#harry hook x you

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Protective Flower

Pairing: Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: While making your rounds of the Isle making sure everyone still fears your name, you run into an old acquaintance. Someone oversees this and doesn't take lightly to others touching what is his.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Jealousy'

*Gif does not belong to me

Boots clicking with every step, you had not a care in the world as you walked through the Isle of the Lost. Why would you? You were the daughter of Madame Gothel, the Mother Gothel. Everyone on the Isle knew of your mother's story and with that came protection, a blanket of safety that her name alone offered you.

That didn't mean you let the glare on your features fall or had your back turned on anyone for too long. With brisk steps you passed through different sections of the Isle, never staying for too long. It was only when you saw the back of someone's head whom you never thought you'd see again.

"Jay?" You slowly question, your voice hesitant in case who you thought was in front of you was an illusion or just an insanely good look-alike whom you've never seen before that day. It was only when the boy's head of long brown hair turned and a whisper of your name left his lips that you knew it was him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had gotten off this island and were at Auradon."

"Some circumstances have changed," He muttered with a coy grin, bounding his way over to you. The fast approach made you take a few small steps back, trying to put distance in between the two of you in case he decided to try something, though Jay bypassed this easily, one of his strides making up for three of yours as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "I've missed you. We all have."

You froze immediately as you were engulfed, not expecting the embrace and hardly knowing what to call it. The feeling that arose from being trapped within Jay's arms was odd, almost comforting. That didn't matter though as you kept your arms glued to your side, not raising them to return the gesture.

"I'm sure it would've passed," You mumbled, voice gruff as you remembered what it had been like before Jay, Mal, Evie and Carlos left the Isle. How things have changed since then. Your words caused Jay to finally pull back, which you were both grateful for since the action was weak, though also longed for it to return, the simple contact something you have never experienced on the Isle evoking something within you. It must have been some trickery Auradon had taught them. "You never did say why you were here. And if you're here, I'm assuming so are the others."

"About that," Jay trailed off, hand sheepishly going to rub at the back of his neck. The action instantly had you quirking an eyebrow, never before seen such an action from the taller VK. Or former VK. "Carlos actually sent me to come and find you. We were wondering if we could use your help. Like old times-"

"What do we have here?" A taunting voice called out, cutting off the end of Jay's sentence, not that you needed to hear the rest of it to know what he was asking of you. You didn't even bat an eye to the new voice, coming well accustomed to it in the past year, more so than before Jay and his little redeemed squad had run off. "Runnin' into ya two times in a day has got ta be a good omen."

Jay's whole deemer immediately changed at not only the sight of him but also the sound. Turning an annoyed glare that held more heat than you knew Jay could still muster onto the newest arrival, Jay greeted him with a less than pleased grunt, "Hook."

Harry Hook, in all his glory, came out from the shadows he had previously lurking in so the deranged grin he was flashing could be seen by all.

"Don't sound so sad ta see me," Harry's laugh felt as if a harsh bite had sunken into you. It wasn't unwelcomed but such a stark contrast to what Jay had offered you moments ago. His eyes fell on you quickly, blue irises sucking you in as he walked closer, sealing his spot at your side as he wrapped a tight arm around your waist and pulled you flush to his side. "I was wondering when the two of yer would meet again. It was only a matter of time I suppose."

Jay's eyes locked in on the hand on your waist, Harry's fingers flexing at the sight as they curled in tighter. The sensation didn't hurt, not when you've felt it before. It was almost comforting, though in a different way to how Jay tried offering it. You weren't oblivious enough to not understand that Harry was staking his claim, however, making it known to Jay how things were running this time around.

"I didn't know the two of you had buddied up since we've been gone," Jay had to drag his eyes away from where the two of you were connected, never taking his eyes off of you as he refused to look into Harry's.

"Things have changed since you and the others were taken off the Isle," You shrugged your shoulders up as you spoke, giving it to Jay plainly. After he and the others left you were without a gang to call your own, leaving you to resort to other means of getting by. "Not all of us were whisked away to be Princesses and Princes."

"I can see that," Jay breathes out as if the words were vile on his tongue. You weren't ashamed of this. Just because you had grown closer to Harry and his crew in his and the other's absence didn't mean you were going to flip a switch now that they were back. "It was nice catching up with you. If you want to talk more, you know where to find us."

"I'll see you around Jay," You bid your farewell, surprised that Harry was able to remain as quiet as he did. Not sparing you another word, though his eyes flickered down to where Harry kept his hold on you, Jay turned away so he could make his way back to the hideout he must've come from.

"Now wasn't that a lovely chat," Harry chirped, rounding on you once Jay was out of sight. His other hand came down to your hip, resting there tightly as he slowly began to back you up. "I was just on my way to warn ya as well of Mal and her little crew's arrival. Somehow ya always beat me to it though."

"I must just be lucky at sniffing out people with pretty faces," You say, not a second later your back came in contact with the wall behind you, a small huff leaving your nose at the contact. With a cruel quirk of your lips, you bring a hand up to pass through some of his hair. "Maybe that's how I found you all those months ago."

"Cute," Harry barked out a bitter laugh, bringing his face closer to yours. Some of that bitterness seeped into his face as he looked down at you, his next words coming as a sting. "Uma doesn't want ya going near them. Who knows what they've brought from Auradon. And we all know how close ya were with them before they left."

"Good thing Uma doesn't control what I do then," You dipped your face to the side as Harry tried to trap your lips in a harsh kiss, his teeth ready to make an appearance. Instead, a kiss was left on your cheek, the pirate recoiling back once he realised. With a smirk of your own, you leaned in, trailing feather-light kisses across his neck and jaw. Your lips ghosted his skin, never staying in one spot for too long. "Though I'm sure an exception could be made if you asked nicely."

"Stay away from Jay and his friends," Harry spoke lowly, lips chasing after yours as you continued to evade him. With a raised brow, you stared at him as if you were waiting for more, leaning back so he couldn't reach you. With an eye roll from his dark eyes, an abundance of eyeliner smeared around them, he grinned out, "Please."

You waited a few moments, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face. Dragging him slowly, you brushed your lips quickly against his, muttering before finally giving him what he wanted, "I'll consider it."

[totally-not-niyah]

A Princess and a Pirate

A/N: This lil thing makes sense but also kinda doesn't? Uh- I was working on this many months apart so I probably forgot some stuff and had to come up with a lil sumn to replace but I think overall, the plot is pretty easy to follow...? IDK, ANYWAYS ENJOY-

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: refers to intentional harm? idk if that counts; OH! I usually write Harry with his accent, so that's why his dialogue may look weird, and then highkey a warning for this plot!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ever since the barrier on the Isle had come down, inviting all the VKs to the wonderful kingdom of Auradon, things were changing around here. 

You had to admit, it was interesting and fun to see new people getting to experience what Auradon had to offer for the very first time, and meeting all of the Isle kids was pretty enjoyable.

Especially a certain group of pirates. 

You had heard about Uma and her crew through your sister, Audrey, who essentially heard about them through all of Mal’s prior ramblings about her, but you never got the chance to see her in person during the Cotillion, since you went off with Chad right before it started to pick your sister up from the Fairy Cottage. 

However, now that her and her crewmates were here and settling down in the land, you found yourself running into them around the school grounds, and frankly, you had quite a fascination. 

Specifically, a fascination with Harry Hook, Uma’s first mate. 

There was something about the son of Captain Hook that was just so…enticing. His eyes, his hair, his voice. The crazy thing is, you’d never exchanged words with him. Like, ever. Yet somehow, what started off as an innocent fascination turned into a full-blown crush.

Unfortunately, though, not everyone was as…open and welcoming to the new VKs as you were. 

There were still some royals and nobles (including your grandmother, Queen Leah) who felt that people like them didn’t belong in Auradon. To top it off, you were friends with one of them. 

For instance, Jania, who was the daughter of one of the men on Ben’s council, made constant little jabs and comments at the new arrivals, showing you a whole different side of her. 

“I give it a couple more weeks before they go and screw something up around here,” she mumbled as the two of you were walking from a class. 

“Well, they’re bound to make a mistake, Nia. They just got here,” you replied, confused to where the conversation was coming from all of a sudden. “They’re still learning the ropes.”

Jania rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. You really think they’ll stay out of trouble?”

“You had trouble when you first started too, remember?” 

“At least I actually belonged here.”

You frowned a bit at the insinuation. “That’s not fair.”

“Whatever,” she scoffs. “ I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” 

You do just that, seeing as you were right beside your locker, anyways. When she’s out of eyesight, you turn your body, letting out a gasp as you accidentally bump into someone and stumble. If it weren’t for them grasping your arms to steady you, you probably would’ve been on the floor. 

“Oh!” you stammer with wide eyes, immediately forming an apology on the tip of your tongue. “I’m so sorry!”

When you actually register who it was you bumped into, your eyes widen some more. 

It was Harry. 

“Aye, no worries, lass,” he says, amusement dancing in his bright blue eyes. “Yeh got some quick reflexes.” 

You laugh a bit, a mixture of both nerves and awkwardness, because how could you possibly fumble that bad? Eyes darting around a bit, you look for something to say, before realizing that there was a hook wrapped around one of your arms instead of his other hand that was holding you up. 

“I, uh… I like your hook. It’s very…shiny.” 

Harry tilts his head, a grin playing on his lips. “Thank yeh? No one’s ever said that ta me before.”

“Yeah,” you force another weird laugh as he straightens your body back up, giving him little finger guns. “And thank you for catching me.”

Not even a full five seconds later and you cringe. Why am I so lame about this? 

Instead of making an even bigger fool outta yourself, you purse your lips and quickly crouch down to pick up the books you dropped. The boy above you keeps his eyes trained on you, gaze flitting to the front of the notebook you now held. 

“Yer name is (y/n)?” he asks, examining the personalized decoration of the notebook that included your name. 

“Yep,” you nod, rocking back and forth. “You’re Harry, right? Uma’s friend?”

“Tha’s right,” he smiles, giving you a dramatic bow that just fits him for some reason, your brain concludes. “A pleasure ta meet yah.”

Matching his energy, you offer a polite curtsy. “And you as well.”

The two of you are staring at each other with little smiles before the sound of footsteps break the moment. You turn around, finding that Jania had returned, and she was currently eyeing Harry with a hateful gaze. 

“Hey, pirate boy,” she sneers, yanking one of your hands into hers. “Go and terrorize someone else, my friend doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

“Wha- hey, no, Nia, don’t-!” your confused protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to drag you away with her, and all you can do is look back and mouth an “I’m sorry” to Harry before you turn a corner. 

“I can’t believe you were talking to that guy, (y/n)!” She hisses. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about this?”

“What are you so worked up for?” you murmur, trying to regain your footing because it feels like she’s dragging you away even faster. “You saw him, he’s nice, he has a sweet smile, he wasn’t terrorizing anyone-!” 

“Are you even listening to yourself?!” Jania stops abruptly just so she can give you a stare full of disbelief and disapproval. “Those villain kids aren’t out for anything but themselves. I mean, just look at Mal. She’s going to be Queen now. And look what that did to your sister!” 

“Don’t bring Audrey into this,” you frowned, getting defensive over the fact that she was speaking your sister’s name in a conversation she didn’t even need to be a part of. “And please stop talking like that. You sound like my grandma.” 

“Well, maybe you should start listening to her for once,” she mutters under her breath. “Just stay away from them, alright?” 

That didn’t happen. 

Ever since that day, it was like the two of you kept on running into each other. Not that you were complaining. In fact, it was further fueling your attraction towards Harry. Whenever the two of you saw each other, you’d stop to say hi, maybe even have a brief conversation. And of course, you’d always hear Jania’s mouth about it, but it’s not like she could control your actions. 

One day, sometime during lunch, Harry spotted you sitting alone at a table, and decided to make his way over to you. 

“All by yerself?” He asks, grabbing your attention. 

“No,” you told him with a smile, sitting down your phone and sitting upright. “I’m waiting on someone. But you can sit till she gets here. If you wanna.”

He gladly accepts the offer, taking a seat next to you. 

“Let me guess, th’ one tha’ hates my guts?” 

Even though the look on his face shows that he’s only joking, you can’t help but feel sheepish. 

“Right,” you sigh. “I’m really sorry about that. She’s just a little…hard to soften up.”

“Are yeh bein’ nice about it?” he smirks. 

“…‘Lil bit.” The two of you share a laugh for a few seconds. “But to answer your question, no. I’m waiting for my sister.” 

His eyebrows lift slightly. “Yeh have a sister?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Audrey.” The realization clicks in Harry’s mind. 

“Aw, yer a Beauty kid~” he coos, resting his chin in the palm of one of his hands. “I ‘ave sisters too, actually.” 

“Really?” 

And so from there, he begins to delve into random tales with him and his sisters, even describing them for you so that you’ll know who they are if they ever pass by you around school. The stories have you so interested that you forget that your sister was supposed to be there until she actually showed up with both your lunches. 

She takes the spot next to you after Harry leaves you alone with her, waiting for a little while before speaking. 

“You like him, don’t you?”

The topic almost makes you choke on your food. 

“Hm?” 

“You. Like. Him,” she emphasizes, flicking you in the shoulder. 

“Where’d you get that idea?” You scoff. 

“Are you serious? As soon as I walked over here, you were just staring at him like-” she copies your attentive gaze, batting her lashes for dramatic effect. 

Rolling your eyes, you deny her claim, “ I didn’t even do all that.”

“But you do like him, right? You never said no.”

“I never said yes, either,” you retort. 

“You totally do, though,” she giggles. “I'm your sister. You can’t lie to me. I know these things.”

With a groan, you shake your head. “Fine. A little bit, yes.”

“A little?” 

“That’s all you’re getting,” you tell her, pushing her back with a laugh when she leans closer to you. “Get outta my face, Audrey!” 

=

Getting closer to Harry was fun. 

You found yourself constantly seeking him out, whether in school or in certain social settings, holding longer conversations with and getting to hang around both groups of friends with him, both yours and his. 

A favorite memory of yours in particular was when he sought you out after the sunset upon Auradon, so that you could join him in stargazing. 

“Yeh know, I’ve never actually really seen the stars before,” he comments as he sits beside you on the soft grass. 

“Really?” You said with surprise, to which he nodded. 

“It was a big dark cloud above the sky. Not much ta see like tha’.” 

“…Huh. And now that you can see them? What do you think of them?” 

He takes a moment to think before responding. “They’re…a lot brighter from ‘ere. Ye can even see the light reflecting off the lake.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, noting how the sparkling dots of light twinkle in the water of the lake. You lean over a bit, getting a closer look when, all of a sudden, you feel water splash your side, making eye contact with a grinning Harry. 

“Hey!” Splashing him back, you watch him practically run away from the water, giggling along with you as a back and forth water war was waged. 

Once the two of you settled down, you started a game of creating your own constellations in the night sky, occasionally arguing about what they did and didn’t look like. As much as you would’ve liked to stay like that all night, the time of student curfew was approaching. 

“Thanks for this,” you said, smiling at him. “I had a lot of fun.” 

“Yeh don’ have ta thank me,” he replies, draping your sweater over your shoulders since it was getting cooler out. “I…like yer company.” 

“…I like your company, too.”

You’re gazing into his eyes, and he into yours. You can feel the way you both lean in, ever so closer to each other, until your faces are remotely close. Just when you feel the urge to make a move and go for it, you hear the clock chime, signaling that it was time to go. 

Pulling away slowly, you let out a soft exhale before smiling again, clutching the front of your sweater. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmurs. “Night, Harry.” 

“…G’night, darlin’,” he bids before you go your separate ways. 

The entire way back to your dorm, you’re grinning so hard your cheeks start to hurt. Even your sister and friend notice as they peep your giddy demeanor when you walk in. 

“Aahhhh, someone’s date went well~” Audrey squealed, clapping her hands. Jania was sitting beside her, dead silent but attentive. 

“It wasn’t a date, Audrey,” you chuckled, putting away your things. 

“That’s your opinion, anyways! Was it nice? Did you have fun? Did you two kiss?”

”Slow your roll! Yes, it was nice. Yes, I had fun. And we…almost kissed?” 

You can see the way her eyes light up, clearly invested in your first romantic experience. Jania, on the other hand, finally decides to say something. 

“Wait, wait, so this little thing of yours is getting serious?” 

“Uh…yes?” You say, unsure if that was even the right answer. Probably not. “No? Ugh, I dunno…he’s so sweet, you guys, and I really, really like him, but maybe I’m reading into this too much-?” 

“Better enjoy it while it lasts,” she mutters, getting up to go and lay in her own bed. 

Her words catch you off guard. “Huh? What does that mean?” 

“Nothing at all. Good night.” 

Both you and Audrey look at each other, not understanding what just happened, but shrug it off as she pats the spot across from her so that you can tell her everything that’s occurred during your time with Harry. 

The following morning, when you wake up, the first thing you notice is that it was only your sister in there with you, who was curling her hair in the vanity mirror. 

“…Where’s Nia?” You inquire, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 

She looks your way, then towards Jania’s bed. 

“I have no idea,” she says thoughtfully. “She just said that she was getting an early start on the day.” 

You scrunch your face up. “That doesn’t sound like her at all, but hey, what do I know?” Yawning, you plop back down, trying to see if you could squeeze in another 15 minutes of sleep. 

=

During your first passing period, you’d taken Harry along with you to go see Ben in his office. Neither of you had addressed nor even slightly mentioned what happened last night, just going on as if it never happened. Which was good, because you didn’t think you could handle the awkwardness of a “hey, did we almost kiss?” conversation. 

You knock on the door, waiting for the green light before walking inside. 

“Hey, Ben,” you greet, placing a pamphlet down on his desk. “Someone dropped this off for you today.” 

“Oh, thank you,” he says, glancing up at you and doing a double take when he sees who’s accompanying you. “Did, uh, did you need something too, Harry?”

He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m jus’ here f’her.” 

Your eyes drift over to a tray sitting on one of the spare tables. 

“Ooo, candied apples?”

“Yeah, someone dropped them off earlier,” he responds. “I didn’t get a chance to see who it was.” 

“Mm.” You were too distracted with the one you’d already picked up. 

“Hey! How do you always get into my stuff before I can?” 

“You weren’t even gonna eat these.”

”Maybe I was,” he retorted, and although you didn’t believe that because he almost never ate the treats that people would drop off for him (not because he didn’t like them, there would literally just be so many), you decided to play along anyways. 

“Fine, fine,” you sighed, looking down at the tray to examine all of them before picking one up from the middle, passing it to them. “Here, this one’s more red than the others. I think it’s more candy coating on it or something.” 

Ben laughs before tapping his apple against yours and taking a large bite out of it. 

“Harry, d’you want one?” You pick up another apple and offer it to him, but he declines your offer. 

“I don’t like those things,” he tells you. 

“Who doesn’t like candied apples?” Ben asks, happily chowing down on his. “They’re so good.” 

“No, the best kind are the ones they dip in caramel and peanuts,” you add, taking a small bite out of your own. “You have to try one of those.” 

“Oh, yeah, those-” Out of the blue, Ben just stops talking. You focus your eyes back on him, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“…What? What happened?” He shakes his head, trying to readjust himself. 

“Uh, nothing- sorry,” he says, but his words and movements are getting slower and slower. “I…don’t know what happened, I just…”

”Ben…?” You say, eyes soon widening in horror when his roll back and flutter shut, causing him to fall out of his chair. 

“Ben!!” Rushing over, you catch him just before his head hits the ground, patting his cheek to get him to regain consciousness. “Ben!!” 

Harry knelt down at your side, mouth agape because he’s just as confused as you as to what happened to the young king just that fast, but neither of you know what to do. 

“Somebody help!!” 

=

“And you’re sure that’s all that happened?”

“Yeah!” you told Belle, hands clasped together as you saw your friend lying unconscious. “H-he just ate the apple and then passed out.” 

When help finally came, Fairy Godmother was called, along with Ben’s parents, and close friends who were alerted like Audrey and Jania. Mal and her friends were in the middle of something when she was called, so she was rushing to get here now. 

Harry had stuck by your side the entire time, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly as you were now starting to panic. 

“May I see the apple?” Fairy Godmother asks. “Did you bring it?” 

“Yeah.” You reach into your bag, pulling out the apple by the stick it was secured upon, unraveling it from the napkin and passing it to her. 

She examines it thoroughly, turning it in all directions to search for anything out of the ordinary. “All the apples looked like this?” 

“...For the most part,” you murmur. “That one was a little darker than the others. It’s why I picked it out. I figured maybe it had more candy coating on it than the others.” 

Pursing her lips, she gives you a solemn look. 

“This apple was enchanted. It’s laced with a sleeping curse.”

Your eyes widen, the feeling of your stomach dropping almost making you stagger. 

“Oh, god,” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hands. “I fed Ben a poison apple, oh my god…”

“Easy, lass,” Harry said softly, gripping your shoulders. “It wasn’t yer fault.” 

“Yeah, (y/n), he’s right,” your sister agrees. “You couldn’t have known. Your intentions were good when you gave it to him.” 

“Were they?” Jania’s words have you looking over at her. “You deliberately picked out that apple, (y/n). Are you sure you didn’t have a trick up your sleeve?” 

“Wha… Jania, what are you talking about? I would never do something like that to Ben! He’s like a brother to me!” 

“Maybe then,” she argues. “But things can change after you start spending all your time with Auradon’s newest group of troublemakers.” 

You  furrow your brows just a bit, because you begin to see exactly where this is going. 

“Nia, they had nothing to do with this,” you state firmly, pointing to Harry, who seemed a little uncomfortable with the accusation. “He had nothing to do with this! Will you get that out of your head?”

“How do you expect me to?! He’s the only one out of the three of you that didn’t eat an apple!”

“Because he doesn’t like them! If I gave you something you didn’t like and you told me you didn’t wanna eat it, would that make you suspicious?” 

“This is different!” Jania insists, standing up from her chair. “You know villain kids have a track record with poison apples. He’s the perfect suspect!”

“When ‘ave yeh ever seen me touch an apple?” Harry asks, perplexed by the words coming out of her mouth. 

“It doesn’t matter! You know it’s true!”

“Okay,” you say frustratedly. “Let’s say maybe that is true. Why would Harry try poisoning Ben?”

“I don’t know! A power trick? God, Ben wasn’t even supposed to get to the stupid apple!”

“Oh, really? Why not?”

“Because you were supposed to eat it!!”

The outburst puts everyone’s actions on pause, struggling to grip onto what had just been said. 

When sense reforms in your mind, all you can work out is a small, “…Excuse me?”

Even now, Jania looks shocked by what’s come out of her mouth, covering it promptly as her eyes dart between each one in the room. 

“What did you just say?”

“I- nothing- I didn’t mean-” she stammers, shaking her head as she takes a small step back. ”I didn’t mean for that to come out.”

“No,” your sister stands as well, her suspicions beginning to rise as yours did. “But you sure meant for this to happen. And to my sister?”

“Aud, listen- I was only trying to help-” 

It’s obvious that the young girl is becoming anxious, fumbling to try and find a proper response. 

“It all makes sense,” you mumbled, mulling over her strange behavior in the past few days. She’d let go of your association with Harry for the most part, but you hadn’t thought anything of it, assuming she’d finally had enough of berating you over it. 

But now things have become clearer. 

The oddly vagueness of her words last night, when she said “enjoy it while it lasts,” the unusual morning disappearance, and the fact that she was more concerned with pinning the blame on Harry than she was about Ben’s unexpected state. 

Because it wasn’t unexpected. She had planned this all along. 

“You knew that I would try to get to them first,” you continued on as you looked at the one you thought was your friend. “And that I would’ve probably picked that exact apple. You wanted me to eat it so that you could find a way to make it seem like Harry was the one who did it. Didn’t you?” 

Her eyes widened, astounded that you had figured out every inch of her plan.  

You feel Harry’s grip tighten slightly on your shoulders, and when you glanced up, he seemed pretty agitated at the revelation. 

“...Yeh tried ta poison her? Just ta set me up?” 

“Yeah, okay!” Jania finally confesses. “It may seem bad to you, but-”

Audrey’s about had enough of it already. “Don’t start trying to make excuses! You tried to put my sister’s life in danger, and all for what? Because you have some unspoken grudge against someone she’s in love with?”

Woah. Pause. 

“I- Audrey,” you whisper, trying to get her to retract that statement in an instant. However, she’s too concerned with getting on Jania’s case, so you can only pray and hope everyone else was also too distracted to hear what was just said. 

Especially Harry.

“I made a cure!” Jania tries to defend herself. “She wouldn’t have been asleep forever, she would have woken up eventually-” 

“Eventually?!” 

“Oh, god,” you hold a hand to your mouth for a second, unable to find anything that could help stop the argument before it escalates any further. 

Even though, truthfully, you didn’t want to. Jania got herself into this mess. She deserves more than being yelled at, another person’s life was at stake here. 

“Don’t you know that cures to sleeping curses have never actually worked?” Your sister continues. “Ever! Your silly little ‘cure’ would’ve failed, and then what? Then my sister would have been cursed for who knows how long!” 

“No! No, it wouldn’t- why are you so mad? I- I was only trying to help!” 

At that point, you step forward, too. “Help? I never needed help, Jania. You keep saying how- how the villain kids shouldn’t be trusted, but you were willing to risk my life and ruin someone else’s to prove a point. And rather than worrying about if Ben was actually gonna be okay, you keep overlooking it like it doesn’t even matter!”

You look at the adults in the room, knowing they would have much to say as well. Ben’s father notices your eyes, clearing his throat. 

“There will be consequences,” he says. “This was both an act of injustice and carelessness. It will be handled accordingly.”

Jania keeps her head hung low, knowing there was nothing she could do or say to shy away from the consequences of her actions. 

“As for you, Harry, we’re terribly sorry about this incident. If there’s anything we can do to make up for it, please let us know.”

The boy nods, and right as the statement is made, Mal comes rushing through the doors, followed by all her friends. 

=

Two weeks have passed since then, and everything has been cleared up. 

Jania had been suspended for 4 weeks, a week for Ben’s endangerment, a week for your intended endangerment, a week for attempting to frame someone, and a week for the unpermitted use of dangerous magic. 

You and Audrey got to remove her as a dorm mate, and although the offer was made to request a new one, you both found it pretty nice to have the extra space all to yourselves one Jania’s bed was out of there. 

Ben was doing fine as well, Mal had woken him up and broken the sleeping curse like everyone expected, and he even said that the whole thing felt like a really great nap, so he wasn’t too upset. 

As an apology for all that had happened, you had invited Harry out for ice cream. You hadn’t really gotten a chance to say sorry for him almost being kicked out of Auradon just for hanging around you, and even though it technically wasn’t your fault, you felt the need to say it anyway. 

So while the two of you sat out on a bench in the castle courtyard, you laid the spoon down in your half eaten cup of ice cream, shifting awkwardly. 

“So, I, um…” you begin, pursing your lips as you try to form a complete sentence. “I don’t think I ever got the chance to apologize for…everything that happened. I knew Jania was making it out to be a big deal, but…I didn’t think she would take it that far.” 

He turns to you with a soft smile, shaking his head. 

“Yeh know there’s no need for an apology, right?”

Blinking, you let out a small huff of breath, staring back down at the delicacy. “Well, obviously not if I’m doing it.” 

Harry giggles, nudging your arm with his. “It wasn’t yer fault, I’m not mad. I like a bit o’ drama every now an’ then.”

“Only you,” you retort, unable to hold back the smile that pulls at your lips. 

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Right as you begin to settle down from your internal conflict, something hits you like a brick.

Your sister may or may have not revealed that you were starting to fall in love. With him. 

What should you do? Should you say something? Maybe bury it in a box and hope it never sees the light of day?

“Yeh know, it’s cute how yeh go from super talkative ta super quiet,” he remarks, interrupting your train of thought. 

“Sorry,” you say. “...We’re still friends, right?”

The look of confusion on his face shows that that was not the response he was expecting. 

“...Aye? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Good.” Your head bobs along with your words. “Great. Yeah, no, I just… y’know, just clarifying.” 

Oh no, you were being super awkward again, like how you were when the two of you first met. 

Although this time, you might actually go dig a hole for yourself if you hit him with finger guns again. 

“This isn’t clarity enough?”

Groaning inwardly, you shove the spoon in your mouth. “No, that’s not how I meant it, just…give me a second to think.”

You can tell he wants to laugh again, but he tries not to for you, so you can spit all of this out. 

Finally, it spills, “I was just…hoping what my sister said the other day didn’t make things…weird?”

Honey, you’re making it weird!

He takes a moment to think back on what it was exactly that Audrey had said, and every second of silence makes you want to be dragged in front of a road. 

“…Ohhh,” he says, forcing down a grin. “Yeh mean when she said ye were in love with someone? An’ tha’ someone might possibly be me?”

It’s an obvious tease. He knew exactly what your sister said, he’s been quoting it word for word in his head for the past two weeks. 

You want to run away from this situation and never look this guy in the eyes again, no muscle in your body wants to actually move. 

“…Well, since we’re tellin’ secrets…” he sits down his ice cream, reaching a hand over to focus your eyes back on him before holding your face in his cool palms. “Guess wha’?”

Clearing your throat to settle the leaping in your chest, you bite, “…What?”

Harry’s eyes sparkle, which should’ve been your first indication that he was up to something. Still, you will yourself not to move, even as he leans ever so closer to your face, though not completely as he’s trying to gauge your reaction.

With no sign of rejection, he finally closes the gap between you, leaving you stunned for a moment as your lips are captured in a soft kiss. You soon melt into the feeling, hands abandoning the cup of ice cream on your lap in favor of grasping the front of his jacket. 

It feels just as magical as you’d imagined it when you thought it would happen all those nights ago. Although, you’re glad it’s longer to become reality. It makes the moment feel even more special, more meaningful. 

When the two of you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, a blissful silence wrapping around the atmosphere like a warm blanket, the warmth spreading through your chest. 

You can’t help but smile, looking up with eyes that shine just as bright as his do, unable to stop the giggling that bubbles in your throat, but soon, he’s laughing along with you. 

The two of you were an usual pair, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Just a princess and her pirate.  

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: Lost and Found on The Isle

Prompt: Y/N escapes her cruel life in Auradon and finds herself on the Isle of the Lost, where she unexpectedly finds love and acceptance among villains, especially in the arms of a certain pirate.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1250

Average reading time: 4 min 35 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warning: This story contains themes of isolation, harassment, emotional distress, and the challenges of feeling like an outsider. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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

Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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

In a world filled with royals, in a place called Auradon, where everything seemed perfect on the surface, lived a girl named Y/N. Her life, however, was far from ideal. Treated as an outcast and burdened by the cruelty of her peers, Y/N felt like a shadow amongst the vibrant crowd. The isolation weighed heavily on her, and she longed for escape a place where she might find acceptance and a sense of belonging.

One stormy night, Y/N made her decision. She packed a few belongings and slipped away, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. Her destination? Well... The Isle of the Lost, the dark and dangerous place where Auradon’s discarded villains and their children resided. It was a risky move, but it was her last chance in the hope of finding something different.

As she arrived, the Isle lived up to its reputation. The streets were grimy, the buildings crooked, and the people suspicious. Y/N’s fear only grew with each step. She was an outsider in a world that didn’t welcome her. Wandering through the streets, she found herself cornered by a group of rough-looking guys. Their intentions were clear, and Y/N's heart raced with panic.

Just as the situation grew tense, a loud sound cut through the tension. Uma, the fierce sea witch and leader of the Isle’s pirate crew, emerged from the shadows, followed closely by her loyal crew members Harry Hook and Gil. Uma’s commanding presence and Harry’s rough charm quickly got rid of the threat, and the attackers scattered like roaches under a spotlight.

Y/N’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. Harry, with his signature smirk, approached her, his eyes softening ever so slightly when he saw her terrified state. Uma looked on with a mix of curiosity and amusement, while Gil hovered nearby, ever-ready to support his friends.

“Didn’t expect to find a damsel in distress tonight,” he said, his voice a smooth, low rumble. He extended a hand to her, which Y/N hesitantly took. “Name’s Harry Hook. And these fine pirates are Uma and Gil. You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Uma’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she gestured to the group. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

In the safety of Uma’s hideout, Y/N felt a strange sense of relief mingled with anxiety. The Isle was rough, but it was also intriguing. Harry, in particular, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He noticed the way she flinched at sudden movements and how her gaze darted around nervously.

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Y/N grew closer. They spent time together exploring the Isle, and Harry, with his charismatic pirate charm, showed Y/N the hidden wonders of their world, the secret hideaways and the beauty behind the grim facade. One evening, as they strolled along the mist covered docks, Harry casually slipped his arm around Y/N’s waist. She stiffened at first but then relaxed into his touch, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Harry’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You know, darling, this place looks a bit more enchanting with you by my side.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning into him. “You always know how to make everything sound so content, so perfect.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with affection as he leaned in closer. “That’s because with you, everything is perfect.”

One day, while Y/N was wandering alone, a gang of troublemakers started to harass her. They advanced with menacing grins, no trace of remorse for what they are about to do, and Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. Just as she was about to give in to the panic filling her chest. Harry appeared, his expression fierce. He pushed through the crowd, his protective stance clear as he positioned himself between Y/N and the intruders.

“Back off,” Harry growled, his voice carrying an authoritative edge that left no room for argument. “She’s with me.”

The intruders, clearly intimidated by Harry’s status, fierce glare and confident demeanor, backed away, muttering under their breath as they disappeared into the shadows. Harry turned to Y/N, his eyes softening as he gently reached out to caress her cheek. “Are you alright, darling?”

Y/N nodded, tears of relief welling up in her eyes. “I… I didn’t think anyone would come.”

Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, his strong arms enveloping her. “I’ll always come for you. You don’t have to be afraid here.”

As their relationship blossomed, so did their affection. Harry would surprise Y/N with stolen kisses during shared meals, as they walked through the market, or even as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. One night, under the starlit sky, they lay together on a blanket by the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop as Harry pulled Y/N close.

“Look at those stars,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “They’re nothing compared to how you light up my life.”

Y/N turned to face him, her heart aching with love and uncertainty. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe you’re here with me. That someone like you would choose someone like me.”

Harry cupped her face gently in his hands, his gaze unwavering. "You're not just anyone, darling. You're my everything. I chose you because you make me feel things villains aren't supposed to feel. You make me see the world in a way I never knew I could."

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, filled with the promise of a future they could build together. Harry’s hands roamed lovingly over her back, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened.

As their relationship progressed, Uma began to see Y/N’s value beyond just Harry’s affection. She had witnessed Y/N’s bravery and kindness and saw how Y/N fit seamlessly into her crew. One day, Uma called Y/N to her quarters, her expression serious but not unkind.

“Y/N,” Uma began, her tone steady, “you’ve proven yourself to be more than just a lost soul here. You’ve got spirit and heart, and you’ve earned your place.”

Y/N looked at Uma with a mixture of apprehension and hope. “What do you mean?”

Uma smiled slightly, a rare show of warmth. “I’m offering you a spot on my crew. You belong here, and you’ve shown that you’re capable of more than you know. You’ve got the grit and the grace we need.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. “Thank you, Uma. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Uma said with a nod. “Just keep being yourself. That’s all we need.”

With Uma’s approval, Y/N felt a renewed sense of belonging. She continued to grow closer to Harry, their love flourishing amidst the challenges. Whenever danger threatened, Harry was always there, his protective nature evident in every gesture. He would wrap his arms around her, pulling her close during moments of fear, his kisses always a reminder of his devotion.

As the days turned into months, Y/N and Harry’s love blossomed. They faced challenges together, each obstacle only strengthening their bond. In the heart of the Isle of the Lost, amidst the chaos and shadows, Y/N and Harry discovered a love that was pure and unshakeable, a love that healed old wounds and built new dreams. And in that love, Y/N finally found the acceptance and happiness she had always longed for, wrapped in the arms of a pirate who had stolen her heart and made her feel truly cherished.

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

Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

[dovesdreaming]

Harry hook relationship headcanons

This wasn’t requested but I wanted to post something to do with descendants and I haven’t finished any of my requests yet!

Not edited yet

Warnings: none

Once he knew you were single would be chasing after you like a dog to a bone.

-he’s quite naturally flirty, everything that comes out of his mouth seems to have a flirtatious undertone.

-despite people seeing him as dumb I think he’s quite observant and can read people very well. Is very in tune with your emotions and can always tell when you’re down. Though he isn’t the best at comforting but he’s willing to work on it.

-uses his hook a lot. He knows you find it attractive and uses it to his advantage. Would lift your chin with it and run it down your cheek.

-loves eye contact. Will never break eye contact with you and when he’s first getting to know you he uses it against you to make you flustered. He loves knowing he has that kind of effect on you and will always try to make you flustered around him.

-once he’s dating you will never leave you alone. I believe one of his love languages is quality time as he was never shown any other kind of love. He constantly wants to be in your presence which you don’t mind.

-it isn’t that he doesn’t like physical touch it is just something he has to become familiar with after being starved of it for many years. You start off slow together with hand holding and gradually grew more touchy with each other. He now loves hugging you and cuddling. I think he is actually quite fond of being the little spoon or lying on top of you because it makes him feel surrounded by love.

-while he doesn’t show much pda he is prone to flirting with you in public and he doesn’t care who hears it. He proudly and unashamedly flirts with you.

-is protective of what he loves because he doesn’t have many things like that. Harry would be ready to pick a fight with anyone who flirts or gets to close to you, he just can’t help it, he doesn’t want to lose you.

-this makes him a very jealous person. Will always think the worst of a situation and won’t always be the angry jealous. He could interpret the person flirting with you as you thinking he wasn’t enough for you which definitely isn’t true. This leaves him sulking until you reassure him with many kisses and whispers in his ear. Depending on the day he could react completely opposite and just walk right up to the interaction and lay his hands all over you to send a clear message to whoever is eyeing you up. He will drag you away from the interaction if he has to .

-deep into the relationship he becomes clingy and will want to spend every waking moment in your presence, preferably your arms.

-would find it odd if you got along with your parents but if your parents accepted him it would definitely help heal some of the deep rooted trauma within him,

-he will still try to act tough and intimidating to those around him but once you walk over to him he just turns to mush, the complete opposite of what he was trying to make himself out to be. He goes from staring down the people he’s talking to and then turns to you with the biggest smile. People soon catch on and tease him about it but he just lets them because he can’t deny the truth of how you make him feel.

Thank you for reading!

[iwmflbb]

[kaivenom]

Hi, my sister in arms. I have a request for you: Can you make a one-shot based in Descendants about Harry x reader x Uma, please? I can pay you in cookies, in chickens, in lands, or whatever you like. Thank you.

Lazy Nights on Hook's ship

Summary: being part of Uma's crew made life incredibly crazy, but sometimes, when the stress of commanding the territory fades away, you three can relax and spent a good time.

Pairing: Harry Hook x reader x Uma

Masterlist

This week was particulary rough, some revolts on the frontiers of the port, some betrayals from the crewmates and all the other things that come with the life on the island.

You are stood right in front of the Hook's family ship, with a bag of soft muffins, the best you could make with the bad ingredients on the island. You entered the ship turned into house and inmediately felt the warmth of cooking, apparently they started without you.

You walked to the kitchen guided by the sweet humming of a sailor song. Uma was sitting on the table, drinking some ron from a fancy cup while Harry was stirring up some dough.

"Hi gorgeous." inmediatly, a smile appeared on Harry's face.

"Hi, there, beautiful:"

You put the muffins on the counter, while Harry opens his mouth to ask for a piece. You smiled and placed a muffin on his mouth, giving him little perks on the cheeks and lips after. He made a small cute giggle and continue stirring while you went towards Uma and placed your hands on his shoulders.

"How is my favourite captain?" now it's her time to be showed in kisses.

"Good, better know that the three of us are together." her hand caressing your arm.

The humming continued, now the three of you contrinuting. Harry put the cookies on the oven, with a couple of kicks to make it work. You took your usual place on his lap while placing your legs on top of Uma's.

The ron and the card games were rolling between your hands for half an hour, waiting for the ding of the old hoven to sound. It's incredible to think about how their behavious changes when the three of you are together, and alone. Uma laughs more truly and Harry shows out his sweet spot.

"He was being an asshole, he is lucky i only broke his nose."

"No, no... you did it because he was looking at our little thing."

Uma's hand brushed you hair carefully, attaching you know with kisses. An innocent laugh escaped your lips while they both started to tickle you.

Suddently the ding on the hoven sounded, finally letting you start what you've been craving all week. The cookies and the muffins were ready, the drinks placed on the small dinning table in front of the old TV, the popcorn only needed two minutes to be made so easy task.

You three sat on the squeaky couch and set the TV on. Like always, there was nothing interest rather than Auradon TV and villain correctional chanel, but you three always liked to make jokes and make fun of the first one.

After a long week on the island of the lost, you know that no matter what, you always have Uma and Harry around to relax and be loved.

[lancastrianwasian]

they're pushing the ben/chad agenda yes they told me themselves

[astrids-blog333]

No Saint, No Savior

Walter De Ville x Reader

Fandom: The Invitation (2022)

Summary: You've felt watched for days, eyes following your every step. One eerie night, everything changes as a dangerous chase through shadowed streets shows you that not all threats are as they seem. But who is hunting you, and why?

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (towards the end), creepy men, blood, stalking, violence, lemme know if I missed anything.

A/N: This man is SO UNDERRATED and it pains me. This fic does not follow the movie's plot, and you don't need to have seen it; you just have to fw vampires. After this fic I'm writing a Jude Bellingham fic someone requested, but I forgot who, I'm so sorry. If that was you, pls lemme know so I can tag you. 🫶 Please comment or like if you enjoy, it really helps :)

MASTERLIST

WC: 4.7k

You are responsible for your own data consumption <3

You’d felt the eyes on you for days now, even though you weren’t sure where they came from. Everywhere you went, you felt stalked, watched, hunted.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing, that it was just paranoia creeping in after too many late nights. But the feeling never faded. If anything, it grew stronger with each passing day.

Now, as you walk down the dimly lit street, you feel the eyes again. The city around you has calmed, the usual distant sound of traffic and people seeming quieter than usual—an eerie silence. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, resisting the urge to look over your shoulder.

But then you hear it. A footstep.

It is soft, almost unnoticeable, but it is definitely there. And worse, it is in time with yours.

Your pace quickens.

So do the steps behind you.

A shiver runs down your spine. Your breath hitches as you try to keep your movements natural, to convince yourself that it is just a coincidence, that someone else is merely walking in the same direction as you. After all, you are walking down a street.

Then, you hear something else—quieter this time, but closer. It is not just following. It is closing the distance. You start to run, your feet colliding with the cobbled road, footsteps echoing off the walls.

All of a sudden, from somewhere behind you comes a sharp whistle through the air, too fast, too precise, and then it is gone.

And so are the steps.

You slow, looking behind you, but there is nothing. Or at least, nothing you can see.

Then comes the sound.

A gasp. A struggle, brief and frantic. A choked-off noise, cut short like a thread being severed. And then nothing. Silence envelops the street again.

Your chest heaves, your heart pounding with every shallow breath. The only sound is the thumping of your own blood, but you can feel it. Something looming in the shadows.

You turn and come face to face with a man, so close your nose nearly brushes against his chest. He’s tall, so impossibly tall, and cold, like the night itself. His eyes are dark but steady, watching you with an unsettling calm, a sort of curiosity.

"Are you alright?" He places his hands on your shoulders to steady your trembling body.

His voice is softer than you expect, like he’s trying not to startle you. It cuts through the air, smoother than silk, but there’s something underneath it, something sharp. Your breath is still uneven as your gaze flickers over him, drawn—despite yourself—to the glint of his teeth. His canines catch the light, just a little too sharp.

You’re still breathing hard, too overwhelmed to process. "You... You were chasing me."

His eyes flicker, just for a moment, like he's trying to measure your reaction. "I wasn’t chasing you." His gaze sharpens. "I was keeping you safe."

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The man's presence settled like a weight in the pit of your stomach.

"Safe?" You barely recognise your own voice, it’s so shaky, so small, “From who?”

"From him." His hand gestures behind him, toward the empty space behind them. "I’m afraid he's no longer a concern."

You don’t know what to say. Part of you wants to run, to question everything about this night, but you can’t move. You can only stand there, trembling, wondering if you’re even safe at all.

"I'm sorry, I'm being terribly rude" he takes a step back. "My name is Walter, Walter De Ville."

"I think," he continues, his tone softer now, but no less intense, "you’ll find comfort inside. You’ve had enough excitement for one evening."

You feel conflicted, you don't know this man, he's a stranger. "Okay..." your voice shaky. "I live about 5 minutes away." You start walking down the street, your legs feel as if they might give out, but Walter makes no move to follow you. Instead, before you can take two steps, his hand grasps your wrist, harshly.

"I know, but I am not sure I would forgive myself if I let you go home and spend the night alone. Someone could still be out there." His eyes look into yours, icy and blue. "Please, stay at mine tonight, there's plenty of space."

You stand there, you know you shouldn't agree, there is no rational reason for you to go to his house. Yet, at the same time, you feel safe. Safe in a way you cannot explain. His presence comforts you, it feels strong and sturdy. So when your voice comes out quiet, almost silent you, decide just to go with it.

"Are you sure? I really wouldn't want to impose or-."

"I insist."

Walter smiles down at you, placing a strong hand on the small of your back, leading you down the street. "I've called a car, should just be around the corner."

As you round the corner, you see the car, you can tell its expensive, with its sleek and black exterior. The man standing beside it nods at you as you approach.

"That's Mr Field, the butler," Walter explains. "We'll take very good care of you. You mustn't worry about anything."

But before you reach the car, your eyes find a huddled shape in the alleyway, and you recognise it as the same alley you ran through mere minutes ago. As you step closer, the shape becomes clear. A body. A pool of blood spreading around it.

Walter follows your gaze, his voice as even as ever. "As I told you," he says, "the man who was following you is no longer of any concern."

He leaves no room for conversation, opening the car door and ushering you inside. You follow him with your gaze as he rounds the car, sliding in next to you and leaning forward to Mr Field. "Home, thank you."

You feel the car start to pull away.

You must have fallen asleep, because you wake to the sensation of movement beneath you. A slow, steady rise and fall. Your head is resting against something firm.

Then the realisation sets in.

Your eyes open just enough to take in the dim, leather interior of the car. It’s no longer moving, and you can make out the shape of Mr Field walking away. Walter’s dark, rich, scent surrounds you, and as your mind clears, you become painfully aware that you’re not just leaning against him. You’re curled against him, tucked neatly into his side.

Your body stiffens slightly, and before you can pull away, his voice breaks the silence.

"Comfortable?" There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, making you want to disappear. You've known this man for maybe an hour and you're sleeping on him.

Heat creeps up your neck as you shift, sitting up far too quickly. "I wasn’t—"

Walter chuckles softly, turning to look at you. "You were," he corrects smoothly. "Quite soundly, in fact. It was... endearing." His gaze flickers over you.

You open your mouth to argue, but he’s already reaching over, unbuckling your seatbelt effortlessly. Before you can process what’s happening, his arms slide beneath you, lifting you bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all.

"Walter—"

"Please, call me Walt."

"Ok, Walt—"

"You’re exhausted," he states simply, stepping out of the car taking you with him. "And I did promise to take care of you, didn't I?"

You exhale, relaxing just enough to let yourself slowly doze off in his arms. Trusting him just enough.

Just a little.

You wake up slowly, wrapped in the warmth of the duvet. For a moment, you forget where you are, until your eyes flutter open, taking in the grand bedroom, the heavy drapes filtering in only the softest traces of light.

Right.

You sit up, stretching the stiffness from your limbs. On the bedside table, you see a note, folded neatly beside a dress he's laid out for you.

I’ll return by evening. Make yourself comfortable. Mrs Swift will be there if you need anything.

There’s no signature, but he doesn’t need one. Your eyes drift to the clothes he’s left for you.

You reach for the dress, your fingers brushing over the fabric, so soft it barely feels real. It’s delicate, impossibly so, as if it belongs to another era entirely. The bodice is fitted, the sheer lace hugs your skin just right. The sleeves, if they can even be called that, are wisps of mesh and the skirt flows over your body like liquid, pooling in gentle waves around your feet.

It’s the kind of dress meant to be admired rather than simply worn. And somehow, you have no doubt that was exactly his intention. Another quiet reminder that, despite everything that feels wrong, he intends to take care of you.

And yet, beneath that, there’s the lingering truth you’re trying not to think about too hard.

Walter isn’t normal.

And whether you admit it or not, you’re about to spend the day in the home of a man who you're pretty sure isn't quite human.

You decide to explore, if you're to be alone until Walter returns, you may as well familiarise yourself with the estate. The mansion is eerily quiet as you wander through its corridors. The architecture is stunning. The dark wood, the intricate carvings, the bookshelves that seem to stretch endlessly.

What captures your attention though is the lack of any personal touches. No photographs. No clutter, no sign of life beyond the perfectly arranged furniture and candlelight, even in the middle of the day.

Pushing open a door to what looks like a study, your eyes scan over the neatly stacked papers, the antique desk, the massive fireplace. And then, you notice something.

A wine glass, still half-full.

You step closer, expecting to find deep red wine, but the liquid is thicker, darker. Your stomach twists.

"Ah, you’re awake."

The voice startles you, and you turn quickly to find a woman standing in the doorway, her expression warm. She’s older, dressed neatly, with sharp eyes that seem to assess you in a single glance, despite that, you feel no threat from her.

"You must be Mrs. Swift," you say, remembering the name Walter had mentioned in the note.

She nods, stepping inside. "And you must be her," she muses, as if that alone explains something. She glances at the glass on the desk but says nothing about it. Instead, she smiles, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "I imagine you have questions."

You swallow. You should be afraid. You should. But the fear doesn’t settle, not fully. Instead, there’s a strange sort of inevitability to it. You already know the answers, even if you haven’t spoken them aloud.

Still, you meet her gaze and say, "He’s not human, is he?"

Mrs. Swift exhales, her smile tilting just slightly. "Do I really need to answer that miss?." You look at her, slowly shaking your head.

"No."

The admission should terrify you, but somehow, it doesn’t. Maybe because you’ve felt it all along.

Maybe because, despite everything, you’re still here.

She smiles, turning to leave. "Do wear the dress," she muses, a knowing glint in her eyes. "It’s a favorite of his, and I’m sure he’d love to see you in it."

The dining room is ridiculously grand, the candles flickering around you and reflecting off the polished silver. The place setting before you is pristine, the cutlery and plates are set out perfectly. It’s clear that everything has been prepared for you.

Walter sits across from you, watching with an easy, unreadable expression. He picks up his glass, the deep red liquid swirls inside, catching the glow of the candlelight in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"You’ve barely touched your food," he says, voice smooth as ever. There’s no teasing in it, he's simply observing you.

You shift slightly, pushing a bite around with your fork before finally taking it. He watches, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, clearly satisfied.

"I still can't really believe this is happening," you admit. "Last night, I thought I was going to die. And now I’m having dinner in a mansion with—” You stop yourself, not sure how to finish that sentence.

His lips curve just slightly. "With a monster?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. "I was going to say ‘a man I don’t know.’"

Walter chuckles, the sound low, quiet, and undeniably amused.

"Ah, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? You know me, at least you do now. You know what I am. What I’m capable of." He tilts his head slightly, studying you intently.

"And yet, here you are."

For a moment the room goes silent. He’s right. You could have left. You could have run. And yet, for some reason, you stayed.

"I suppose I should be thanking you," you say, nearly whispering, finally meeting his gaze fully. "For last night, I mean."

Walter lifts his glass in a slow, almost theatrical motion. "It was my pleasure," he says. "I do try to keep my guests from harm."

It should be unsettling, the way he says it, so smooth, so undeniably charming, but it isn’t. Not to you anyways.

Walter watches as you take another sip of wine. The rich taste lingers on your tongue, though you’re not sure if it’s the drink or the way he’s looking at you that’s making your head feel so light.

"You don’t seem as afraid of me anymore," he muses, leaning forward slightly. His voice is still flawlessly smooth, but there’s something else in it now, something that makes your cheeks heat up.

"Should I be?" you counter.

His lips twitch, amusement flickering across his face. "Well, that depends, darling," he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue, sending a shiver down your spine. "Are you the kind of person who enjoys a little danger?"

You roll your eyes, but the increasing warmth creeping up your neck betrays you. "That sounds like something a very dangerous man would say."

He exhales a soft chuckle, tilting his head. "And here you are, dining with him. What does that say about you?"

The air shifts. This time though, it's not fear. It’s something else entirely, something that tightens in your stomach when he slowly traces his finger along the rim of his glass, his icy blue eyes never leaving yours.

"You stayed," he says after a moment, his voice quieter now, more intimate. "Even after understanding what I am. I find that... intriguing."

You swallow, pulse quickening. "Maybe I just wanted dinner."

His smile turns sharper, darker. "Mm. Or maybe," he says, his voice like velvet wrapping around you, he stands up from his chair, slowly rounding the table. You tense as he stops just behind you, the space between you vanishing in an instant. He leans down, you feel his breath ghosting against your skin, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"You wanted something else."

The words linger between you. You should say something quick, something dismissive. But you don’t.

Because maybe he’s right.

"It's getting late," he whispers, hand reaching out to tilt your head towards his. "Perhaps it's time to retire for the night?"

His thumb brushes over your lower lip before you can answer. His touch warm despite the unsettling coolness of his skin. His eyes flicker down, watching the way you react.

He moves, placing a hand on the table beside your plate, caging you in. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat of his body, the way his breath fans over your cheek.

He picks up the delicate wine glass, turning it lazily in his fingers before taking a slow sip. His gaze never leaves yours as he lowers it again, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

Instead of setting the glass down, he lifts it toward you.

Your fingers brush against his as you take it, and for a moment, you think that’s all it is. But then, just as you bring it to your lips, his other hand moves to your waist, steadying you as he leans in even closer. The sensation of him pressing against your side has you in a trance, his fingers tightening just slightly.

"Good?" he asks, his voice low.

You nod, though you're not entirely sure whether it’s in response to the wine or the way his lips have begun to ghost down the line of your jaw, barely touching, just enough to make your breath hitch.

All of a sudden you feel the air whoosh around you, and the next thing you know, your back meets the smooth surface of the table.

His weight hovers over you before his mouth finally claims yours. The kiss starts slow, teasing, but it deepens in an instant, his fingers gripping your waist, pulling you flush against his firm body. You run your hand over his chest, feeling the muscles working beneath his shirt.

A soft sound escapes you, and his restraint snaps. His hand slides down, fingertips pressing into your thigh as he shifts against you, lips trailing lower, over your throat, as if worshipping every inch of skin he can reach.

Just when you think he might push you further, he suddenly pulls back, breathing heavier than before. His eyes are darker now, the blue nearly completely hidden behind his blown pupils, but his lips curve with satisfaction at the way you lie beneath him, breathless.

"Not here," he murmurs, his voice rough. "I have far better places to ruin you."

Before you can respond, his arms slide beneath you, lifting you from the table. You barely have a moment to catch your breath before he carries you toward the grand staircase.

Walter’s grip is firm as he carries you. His pace is unhurried, teasing in itself, as if he’s savoring the anticipation.

The flickering candlelight barely reaches the long, shadowed hall he strides through, but you don’t need to see anything, you can feel the shift in the air, the quiet hush of the mansion pressing in around you. Then, with a slow creak, he pushes open a door, stepping inside.

The room is dark. Luxuriously so. Heavy velvet drapes block out the world beyond, and the vast bed made up with black silks dominates the space. Everything about it feels indulgent.

Walter doesn’t stop until your back meets the bed. He sets you down with deliberate care, but the moment his hands leave you, a shiver rolls through you at the loss of his touch.

He notices.

Well, of course he does, and a smirk finds its way to his face.

You raise yourself on your elbows, studying his features in the limited light. His face seems sharper now, the lines of his cheekbones and jawline more defined.

“Lie back,” he murmurs.

You hesitate for a moment before obeying, your pulse hammering in your throat, not wanting to provoke him. He watches, eyes dark with hunger.

Then he leans over you, bracing one hand beside your head while the other ghosts down your arm, fingertips barely skimming your skin.

“Keep your hands to yourself love,” he orders you and his free hand continues down the length of your torso.

It’s a test. One you already know you’re going to fail.

His lips trail over your jaw, nipping at the skin from time to time. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch teasing and light, keeping you on edge. He takes his time, working his way down, his mouth grazing your throat, his hand slipping lower, and lower and lower.

You shift beneath him, body aching for more, for anything, for something to ground you. But when your fingers twitch, reaching for him, he’s faster.

His hand catches your wrists in an instant, pinning them above your head against the sheets.

Your breath hitches. You test his grip, but it’s useless. He doesn’t even strain to keep you still, it’s effortless, a quiet display of strength, of his unnatural power. The realisation sends a shudder through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach.

He chuckles, no doubt because it took you about two minutes before you failed your one simple instruction. “Impatient are we?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. His lips return to your throat, trailing lower, slow and torturous. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your dress and move your flimsy underwear to the side. When he finally touches you where you need him the most, it’s agonizingly slow, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

Walter watches, savoring the way you react to him.

“Let’s see how long you last, darling.”

Walter’s grip tightens just slightly around your wrists, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin. He doesn’t need to restrain you, you don't stand a chance against him, but he does it anyway. He loves the way your eyes beg for more, relishing in the way your pulse flutters against his lips when he places open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

His fingers work against you, and every touch sends sparks up your back. Every time you get too close to that release you've been craving, he pulls back to leave you aching for more.

When you finally whimper his name, "Walt please—" it happens.

His restraint snaps.

You barely have a moment to react before he releases your wrists, his hands shifting lower, gripping the delicate fabric of your dress.

And then—rip.

The sound of tearing fabric splits through the air.

Your breath catches as the ruined dress falls away in shreds, his hands trailing over the newly bared skin, entranced by the way the light reflects off you.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then his gaze flickers back up, dark and ravenous, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I suppose I should have warned you,” he says, voice dripping with amusement. “I never planned on being gentle.”

He pulls away, his gaze fixed on you like a predator watches its prey. His hands, still resting on your skin, now move to the buttons of his shirt.

One by one, they come undone.

He never breaks eye contact, and you feel every inch of his control and dominance; it's suffocating, as he slowly exposes more of his chest.

The moment the shirt hits the floor, his muscles seem to shift in the dim light, the strength beneath the surface no longer hidden.

He’s flawless.

His body is smooth, sculpted, you can’t look away. Every inch of him seems designed to make you need him more.

His fingers brush over your skin again, a fleeting touch, before he reaches for his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet room, the sound sharp, making your heart race with anticipation.

He pauses, just for a moment, like he’s savouring this, savouring the power he has over you, the way you’re looking up at him with wide eyes.

With a single fluid motion, the belt is gone. His pants follow quickly, sliding off his hips, revealing the tautness of his body. He steps out of them, his gaze still unwavering, watching you as he stands before you, tearing the boxers off his body, fully exposed to you now.

You swallow, mouth dry as you take him in. He doesn’t give you time to look away, stepping closer, his bare skin brushing against yours as he leans over you again. The heat of him is overwhelming, and you feel every inch of him pressing against you.

"You’re perfect," he whispers, low and full of hunger, just before his mouth claims yours again. His words linger in the air, the kiss hot, insistent, demanding.

The heat of him, the solid weight of his body pinning you down, only makes it worse, makes you needier. He knows it, too. The way he moves, the way he presses into you.

His hands skim over your skin, exploring, claiming, pressing into every inch of you as if he wants to memorise how you feel beneath him. He’s still taking his time, but there’s something different now. The patience and self-control he had before is slipping away with every gasp, every arch of your body against his.

You feel his breath at your throat before his lips follow, dragging over the sensitive skin there, his teeth grazing, threatening. He lingers at the pulse point, inhaling deeply, and for a moment, a moment that seems to drag on forever, he hesitates.

And then he bites.

A sharp gasp escapes you as his fangs sink into your neck, but the pain is fleeting, but it's drowned out almost instantly by a sudden, overwhelming rush of sensation. It crashes over you all at once, dizzying, intoxicating.

Your fingers dig into his arms, but you don’t push him away, you can’t. Even if you wanted to, there was no way you would be able to. If anything, you’re pulling him closer.

Walter groans against your skin, low and wrecked, his grip tightening on your waist. You can feel him shaking with the effort of holding back, of keeping himself from completely losing control.

He yanks you against him, pressing his thigh between yours, rolling his hips giving you some of that friction you'd been craving. His hands roam lower, gripping, kneading your body, setting fire to every inch of you he could reach.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, his lips are stained red, his pupils blown wide with hunger.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. His voice is rougher now, raw with something dark and unrestrained. He shifts between your legs, lining himself up.

"You ready?" He asks, holding eye contact.

You nod, and you suddenly feel just how much he’s been holding back. The stretch is inevitable, his size enough to make you hesitate, and for the first time tonight, Walter softens, just ever so slightly.

His hand moves to your jaw, making you look at him.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, soothing command. “You can take it.”

The burn is real, but so is the pleasure that chases it, growing with every slow, deliberate thrust.

He watches you, drinking in every reaction, every sound. He waits just long enough for you to adjust before he moves—a slow, rolling motion that has you arching beneath him.

And then he really lets go.

His grip tightens, his thrusts grow deeper, harder, his breath coming ragged against your ear. He presses your wrists above your head, pinning you effortlessly, and when you try to again test his strength, trying to shift, to move, you find that you still can’t.

A wicked smirk crosses his lips.

“Trying to fight me now, darling?” His voice is pure sin, teasing, taunting. “You’ll lose.”

And you do.

Walter sets a brutal, unrelenting pace, overwhelming in the way he takes you, like he wants to consume you completely.

And the worst part? You want him to.

Pleasure coils tight in your stomach, building to something devastating, something inevitable. Walter can feel it—he knows. His fingers slip between your legs, teasing, pushing you closer, dragging you over the edge slowly.

And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, he presses his mouth to your neck again, tongue flicking over the wound he left earlier—

And bites.

The sensation sends you spiraling, the pleasure shattering through you in waves so intense it leaves you shaking, gasping.

Walter follows moments later, his grip tightening almost painfully as he groans into your skin, burying himself deep one final time before he stills, his entire body rigid with pleasure.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The only sound in the room is your heavy breathing, the occasional aftershock still pulsing through your limp body.

He doesn’t move away, doesn’t give you a chance to drift too far. Instead, his body shifts just enough to wrap around you and cage you in beneath him.

You’re spent, but he stays pressed against you, arm draped over your waist, anchoring you in place. He’s not holding you down anymore, not pinning you with that unrelenting strength, but you can still feel it. The power. The possession. The quiet, unspoken claim on you.

And for some reason, you love it.

“I told you,” he exhales softly, pressing a final kiss to the pulse point on your neck, right where he bit you.

“You were always going to lose.”

And he's right, neither of you are going anywhere.

[strugglingsapphic]

do i let the girls, gays, and theys access my descendants collection on tiktok that has over 750 videos in it because my FYP knows what i am, and it has content from all 4 movies?

[lumax-mayclair]

Literally when would they have dated??

Harry, Uma, Gil, Mal, Jay, Harriet, and Ginny all say at some point or another that since the were children; Harry and Uma have been a team. He follows her everywhere and does what she needs. As KIDS! And if you don’t know Mal and Uma fell out when they were 10 (TEN!) so when would Marry have dated? Are they trying to suggest that they dated before they were 10, in which case… so?? 🤨 . . . Or . . . Are they suggesting Harry WENT BEHIND UMAS BACK AND DATED HER #1 ENEMY?? THE ONE PERSON WHO MADE HER FEEL WORSE ABOUT HERSELF SOME DAYS MORE THEN HER MOTHER EVER DID AND DATED HER???????

AND you think Uma would take him back after that like—… bffr 🙄

[moodmoodthecrabking]

celebrity uma, daughter of ursula x harry hook moodboard requested by anon

[xxepherr]

something something thinking thoughts about english love affair by 5sos but it’s hasan’s trip to the uk last week.

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: The Golden Glow of Change

Request: Hi! you could do a Harry hook x princess reader (Rapunzel's daughter) the reader is very shy, and when the barrier is removed, Harry flirt with her (can you not write the length of the hair, because I was thinking of a reader with short hair "in my case" but I don't know if it's okay for who read it) ty!

Reader: Female

Word count: 1739

Average reading time: 6 min 20 sec

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None

The atmosphere was magical as fairy godmother raised her wand, summoning her magic to bring down the barrier separating Auradon and the Isle of the Lost. A golden glow enveloped the barrier, and moments later, it shattered like glass, the shards dissolving into shimmering dust.

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

Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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

Cheers and applause filled the air as the people of the Isle began to cross the newly created bridge, stepping cautiously into Auradon. Y/n watched in awe, her heart swelling with a mixture of hope and nervousness. She knew this was a historical moment, but the uncertainty of what lay ahead left her feeling slightly uneasy.

As the celebration of Ben and Mal’s engagement continued, music began to play, and the people of Auradon and The Isle started to dance and mingle. Y/n found herself drifting toward the edge of the crowd, her shy nature making it difficult to fully enjoy the festivities. She was happy for her friends, but the thought of all these new faces made her stomach flutter with anxiety.

Just as she was thinking of finding a quiet spot to catch her breath, she overheard a conversation nearby. She couldn't help but eavesdrop, the voices familiar yet slightly out of context in the celebratory setting.

"So she's definitely taken?" Harry Hook's smooth, accented voice inquired, talking about Mal. There was a certain casual curiosity in his tone, laced with his usual mischief.

Evie nodded, her dark blue hair catching the light as she affirmed, "Definitely."

Doug, standing next to Evie, added with a hint of protectiveness. "So is Evie."

Uma, standing nearby with her signature confident smirk, interjected, "Ah! What's my name?"

Harry responded swiftly, leaning in towards Uma with a teasing smirk. "Uma."

Uma shook her head, her expression playful yet firm. "No."

Suddenly, Y/n found herself caught in Harry's line of sight. She hadn't intended to draw attention to herself, but there she was, standing awkwardly on the side of the gathering. Almost instinctively, she blurted out, "Hi."

Harry's eyes lit up with surprise and curiosity as he looked directly at her. "Hi. Whoa!" he exclaimed, nearly bumping into her in his enthusiasm. His ocean-blue gaze locked onto hers, and a charming smirk spread across his face. The glint in his eye made her heart skip a beat. His dark hair, tousled by the sea breeze, framed a face that was as captivating as it was dangerous.

"H-Harry Hook." she stammered, recognizing him from the stories she'd heard about from Mal and Evie. His reputation preceded him, tales of his daring antics and roguish charm were legendary.

"At your service, princess." he said with a dramatic bow, never taking his eyes off her. His movements were fluid, like a dance he'd perfected over years of navigating treacherous waters. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Y/n Fitzherbert" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Daughter of Rapunzel and Eugene."

"Ah, the princess with the glowing hair." Harry said, his grin widening. "Though I must say, it's your eyes that have captured my attention, darling."

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up at his words. "Thank you," she murmured, not quite knowing how to handle his boldness. The people around them seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of their own making.

Harry's gaze softened slightly, sensing her discomfort. "You don't need to be shy around me, lass. I'm harmless... mostly." He winked, extending a hand to her. His fingers were rough from the years spend on the isle, yet his touch was surprisingly gentle. "Care to dance?"

"I-I don't know if I'm very good at dancing." Y/n admitted, looking at his outstretched hand hesitantly. The idea of dancing with a pirate, not just any pirate, Harry Hook, was messing with her head.

"Good thing I am, then." Harry replied, taking her hand gently and leading her to the dance floor. The music surounded them, a lively tune that seemed to mirror the rapid beat of her heart.

As they began to dance, Y/n found herself getting lost in Harry's eyes. They were so blue, like the deepest part of the ocean, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Harry seemed to notice her staring and chuckled softly, the sound like a warm breeze on a summer night.

"Enjoying the view, princess?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

Y/n quickly averted her gaze, feeling her face flush. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No need to apologize, darling." Harry interrupted, twirling her gracefully. "I find your shyness rather charming." His smile was infectious, and she found herself smiling back, the nervous tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

"It's just... all of this is so new to me." Y/n confessed, her voice barely audible over the music. "The idea of all these people from the Isle coming to Auradon. It's wonderful, but also a bit scary."

Harry's expression turned more serious, though his eyes still held their playful spark. "I get that. Change can be scary. But sometimes, it's necessary. Besides, it's not all bad, is it?" He gave her a boyish smile, the kind that promised adventure and mischief.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh softly. "No, I suppose not."

They danced in comfortable silence for a while, the music and laughter of the celebration swirling around them. Harry's hand was warm and steady on hers, and she found herself feeling surprisingly at ease. The world outside their dance seemed to disappear, leaving just the rhythm of the music and the soft murmur of their breaths.

"You know," Harry said after a while, his voice thoughtful, "you're braver than you think, lass."

Y/n looked up at him, surprised. "Me? Brave?"

"Aye," Harry nodded. "It takes a lot of courage to face the unknown, to welcome people you've been taught to fear. Not to mention, standing here with a pirate like me." He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief and admiration.

Y/n smiled, feeling a little more confident. "Maybe you're right. But it's still hard sometimes. Especially with the idea of becoming queen one day. I'm not sure I'm cut out for it."

Harry stopped dancing and looked at her seriously, his gaze unwavering. "Listen to me, darling. Being a queen isn't about being perfect or never being afraid. It's about caring for your people, about wanting to make things better. And from what I've seen, you've got plenty of that."

Y/n felt her heart swell at his words. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." She realized then that his words were more than just flattery, they were a reassurance, a promise that she wasn't alone in her fears and uncertainties.

He smiled, a softer, more genuine smile this time. "Anytime, princess. Now, how about we enjoy the rest of this celebration, aye?"

She nodded, feeling a newfound sense of courage and hope. As they continued to dance, Y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, she could embrace this new beginning. And with Harry by her side, she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone. 

-----

As the days turned into weeks, Harry and Y/n spent more time together. Harry was constantly by her side, guiding her through new experiences and helping her find her voice. He took her on adventures around Auradon, exploring the beauty of the land and its people together. One evening, Harry took Y/n to a secluded spot by a lake, where the water reflected the twilight sky.

"I've got a surprise for you, princess." Harry said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"A surprise?" Y/n asked, her curiosity piqued.

Harry led her to a small boat, helping her in before pushing off from the shore. As they glided across the water, Y/n noticed small lanterns floating in the sky, their soft glow reflecting off the surface of the lake.

"Lanterns." Y/n whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. "Just like the ones my mother told me about."

Harry grinned. "I thought you might like them. It's a little piece of your history, right here in Auradon."

Y/n's heart swelled with emotion. "It's beautiful, Harry. Thank you."

As they watched the lanterns, Harry turned to her, his expression serious. "Y/n, I've seen you grow so much since we first met. You've gone from a shy girl to someone who's starting to find her own strength. I'm proud of you, lass."

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. "I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. You've helped me more than you know."

Harry reached out, taking her hand in his. His touch was gentle yet firm, his thumb slowly brushing over her knuckles. "And I'll continue to be here for you, princess. No matter what."

Their eyes met, and Y/n felt her heart flutter. The connection between them was undeniable, and as the lanterns illuminated the night, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Harry's hand left hers only to reach up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "You look beautiful," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with sincerity.

Y/n's breath hitched, the intimacy of the moment making her pulse quicken. "Harry," she said, her voice barely audible, "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Harry replied, his gaze never leaving hers. "Just be here with me."

He leaned closer, and Y/n's heart raced in anticipation. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle glow of the lanterns and the warmth of Harry's presence. His lips were inches from hers, and she could feel his breath against her skin.

In that perfect moment, Harry closed the gap, his lips capturing hers in a tender, lingering kiss. Y/n felt a surge of emotion, the kiss speaking volumes of the feelings they shared. It was soft and sweet, yet filled with a passion that took her breath away.

As they pulled back, their foreheads rested against each other, and Y/n smiled, her heart full. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Harry smiled back, his eyes shining with affection. "Anything for you, princess."

They sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, under the lights of the lanterns, feeling more connected than ever before. In that moment, Y/n knew that with Harry by her side, she could face anything the future held.

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

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

Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

Requested by: Anonymous

[dovesdreaming]

I NEED NEED NEED HARRY HOOK THATS TOTALLY OBSESSED W READER!! LIKE HE’D DO ANYTHING FOR THEM

i think it would be more interesting w/ an auradon kid but isle is totally fine lol! just let them get together at the end!!

thank you in advance!!

I’m glad I met you

May change title yet

I’m obsessed with this request and really hope it’s as good as I wanted it to be! Thank you for requesting hope you enjoy <3 (this is my 50th post already 😱)

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none

When the barrier came down Harry expected nothing of it. He was ready to cause mischief with the Auradon people. He hadn’t met anyone from there before but he assumed that they were stuck up and wouldn’t want to associate with isle people, Harry thought it wouldn’t be long before they tried putting a barrier back up again.

Harry was enrolled to the school and he wasn’t expecting anything he was interested in to happen, especially not from the big welcome they did for all the new students. He could already tell this was gonna drag well, that was until he saw you.

He was assigned to shadow you for the week so he could get to know the school and the classes. Harry was suddenly interested in what this school had to offer, or more so you.

He was immediately infatuated with you. He wanted to follow you everywhere and luckily just for this week he could. You would spend all day together and part to go to different dorms yet Harry would still think of you til he feel asleep, you were constantly on his mind. Similarly, Harry had grown on you since his arrival. You had been keen to be a welcomer for the isle kids because you felt they deserved a chance and you wouldn’t listen to certain kids that were opposed to it. You wanted the isle people to feel welcome and here you were halfway through the week of Harry shadowing you. It had been amazing so far, much better than you could have ever thought. You had become close friends fast as it turned out you shared the same humour and his quick remarks he made during class would always make you laugh. You ended up even spending your breaks and lunch with Harry because you couldn’t get enough of his presence.

When the end of the week came and Harry got his time table you were praying that you shared at least a few classes together. It turned out that you did in fact share classes while not all like the past week, it was enough to satisfy both of you.

Since Harry had joined the school there hadn’t been a dull day. He joined your group of friends and he managed to get along with many people. While he had become better behaved he hadn’t completely given up his ways, he managed pull quite a few pranks off with many not being tied back to him. He had even managed to convince you on occasion to join in, you didn’t know how he did it but you guessed it had something to do with the way he would lower his voice to a deeper tone and that pirate accent of his.

Many months of being friends with Harry had made you both feel very deeply for each other, it coming to a head one night when you were sitting on a roof you had snook up onto together at night under the stars. In the quiet, no words needed to be spoken as you and Harry were comfortable in each others presence. As you both turned to look at each other the air felt heavy with many unsaid things. Harry made a move first and slowly leaned in. You hurried the moment along and crashed your lips into his. From that night on it was a whirlwind of feelings. The love you shared was exciting and new, you had never felt anything like it.

Harry was obsessed with you and he would say it all the time himself. He worshipped the ground you walked on and he would follow behind you everywhere you went if he could. You had changed him and he became malleable at your will. He would listen to every thing you said and would hold onto to your every word. He would still act tough and domineering in public but behind closed doors he would beg for the smallest drop of your attention. It was like a switch and initially it had shocked you to see such a stark difference in personalities. But you loved every inch of him and he would say the same for you, he would be forever grateful for the barrier being brought down and cursed whoever for it not being brought down a while ago so that he could have known you sooner.

Headcanons:

-Would want you to wear his clothes so that they would smell of you. He would want the name of your perfume so that he could always have your scent near by but it would never be the same as you, something was missing. Would be the type to hug your pillow if you ever couldn’t be with him at night.

-Would put his hat on you and immediately fall in love, would fall to his knees at the sight and would always beg you to wear it.

-Would always flirt with you and his weakness would be if you ever flirted back. He would become besotted with you and become silent from the rush of emotions it caused within him.

-Would be so whiny. Would never want to leave your side behind closed doors. Just wants to be in each others arms all day.

-He just couldn’t get enough of you once you were together. Would love staring at you and into your eyes. He could listen to your voice forever.

-would always have a picture of you close by. Whether it be in his pocket, it tucked away safely in his hat, he wanted you close to him. Would also always be taking photos of you and would catch amazing candid shots of you where the light in your eyes shone.

-He may not have much but he would do whatever he could for you. He offered you his all and would hope it was enough for someone like you.

-With how obsessed he was with you he would have doubts about not being enough for you, especially with his background. You’d be quick to reassure him with words and kisses though.

-Overall though Harry is smitten and no amount of teasing would ever change the way he feels for you. You make his heart beat and have made him a better person, he could never be more grateful for having someone like you be in love with him.

Thank you for reading!

[lancastrianwasian]

auradon did not deserve benjamin florian de lorraine and he should've burned it to the ground more than audrey.

[astrids-blog333]

In His Eyes

Walter De Ville x Reader

Fandom: The Invitation (2022)

Summary: An unexpected reunion stirs something unfamiliar in Walter. At first, it's nothing, just a name from your past. But as the evening stretches on, tension simmers beneath the surface.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, violence, unwanted attention, creepy man, mention of blood, possessiveness and dominance.

A/N: Guys, I know this isn't a huge fandom, but I love him anyway and will forever represent. Again, you don't have to have seen the movie as this has nothing to do with the plot, as long as you have a liking for vampires, you're good to go 🤭 Also, Darian is a completely made-up character in this, sorry to any Darians out there :)

MASTERLIST

(dividers by @cafekitsune)

WC: 3.9k

The ballroom hums with the murmur of conversation. Candlelight flickers against gold-trimmed walls, and the scent of warmed wax and delicate perfume seems to fill the space.

Walter stands beside you, a familiar and steady presence. His hand rests lightly on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your gown as he guides you through the parting crowd.

He leans in close to you, “Care for a dance?” His voice is smooth and light, almost teasing.

You smile, giving him a small nod. It isn’t often that Walter takes the lead in things like this, so you take the opportunity. And when the orchestra shifts into a slow waltz, he pulls you close. His hand is firm on your waist, and the other wraps around your delicate one.

The world outside fades away, and you can only focus on him. His high-set cheekbones, the way his dark eyes bore into yours, his perfect lips parted just enough for the tips of his canines to peek through. Everything about him was simply mesmerising.

Walter's gaze focuses on you, unwavering, as if you are the only thing in the room worth looking at. The soft glow of candlelight catches in his dark eyes, and he smiles, not wide, not showy, but something quieter and measured, but you know how much it means.

His deep stare causes your steps to falter, only slightly, but Walter’s grip keeps you steady. When you glance up at him again, his expression remains unchanged, his focus entirely on you.

When the song ends, Walter spins you into the crowd with a seamless movement. His hand doesn’t leave you for long before he’s guiding you toward the drinks table.

“Do you want something to drink?” The warmth in his voice is familiar, so is his hand splayed over your back. You turn to answer, but before the words leave your lips, you recognise an old friend of yours.

“Don't you two look marvelous,” he says, his voice easy, carrying the kind of charm that slips in unnoticed until it’s already settled.

His hand clasps yours, firm and warm, a glint of amusement flickering in his gaze.

“I’d like to introduce you to my husband,” you say, turning slightly toward Walter. “Walter, this is Darian, an old friend of mine. Darian, this is Walter, my husband.”

Walter’s grip is steady as he takes Darian’s offered hand, his expression neutral and unreadable. The handshake lingers a second too long before Walter releases him, but his attention doesn’t stay on Darian for long; his eyes flicker back to yours quickly, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder as though drawn there by instinct.

“It’s so good to finally meet you,” Darian says, his tone smooth, too easy. “She’s told me so much about you.” Walter inclines his head.

“Pleasure.” Walter’s voice is flat, almost uninterested, as if merely stating a fact.

Darian’s smile widens, playful, but his eyes flicker with something more calculating. Walter remains still, but you feel the faintest shift of his fingers against your shoulder, a barely-there touch, light yet deliberate. Not possessive, not forceful.

Just a reminder.

When you all sit down for dinner, a few mere hours later. The first course arrives, delicate plates of soup set before each guest.

Darian, ever the charmer, carries himself with an ease that grates against your nerves.

His words are completely innocuous but too well-placed, his smiles just a touch too warm.

“You always did have exquisite taste,” Darian muses, swirling the wine in his glass. His eyes flicker toward you for a second too long before returning to Walter. “In all things, it seems.”

Walter’s fingers tap once against the table, a slight movement which goes unnoticed by most, but you know better. His expression remains impassive, his smirk still polite.

“It is only natural to surround oneself with the finest, is it not?”

Darian chuckles, sipping his wine. “I do wonder how you manage to keep it all so… untarnished. Beautiful things tend to be fragile.”

You stiffen slightly, but Walter remains motionless. He does not glance at you, does not acknowledge Darian’s bait. Instead, he turns his attention to you, reaching for your hand under the table. His touch is light, a brief press of reassurance before he withdraws, taking a slow sip from his glass whilst doing so.

Darian leans forward slightly, feigning casual interest. “It must be… consuming, living here,” he remarks, eyes flickering to you once more. “Such a grand estate, such a grand life. But does it not grow tiresome? The weight of it all?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Walter beats you to it. “On the contrary,” he says smoothly, “she thrives here.” His smile is razor-sharp. “I see to it.”

Darian’s lips part slightly, caught off guard for the first time that evening. He recovers quickly, though, forcing an easy grin. “Ah, of course. Ever the perfect host.”

Walter exhales a quiet chuckle, something dark glinting in his gaze.

However tense the evening gets, it is not until dessert is served that something in the air truly shifts.

Walter, who has played this game with such meticulous control, has exhausted his patience. So, when Darian reaches for your hand across the table, perhaps in jest, perhaps in something more calculated. But before his fingers can reach and brush yours, Walter moves.

Not hastily, not with any outward aggression, but with an ease that is almost terrifying. His own hand intercepts, gripping Darian’s wrist with deceptive gentleness.

Darian’s smile falters, just ever so slightly.

The air in the room feels heavy with silence, the kind that settles after the laughter and music of a memorable night have long faded away. The fire crackles faintly in the hearth, casting soft light across the stone walls, but the warmth doesn’t seem to reach your skin. The guests have all gone, leaving only a handful of people behind. Now it’s just you, Walter, and Darian, who is leaving in the morning.

Darian sits on the edge of his seat, his voice is low, teasing as he recounts one of his many travels, leaning in just a bit too close, as though the space between you doesn’t matter. His fingers brush against your arm when he gestures, the touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

You try not to think about it, you try to tell yourself it’s all harmless, but the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you feel the light breeze of his hand moving past yours.

Walter, ever the observer, doesn’t say much. His gaze stays fixed on Darian, his jaw tight, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t break his calm composure. He shifts in his seat, his fingers brushing lightly over yours.

Darian talks on, his words still light, but there’s something sharper about his gaze now. His eyes flick over to you a little too often, his smile lingering too long.

You open your mouth to respond, but Darian speaks again, his tone softer now. “I bet you two don’t get many moments like this,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, almost conspiratorial. “With all this power, all this beauty around you. What is it really like?”

You swallow, uncomfortable under his gaze. But before you can answer, Walter’s hand is there again, a solid presence over yours, grounding you. The touch is brief but deliberate, a warning, perhaps.

It’s enough to make your pulse quicken.

Darian leans in again, his breath too warm against your ear. “She’s a lucky woman,” he says, and his words hang in the air like a challenge.

The subtle tension snaps, just for a moment, and Walter’s voice cuts through the space between you. “Is that what you see me as, Darian? A symbol of power?” His voice is quiet, but it carries weight.

Darian chuckles, brushing off the question with a wave of his hand, but his eyes are anything but casual. “No, no. Of course not.” But the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, it lingers in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

The conversation moves on, but Darian’s gaze doesn’t leave you. You feel it, heavy and possessive, every time you shift in your seat. It’s subtle at first, his eyes following you just a little too closely, his words dragging on too long.

Suddenly, Walter shifts and stands up without a word, excusing himself to another room to check on something. You didn't catch what, after all, you could always ask him later.

You watch him go, but before you can process it, Darian’s voice comes low and close again.

“You know, you don’t have to stay with him forever,” Darian murmurs, his voice rough with something darker. “You could have anyone you want... someone who knows how to truly treat you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and a cold shiver runs down your spine. You glance at him, but before you can respond, his hand reaches out, brushing yours with a cold touch that makes you pull back instinctively. His fingers tighten around your wrist, far too firmly.

“You deserve someone who sees you,” Darian whispers, his eyes dark, unsettling. “Someone who knows what you need.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your instincts telling you to pull away, but before you can do anything, the door creaks open.

Darian smiles. “You’re quite lucky, Walter.” His voice is smooth, addressing the man who just reentered the room. “To have someone like her.” His hand, which was on your wrist, moves up your arm, finding its way to your shoulder and creeping still further.

You squirm in your seat, edging backwards, desperate to get away from him. But it all happens too quickly to process.

One moment, Darian’s hand is where it shouldn’t be. Next, Walter’s grip is around his wrist, unyielding. Darian's sharp inhale that follows is the only sound in the room before he drops his hand from you.

Darian’s breath stutters. His fingers curl against the force of Walter’s hold.

“Let her go,” Walter murmurs, his voice low, even.

Darian flinches, his balance shifting as Walter twists his arm just slightly, just enough to make his point.

Darian grits his teeth. “I didn’t mean-”

Walter tightens his grip.

Darian exhales sharply, his body folding slightly toward the pressure.

“I told you to let her go,” Walter growls, his voice cold and full of venom.

You sit, frozen, watching as Walter’s strength overtakes Darian’s resistance. Darian’s other hand grips Walter’s forearm, struggling, but it’s no use. Walter’s grip tightens, and his eyes never leave Darian’s, a fury burning behind them that’s hard to ignore.

For a second, Walter’s gaze flickers to you, sharp, possessive, full of something dangerous. Then, without warning, he shoves Darian back into the stone wall with a force that knocks the air from his lungs. Darian crumples, gasping for breath, but Walter doesn’t release him.

“You don’t get to touch her.” Walter’s voice is deadly low, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to think for a second she’s yours.”

Darian’s chest heaves as he scrambles, trying to push himself up, but Walter steps forward again, his boot pressing into Darian’s stomach, forcing him back to the ground with a sickening crunch.

“I invited you to my home. I gave you the courtesy of a seat at my table,” Walter murmurs, dangerously calm. “And you mistook it for equality.”

Darian wheezes, gasping for air. He pulls Darian up by his collar, his face inches from his. The venom in Walter’s eyes is unmistakable.

“We are not equal.”

Finally, Walter pushes Darian away with one swift motion, his hands leaving him to collapse back onto the ground.

Walter doesn’t spare him another glance. His chest rises and falls with controlled breaths as he turns to you, his dark eyes still burning with an intensity that pins you in place.

Then, without a word, he steps toward you.

The kiss takes you by surprise. It’s not soft. It’s fierce, hungry, his lips molding to yours as his hands grip your waist and pull you flush against him. There’s heat behind it, a release of everything simmering beneath the surface, his anger, his dominance, the undeniable desire between you.

It’s a kiss that demands surrender, and you give in without hesitation.

The silence stretches when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His breath is warm against your lips, but his hands remain firm on you, steady, grounding. The world around you feels like a distant hum compared to the sharp focus of Walter’s gaze on you.

There’s something raw in his expression, something unguarded. His fingers brush along your jaw, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the shape of you. For the first time since the night began, his touch is gentle.

"Are you alright?" His voice is quieter now, still deep, still commanding, but with a thread of something softer woven through it.

You nod, though words still evade you. Your heart pounds, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of him, the way he looks at you, the way he holds you, the way he fought for you without a second thought or even an ounce of hesitation.

Walter’s thumb brushes over your cheek, lingering there for a breath before he exhales, his control tightening like a leash on whatever storm still brews inside him. Then, without another word, he takes your hand and leads you away.

The grip of his hand is firm, his every step deliberate, carrying you both away from the wreckage of the evening, away from Darian’s ruined pride and the tension that still lingers in the air.

He doesn’t stop until the doors of your chambers close behind you, shutting out the world beyond.

The moment the lock clicks into place, the air shifts again.

Walter turns to you, his gaze sweeping over your face, down the length of your body, as if reassuring himself that you’re truly here, unharmed. Then, in a single stride, he’s on you again, his hands at your waist, his lips brushing yours in something softer this time, but no less demanding.

"Tell me if it’s too much," he murmurs against your lips. But there’s no hesitation in his voice, only quiet certainty, the command of a man who knows exactly what he wants.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him. "Don’t go slow," you breathe, a teasing smile playing at your lips, but the need behind your words betrays you.

Walter’s lips twitch, a knowing smirk ghosting across them before he claims your mouth once more. His hands slide up your back, pulling you against him, his touch steady.

He gently lowers you onto your bed, his gaze never leaving yours. His movements are deliberate, slow, but each touch, each brush of his hand against your skin makes your breath catch.

You know he’s still in control, but there’s a new tenderness in the way he moves.

His hand slides down your side, settling at your hip as his lips trail down your neck and across your collarbone. The kiss is soft at first, gentle, but with each movement of his mouth, there’s more heat, more urgency.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin.

His lips brush against your ear, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slide lower, gripping the fabric at your hips. His fingers bunch it up, pulling it up above your hips, so that your lower body is fully exposed, save for your underwear.

“You’re still so put together,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice low, a hint of amusement breaking through his tone.

“I think I prefer you undone.”

His hands move to the hem, slipping beneath it, fingertips brushing against bare skin as he pushes it higher. The cool air kisses your exposed thighs, a contrast to the warmth of his touch. He moves slowly, deliberately, letting the fabric gather in his grip.

Then, his fingers find the sensitive spot on your inner thigh, and you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes you. Your body already responds to him, your breath hitching as he spreads his hand over your leg, his grip firm but reverent.

“Relax,” he coos, voice dark. “Let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you sweetheart.”

His fingers graze higher, just barely skimming where you crave him most, teasing you, coaxing you. The heat between you intensifies, your pulse quickening as he takes his time. You feel the fabric of your underwear shift under his touch, a barely-there pressure that makes your breath stutter.

He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours, waiting, always waiting for you to yield to him completely. And then, without another word, his fingers dip lower, dipping into you. His thumb presses against you, drawing slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending another wave of shocking heat surging through you.

The pleasure builds slowly as his fingers push deeper, stretching you just enough to make you gasp in anticipation. His eyes never leave yours, watching you, loving your every reaction. You arch your back slightly, your chest rising and falling with each breath as he works you with expert precision.

"Good?" He asks, his voice is barely a whisper, but you hear the quiet edge of possessiveness in it.

It drives you wild.

You nod, unable to string together a coherent sentence, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as your body betrays you, every slow movement of his fingers sending waves of pleasure through rocking through you. He picks up the pace just slightly, his fingers finding a rhythm.

You can feel the tightness building within you, a coil winding tighter with each press of his fingers before a wave crashes over you. You gasp, your body trembles in his hold, your fingers curling in the sheets as the pleasure surges through you. You barely have time to catch your breath before Walter’s voice fills the silence.

“That’s it love,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.

But before you can fully come down, before the rush fades, Walter’s fingers don’t stop. He shifts between your legs, his thumb circling you again, this time with more pressure.

It’s nearly too much, too overwhelming, you’re already so sensitive that the second one comes quicker, more intense. The gentle but relentless pressure of his hand sends you spiraling once again, your body jerking beneath him as a second climax rips through you.

It leaves you breathless, the feeling almost too much to bear. His thumb doesn’t stop moving, just coaxing you through the aftershocks.

Walter watches you, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he takes in the way you tremble beneath him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin as you try to steady yourself, but the way his hands continue to roam your body tells you he has no intention of giving you a moment’s respite.

“Feel good, love?” His voice is smooth, knowing.

You nod, still breathless, and his lips find yours again, softer this time, as if savouring the moment. His fingers trace down your sides, slowing when they reach the fabric still clinging to your skin.

“Tsk,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands sliding lower. “Still dressed. That won’t do.”

His fingers toy with the waistband, tugging just slightly, enough to make you squirm. “I should take my time with this, don’t you think?” His lips brush your jaw, trailing lower as his fingers slip beneath the fabric. “After all, you look so pretty when you beg.”

You let out a soft whimper, hips shifting involuntarily, and Walter chuckles, a deep, satisfied sound. Then, without warning, there’s a sharp tear of fabric as he rips your underwear away in one swift motion.

“Much better,” he murmurs, tossing the ruined scrap aside before dragging his fingers down your newly bared skin, making you shiver. “I do like you like this, nothing in my way.”

But then his hands drift higher, fingers gathering the fabric of your dress still bunched around your waist. His lips curl against your skin as he hums in mock disapproval.

“And this?” he muses, toying with the material. “We won’t be needing it anymore, will we?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, he slips the dress over your head and tosses it aside in one smooth motion. The way his gaze sweeps over you, his eyes hungry, makes heat pool low in your stomach.

He lets his hands explore, slow and teasing, before he pulls back just enough to unbutton his own shirt. His movements are deliberate, unhurried, letting you watch as he undoes each button with practiced ease. When he finally shrugs off the last piece of clothing, his gaze finds yours again, dark and unwavering.

He moves between your legs, pressing his body against yours, the heat of his bare skin searing against yours. His touch is still gentle, still teasing, as he guides your thighs apart, positioning himself between them.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” he purrs, dragging his lips down the column of your throat. He gives you no time to answer before he tilts your chin up to claim your mouth in another kiss, leaving you dizzy.

Then, just as you’re lost in the feel of him, he thrusts inside in one slow, unrelenting motion, stretching you, filling you completely. A gasp catches in your throat at the sensation, at the way your body responds to him instantly, moulding around him in a perfect fit.

His movements are slow at first, giving you time to adjust, his hands on your hips guiding you as you both find your rhythm. He looks down at you, eyes dark with desire but filled with something more.

He’s still focused on your comfort, on making sure you're okay, but you can tell he’s losing himself in you, the control slipping with each thrust.

He shifts his hips, finding a new angle, and you gasp, the pleasure shooting through you again, sharper than before. He doesn’t pause, just continues, each thrust deep and slow, bringing you closer to the edge again.

“One more for me, love,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I know you can.”

His words are a challenge, a command, and you find yourself rising to meet it, your body responding to him, every inch of you connected to his as the pressure builds once again.

With each thrust, you feel your body tightening, the coil winding tighter, and when you finally let go again, it’s overwhelming. He doesn't slow, still chasing his own high. Your hands clutching at his shoulders as you lose yourself, surely leaving marks.

Then he groans, his pace faltering as he follows you, his body tense with the force of his release. He holds you close as you both come down from the high, his breath hot against your neck as you lie together, wrapped in the quiet aftermath.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low. “So perfect."