mom motioned to the couch.  

“So, Y/N tells me you play basketball.”  

“Yes, I have been captain since last year. It has been a great experience so far.”

With that, the conversation flowed. You still felt like you were in flight or fight mode, but seeing how Rafe was handling the situation was better than you had expected. You had moved to the dining room to have dinner, and the conversation had continued. Your parents had asked every question they could imagine. Now Rafe was telling the story of how you two had met.  

“We have friends in common, and for a game, she was sitting with them in the stands, and I couldn’t stop looking at her during the whole game." He paused. "I had seen her in a class before and barely exchanged words, but I knew I had to talk to her. So at the end of the game, I asked one of our friends to introduce us, and he did.”  

It was all half-truths; you two had met in a class, and that same week, you had gone to one of his games not knowing he was playing. You all had hung out that day after the game, and from that point forward, you two had, in a way, become friends—more acquaintances since you two never hung out just the two of you or talked outside of college and homework.  

"That’s so sweet! Who is the friend?"  

"Kelce," you both answered simultaneously.  

"We’ll thank him next time we see him for bringing you into her life." At that moment, you panicked; no way that was happening.  

"I’m going to make sure to tell him," Rafe said, reassuring your mom. You turned to look at him.  

"You are a good one, Rafe," your mom said.  

"Well..." you paused. "I’m going to bring the dessert."  

"Do you need help?" Rafe asked, and you nodded. He excused himself and followed you to the kitchen. Once the two of you were out of earshot, he spoke.  

"Your parents are great," he said as you pulled a berry cheesecake out of the fridge. "Oh wow, that looks amazing"  

"They are, and thanks. I take pride in my baking," you smiled, setting the cheesecake on the counter to take out some new plates.  

"You bake?"  

"I do; it’s one of my hobbies."  

"Hmm, you are full of surprises."  

"What can I say?" you replied with a smile, exiting the kitchen.  

He grabbed the cheesecake and brought it to the table as you placed the plates next to it. As soon as it was served and everyone was seated, the conversation continued as if nothing had happened. Everything that you hadn’t discussed how to answer came out naturally. During dinner, both you and he saw each other in a different light. You had learned so much about him thanks to your parents' questions, and he had learned so much about you from the way you interacted with your parents and from what your mom had told him about you.  

He understood why it had been a big deal for your parents when you had told them about dating someone. You didn’t know, but your mom had shared a bit of the backstory, and it had made him feel some kind of way. He could see how much your mom cared for you, and seeing you so heartbroken last time had worried her. She didn’t want you to close yourself off before, so seeing him there had assured her you were going to be okay. He was never going to bring this up with you, even though he was curious about what had happened.  

When everyone noticed the time, it was 9:25 PM. Rafe helped clear the table and began saying his goodbyes. You sighed silently; it was finally over, and it had gone great.  

"Rafe, before you go, why don’t you come over on Sunday?" your dad asked right as he was about to leave. Your face dropped; this was supposed to be just one night.

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INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[pushingdaisies1]

Kinda hate you, kinda love you . . . ♡

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY -> Being an X-men was a lot for you to sign up for. Well.. you didn't have a chance to deny this safe haven. The school became your home and the people that made up the X-men like a weird little familial unit. You had many reasons for staying as long as you did, but one was more prickly and jaded. The feelings you harbored for a stern and calloused Logan were.. weird for you to feel firsthand. One day, you are stuck overlooking a danger room drill between Gambit and Logan. With the new member of your world-saving team Jubilee by your side, it's too dull to NOT talk with each other. She was a good kid, hyperactive and spirited that's for sure. You talk, and talk a lot you do to the human embodiment of the fourth of July. It makes you think a little bit too hard about yours and Logans... predicament. (✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> Hiii!!! This is my first time writing stuff for Logan so - bee tee dubs it may be complete and utter horse shit. I'd like to thank @velvrei for helping me ignite some well-dead thoughts. Genuinely love ur work sm and reading that and a lot more new/old logan content helped TONS. This is linked to the {♡x-men animated series/x-men97♡} series. I do wanna write more for the Deadpool timeline xmen/early 2000s timeline xmen!! But after seeing the masterpiece that is Deadpool and Wolverine, I lowkey just clung to those shows. I love animated Logan!! He is even more emotionally stunted/sassy sad!! (✧ ˚.) CWS (?) -> Logan nd u are sad ppl who don't know how to voice ur feelings!! , pining from afar/one-sided not so one-sided yearning, UHM HURT/KINDA COMFORT??? MAYBE??? I THINK??? , unprompted suggestiveness from logan , mentions of struggling to connect with other ppl/fears of the future (bay bay jubilee my love) , u and Jubilee just kinda bond, off topic idk cajun dialect so..... , and u infodump as a weird suto older sister/mom in her life, this was all very spur of the moment so uhm - not proofread!!! kinda!!!!!!!

The dangeroom was a room a lot of the X-men team spent their time in. To either train for a new threat or for general movement, drills were a common theme. Especially after world-shaking events, which were always somehow a constant, the professor was the equivalent of an alarm clock. Drills this, always having to run down into the war room. You didn't mind the training sessions if it was one-on-one or even with the whole team. Sometimes though, it was almost nagging. 

Though there were little things you'd do to pass this time. If you were made to overlook it or otherwise. Most of the time there didn't need to be supervision within the training center itself. Everyone was on high alert, and off days were few and far between. Logan had been hashing it out with Gambit all morning and wanted to do a specific procedure setting. You held your head in your hands as you sighed at the grown men's demands. Gambit was a professional sweet talker, Logan wasn't when needed. Of course, you complied, understanding the sudden want for more extensive training. When Jubilee volunteered you started to not loathe the idea of sitting in on Logan and Gambit - literally butting heads. 

Jubilee was a nice kid, you felt bad for her sudden entrance into life within the school. The professor was welcoming as always. With your push and her foster parents wanting her to be safe from threats like the sentinels, she was a bonified member.

Being the "newbie" always had its drawbacks. From day one you made sure to have her back, you could relate to her whole fish-out-of-water point of view. Logan saw the way you attached fast to the kid. He was like a vault of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings he never wanted to bring up or even let alone talk about. But it made your heart flutter just a tad when he sat his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb against it.

He had stopped you before you were about to retire to your room. In the doorway to your personal, pillow escape he made sure to reel you down to earth. "Give the kid some breathing room. I know you want to help but there's no use for you smothering her."

You were almost baffled. What was he going on about? You were just looking out for her? Deep down, you did know what he meant. He might have not been a long-term X-Men member. But he did know you and the fragments of "memories" you held so dearly close to your chest. You two were so different and yet one in the same. Before you could even argue, he gave you a small .. somewhat comforting pat on said shoulder. "Just a friendly word of advice bub, don't take it so close to heart. Oh wait, that's inevitable." He joked at you with his signature toothy grin. You couldn't help but scoff in surprise and laughter as he jabbed at you with his SINGULAR witty remark.

Logan could be many things. Rough around the edges, even a total asshole when he felt like it. But to you, he was your kryptonite. It was pathetic the way you'd always eventually be pulled to bend at that man's every word. He just did that to you, and you had no answer to it. 

Making your way up to the upper room with Jubilee, you watched with tired eyes as the door to the observation room slid open. Cold - walls and floor head to toe with this sleek metal texture. There were two chairs, right behind the control panel where the training sequence(s) would be initiated. Your eyes were trained on the window as you watched Gambit and Logan make their entrance inside the training room itself. Gambit of course was rapidly shuffling a deck of cards. They were almost flying in the palms of his hands as he prepared them. Logan was of course blabbing his big mouth, in his signature suit "lumbering up" as he would call it. Finally, as you just now sat your bottom into the smooth-cushioned observation chairs, Jubilee was already starting the conversation. Thank god for you as you were still shaking the morning off of you."So what? , we just watch them throw around with each other, or what?" She cracked with a curious glance at the two men down below. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand as you leaned back. "Pretty much, we're here just in case the system doesn't shut down in time. Sometimes it does that."

She paused before she gave you a pointed look, her chunky pink sunglasses almost falling off of her black head of hair. "We're babysitting them!?" She retorted with a sort of faux annoyance. "I mean it's 'something' to do but - come on...." She groaned as she crossed her arms, heavy in on the air quotations. Cutting in, you directed your hand to the control panel. "No no no, not just that.”

Gathering your thoughts, you pointed out each scenario on the deck. You couldn't help but crack a smile at Jubilee's small "ohs" and "ah's". With the development, you two were brought into a nice steady stream of conversation. Hunched in her seat, yellow boots crinkling in this position, she poked and prodded you about your style and so on. it was nice to be looked at with such idealization. Her eyes were huge with wonder as she jumped to questions and searched for answers. Though it was only so nice until the two of you were interrupted by the impact of a card deck. As it smacked against the window, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Hitting the intercom, you cleared your throat. "So sorry gentlemen! You two ready or what?" You retorted as you leaned over the panel. Gambit gathered back the cards into his hands. "Me? , 'course cher! Any day I would love to stick it to da fuzz ball over der." He remarked with a scheming smirk. Logan growled as his claws immediately sprouted from his knuckles. "I'll show you fuzz ball you pest." His lip curled up almost like a predator ready to pounce.

Jubilee sat back quiet as a mouse as she watched you talk through to the two. "Alrighty alright! Save the pouncing for later." You barked with a small chuckle at the end. You couldn't help but feel buzzy at the way Logan reared his head up. Gambit was too busy swapping cards from hand to hand. But all of Logan's attention was just on you, it was always just on you.

 "Okay, how are we feeling about the ruined city for today?" You asked the two as Gambit started to twirl a card in between his middle and pointer fingers. "Yes yes yes, dat will do just nicely, right Wolvie?" He asserted - training a hard on the hard-headed "foe." Logan's voice was low and gruff as he found his stance. "Don't get so ahead of yourself Gamby." He retorted as he turned back to you in the window. "Start it up doll, before this one here loses all of his spice." He barked with a laugh as Logan jostled his mask on. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile. "If you say so, bee-tee-dubs .. don't kill each other! Please and thank you." You affirmed as the array of buttons were clicked. As the scenery shifted into a torn-down cityscape, foes were already on the two men. The only fun thing about watching over the training sessions was getting to watch fellow X-Men in action. Just not with the risk of losing your life in the process. Leaning back into your chair, you took in a nice breath of air. Peace, for now at least. Jubilee sat up more straight, letting her bright yellow duster-like jacket collect at the sides of her chair. She brought her legs to her chest as both you and she watched Gambit and Logans fighting. You could feel her eyes wander to you in the quiet. You looked directly towards her, a sympathetic smile gracing your face. "How are you feeling?" Your voice was small but warm, comforting almost. This was the first time someone had even really asked her. "I don't know... it's like everything is just changing at once. I feel like a big Rubix cube." She said with a frown as she got more comfortable where she sat. You nodded your head in almost remembrance. "Trust me, becoming an X-men isn't the hardest part. It's living like one." Admitting with a soft sort of comfort, Jubilee was already warmer than before. The training session flew by as you two just talked and talked. She lamented about what life would be like now, what she would and wouldn't miss. How she was stripped of living like a normal teenager. "I mean everyone here has already been so nice to me, but this is just gonna take a lot of getting used to. ", she would lament to you in honesty. You tried to be as insightful as possible. Telling her that living as an X-men will always be tricky. But there will always be the people around here that'll keep you steady. Her ears perked up when you listed off your so-called "anchors." She immediately butted in after you listed off the Wolverine himself, Logan. "That guy? You two seem to be always at each other's throats?" She cracked at you with an inquisitive grin. "Well I mean yeah - he can be .. overly confident a lot of the time." You were almost reminding yourself. You didn't realize how long you spent talking about your scruffy metal-clawed 'friend.' You went on and on about how he combated with you in the best possible ways. How with his time in the X-Men, he opened up your worldview in many instances. He did so much to you and for you. He was almost like your escape in a way, and he maybe shared the same view. You didn't get into the nitty-gritty details of it, 'cause ew. But the moments away from daily life hecticness within the school you and he shared were your favorite. His arms were the sweetest embrace anyone could ask for. But that's what friends do, that's what friends are for.

 Though you always wondered if maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were holding on to nothing. Maybe there was an intimate connection between you two hiding under the surface. But you had a track record of getting your hopes up. You dashed those daydreams away as Jubilee yanked you back down into the now of things. Time flew by as the training sequence ended. Logan was immediately gloating his way out of the danger room. You and Jubilee met the two halfway. Gambit sang your high praises as he lamented about kicking Logan's ass in the drill. As the two grown men bickered Jubilee made her exit known. Since the professor was already summoning them all to the war room. Gambit waved you off with a small wink and another grand shuffle of his cards. Which just left you and logan ... fun. 

He quirked his brow in your direction as he realized your quiet demeanor. “Can you believe the guy? - come on bub you saw me!” He said in astonishment at Gambit's gambit tendencies. You crinkled your nose in a small giggle. If you were seeing straight, you couldn’t help but notice a small dash of a smile on Logan's face once he saw your mood brighten. His smile always found ways to make your knees weak and arms all jelly. “Yeah yeah, dont get your panties in a twist Lo.” You said with a twinkle in your eye. A grin followed spreading almost ear to ear.

His eyes softened ever so slightly with your jokes. He grumbled out his poorest joke yet. “Oh, I’ll show you.” He retorted before yanking you into him. Your back met his chest plate as you felt his collection of sweat. His muscled arms wrapped around your midsection as he whirled you around like a windmill. You ignited with laughter and “yucks” as you felt his sweat spreading onto you. You fought out his hold with a grimace and a sheepish chuckle, wiping your eye. “Christ man, you got all your .. muck on me!”

By now his claws were already dashed away. So his hands were now placed on his hips. He rolled his eyes as he looked you up and down. “Come on, you’ll live to see another day shrimpy.” He claimed with his eyes slowly wandering. “I look like a wet dog thanks to you.” You frowned jokingly, shaking your arms out. “On and on with you.” He remarked once again with his eyes rolling AGAIN soon after.

Closer and closer the two of you got as you both threw phony insults back and forth. Before your lips were inches away from one another. He drawled his quick mouth up and spat back something that would leave your mind in utter… shock. Was confusion the right word?  “Don’t play around with me, dimples. I know you’d like more than just my arms around you.” You quickly gasped out the pocket of air you were holding onto. A long pause was felt throughout the hall before you two darted in separate ways.

“I need to change!” You sheepishly shouted as you headed in the opposite direction of him. He did the same, mumbling whatever under his breath. “Don’t slip and fall!” He coughed out as you rubbed your face in annoyance. “Eat shit, Logan!” , “That’ll be a long time coming!” The both of you remarked to the other in unison. Both of your voices share the same sort of flustered frustration. You raced into the showers as you soon stumbled towards the sinks.

You splashed your face with cold water as your heart was still racing. Your cheeks were burning up let alone from his words. But you were soon able to catch up with your breath. Regaining your composure you looked yourself in the mirror. Gritting your teeth as you looked at the fool Logan made you. The Wolverine could be a hard-headed buffoon. Always on his way to making a snide insult with whichever X-men member was disagreeing with him. But god damn it was he your poison. You hated him and he hated you. That was the thing that kept you steady as you changed into uniform and raced towards the ongoing meeting. You knew that same smile still lingered on your face once you made your entrance into the war room. Able to brush off the team's sudden accusations as you made sure to remind everyone about the issue at hand. The Professor thanked you as he went back to discussing what new threats plagued human life. Your eyes always made their way back to Logans with small lingers. Making eye contact with you, his eye-line was diverted by you as you turned your attention back to the professor. The Wolverine was a fool, and he had already found purchase in your foolish heart. 

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 part two - ⭐️

[ceratedfish24]

(This post has been altered to be more general. Please respond to replies and reblogs accordingly. Thank you.)

If I see one more post that villainizes Scott for attacking Joel, or anyone else, for that matter, I’m going to flip my lid.

First of all, it’s a death game. They don’t need a reason to kill each other. Scott and Joel are very close friends outside of the game. They used to be neighbors. The people who are closest tend to go after each other the hardest, because they’re the most comfortable with ending each other’s seasons.

Secondly, it’s not at all unreasonable. Joel’s whole thing is being a menace. He was upset when someone on reddit said that he’s “lawful good” in the Life Series. He said that his goal is to be “chaotic evil”. Joel is a constant menace to Scott and many of Scott’s allies. As a Joel viewer, you might see that as Joel being clever or powerful, but he is just a menace to almost everybody else and that is literally his goal. Of course Scott would want to push back a little.

Third, sure. Joel often doesn’t effectively do much to Scott. This is NOT due to a lack of effort. Joel tries incredibly hard to irritate Scott. It’s his love language. Joel and Scott are close, and Joel thinks it’s hilarious to get Scott riled up. It’s like targeting your brother in a game for the crime of being your brother. Joel failing to do harm to Scott is not the same as Joel doing nothing to hurt Scott. Joel has repeatedly made his intentions clear.

Fourth, the poster specifically mentioned that Scott killed Joel in Secret Life “without a reason”. Joel spent a whole episode of Secret Life recruiting three people to kill Scott. I think their rivalry is a pretty good reason, but, again, they don’t really need a reason. It is a death game. They are friends. They were on different teams. They are bound to attack each other. That’s how the game works.

Joel fans, you don’t ever have to defend Joel from Scott. If you were a real Joel fan, I think you would know that Joel loves Scott dearly and that’s why he’s such a menace to him. Don’t attack Scott for his mutual friendship with Joel. They know each other’s boundaries and have never stepped on them. The members of the Life Series have stated again and again that everyone in the Life Series shows a healthy and mutual respect and love for everybody else in the series and that, if it made it into a video, everyone is okay with it. Joel and Scott literally take time out of their day to excitedly talk about their sessions with each other by themselves. Take a chill pill. Scott and Joel are just fine.

[28harryssunflower]

Royal scandal - a mini series: Part 1/4

Royal scandal: Part 1

The grand dining hall of Buckingham Palace was oppressively silent, save for the sound of silverware clinking against fine china. Candlelight flickered off the polished mahogany table, casting long shadows across the velvet-draped walls.

Harry pushed the food around on his plate, barely listening to his mother’s polite small talk with one of the visiting dignitaries. His father sat at the head of the table, regal as always, his expression unreadable.

Then, with a deliberate clearing of his throat, King Edward turned his attention to Harry.

“It’s time we discuss something important,” the King said, setting his wine glass down with a soft clink. The conversation around them quieted instantly.

Harry sighed, already knowing where this was going. “Do we have to?”

“Yes.” His father’s tone was firm. “You are twenty-one, Harry. It’s time you start taking your responsibilities seriously.”

Harry exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair. “I am taking my responsibilities seriously.”

The King scoffed. “Is that what you call the drunken outings? The constant presence of your name in the tabloids? The string of women you leave behind without a second thought?”

A muscle in Harry’s jaw tightened. “What I do in my personal life is my business.”

“Not when you are the Prince of England.” The King’s voice grew sharper. “You cannot behave like some reckless commoner with no obligations. Your duty is to this country, to your people. It is time to act like it.”

Queen Anne sighed softly, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”

“No, we will discuss this now,” the King said. “Harry needs to understand the weight of his position.” He turned back to Harry, eyes cold and unwavering. “You will be married within the next six months.”

Harry froze.

His fork clattered against his plate, the sound echoing through the silent room.

“What?”

“You heard me,” his father continued. “You are of age, and it is time you settle down. If you do not find a suitable wife soon, I will choose one for you.”

Harry let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t be serious.”

The King’s expression didn’t waver. “I am.”

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. “That’s ridiculous. You can’t just force me into a marriage.”

“You are a prince, Harry. This is how things work. A marriage will stabilize your image and strengthen alliances. You will choose a woman of noble standing, someone with grace, intelligence, and the ability to uphold the duties of a princess. No more scandals, no more reckless behavior.”

Harry pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping against the marble floor. “And what if I refuse?”

His father’s eyes darkened. “Then I will make the decision for you.”

Harry clenched his fists, rage bubbling beneath his skin. “So that’s it? You’d just hand me off to some woman I don’t even love? Someone who only cares about the title, the money, the power?”

His father’s gaze remained hard. “Love is a luxury, not a necessity.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh. “That’s easy for you to say. You already have everything you want.”

Queen Anne frowned, her voice softer. “Harry, I know this may seem unfair, but-“

“No.” He cut her off, his voice sharp. “It’s not fair. It’s my life.”

His father stood, his towering presence only adding to the tension. “You are a prince before you are a man. And you will do what is required of you.”

Harry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His entire life had been dictated by duty, by expectations, by rules. But this? This was too far.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining hall, ignoring the calls of his mother and the murmurs of the guests. He needed air. He needed an escape.

That was how he found himself in the heart of London hours later, dressed in worn jeans and a hoodie, stepping into a dimly lit bar.

The place smelled of whiskey and cigarette smoke, the low hum of conversation blending with the faint sound of a jukebox playing an old rock song. It was exactly what he needed.

Behind the bar, you were wiping down the counter when he approached. You recognized him immediately - how could you not? He was the Prince of England, his face plastered across tabloids and news outlets constantly.

But instead of gawking or treating him like royalty, you simply raised an eyebrow.

“What’ll it be?”

Harry smirked, but there was a bitterness to it. “You’re not gonna bow or curtsy?”

You snorted, leaning on the counter. “You want me to? ’Cause I’m pretty sure you came in here looking like a regular bloke for a reason.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard. Most people fawned over him, desperate for a selfie or a conversation that they could brag about later. But you… you didn’t seem to care.

And for the first time that day, Harry felt like he could breathe.

So he told you everything. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way you just listened, nodding along without judgment. You even did a few shots with him, making sure he had a good time. He didn’t have to be Prince Harry here - he could just be Harry.

And when the night ended, it didn’t feel like a mistake when he ended up in your bed.

One night turned into two. Then three. Then a routine.

Harry kept coming back, and you never asked for anything more than what he was willing to give. No expectations, no pressure. Just him.

But that all came crashing down one night when, at nearly 3AM, frantic knocking at your door jolted you awake.

You barely had time to open it before Harry barreled inside, his face streaked with tears, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“I can’t do this,” he choked out, collapsing into your arms. “My father’s going to start looking for a wife for me. I can’t- I won’t… be forced into some loveless marriage with a woman who only wants the title. I just want-“ He sucked in a breath. “I just want to be happy. I want love. A real family. Not something arranged for me like I’m some pawn.”

You held him, running soothing circles along his back. You wanted to say something comforting, but what words could possibly fix this?

And then, an idea struck.

“Harry,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. “What if… what if you introduced me to them?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“What if we got married?” You swallowed hard, nervous about his reaction. “I mean, at least we like each other. It wouldn’t be forced. And it’d buy you time - keep you from being stuck with someone awful.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “They’d never let me marry a bartender.”

“Then I won’t be a bartender.” You took a breath. “I’ll tell them I’m in college, that I’d drop out for you. We can make this work - we just have to convince them.”

He stared at you, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

Then, against all odds, a small, breathless laugh escaped his lips.

“You’re mad.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “But so are you for coming here at 3AM crying in my arms.”

Harry let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. Then, he looked at you again - really looked at you.

“Alright,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s do it.”

The plan was simple.

Well, as simple as introducing a commoner bartender to the King and Queen of England under the guise of being a respectable college student could be.

Harry sat across from you in your small apartment, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared at the floor. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of the world pressing down on him.

“This is crazy,” he muttered.

You leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “A little.”

“They’ll never go for it.”

You shrugged. “Not if you walk in there doubting it. You have to make them believe it.”

Harry let out a deep sigh and dragged his hands through his curls. You could tell he was struggling. He wanted a way out of this marriage arrangement, but deceiving his family - especially his mother - wasn’t something he took lightly.

“You know they’ll do a background check on you, right?” he asked.

“Obviously,” you said. “Which is why we have to be smart. I’ll tell them I’m in school, that I study… something impressive.”

“Political science,” Harry said quickly. “That would make sense. It would explain why we met - maybe at some charity event or lecture I attended.”

You nodded. “Right. And we’ve been seeing each other for months now, just keeping it quiet.”

Harry exhaled sharply, glancing over at you. “And you’d really do this?”

You looked at him, taking in the uncertainty in his eyes. This wasn’t just about helping him avoid a loveless marriage. It was more than that. Somewhere along the way, what started as casual hookups and late-night conversations had turned into something deeper. You liked him - more than you should have, more than you were willing to admit.

So you swallowed down the nerves creeping up your spine and nodded. “Yeah. I would.”

His lips parted slightly, his gaze searching yours. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he must have found it.

Because he whispered, “Okay.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation.

Harry took care of the logistics, ensuring that you were given the right credentials, setting up a believable history of your supposed time at university. He even had someone help polish up your online presence - social media accounts cleaned up, LinkedIn updated with impressive details that made you sound like a brilliant up-and-coming scholar rather than a bartender slinging drinks to London’s rowdiest crowds.

Meanwhile, you practiced.

You memorized details about your “studies,” learned the etiquette of addressing royals properly (even though Harry assured you that his parents wouldn’t expect you to bow or curtsy), and prepared answers for the inevitable questions about your background.

But the hardest part wasn’t the preparation.

It was the waiting.

The night before you were supposed to meet them, Harry stayed over. You sat together on your couch, both nursing glasses of whiskey, the air between you heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“If this goes wrong…” Harry murmured, staring at his glass.

You shifted closer to him. “Then we deal with it.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it is.”

Harry turned his head toward you, his green eyes filled with something unreadable. His gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest moment before he shook his head and looked away.

“I don’t deserve this,” he muttered.

You frowned. “Don’t deserve what?”

“This. You.” He swallowed. “I dragged you into this mess, and you’re willing to lie to my entire family just to help me.”

Your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just about helping him.

But instead, you smirked and nudged his shoulder. “Well, I’m not doing it for free. I expect lifetime access to the palace’s wine collection.”

Harry huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Deal.”

Buckingham Palace was even more intimidating in person.

You had never been inside before, and now, standing in the grand foyer with its towering ceilings and ornate chandeliers, you felt very, very small.

Harry stood beside you, dressed in a sharp navy suit, looking every bit the prince he was. He had told you not to be nervous, that his mother would be kind and his father would be fair.

But none of that mattered when the King and Queen of England entered the room.

Queen Anne was graceful and poised, her smile warm as she took you in. She was beautiful, elegant in a way that made you understand why the country adored her.

King Edward, on the other hand, was… intimidating. His gaze was sharp, assessing, his posture rigid as he studied you.

“So,” the King said, his voice deep and measured. “You are the woman my son has been seeing.”

You straightened your spine, keeping your expression polite but neutral. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was a pause. The tension in the room was thick, like everyone was waiting for someone to say something that would determine the entire outcome of this meeting.

Queen Anne smiled. “Harry has spoken highly of you.”

You glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.

You turned back to her. “That’s very kind of him.”

“What is it you study?” the King asked.

“Political science,” you answered smoothly. “I’ve always been passionate about government and international relations.”

The Queen tilted her head. “How did you two meet?”

Harry stepped in. “At a private charity event. We got to talking about politics, and we just… connected.”

The King didn’t seem convinced. He studied you for a long moment before finally saying, “And tell me, if this were to continue - if it were to become official - would you be willing to give up your personal ambitions to stand by my son’s side?”

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. “If it meant supporting Harry, then yes.”

The Queen seemed pleased with that answer. The King, however, remained unreadable.

Finally, he looked at Harry. “A word. Alone.”

Harry stiffened, but nodded.

You watched as he followed his father out of the room, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Queen Anne turned to you with a kind smile. “Would you like some tea while they talk?”

You managed a smile, but your mind was racing.

The moment the King led Harry out of the room, your stomach twisted into knots.

Queen Anne, ever the picture of warmth and grace, poured you a cup of tea with delicate hands, as if this were nothing more than an afternoon social call. You tried to steady your nerves, tried to ignore the fact that just beyond these walls, Harry was being confronted by one of the most powerful men in the world.

You wrapped your hands around the fine china cup, more for something to hold than to actually drink from it.

The Queen studied you for a moment before speaking. “I must say, I was quite surprised when Harry told us about you.”

You forced a polite smile. “I imagine so.”

She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “Not because of who you are, but because Harry has never been one to commit. Not to anything that wasn’t forced upon him.”

Your throat tightened. Was this a test? A warning?

“You must mean a great deal to him if he brought you here,” she continued.

You hesitated before responding. “I’d like to think so.”

The Queen smiled knowingly, but there was something sharp in her eyes, something that told you she wasn’t as easily convinced as she seemed.

You were about to say something else when the doors swung open, and Harry reentered. You barely had time to assess his expression before he turned to you.

“We should go.”

Something was wrong.

You set down your tea and rose to your feet, glancing at the Queen, who simply nodded in farewell. As you followed Harry out of the room, you kept your voice low.

“What happened?”

He didn’t respond until you were outside, stepping into the sleek black car waiting to take you away from Buckingham Palace. The second the doors shut, Harry let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“He doesn’t believe it,” he muttered.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“My father. He doesn’t believe us.”

You swallowed hard. “What did he say?”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “He said I’m lying. That this is all an act to get out of my arranged marriage. That you’re nothing more than an excuse.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “So what now?”

Harry turned to you, his jaw tight, his green eyes dark with frustration. “Now? Now he’s going to do everything in his power to prove I’m lying.”

Over the next week, the scrutiny was relentless.

The palace had people digging into your past, scouring every detail of your life, looking for any reason to dismiss you. Paparazzi started sniffing around, and before long, tabloids were already speculating about Harry’s “mystery woman.”

You’d never been under this kind of microscope before. At work, people whispered when they saw you. Your coworkers asked questions. And when the first grainy photos of you and Harry surfaced online - him walking you to your door, his hand lingering on your waist - the media frenzy only grew worse.

But the real pressure came from within the palace itself.

Queen Anne invited you to lunch three days after your meeting, her expression as gentle as ever but her words careful. “You must understand,” she said, her hands folded neatly on the table, “this isn’t just about Harry. It’s about the monarchy, about the future of the country. If you truly care for him, you must be prepared for what this life entails.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge.

And then there was the King.

He summoned you alone one evening, without Harry’s knowledge. The meeting took place in one of the palace’s smaller sitting rooms, the air thick with unspoken tension.

The King sat across from you, his sharp eyes assessing, calculating. “You think this will work?” he asked bluntly.

You held his gaze. “I think Harry should be allowed to choose his own future.”

A small, humorless smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And you believe you are that future?

You swallowed, keeping your expression steady. “I believe I care about him enough to try.”

The King leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “Tell me, how much is he paying you?”

The words struck like a slap. Your breath caught in your throat, but you refused to let the shock show.

“I’m sorry?”

The King’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so cold. “I know my son. He is desperate to escape the obligations placed upon him, desperate enough to go to great lengths to do so.” He tilted his head. “So tell me - how much did he offer you? Money? Status? What was the deal?”

Your blood ran cold.

Your entire life, you had been underestimated, dismissed by people who thought they were better than you. But this - this was the King of England accusing you of being a gold-digger, a liar, a pawn in his son’s game.

And you wouldn’t stand for it.

You straightened your shoulders and met his gaze head-on. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I don’t need Harry’s money. I don’t need his title. I don’t need anything from him.”

The King studied you, but you weren’t done.

“I didn’t come into his life looking for a way out of mine. And I certainly didn’t agree to this relationship because of what he could offer me. I care about him. I see him as a person, not just a prince. And if that’s not good enough for you, then I don’t know what is.”

A beat of silence passed.

And then, to your utter shock, the King chuckled.

It was a deep, knowing sound, like he had expected you to break and was almost impressed that you hadn’t. He stood, brushing nonexistent dust off his perfectly tailored suit.

“Well then,” he said. “I suppose we’ll see how long you last.”

And just like that, he walked out, leaving you alone in the vast, empty room.

Your hands trembled slightly as you exhaled.

This wasn’t just a test anymore.

This was war.

When you told Harry about the conversation later that night, he was furious.

“He what?” Harry’s voice was sharp, his hands clenched into fists as he paced your apartment. “He accused you of- bloody hell.”

You sat on the couch, watching him wear a hole into your floor. “Harry, calm down.”

“No.” He stopped, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “He had no right to do that. No right to treat you like-” He cut himself off, his jaw tight.

You stood, walking over to him and resting a hand on his arm. “I handled it.”

Harry’s expression softened slightly, but the frustration didn’t leave his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You sighed. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy. And honestly? I think your dad respects me more now.”

Harry let out a breath, dragging a hand through his curls. “That makes one of us.”

You smirked. “Oh, come on. What would be the fun in this if there wasn’t a bit of royal drama?”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

Harry exhaled and cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Here we are.”

And as he kissed you, slow and deep, you realized something terrifying.

This wasn’t just a plan anymore.

You were falling for him.

And if this all went wrong, you weren’t sure your heart would survive it.

It had been two weeks since your confrontation with the King.

Two weeks of scrutiny, of whispered meetings with Harry in your apartment, of watching the media dissect every little movement you made. The palace hadn’t officially acknowledged your relationship, but the press had already put the pieces together. Every tabloid ran their own version of the story - some calling you a mystery scholar, others labeling you a gold-digger who had seduced the prince.

And through it all, Harry had been by your side.

He showed up at your apartment almost every night, exhausted and frustrated, but unwilling to let this fight go. You’d stay up for hours, strategizing your next move, trying to find a way to win his father over. But as much as you prepared, you knew one thing - if the King had already made up his mind, nothing would change it.

And that became painfully clear when Harry got the news.

The King had begun the search for his future wife.

Harry stormed into your apartment that night, his face red with anger, his curls a mess from running his hands through them. The moment he saw you, he grabbed your face and kissed you - desperate, urgent, like he needed to remind himself that you were real.

When he pulled away, he was breathing heavily.

“He’s doing it,” he spat. “He’s already selecting candidates. He’s meeting with their families, setting up discreet meetings.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“Harry-“

“I won’t do it.” His voice was sharp, unwavering. “I won’t marry some aristocrat I don’t know. I won’t be forced into a life I don’t want.”

You swallowed, reaching for his hands. “Then we have to do something.”

He exhaled shakily, his grip tightening around yours. “Like what?”

And that’s when the idea hit you.

“An engagement.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

You took a deep breath. “If we announce our engagement first - publicly - then your father will have no choice but to acknowledge us. He can’t force you into another marriage if the world already sees you as taken.”

Harry stared at you, his green eyes searching yours. “That’s insane.”

You shrugged. “A little.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, to your shock, Harry let out a small, breathless laugh.

“You’re serious.”

You lifted a brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He ran a hand down his face. “Because this isn’t just pretending anymore. This would mean… forever.”

Something in your chest tightened, but you kept your voice steady. “Is that really so bad?”

Harry’s expression shifted. He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not if it’s with you.”

Your breath caught.

And then, just like that, the decision was made.

The palace was in chaos.

The moment Harry posted a simple photo on Instagram - his hand wrapped around yours, a stunning engagement ring on your finger - the world erupted.

News outlets scrambled for statements. Social media went into a frenzy. And within an hour, Buckingham Palace was forced to issue a public response.

You sat in your apartment, your phone buzzing nonstop, watching the royal spokesperson deliver a carefully worded statement on TV.

“His Royal Highness Prince Henry has announced his engagement. The Royal Family was not made aware of this decision beforehand, but we offer our congratulations and will provide further statements in due course.”

Not exactly the warmest endorsement.

But it didn’t matter. Because now, the entire world knew.

And that meant the King couldn’t erase you.

Harry had warned you that the palace would summon you soon.

He just didn’t expect it to happen the next morning.

You barely had time to process the news before a sleek black car arrived at your apartment, and suddenly, you were being driven straight to Buckingham Palace.

By the time you entered the grand hall, your nerves were on fire.

Harry was already there, standing tall in front of his parents. Queen Anne looked composed, her lips pressed together as she studied you. But King Edward…

He was furious.

His gaze cut through you like a blade. “So this is how you do things?” he said coldly. “Announcing an engagement without our approval? Trapping us into accepting this circus?”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to back down. You lifted your chin. “Harry made his choice.”

The King scoffed. “A choice? No, this is manipulation. A desperate attempt to back us into a corner.” His sharp eyes turned to Harry. “And you. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice unwavering. “I chose her.”

The King clenched his jaw. “Do you even understand the consequences of this? You think you can just marry some commoner and expect the world to accept it?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Maybe the world would accept it if you did.”

The tension was suffocating.

And then, for the first time, Queen Anne spoke.

“I’d like a moment alone with her.”

Everyone turned to look at her. The King frowned, but after a long pause, he nodded. “Fine.”

Harry hesitated before turning to you. His fingers brushed against yours in a silent reassurance before he followed his father out of the room.

And then it was just you and the Queen.

She studied you for a long moment before finally speaking. “Are you in love with him?”

The question caught you off guard. You opened your mouth, then closed it.

Were you?

This had started as a plan - a way to protect Harry from an arranged marriage. But somewhere along the way, you had fallen. Fallen for his laughter, his late-night rants about music, the way he looked at you like you were the only person who had ever really seen him.

So you took a deep breath and told the truth.

“Yes.”

Queen Anne’s expression didn’t change. “And do you truly believe you can handle this life?”

You swallowed. “I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.”

She was silent for a moment. Then, to your shock, she let out a soft chuckle.

“You remind me of myself,” she murmured.

You blinked. “What?”

She smiled, but there was a knowing sadness in her eyes. “When I married Edward, I wasn’t what the world expected, either. I was too bold, too outspoken, too… untraditional.” She sighed. “But I loved him. And I fought for my place here.”

She met your gaze.

“So if you truly love my son, then fight for him.”

Your breath caught. “Does that mean…?”

The Queen smiled faintly. “It means I won’t stand in your way.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

She wasn’t giving you full approval. Not yet.

But she was giving you a chance.

And right now, that was more than enough.

When you walked out of the room, Harry was waiting.

The moment he saw you, he rushed forward, his hands finding yours. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, then smiled.

“She’s on our side.”

Harry’s lips parted in shock. Then, without thinking, he pulled you into his arms, lifting you slightly off the ground.

And as he kissed you - right there in the halls of Buckingham Palace - you realized something.

This wasn’t a plan anymore.

This was real.

And you were ready to fight for it.

You weren’t surprised when the King requested to see you alone.

After all, Queen Anne may have been willing to give you a chance, but King Edward? He wasn’t one to accept things so easily.

So when a royal advisor arrived at your apartment with the summons, you didn’t hesitate. You knew what this was. A test. A final attempt to break you, to make you doubt yourself, to push you into walking away.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

You were led through the grand halls of Buckingham Palace, your footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Every corner of this place reminded you that you didn’t belong here - not yet. But if the King thought he could intimidate you into submission, he was about to be very disappointed.

The advisor finally stopped in front of a massive oak door. “He’s waiting inside,” he said stiffly.

You nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped in.

King Edward was seated in a large armchair near the fireplace, his posture straight, his hands folded neatly over his knee. The room was dimly lit, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face. He didn’t look up immediately, instead staring at the fire as if deep in thought.

You didn’t speak first. If there was one thing you’d learned from watching him, it was that he commanded every room he was in. He expected obedience. Expected people to fold under his silence.

So you waited.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled sharply through his nose and turned his gaze toward you.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a request.

But you stayed standing.

“I’d rather not.”

His brow arched slightly, the first sign of surprise. “Is that so?”

You lifted your chin. “If you called me here just to intimidate me, Your Majesty, I’d rather skip the formalities.”

Something flickered in his eyes - annoyance, amusement, you weren’t sure. He studied you for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair.

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “I think I love your son.”

His jaw tightened. “Love.” He let the word linger in the air before scoffing. “Do you have any idea what it means to love someone like Harry? What it means to be part of this family?”

“I understand more than you think.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Then you understand that this isn’t a fairy tale. You are not a princess. You are not meant for this life.”

You clenched your fists. “Who decides that? You?”

“Yes.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. “I decide. Because I have spent my entire life protecting this family, this monarchy, from people like you.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “People like me?”

“People who don’t understand what this life requires. People who think love is enough to survive it. People who will break under the weight of it.” His eyes burned into yours. “You think you’re ready for this? Ready to be scrutinized, criticized, torn apart by the press? Ready to be hated by the people who don’t believe you deserve to stand beside him? Ready to sacrifice your life, your privacy, your freedom?”

Your throat tightened. You had thought about it. But hearing it like this - so brutally, so coldly - made it real.

Still, you didn’t back down.

“I don’t care what the press says about me,” you said firmly. “I don’t care about the public’s approval. I don’t care about titles or palaces or any of this.” You took a step forward, your voice unwavering. “The only thing I care about is Harry. And I won’t walk away just because you think I should.”

The King’s expression darkened. “You are playing a dangerous game.”

“So are you.” You met his gaze without flinching. “Because if you keep pushing Harry away, you’ll lose him.”

The muscles in his jaw tensed. “You think he’d leave his family?”

“I think he’s already considering it.”

That hit its mark.

For the first time, King Edward looked genuinely unsettled.

Good.

You took another step forward, your voice softening just enough. “I don’t want to take him from you. I don’t want to be the reason he walks away. But if you force him into a life he doesn’t want… if you push him into a marriage that will make him miserable… he will leave.”

Silence.

The King stared at you, his expression unreadable.

And then, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he said, “Do you truly love him?”

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a brief moment. When he looked at you again, something in his gaze had shifted.

Not acceptance. Not approval.

But understanding.

“Then prove it.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

“If you truly love my son,” the King said, standing to his full height, towering over you, “then prove it. Prove that you can handle this life. That you can handle me.”

You squared your shoulders. “I already have.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk but refused to.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked past you, leaving the room.

The moment the door shut behind him, you finally exhaled, your hands shaking.

You had won - for now.

But this war wasn’t over.

Not yet.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the door finally opened again.

Harry rushed in, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tense. “What did he say to you?”

You swallowed, still feeling the weight of the conversation. “He tested me.”

Harry stepped closer, reaching for your hands. His were warm, steady - grounding. “What do you mean?”

You met his gaze. “He wanted me to back down. To walk away. To prove that I wasn’t strong enough for this.”

Harry exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Of course he did.” His grip tightened around yours. “And?”

You let out a slow breath. “I didn’t.”

His expression softened, something like admiration flickering in his green eyes. “You stood up to him.”

You gave a small, tired smile. “For you? Always.”

Harry cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “You shouldn’t have to fight for me.”

“But I will.” You held his gaze, unwavering. “If that’s what it takes, I will.”

Harry let out a breathy laugh, but there was something vulnerable in it. Like he wasn’t used to being fought for. Like he had spent his whole life being treated as an asset, a pawn in the monarchy’s game. And now, here you were, standing in front of him - defying the King himself - just to be with him.

His lips met yours, slow and lingering, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word into the kiss. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I love you.” His voice was hoarse, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for too long.

Your breath hitched. You had known it - felt it - but hearing it was something else entirely.

You smiled, your fingers curling around his collar. “I love you too.”

A soft knock at the door made you both pull apart.

A royal advisor stepped in, looking as stiff as ever. “His Majesty requests an audience with the Prince.”

Harry frowned. “Alone?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Harry looked back at you, hesitation flickering across his face. You squeezed his hand. “Go,” you whispered. “See what he wants.”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly reluctant, but nodded. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before following the advisor out of the room.

And you?

You stayed behind, your mind spinning.

Because while you had won the first battle, you knew the war was far from over.

Harry returned hours later, his face unreadable as he shut the door behind him.

You stood from the couch immediately. “What happened?”

Harry dragged a hand through his curls before finally looking at you. “He gave me a choice.”

Your stomach dropped. “What choice?”

His jaw clenched. “Stay in the royal family and marry someone of his choosing… or leave it all behind.”

Silence.

Your heart pounded. “Harry…”

His eyes softened as he stepped forward, his hands settling on your waist. “I told him my answer before he even finished speaking.”

You swallowed hard. “Which is?”

His thumb brushed against your hip. “You.”

Your breath caught.

Harry took a deep breath, his voice steady. “I’d rather walk away from the crown than lose you.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” His hands moved to cradle your face. “I was born into this, but it’s not my life. It’s theirs. And if I have to give it up to be happy, then so be it.”

You shook your head, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I don’t want you to resent me-“

“I could never resent you.” His gaze was fierce, unwavering. “You are the only thing in my life that feels real. And I won’t let my father take that from me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “What happens now?”

Harry’s lips pressed into a firm line. “We fight.”

And looking into his eyes, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t fighting alone.

You weren’t going to stand by and let this happen.

The moment Harry told you what his father had said - what he was threatening - something inside you snapped.

You knew the King didn’t approve of you. That he wanted you gone. But to go as far as to force Harry to choose between you and his entire family?

No. Absolutely not.

So while Harry was in another wing of the palace, distracted in a meeting, you stormed through the halls of Buckingham Palace with a fire in your veins. The staff gawked as you passed, but no one dared to stop you. Maybe it was the determination in your stride, or maybe they were simply too stunned to believe what they were seeing - a commoner marching straight toward the King’s office unannounced.

You didn’t knock.

You pushed open the heavy oak doors with more force than necessary, making them slam against the walls.

King Edward looked up from his desk, startled for only a second before his expression turned to cold disapproval.

“You are out of line,” he said sharply.

You didn’t care.

You stepped inside, shutting the doors behind you. “You can’t do this to him.”

The King leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a blank expression. “Do what?”

“Don’t play games with me.” Your voice shook with anger. “You know what. You can’t just kick your own son out of the family because he refuses to be your puppet.”

Edward’s eyes darkened. “You think this is my doing? Harry made his own choice.”

“No, you forced his hand.” You stepped closer, slamming your hands onto his desk. “You gave him an impossible choice: abandon me or abandon his entire family. Do you even hear yourself?”

His jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

Your chest heaved, your voice growing desperate. “You’re supposed to be his father. His family. And instead of supporting him, you’re pushing him away. You’re punishing him for wanting to be happy.”

King Edward let out a slow breath, his gaze sharp. “And what would you have me do? Let him throw away centuries of tradition for a woman who doesn’t belong in this world?”

You clenched your fists. “I don’t give a damn about tradition. What I care about is Harry. And whether you like it or not, he’s still your son. You can’t just cut him off because he refuses to live his life according to your rules.”

The King studied you, his eyes cold. “And why do you care so much? Is it because you fear losing your new luxurious lifestyle?”

Your anger flared so hot it nearly burned.

“You think this is about money?” Your voice rose, filled with frustration. “You think I’m doing all of this because I want a title? A palace? You have no idea who I am.”

The King arched a brow. “Enlighten me, then.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady. “I love Harry. Not because he’s a prince. Not because of his wealth or his status. I love him because he’s kind. Because he’s funny and stubborn and passionate. Because he’s the only person who has ever truly seen me.” You swallowed hard, eyes burning. “And I refuse to let you take him away from the people who love him just because he refuses to be your perfect prince.”

Silence.

You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the tension in the air so thick it was suffocating.

But you didn’t back down.

“I will fight for him,” you continued, voice unwavering. “I will fight for his happiness, for his right to choose his own life. Even if it means standing against you, I won’t give up on him.”

For a moment, the King just stared at you.

And then-

He grinned.

A slow, amused grin that made your stomach twist.

“Welcome to the family.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

The King leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “You passed.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

His smirk deepened. “You think I was really going to cast my own son out?” He scoffed. “Harry may be reckless, but he’s still mine. I needed to see if you were strong enough to stand by him. If you’d crumble under pressure… or if you’d fight for him.”

Realization hit you like a freight train.

“This was all a test?” you said in disbelief.

The King’s expression turned knowing. “Did you really think I’d let my son marry someone who wouldn’t protect him?” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Harry is emotional. Impulsive. He needs someone who will stand their ground, someone who won’t walk away when things get difficult.” He gave you a pointed look. “And you just proved that you’re exactly that person.”

You were still reeling. “So… you approve?”

The King chuckled, standing from his chair. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He smirked. “But I’ll allow it.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. After everything - every argument, every moment of doubt - he was letting you stay.

You had won.

Just as you were about to respond, the doors suddenly flew open again.

Harry stormed in, his green eyes wide with panic. “What the hell is going on?” His gaze darted between you and his father, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I leave for one hour and suddenly you’re having a meeting without me?”

You turned to him, still stunned. “Harry…”

The King smirked. “Relax, son. Your little spitfire here just proved herself.”

Harry blinked, completely thrown. “Proved herself?”

The King clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “She’s a fighter. You chose well.”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “Wait- you mean?-“

“I won’t stand in your way,” Edward said simply. Then he turned to you, eyes glinting with something almost… proud. “But be warned, young lady - being part of this family is no easy task.”

You lifted your chin. “I never expected it to be.”

The King studied you for a final moment before nodding. “Good.” He glanced at Harry. “Try not to embarrass me, son.”

And with that, he strode past both of you, leaving the office like nothing had happened.

Harry stared after him, then turned to you. “What the hell just happened?”

You let out a breathless laugh, still processing. “I think… we won.”

Harry blinked. Then, without warning, he grabbed you by the waist, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You shrieked in surprise, laughing as he kissed you - deep, desperate, filled with relief.

When he set you back down, he pressed his forehead against yours. “You did this for me?”

You smiled. “I’d do anything for you.”

His green eyes burned with love. “God, I love you so much.”

And as you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you knew - this was just the beginning.

The moment the King gave his reluctant approval, everything changed.

There was no more hiding, no more sneaking around. The press exploded with headlines about Prince Harry’s shocking engagement to a commoner, the royal advisors scrambled to prepare the public for the news, and the palace staff suddenly had to make space for you in Buckingham Palace.

And you?

You were caught in the middle of a whirlwind.

Standing in your tiny apartment, surrounded by half-filled boxes, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.

This place had been yours. A space that belonged to no one else, where you had lived freely, without the weight of the crown pressing down on you.

Now, you were about to trade it all for a palace.

For him.

Harry sat on your couch, watching as you folded a sweater into a box labeled clothes. His elbows rested on his knees, fingers playing with the rings on his hand.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You exhaled, forcing a smile. “Yeah. It’s just… weird.”

Harry nodded, understanding. “I get it. This is a big change.”

You looked at him, searching his face. “Are you sure about this? About me moving in?”

Harry scoffed, standing up and wrapping his arms around you. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming about this since the first time I woke up in your bed.” His lips brushed against your temple. “I want you there. I want to fall asleep with you every night. Wake up with you every morning.”

Your heart melted a little. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you, love.” He smirked before looking around the apartment. “Do you want to keep this place?”

You hesitated.

“I mean… it’s not like I need it,” you admitted. “But it’s the first place that ever felt like mine, you know?”

Harry nodded in understanding. “Then keep it.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

His smile was soft. “You don’t have to live here, but it can still be yours. Somewhere to escape when the palace gets too much.”

Your chest tightened. How did he always know exactly what you needed?

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I love you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

Walking into the palace with your belongings felt surreal.

The grand halls, the expensive paintings, the endless corridors - it still didn’t feel real. You weren’t just visiting anymore. You lived here now.

Staff members were already bringing in your boxes, setting them in the suite you’d now share with Harry. It was massive, more like an apartment within the palace itself, with high ceilings, antique furniture, and a balcony overlooking the royal gardens.

You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

“This is insane,” you whispered.

Harry grinned, leaning against the doorway. “A bit different from your apartment, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare. “Just a bit.”

He walked over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You’ll get used to it.”

You leaned into him, sighing. “I don’t want to lose myself, Harry.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You won’t. You’re you - the woman who stormed into my father’s office and yelled at the King of England.” He chuckled. “Trust me, no palace is gonna change you.”

You smiled, relaxing into his embrace.

Maybe he was right.

The next few weeks were absolute chaos.

Meetings with royal advisors, endless dress fittings, security briefings, and etiquette lessons that made your head spin. There were rules to follow now - how to sit, how to speak, how to wave (yes, there’s an actual royal wave).

Every day was another step closer to the wedding.

And every day, it felt more real.

One afternoon, you sat in the Queen’s private sitting room, flipping through a massive book of wedding venue options. Queen Anne sat across from you, poised and elegant as ever, but her gaze was warm.

“You must be exhausted,” she said knowingly.

You exhaled, nodding. “There’s just… a lot to take in.”

She smiled. “That’s an understatement.”

You hesitated before speaking. “How did you handle it? When you married the King?”

Her smile faltered just slightly, as if she were recalling something distant. “It wasn’t easy,” she admitted. “I had to fight for my place, just like you.” She studied you for a moment. “But I see now why Harry chose you. You’re stronger than you realize.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest. “Thank you.”

She nodded, flipping to another page in the book. “Now, let’s pick a venue before the King takes over and insists on Westminster Abbey.”

You laughed. “God forbid.”

She smirked. “Exactly.”

For the first time, you felt like you truly belonged.

This wedding - this life - was yours. And you were ready.

The morning of your wedding dawned with a golden sunrise spilling through the palace windows. The air buzzed with nervous excitement, and the entire world seemed to be watching.

Today, you would officially become a member of the royal family.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Which op yan do you think would be the most annoying texter in a modern au?? I think sanji would drive me insane, I know he'd be texting nonstop. I also think buggy would ask his romantic interest if they'd still love him as a worm. Many times.

Sanji would be so excessive. You have to put your phone on do not disturb just to have a moment's peace. It literally never ends.

Sanji: Good morning, my love! It's another beautiful day of being able to call you mine 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

*pic attached*

Sanji: Here's the breakfast I'm making you! I'll bring it over as soon as it's done 😋😘

-

*sends a pic of any two things next to each other*

Sanji: This is literally us 🥺

-

Sanji: I just wanted to say again how much I love you💞❤️🩷💕💞💓🩷💕💞 (he says this even though he saw you in person three minutes ago and said the exact same thing then)

-

Sanji: Where did you go???? Are you mad at me??????? Have you been kidnapped?????????

Sanji: Oh wait never mind I see you now

Sanji: I'm calling your name why are you running the other way?

Buggy is someone who needs constant reassurance, and he uses having your phone number as a means to constantly get that from you. But like he's also very dramatic about it.

Buggy: do u hate me now? say it to my face at least

You: literally what are you talking about?

Buggy: I asked you a question and you ignored me!

You: I was gone for like 2 minutes????

Buggy: AND???? Why were you gone???

You: I was ordering some food for us but nvm I'm gonna go home and eat it all myself 😒

Buggy: ...

Buggy: I'm sorry please don't hate me for real now 🥺🥺🥺 I love you so much baby please don't leave me 😭😭😭

Zoro is on the opposite end of the spectrum because he doesn't text excessively, but you are lucky to get more than a one word response out of him. You could send him a several paragraph long text spilling your guts to him and all you'll get from him is a "k" or "alright" or "👍". If you send more than two texts in a row, he'll tell you to just call him if you're going to yap that much.

Luffy doesn't text, he sends voice memos. Not only does he send an absurd amount of them, but they're also all stupidly long because he gets distracted and rambles to his heart's content. What was supposed to be a simple voice memo asking if his jacket is at your place comes to you with a 31:46 time on it because he saw a cool looking beetle outside and just had to tell you about it in the memo. Half the time he forgets that he isn't actually on the phone with you and will ask a question several times before he remembers.

Doflamingo sends a lot of texts, but all of them are voice to text and are almost entirely unintelligible. The voice to text function wasn't designed to interpret his weird inflections and maniacal laughter. He also has a tendency to talk to other people in the middle of sending a text to you, so you have a whole ass random conversation smack in the middle of the text. He then has the audacity to have an attitude with you when you didn't catch the important thing he told you.

With Ace, you're going to feel like you're communicating via hieroglyphics because of how many of his messages to you are just memes/reaction images. He won't elaborate and lets you figure out what they mean. Did he just find that meme funny, or is there a hidden message in it? Who knows.

And then you have all of the old men (Sengoku, Garp, Whitebeard, etc) who can't text for shit and will send a series of unintelligible and confused texts before sending a very defeated "please call me"

[xlatrina]

(Pt. III) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!). 

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Crawling

This man is in love with you.

Lowkey could stop right there.

Well, anyway…

Mr. Crawling is a GREAT friend, actually.

Like he’s the kind of buddy that’s —first of all —down for whatever.

You said you tryna go walk through an unfamiliar part of the Apartments to try and find a mysterious elevator?

Well…

YEAH SURE HE’LL TAG ALONG

I MEAN… WHY THE HELL NOT, Y’KNOW??

“Me know place here,” He’ll say. More or less: I know this place!

And he’s so damn chipper about it, too!

He’s just an overall helpful guy.

He seems to have an intrinsic protective streak in him, too.

Which is interesting, ‘cause it’s like…

While it’s obvious he’s been in the Apartments for a long time, it’s clear that he hasn’t completely lost his sense of humanity.

I mean, trust —it’s definitely worn in some ways.

Like, he eats people bruh.

Trust, his sense of humanity is def gone in some ways...

But!! At least he's not as violent as the other ghosts can be!!

Like, generally speaking, you’ll find that he’s a pretty admirable dude.

He doesn’t hurt other entities for the pure sake of hurting them.

Defense, and alternatively —for food or other resources like clothes or tools.

Those would probably be the only reasons Mr. Crawling would ever just… attack someone, especially unprovoked (unprovoked, but not necessarily without reason).

That being said, he’s a social butterfly!!

He’s literally a professional yapper in every sense of the word.

Like… he could start a podcast LMAO

Podcast Bro!Mr. Crawling…

Anywho, he’s genuinely a people person and he likes being in good company.

Whether it’s you, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Stitch(?), the Nurse, Mr. Wheelchair, the Hairdresser, etc…

He’s genuinely the type who could talk to literally anyone about anything for any amount of time.

If you’re a yapper too, this’ll probably be fun for you!

And hell, you may very well have met your match, LOL.

If you’re more introverted or quiet —no matter.

Mr. Crawling, being the professional he is, knows how to fill up any awkward silences with banter.

He doesn’t judge you at all on the basis of how you react to his yapping. Truly.

At the end of the day, he just enjoys sharing your company and getting to hear your voice, as little or as often as that occurs.

Hopefully, you don’t find his constant need for company annoying.

… Do you find him annoying?

At some point, Mr. Crawling begins to realize his feelings for you have changed…

In the case you accept him as a partner, he’s absolutely OVERJOYED.

Not only have you promised to indefinitely keep his company, but you also accepted him as your better half!

“You enjoy me?” He’ll ask, pulling himself over your curled-up form beneath the thin white sheets of the hospital bed.

“Me enjoy you,” you’ll say. You might even pet his head a few times, and he’ll giggle maniacally before dropping his head into your neck.

As Mr. Crawling’s fondness for you intensifies, so does his protective streak.

This guy turns into Papa Bear when it comes down to protecting his better half.

What Megan thee Stallion said??

“Three things I don’t play about: myself, my money, or my man!”

That, but more like: “... my friends, or my partner!”

Something like that, LOL.

Mr. Crawling’s sweethearted, bubbly, outgoing, protective, and quite affectionate. Intimacy is a language he speaks as fluently as his otherworldly one.

As we know, he’s very much the “high-maintenance” type.

He’s just super affectionate overall —and Mr. Crawling just wants to know that you’re always on the same page!

Tell him you love him. 

Tell him how fun it was exploring the same old dreary halls with him. Tell him how relieved you felt when he swooped in to shield you from danger, even though you could handle yourself just fine. Run your fingers through his hair and massage the nape of his neck as you tell him how much you’ve come to enjoy —and maybe even crave —his company.

And when you’re done…

Tell him you love him. Yes, again. Again and again and again and again and again…

He could never get enough. Truly.

He could never get enough of you.

With a boyfriend like Mr. Crawling, you’ll never have to fear a lack of comfort, protection, friendship, or intimacy…

Because he’s constantly giving it to you. 

You don’t even need to ask for any kind of intimacy —again, he’s giving it to you anyway.

And whether you’d like to shack up in a nearby spare room beside Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped’s loungeroom (of the sort) or if you take him with you to the surface world…

It makes no real difference in the way Mr. Crawling clings to you.

All he knows is so long as you’re both finding yourselves tangled together beneath the sheets each night, all is right in the world!

Mr. Crawling just wants to spend his evenings at home, and if home is where the heart is, then…

Well, you know how that goes!

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Of All Things, I Became an Aranara

You always imagined that if you woke up in the world of Genshin, the possibilities of being a Visionless wielder of elements and a slew of romantic shenanigans would lie in your wake. But when you instead find yourself in the body of an Aranara with romance likely out of the question, your only conclusion is that the gods of reincarnation isekai hate your guts.

cw. you're an aranara

pairing. scaramouche/wanderer x reader, cyno x reader, kaveh x reader, candace x reader (separate)

notes. don't feel like being an aranara today? well go ahead and go to the series masterlist and see what your life could be if you were something else in genshin.

While you would have preferred being human, you have to admit there are few things better than turning into an Aranara. You've most assuredly been given Genshin non-humanoid pretty privilege with beautiful powers concerning plants and dreams to boot.

An even bigger benefit is that you can talk, so communicating with humans in this world will be a cinch.

The only thing you can really complain about now is that you aren't really able to handle salt and spices the way you used to. But to be honest, if that's the only thing you have to complain about, you'll gladly settle with being one of the musically-inclined leaf children of the rainforest.

All of whom are your friends despite the predicament you've found yourself in. You may have technically lost the isekai 50/50 but you feel like you've won in a lot of ways too.

Scaramouche

Ironically enough he was one of the easiest individuals on the list to befriend. Why? You met him when his memories were completely reset to zero and he had a much more sweet and calm demeanor

Considering the sharp-tongue Scaramouche you're used to, it honestly gave you whiplash

Still, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the guy, bright eyed and full of wonder. It was the constant abandonments and perceived abandonments that turned Scara into the person he came

You accompany him when he regains his memories, after which he assumes that now you know the extent of his true character and the things he's done that you'll leave him now. he even encourages you to do so, shooing you away

you plopping your small self across his shoulder and telling him he's your best friend means a lot to him, even if he tells you in response that you're an idiot but you can do as you wish

Before and after regaining his memories, Scara is very clingy. Before regaining them, he slept with you nestled to his chest much like a child would a teddy bear. Afterwards, he considers it too soft and embarrassing to do so but if you snuggle up against him well, he won't stop you

Once you got lost while exploring and when you didn't come back within the time he expected you to, he grew quite panicked and nearly turned the entire forest upside down trying to find you

When he did, you were promptly scolded for making him have to look for you. What's the matter with you? Don't go traveling somewhere unfamiliar or you'll just make him have to waste time backtracking to look for you

(He was scared that you had gotten eaten or hurt or worse, that you decided to no longer travel with him, leaving him to be alone all over again)

Whenever he has nightmares, you turn his dreams into ones much happier. He tells you to stay out of his head but he appreciates the fanciful worlds you craft for him

You're also quite handy when he needs to avoid his new fanbase from the Akademiya. Taking him to the dream world to avoid talking to people is quite a useful trick of yours

But as it turns out, Scaramouche is quite popular with the Aranara and they all love to indulge him. So you kinda have some competition

You can't believe you're actually getting jealous of Aranaras. Wow, how the mighty have fallen

Cyno

A son of the desert who grew up in the rainforest, Cyno heard of stories regarding the Aranara but he never thought they'd be real. But as far as he is concerned, you're as much a citizen of Sumeru as he is

So Cyno quickly rolls with the punches and treats you accordingly with respect. Talk about a win!

But as far as you being a travel companion? Cyno isn't entirely sure since his work concerns apprehending wayward scholars and their affiliates. It's dangerous, so unless you can prove yourself to be sturdy enough to protect yourself, he'll tell discourage you from following him

Of course, he can't rightly force a creature of Dendro and dreams from doing that anyway if you stubbornly continue on with him

Thankfully, you can set his worries aside when you show not only are you adorable, but resourceful, using your powers of Dendro to apprehend criminals attempting to flee the scene when Cyno arrives (all while staying hidden in the realm of dreams. You're not trying to put a target on the back of every Aranara after all)

That aside, you don't really have any troubles with Cyno. When he rests by campfire, he will make sure you stay a comfortable distance from the flames and will teach you about GI TCG and will even tell you a joke or two (or three)

Cyno is a reliable companion. He'll protect you if you are under his protection but he doesn't make you feel less than because you're not human either

But when he isn't in work mode, he is very sweet and even let's you wear his headdress from time to time as long as you are careful with it. In return you place flower crowns atop his head

Is another protective companion. As one brought from the desert to the rainforest for the sake of experiments, Cyno knows what could happen should those at the Akademiya find out that Aranaras are more than just a tale for children

So he always makes sure you aren't sighted by those he cannot trust

Kaveh

Meeting Kaveh was a bit of an accident as you had to help disentangle from a mess of vines

For someone blessed with the power of Dendro, he isn't really one who naturally has an affinity for plants

As such, he is embarrassed when you find him in this situation. Embarrassed and quite amazed to find out that Aranara aren't just stories. One getting him out of a mess like this isn't really how Kaveh ever imagined meeting one back when he was a child

That aside, Kaveh straightens himself out, thanks you and honestly he tries to be polite about it but he has plenty of questions about your being an Aranara that you can't really answer outside of lore you got from the game

You tell him that you'll look out for him when he is prancing about the rainforest so he can avoid these sorts of mishaps in the future which he insists is unnecessary

But you're not trying to be stuck living in nature forever, you want to make sure you have guaranteed safety. It also helps that if you're going to attach yourself to a human in the game, they aren't just some random NPC. A player character comes with a certain level of stability you appreciate

Kaveh's too good an opportunity to pass up and Mehrak is quite cute too. Win-win situation

Out of everyone here though sadly, Kaveh treats you most like a pet. Something no one wants to get from a hot guy even if you understand why he treats you so

At least he gives you plenty of sweets to eat?

You become a surprising point of comfort for Kaveh when he grows frustrated with his roommate. You tend to use your powers of Dendro to weave flowers through his hair during those moments and listen when he vents

You think his kindness does him more harm than good and that he tends to be his worst critic, so you tell Kaveh to be kinder to himself

Candace

A desert really isn't the place for an Aranara but you stubbornly decided to try your luck at it anyway against your better judgement (and the advice of your fellow Aranara)

But a couple of near death experiences aside, you think you made a good decision when you get to Aaru Village. The children there are very sweet and fascinated by you, having never seen an Aranara themselves

So you become quite popular among them, making them all sweet dreams and becoming a sort of... Guardian, one might say

You also help maintain the few plantlife of Aaru Village from Sabbah's flowers to the ajilenakh trees

It isn't much work but it's honest work

Candace thought nothing of it, thinking it was cute for the children of the village to have something to talk about

Then she ran into you trying (and failing) to get some food from the storage and that is how you were discovered by the actual Guardian of Aaru Village

Despite that little mishap, Candace is sweet to you and presents to you the same rules she gives all guests of Aaru. She also appreciates you helping with the children

So she doesn't disagree when you label yourselves as a sort of duo protecting everyone in different ways

Candace seldom has time to rest or enjoy any sort of personal time, so you try to be her invisible company in the day and you pester her to take breaks

You'd threaten to keep her contained in vines to make her take a break but you know she is infinitely stronger than your own abilities

How else can she fight monsters for hours at a time without tiring?

Still if you're at that level of desperate to make her rest, Candace promises to take more breaks along the day and rely more on her fellow guards