#unruly body hair for the win

[gingersnapsblonde]

Yo I just saw some porn of Iza from twilight princess and like. First off twitter sucks but secondly. She so has the natural look going on down there. Not completely bare. Tell me that gal wouldn’t have a full on bush 🙄 ugh so many people are scared of the bush! And!! Armpit hair on chicks like omg it’s not a crime give them that body hair it’s hot! 😭

[nativegirltapes]

⸻ ┊͙ the one where drew begs for angel back !

warnings: ermmm idk if i like this. oral (f receiving), drew yearningggg, lowkey sub!drew idk, reader tryna act nonchalant…

music thumped throughout the bar and neon lights painted the walls when you spotted drew for the first time since your breakup. your heart sunk to the bottom of your body, but it still didn't stop you from making your way towards him sitting at the bar. to anyone nearby it would have looked like an arranged meetup.

"what are you doing here?" your tone was bratty, you wanted him to know you were still upset, but that stupid smirk and the way his shirt hugged all your favorite parts of him was making that decision hard.

“i heard you’d be here.” drew’s words hit you like a stab to the stomach. he’d heard you be here? from who? “you look really good." drew broke the silence as you questioned how he even knew you'd be here.

“yeah that’s what patrick said too.” you lied right through your teeth, avoiding his gaze as you looked into the crowd of people dancing. there was no patrick, there was no man. you came here with your girl friends.

“who’s patrick?” drew remained calm, almost like he didn't care at all that you were here with another man.

“the guy i came here with.” you gave drew a blank stare, waiting for the jealousy to wash over his face. but it never did. you always struggled with being able to read drew. “so, you heard i’d be here, but you didn’t hear that i’m seeing someone else?”

“guess not.” drew rested his elbow on the bar. he was better at your own game than you. “he’s really nice.” you gave drew a shrug. you were trying so hard to play it cool that literally everything around you vanished, all that mattered was drew and the fact that he was right in front of you.

“i got a hotel room a few blocks away.” drew ignored your previous comment. he didn’t come here to mess around, he came here to win you back.

“okay?” you had an attitude, despite hoping that he’d ask you to come back to the hotel with him.

“do you want to come? we can talk.”

“what about patrick?” you grabbed your purse from the bar counter, the leather felt cool against your fingertips. drew offered a hand, instinctively you grabbed it, accepting the help down form the bar stool.

“he doesn’t exist does he?” drew giggled. despite still being upset at him, you laughed too. drew had a way of making it impossible to stay mad at him. “why? jealous?” you teased.

⋆˚. 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 🍰 ⟡˖ ࣪

making it to the hotel after an awkward walk there, you made yourself comfortable in drew’s hotel room.

“how sorry are you?” you sat on the bed, drew wanted to talk, so you started the conversation.

“i’m really sorry.” drew knees touched yours as he hovered over you. even bringing his fingers to your chin, “can you forgive me?”

“i don’t know.” you felt your cheeks flush a bright red. “i want you to show me how sorry you are.” you shoved drew’s hand away from your chin, trying to seem superior to him, and although you knew your place, drew played along.

“how can i show you?” drew smirked, still looking down at you. the mere look of him and his muscular arms begging to be free from the strain of his t-shirt had your panties wet. but you couldn’t give it up that easy. “get on your knees.” you demanded, watching as drew immediately obeyed, never once braking eye contact with you.

drew was on his knees and he was practically still taller than you sitting on the bed. you tucked the unruly strands of his hair behind his ear, your hand traveling all over his upper body, finally stopping to caress his face. his eyes fluttered shut, fully taking in your touch, the one he hadn’t felt in a month, the one he realized he couldn’t live without.

it was silent, but a comfortable kind of silence. your hands roamed even more, now brushing through his hair. drew melted at your touch, you felt the tension growing.

it was cute watching drew swallow every ounce of his pride, the man who made you go crazy, kneeling before you all at your mercy, now going crazy over you. “i’m sorry baby.”

“i know.”

“no more odessa. no nothing. kay? it’s just us.” drew’s hands started to roam up and down your thighs, but you weren’t doing much to stop him. “youre all i want.” drew bent down, leaving kisses all along your knees and inching up your thighs. “please baby,” drew pleaded. “can you forgive me?”

"maybe," you hummed as drew kept kissing you, you missed his lips against you in a way that would be embarrassing to say aloud.

“let me make you feel good.” drew tugged your legs closer to the edge of the bed, you giggled in response, your nerves made it felt like the first time all over again.

“okay.” you slurred out as drew unbuckled your jean mini skirt, and pulled it down your soft freshly shaven legs.

“you’re fucking soaked baby.” drew smirked to himself as he looked at your wet red stained panties. “shut up,” you closed your legs shut out of embarrassment. “why? it’s fucking hot.” drew forced your legs back open, eager to get his head between your thighs.

you propped yourself up on your shoulders, watching as drew looked at your clothed went cunt like it was the first time he’d ever seen it before. “fuck baby,” drew rock hard cock in his jeans. “you’re perfect.”

“you mean it?” you said softly, biting your bottom lip as drew’s cold hand slid your panties to the side. his touch alone leaving you twitching and feigning for more.

“of course i mean it, look at you.” drew finally placed a kiss on wet pussy, sending fireworks throughout your body. “fucking perfect.” he hummed on your clit.

drew’s hands roamed all across your body as he began sucking on your clit, his tongue circling around your bud of nerves. you closed your legs around drew’s head, which only encouraged his behavior.

“please don’t stop.” you moaned out, gripping even tighter at the sheets surrounding you. “fuck drew.” your eyebrows furrowed from the pleasure.

you felt the tightness in your stomach threaten to burst. “gonna come drew.”

drew’s actions sped up, pushing you closer to your release. his hands wrapped around your thighs, doing his best to dig deeper into your pussy.

before you knew it you were breathing heavy, trying to to catch your breath, when drew raised his head from between your thighs. your juices making his face have a gloss over it, it always made you giggle.

“what?” drew smiled at you,

“i missed that,”

“i missed you.” drew crawled up closer to you, laying next to you. “can you forgive me?”

“i guess,” you squeezed your lips together, acting confused. like you hadn’t mad your mind up the minute you locked eyes with him at the bar. “under one condition.”

“that is?” drew looked over at you, eager to know what your proposal would be.

“we get to go though odessa’s instagram and talk about everything wrong with her.”

[nezuscribe]

it’s those infamous slytherin parties, the ones they throw after they win yet another quidditch game, but all slytherin!gojo can think about is you.

how you said you would come to the game but didn’t, how he kept looking into the crowd to see you there but you weren’t. sure, it was a long shot, after all, the two of had only just gotten closer and had it all ripped away ever since he kissed you that night.

he can feel the beat of the music in his bones, feeling the body of another girl pressed up against his and he feels nauseated.

you didn’t want to see him, that much he could piece together. you’ve avoided him wherever and whenever you could, and despite the fact that gojo prided himself in his inability to feel things, he felt his entire world slipping away from his feet the more you pretended that he didn’t exist.

you weren’t in your dorm (he knew because he asked your roommates) and he knew you weren’t in the library (he passed it by one his way here, not seeing you at your usual table), and gojo felt like he’d rather search the entire castle to find you than be here.

so that’s what he ends up doing.

he tells geto he’s leaving, don’t ask him where, and somehow manages to slither his way out into the hallways.

gojo walks around for a while, checking the library, your favorite broom closet, even the dining hall, but to no avail.

a part of him wonders if he should just go back, if he’s actually out of his mind, but he stops in his tracks when he hears something familiar.

your laugh.

he’s heard it a couple times this last week, a sound that makes his cheeks blush and his eyes to shine. he loves it. and he can tell it’s you from miles away.

so he rounds the corner, knowing that he looks unruly from his hair all tousled, his white button up wrinkled, but he doesn’t care.

and slytherin!gojo feels a part of his stomach just sink when he sees you sitting on if of those large windows, looking up as ravenclaw!nanami tells you something.

you look so angelic, so happy, and his jaw ticks, nose flaring. he should leave, he knows that, but he’s never been one to shy away, especially when it comes to something he cares so much about.

“nanami!” he calls out, watching as the two of you jump up a bit in surprise.

gojo watches as your eyes widen slightly, swallowing thickly as you glance up to nanami. he had come back from the game defeated to slytherin, but if he was stumped by that he didn’t show it on his face.

“gojo,” he says politely, nodding his head to him slightly. there’s a small smile on his face but it didn’t reach his eyes.

for a moment, nobody says anything.

“good game,” gojo then says, his eyes never leaving yours, “sorry it ended so early,” he’s just twisting the knife in deeper, but nanami chuckles.

you shift in your place, eyes trained on the ground as you smile awkwardly. you’ve been trying to not talk to gojo ever since that night, but he’s made it increasingly more difficult to do so.

“it’s alright,” nanami waves it off, glancing at you as he shrugs, “but truth be told, i do wish it went on for a bit longer,” you’re looking up at him now and gojo feels his teeth grating, wanting you to not look at this pompous creature, “we were just talking about how ironic it was that the first game she went to was cut so short.”

gojo feels his brows furrow in confusion, his air of confidence slipping slightly as he never breaks eye contact with nanami. he then looks at you briefly, catching your stare as he lets out a mirthless laugh.

“i wasn’t aware we had such a new audience today,” gojo bites out, his head tilting slightly to look at you, addressing you as you wet your lips, “i don’t think i saw you there.”

you nod slowly, fidgeting with your fingers as you laugh uncomfortably.

“yeah, um,” you start, and it’s the first time you’ve addressed him since that night. gojo cant stop looking at your lips, your face, everything, and he almost doesn’t catch it when you say, “nanami offered me a spot on the ravenclaw stands���so i went…”

gojo feels his smile drop completely, his eyes squinting as you look away, suddenly finding the wall interesting.

“well,” nanami says with another smile, triumphant as you looked at you momentarily, “i also offered to take you for a spin after the game but eh, like you said gojo,” his smooth words and demeanor make gojo clench his fists, his body rigid as his stomach churns, “it ended so early we could barely do anything.”

“hm,” gojo hums in the back of his throat, his mouth dry as he swallows once, his debonair smile coming back on his face as if nothing was wrong, “that’s all just part of the game, right?”

nanami nods, saying nothing.

gojo turns to leave, but stops for a second.

“oh, and i hope taylor preformed well enough by your standards nanami,” his eyes are watching the ways yours dart up to his, his finger motioning to you as he says your name with a lowered voice, “remember how spooked he was when we saw him last time? hope he learned his lesson not to go snooping ‘round the stands so late at night.”

gojo feels a sense of accomplishment when he sees nanami look down at you curiously, but it all washes away when you stand up abruptly, turning your back to him as you leave.

and his eyes drop when he watches nanami go after you.

[ace-turned-confused]

spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

-

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

-

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued… 

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

-

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase. 

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

-

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

-

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[hottiesforhockey]

may the best brother win pt 4⎜hughes brothers

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜bachelorette-esque situations ⎜angst? ⎜friends - to - lovers warnings: not much tbh ⎜very angsty ⎜happy ending ⎜ synopsis: you have been friends with the hughes brothers for years - but why does this summer feel so different? word count: 6k authors note: this is the final chapter of may the best brother win! I know a lot of you had thoughts on who she should end up with so I hope too many people don't hate me for my choices! I hope you all enjoyed reading (cause I know I enjoyed writing) and will continue to support me with my work going forwards! Feel free to check out my upcoming list to see what I'm working on next! pt 1 ⎜pt 2 ⎜ pt 3 ⎜

(unedited)

It’s close to two in the morning when you finally slide out of Luke’s grip, replacing your body with a firm pillow which he snuggles straight into, a delighted smile on his face. Your frown deepens as you tiptoe around the room, placing as many of your belongings as you can manage into the suitcase - zipping it up as quietly as possible before pulling on Luke’s oversized hoodie and the pair of sweatpants you had left out, your phone dinging with the confirmation of your flight back home. 

You look over Luke still fast asleep in the bed one more time as you let out a long sigh, silently walking towards the bed leaning down to push his unruly curls away from his face. “Please don’t be mad.” You whisper into the quiet night, placing a soft kiss against his hairline before tugging the blankets further up his body and sneaking out of the room with your belongings in tow. 

You’re barely down the stairs when you notice the soft glow coming from the entry room - someone is awake and judging by the silence it has to be Quinn. You knew he had a tendency to stay up late at night, enjoying the quiet of the world before eventually tucking himself into bed - you just never thought tonight would be the night he stayed up later then usual. You let out another sigh as you continue your way down the stairs. 

“You’re leaving?” Quinns voice is quiet, a soft lamp besides him the only thing illuminating the room as you place your suitcase by the front door - glancing down at your phone as you track the uber. 

“I have to, Quinn.” The desperation in your tone flings Quinn from his seat in the armchair - his steps leading him towards you before he can even think about it. You take two steps back as he gets close enough to reach you - his own feet finally pausing as he takes you in. 

Wrapped up in sweatpants and Luke’s hoodie, you hair pulled back from your face and all your belongings sitting at your feet. 

“I’m coming with you.” Quinn says on a long sigh, his hands pushing his soft hair away from his forehead, his face starting to crumble slightly as he nods his head in determination. 

“No.” You whisper, your phone dinging with the notification that your uber was 2 minutes away. “I need you to stay - someone has to stop them from ripping each other apart, from ripping themselves apart.” You explain, letting out a shaky sigh as you take a few steps towards him, lifting yourself up to press a soft kiss against his cheek. 

“I’m sorry that I have to ask you to do this, Quinn.” You take one step back. “I’m sorry that you have to be the one to fix things, again.” You take another step back. “I’m sorry.” You whisper as you pick up your suitcase again, hearing Quinn let out a soft groan. 

“Just—” He starts, “Just tell me when you get home safe” He says, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip, “I just need to know that you’re okay.” 

“I will.” You agree, looking over the oldest Hughes brother one more time before sneaking out the front door, shutting it behind you with barely a sound as you slide into your uber, letting out a stifled sob as you hold your hand to your mouth, watching the house disappear in the review mirror, watching everything you’d even know be left behind. 

+

+

“Where is she?” Quinn groans as he pulls himself in a sitting position - he had waited for the rest of the night for your updates, perched in his favourite arm chair the glow of the lamp the only thing keeping him company as he waited for your message. 

number 1 fan 🪭: just arrived at the airport - probably won’t be home till lunchtime but I’ll keep you posted. 

number 1 fan 🪭: I’m sorry. 

celebrity crush ♥️: don’t be sorry, just be safe. 

Quinn had responded to your message without a second thought - he didn’t want apologies, he wanted you to come home even thought a part of him knew this was what you needed - the past week had turned into a shit fight so quickly, none of you really anticipating how a fun bet would turn into a broken household. 

“All of her stuff is gone?” Luke shouts again, Quinn can hear the banging of doors as Luke races around the house trying to find you, the desperation evident in the way he comes bolting down the stairs next, his eyes meeting Quinns. Quinn isn’t entirely sure what Luke sees in his expression but his younger brothers face drops, his mouth dropping into a frown as he stumbles on the words he’s trying to get out. 

“Quinn, where is she— tell me she didn’t leave.” Luke begs, his voice cracking on the last word.

Quinn sighs deeply, running his hand over his face before locking eyes with Luke. “She’s gone.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Luke’s tone is accusatory, frustration and fear lacing his words.

“She needed space, Luke. We all saw it. She couldn’t keep doing this… to herself, to us.” Quinn’s voice is calm but firm, his gaze unwavering. Luke shakes his head, pacing the room. 

“No, no. I can fix this. I have to fix this. I’ll call her—I told her I’d fix it.” Luke lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tangling in his hair, “She didn’t even give me a chance to fix it.” 

“Don’t.” Quinn steps in front of Luke, stopping him in his tracks. “Give her time. The last thing she needs is pressure from us right now.” Luke’s shoulders slump, defeat written all over him. 

“I didn’t want her to leave… She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“She was upset, Luke.” Quinn places a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She did what was best for her and we have to be okay with that.” Luke nods slowly, his jaw clenched. 

“How are you so calm right now?” Luke says, his gaze shooting up the stairs as they both hear the sound of Jack’s door swinging open. 

“What the hell is all the commotion about?” Jack mumbles as he takes heavy steps down stairs. 

“I’m not calm, Luke — I’m freaking out but she’s an adult she knows how to take care of herself and we need to trust her.” Quinn tries to explain clearly, not used to the sight of his youngest brother being so genuinely furious. Luke was the loveable one, he was fun and energetic but the way he was glaring at Jack made the pit in Quinn’s stomach grow. 

“Luke, don—” 

“This is your fault.” Luke sneers as Jack comes into view, the middle brother confused by the sudden aggression. 

“What’s my fault?” Jack asks cautiously, his brows furrowed as he looks between his brothers.

“She’s gone because of you,” Luke accuses, stepping closer to Jack, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re the one who started all of this. The stupid bet, the arguments—everything. You pushed her away.” Jack’s expression shifts from confusion to guilt. He opens his mouth to defend himself but no words come out. Instead, he looks to Quinn for some sort of backup, but Quinn remains silent, his gaze heavy with disappointment.

“Luke, stop,” Quinn finally says, his voice firm but not harsh. “We’re all to blame. We let things get out of hand. Don’t put this all on Jack.”

“He’s the one who made her feel like she was doing something wrong!” Luke’s voice rises, cracking with emotion. “She was so worried about what he thought and about making him mad and all he did was make it worse.” 

Jack flinches at the words, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean to…” he mumbles, his voice barely audible.

“But you did, you called her a slut,” Luke snaps. “And now she’s gone.” The room falls into silence, the weight of Luke’s words hanging in the air. Jack drops onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. Quinn sighs, running a hand through his hair as he watches his brothers fall apart.

“We can fix this,” Quinn says softly, breaking the silence. “But we need to give her time. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

Luke shakes his head, tears brimming in his eyes. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Quinn says with quiet certainty. “But we need to be better for her when she does. No more bets, no more fights.”

Jack lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed. “Do you really think she’ll come back?”

Quinn nods. “I do. But it won’t be because we beg her to. It’ll be because she wants to. Because she feels safe here again.” The sound of Quinn’s phone buzzing breaks the tense silence. He quickly pulls it out of his pocket, his heart racing as he sees your name flash across the screen.

number 1 fan 🪭: just boarded my flight. i’ll text when i land.

Quinn exhales shakily, typing back a quick response.

celebrity crush ♥️: okay. Fly safe.

He stares at the screen for a moment, hoping for more, but no other messages come through. He pockets his phone and looks back at his brothers. “She’s okay, she just got on her flight.” Quinn updates the brothers, Luke letting out a breath of relief as he slumps against the couch, his glare focused on Jack as Quinn runs his fingers through his hair, for what seems to be the thousandth time that night.  Luke’s phone dings next, the youngest brother ripping it out of his pocket as he stares down at the message his frown unchanging but his posture relaxing a little.

bestie boo 👻 : Hey Luke, just thought I’d let you know that I’m okay - I’m sorry I up and left out of nowhere and I’m sorry I never said goodbye, but just know leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I know you’re worried but this isn’t goodbye forever I just need to clear my head a little, so don’t be too harsh on your brothers - I’ll message you later, promise. 

Lukey pookie 🐥 : Just don’t leave me for too long - I can come to you. 

Luke knows he’s coming off as desperate.

But he is desperate. 

Luke’s head perks up at the sound of Jack’s phone dinging, his brother hesitantly pulling it out of his pocket as he lets out a long sigh, a whimper sitting in the back of the throat as he drops it back in his lap. 

“Well what does it say?” Luke pries, his brother owes him this - owes them all this. 

“She said I forgive you, I hope you can forgive me.” Jack lets out a low growl of frustration as he pushes himself up from his seat. “I can’t let her leave it like this, I’m going after her.” He grumbles, stomping his way to the front door for his keys, his hands shaking as he tucked them into his pocket. 

“No, you’re not.” Quinn cuts in, standing in front of the front door as both brothers look at him like he’s got two heads, their mouths falling open as he crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s asking us for one thing and we are going to give it to her, whether you like it or not.” Quinn’s fingers reach for his hair again but he drops them, “Both of you go take a breather, she’ll let us know when she’s home and then we can go from there.” All the brothers nod, Luke being the first to leave, his long legs carrying him out of the house before anyone can second guess it - Jack leaves next dragging himself back up the stairs to his room, leaving Quinn back where he started the night in his arm chair with the lamp still glowing a soft yellow. 

His phone dings again in his hand. 

number 1 fan 🪭: I love you all, I hope you know that. 

It’s the first time in years Quinn has cried as hard as he does in that arm chair. 

+

+

“What do you mean you’re not going back to Michigan?” Your mums voice carries through your headphones as you roughly chop the vegetables in front of you. “What happened? I don’t understand why you left in the first place.” Your mother continues, not stopping as you place your knife back on the chopping board letting out a long sigh. 

“It’s complicated, but I feel like maybe have the summer apart will help mend things, give everyone some space to think.” You explain, rolling your eyes as your mum continues to try to convince you to start heading back to Michigan, claiming her mothers intuition is telling her it’s the right choice, her words only pausing at the ringing of your intercom. 

“Look, I’ve got to go but I’ll call you back later.” You say, quickly bidding your mum goodbye as you hang up the phone call, slipping your headphones around your neck before walking over to your front door, pressing the buzzer to let the delivery driver in. “Must be the amazon guy.” You shrug, waiting until your hear the loud knock at the door. 

Luke stands there, drenched from the rain, his hoodie clinging to him, water dripping from the ends of his curls. His eyes — tired, desperate, and stormy — lock onto yours, and for a long, breathless moment, neither of you speaks.

“You weren’t going to call.” His voice is low, rough around the edges. There’s no question in his tone — just a quiet statement of fact.

Your throat tightens. “I thought it’d be easier this way.”

“Easier for who?” His jaw clenches as he steps inside without waiting for an invitation, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The silence stretches thin, like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. “Because it sure as hell hasn’t been easier for me.”

You swallow hard, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that might shield you from the intensity of his stare. “What do you want me to say, Luke?”

“I want you to tell me why you left,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “I want to know why you didn’t even give me a chance to fix things.”

Your chest tightens painfully. “I didn’t think there was anything left to fix.”

His eyes narrow, frustration flickering across his face. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Your resolve wavers under his gaze. You take a step back, needing distance, but he follows. There’s nowhere to run — no place to hide from the weight of his presence.

“Everything was falling apart,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “The fights, the tension… It felt like we were breaking, Luke. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay. I couldn’t pretend like it wasn’t my fault.” Luke lets out a low scoff at your words, his head shaking as he continues to step towards you. 

“You didn’t have to leave.” His voice softens, the anger bleeding out, replaced by something more vulnerable. 

Tears prick at your eyes, and you shake your head. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” he asks, stepping closer again, his tone more pleading than demanding now.

“Of losing you,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “Of losing what all of us had before the stupid bet, we were best friends, Luke and now Jack can’t even look at me.” Luke exhales shakily, running a hand through his wet hair.

“You could never lose me, and Jack—” He pauses, a grimace on his face, “Jack’s complicated.”

“So you all keep saying.” You sigh, moving the piece of hair that’s falls onto your face, you look away, your gaze falling to the floor. “You deserve better then me, you all do and maybe it’s best if we all just take a bre—.”

“Stop.” His voice is firm, pulling your attention back to him. His eyes are burning with emotion, and when he speaks again, his voice is raw. “Don’t tell me what I deserve. Don’t decide for me. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect.”

Your hands tremble at your sides. “Luke—”

“No.” He takes another step forward, so close now you can feel the warmth radiating off him despite the cold rain soaking his clothes. “You don’t get to walk away and tell me it’s for my own good. You don’t get to leave without saying goodbye and pretend like it was some noble choice.” His words cut deep, hitting every raw nerve you’ve been trying to ignore. 

The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and your voice cracks as you say, “I didn’t know what else to do.” Any hint of Luke’s anger dissolves completely from his body as he steps towards you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, your sobs muffled in his chest. 

“Why didn’t you stay? We could’ve talked about this sooner instead of you just keeping yourself all cooped up in this stupid apartment.” Luke sighs, his chin perched on the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth letting you cry into the fabric of his hoodie. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you whisper, your voice muffled against Luke’s chest. “After everything that happened, I thought it was easier if I just… disappeared for a while.” Luke pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His expression is soft, tender, but there’s a fire in his eyes that you can’t ignore.

“Do you really think so little of me?” he asks quietly. “Do you think I’d just let you walk away without a fight?” You shake your head, your hands gripping the front of his hoodie. 

“It wasn’t about you, Luke. It was about me. I couldn’t handle the guilt, the pressure—everything just felt so overwhelming.”

Luke takes a deep breath, his hands dropping to his sides. “I get that. I do. But you can’t make these kinds of decisions alone. We’re supposed to be a team.” The word “team” hits you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air. Luke steps back, running a hand through his wet curls, shaking his head.

“Jack’s a mess,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “He’s been beating himself up since the second you left. He knows he messed up. Hell, we all did..” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “He doesn’t leave his room, Quinn puts food outside his door and it’s usually gone so at least we know he’s eating.” Luke lets out a bitter laugh,  his eyes locking with yours, “I’m not trying to guilt trip you or anything, I just—” He pauses, a frown growing as he thinks of what to say, “I just want you to know that he wants the chance to fix things.” 

“I don’t know how to fix things with Jack. He said some things… things that hurt more than I’d like to admit.”

Luke nods solemnly. “I know. And he’s probably not going to apologise the way you want him to. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He just… he needs time.”

“Time,” you echo, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “That’s all anyone ever says. Give it time. But what if time isn’t enough?”

“It will be.” Luke’s voice is steady, unwavering. “Because we’re not giving up on you. None of us are. You mean too much to us to let this be the end.” Your heart aches at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the walls you’ve built around yourself. You want to believe him. You want to believe that things can be fixed, that you can find your way back to the life you had before everything fell apart.

But the doubt still lingers.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I’m scared that things won’t ever be the same again. That I’ve ruined everything.” Luke steps closer again, taking your hands in his. 

“Nothing is ruined, I promise… just give me a chance to show you.” Luke’s brows furrow, his eyes pleading with you as his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” You nod in response, not missing the way Luke’s face lights up, his body almost vibrating with excitement as a smile grows on your own face. 

“Let’s go home.” Luke says, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering to life as you nod softly. 

+

+

Quinn shoots up from his seat by the table, his laptop lighting up the almost dark room as the front door opens. “Luke?” He calls out - slowly making his way out of the dining room. Luke had left two days ago not being able to bear being left alone in the house any longer - the youngest brother infatuation with you stemming deeper then anyone had realised. 

“Did you manage to talk to her? Is she okay?” Quinn calls out again, his frustration building as his younger brother ignores him. 

Maybe she didn’t let him in? 

Maybe he’s angry because she said she’s never coming back? 

Quinn’s mind is running a million miles an hour as he steps into the entry way, his whole body freezing as he takes in the smaller then his brother’s figure in the hall, the suitcase by your side, your hair pulled back from your face as you shoot him a shy smile. 

“Hi.” 

Quinn stares at you, frozen in place as if you might vanish if he blinks too hard. His lips part slightly, but no words come out. Instead, his eyes flicker to the suitcase by your side, then back to you. It’s the longest few seconds of your life, his silence weighing heavily in the air between you.

“Hi,” you repeat softly, your voice tentative, uncertain. The sound seems to jolt Quinn out of his stupor. He steps forward, his brows knitting together, but not in anger. His expression is more cautious, concerned.

“You’re here?” he finally manages, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. His eyes scan your face as if trying to convince himself that you’re real.

You nod, biting your lip. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

Quinn shakes his head slowly, his gaze softening. “I’m glad you did.” His voice is gentle, without any trace of the bitterness you had feared. He steps closer, his hands in his pockets. “We’ve been worried about you. All of us.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you look away. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just… I needed space. Everything was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Quinn nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. Sometimes things get too heavy, and you need to step back. I’m not saying it didn’t hurt—it did—but I understand why you felt you had to go.”

Your chest tightens with emotion. “Thank you for saying that.”

“Jack’s upstairs,” Quinn says, tilting his head toward the stairs. “He’s been… well, he hasn’t been handling things great. But he’s missed you. A lot.”

You nod, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I need to see him.”

Quinn offers a small, reassuring smile. “Go ahead. He needs this as much as you do.” Taking a deep breath, you pick up your suitcase and head toward the stairs. Each step feels heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest. Memories flood your mind—of laughter, of late-night conversations, of the bond you once shared with Jack. And of the way things shattered.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you pause outside Jack’s door. The familiar sight sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. You lift your hand to knock, but hesitate, your fingers trembling.

What if he doesn’t want to see me?

What if he slams the door in my face?

Summoning every ounce of courage you have, you knock softly.

For a long, agonising moment, there’s no response. Just when you’re about to turn away, the door creaks open.

Jack stands there, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired, worn down, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice trembling. Jack’s eyes meet yours, and you see the storm of emotions swirling within them—anger, hurt, longing. But instead of lashing out, his expression softens almost immediately.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice rough from disuse. He steps aside, opening the door wider. “Ummm, do you want to come in?.” You nod as you step inside, your heart in your throat. The room feels suffocatingly familiar, the memories hanging in the air like ghosts. Jack closes the door behind you, leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come back to be honest,” he says quietly.

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” you admit, your hands fidgeting nervously. “But Luke told me what been happening.” Jack lets out a long breath, his body rigid as the two of your stare at each other from across the room, his arms crossing over his chest as he nods slowly. 

“So you came because he told you to?” Jack assumes, his excitement dropping a little. 

“No, I came because I wanted to — because I care about you, Jack and neither of us deserves to hurt.” You explain, hesitating before continuing, “But the things you said, and the way you treated me, it wasn’t okay Jack and I need you to understand that if we are going to put this behind us.” 

Jack lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. “I know, and I’ve thought about it a lot and I know now that this things I said to you were because I was feeling a little rejected.” He says softly, letting out a small chuckle as he adds, “And we all know I don’t do well with rejection.” 

You blink, surprised by his words. “Jack…” He shakes his head. 

“No, let me say this. I messed up. I was angry, hurt, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I pushed you away when I should have been pulling you closer. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was hurt you. And my brothers…” He lets out a long breath, “I haven’t made things easy for them either and I’m sorry that I never took the time to explain everything before we got to this point.” He notes, his arms finally falling from in front of his chest, one hand raising to push his growing hair away from his face. 

Tears well up in your eyes again, and you take a shaky step closer. “I hurt you too. I didn’t mean to, but I did. And I’m so sorry for that.” Jack smiles but takes a step away from you, your hands retreating back to your chest as you look at him in surprise. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, “I can’t.” Your teeth catches your lip as you nod, Jack letting out a groan as he watches your chin tremble. 

“You and Luke are perfect for each other.” Jack says quickly, a sad smile on his face, “You know he got you a lego flower bouquet cause he knows you’d prefer that to real flowers, he’s also has that polaroid you two took on the boat in his wallet for like five years now.” Jack explains, rocking back and forth on his heels as he runs his fingers through his hair again. “It’s just killing me that, that couldn’t be us because it was never meant to be us.” 

Tears spill freely down your cheeks now, your heart twisting painfully at Jack's words. You open your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. The weight of his confession hangs between you both, raw and unfiltered.

Jack's gaze drops to the floor as he continues, his voice quieter now, laced with a bittersweet nostalgia. "I thought if I held on tight enough, maybe I could make it work. But it’s like holding sand, you know? The harder you grip, the faster it slips through your fingers."

You take a deep breath, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands. "Jack... I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to happen."

He looks up, his eyes glassy but steady. "I know you didn’t. And I’m not mad anymore. It took me a while to get here, but I understand now. You weren’t mine to keep. You never were." His words are a punch to the gut, but there's no malice in them—only acceptance and quiet resignation. You step forward again, closing the distance between you, and this time Jack doesn’t move away. 

You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing his arm. "You’ll always be important to me, Jack."

He nods, his lips pressing into a tight line to keep his emotions in check. "And you’ll always be important to me. I don’t regret loving you. I just regret holding on too long when I should’ve let go." The silence stretches between you, but it feels different now—softer, less suffocating. Finally, Jack breaks it with a shaky laugh. 

"God, I sound like a bad country song, don’t I?"

A tearful chuckle escapes your lips, and you shake your head. "A little bit."

He grins, and for the first time, it feels real. "Maybe I should write one. Call it 'Wrong Time, Right Feelings' or something equally tragic." You laugh again, this time without tears, and Jack’s shoulders visibly relax. The tension in the room lifts ever so slightly, replaced by a shared understanding of what you both lost—and what you both still have.

Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair once more. "Luke’s downstairs, huh?"

“Probably,” you whisper. "He wanted to give us time to sort things out.”

Jack nods, his expression bittersweet. "Good. He deserves this. You both do." There’s a pause, and then Jack reaches out, pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding on just long enough to say goodbye without words. When he pulls back, there’s a glimmer of peace in his eyes.

"Take care of him," Jack says softly. "He never puts himself first, so I’m glad that he has someone who will.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding. "I will."

Jack steps back, hands on his hips as he offers you one last smile—sad, but genuine. "Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting."

You turn to leave, your hand lingering on the doorknob for a moment. Before you open it, you glance back at Jack. "You’ll be okay, right?"

He tilts his head, a ghost of his playful smirk returning. "I’m a Hughes. We’re made of tough stuff." As you step out of the room and close the door behind you, you hear the soft click of the lock. Jack’s way of closing the chapter.

You make your way down the stairs, each step lighter than the last. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long feels like it’s finally lifting. When you reach the bottom, you see Quinn leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a cautious but hopeful expression.

Luke’s eyes flick between you and Quinn as you descend the stairs, your footsteps soft but purposeful. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders tense with nervous energy. You can see it in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other—he’s bracing himself for something, though you’re not quite sure what.

Quinn leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. But there’s a knowing look in his eyes, like he’s already accepted whatever is about to happen. As you reach the bottom step, your gaze locks with Luke’s, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades away. It’s just the two of you—it always has been.

“How’d it go?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence, his tone gentle, understanding. He’s giving you an out, a chance to speak first, but you don’t miss the way Luke stiffens at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“We’re okay,” you say softly, your words directed at Quinn, though your eyes never leave Luke. “Jack and I… we said what needed to be said.”

Quinn nods, offering a small, encouraging smile before stepping away from the wall. “Good. That’s good.” He glances at Luke, then back at you, his smile turning a little wry. “I’ll give you two some space.”

As Quinn walks away, heading toward the kitchen, Luke finally moves. He takes a hesitant step forward, his hands still buried in his pockets, his gaze flickering between the empty hallway where Quinn disappeared and your face.

“You don’t have to stay,” he blurts out suddenly, his voice tight with emotion. “If you… if you want to go after him, I get it.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

Luke swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he looks down at the floor. “Quinn,” he says quietly. “I saw the way he looked at you when you came down. I… I know he’s always been there for you. He’s steady, reliable. He’s Quinn.”

A pang of sadness twists in your chest as you watch him, this boy who’s always been so sure of himself suddenly unsure and vulnerable. You step closer, but he doesn’t look up.

“Luke…”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, cutting you off. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie and say it wouldn’t hurt, but… I’d get it. He’s… he’s Quinn. And me?” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I’m the guy who’s always a little too much. Too loud, too impulsive, too everything.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. “Luke, stop.”

He finally looks up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to be enough for you,” he whispers. “I’ve been trying for so long, but I keep thinking I’m just… not him. Not the guy you’d pick in the end.”

You step closer, your hands trembling slightly as you reach for his. He hesitates for a moment before letting you take them, his fingers curling around yours almost instinctively.

“You’ve always been enough,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the emotion bubbling beneath the surface. “It’s not about Quinn, or Jack, or anyone else. It’s about you. It’s always been about you.”

His grip tightens, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “But what if I mess it up? What if I’m not what you need?”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Luke. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

He stares at you, searching your face for any sign of doubt. When he finds none, a shaky breath escapes him, his shoulders sagging with relief. “I was so sure you’d pick him,” he murmurs. “I thought I was about to lose you.”

“You’re not losing me,” you whisper, squeezing his hands. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Luke lets out a quiet, broken laugh, the sound filled with equal parts disbelief and joy. “I’ve been such an idiot.”

“No,” you say gently, reaching up to brush a tear from his cheek. “You’ve been scared. So have I. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if grounding himself in the feel of your hand against his skin. When he opens them again, there’s a flicker of hope there, tentative but real.

“You mean it?” he asks quietly. “You’re staying?”

“I’m staying,” you confirm. “And we’ll figure it out together. No more second-guessing, no more running.”

Luke exhales a long breath, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “Okay. Together.”

“Together,” you repeat, your voice firm.

Quinn’s voice drifts from the kitchen. “Are you two done being gross, or should I stay in here forever?”

You both laugh, the sound light and carefree. Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you turn toward the kitchen.

“Also I heard something about a lego set.” You murmur, Luke letting out a bark of laughter as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“You can have any lego sets that you want.” 

As you walk together toward the future—hand in hand, hearts finally in sync—you know that this is where you’re meant to be. 

With Luke. 

Always with Luke.

[kasagia]

Dancing with the devil II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: The Na-Baron's birthday celebration on Giedi Prime at the beginning of the season makes you realise just how much work you'll have to put into becoming Empress—and even more into avoiding Harkonnen, who's showing you way too much attention. This is something that your almost-fiance definitely shouldn't like, and something that he doesn't notice. After all, there's little you can see in the darkness of Giedi Prime. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

"Smile. And powder yourself. You look pale, as if we were going there for a beheading and not a ball." Your mother says, adjusting the position of the grid of diamonds decorating your head. You flinch as you feel the cool metal of the gems brush against your cheek.

The damn thing was heavy, but nice. You remember perfectly how Lord Luwael's eyes lit up when he saw you wearing a similar ornament in your hair.

"In a way it is. First we will see the fight in the arena." You are sceptical of what comes next when your ship lands on Giedi Prime. You didn't like this place. It was black and white, barren, devoid of life and any moral principles. It was therefore an ideal place for gossip to arise - especially the spicy ones.

Besides, your... last encounter with Na-Baron was still fresh in your memory. Especially in dreams. On those terrible nights, you dreamed about how, in the darkness of your gardens and under the moonlight, you allowed him to do... more wicked things. Things that even husbands and wives shouldn't do behind their chambers' doors. And as much as you felt aroused after every dream like this, you were also disgusted with yourself and hated the Na-Baron even more for your little fantasies.

This helped immensely when it came to increasing motivation to win the emperor's cousin's heart, but no amount of flirting with him helped you forget the touch of a certain Harkonnen. You found it very interesting. And you hoped that after fighting in the arena, your body would adopt the same attitude towards him as your brain. He was dangerous and should have been avoided by you at all costs, and yet, in every fantasy about him, you enjoyed his burning touch more than the previous ones and wanted much more to happen between you two.

"Better for you. Half of these charpies in silks and sparkles will faint and never set foot in a ballroom. Take this opportunity and stick to the arm of the emperor's cousin." She advises you, licking her finger and twisting a lock of your hair so it rests unruly against your temple and falls onto your cheek.

"Lord Luwael wrote to me all summer. Besides, you saw for yourself that he visited our planet several times."

"It does not mean anything. He could only be bored, so he flew around the planets looking for entertainment. You have to charm him, Y/N. Drive him crazy with a... desire for you so great that he will do anything to have you—only then will he propose to you. It's still a miracle that he looked at you, since we come from a worse dynasty than him." He reminds you dryly, and you press your lips into a thin line. He doesn't wait for your answer. She leaves your room, clearly expecting you to follow her, when the ship announces that you are about to land.

You take a shaky breath, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your home-coloured dress hugged your curves perfectly, showing off the best of your figure, and your makeup highlighted your cheekbones and gave your eyes depth. All of this made you an irresistible sight. Lord Luwael would have to be blind not to appreciate your beauty. You will leave Giedi Prime with a ring on your finger or on the ship of the emperor's cousin. You did not see any other possibility, nor did you want to allow something other to happen.

You put on your soft, genuine smile and leave the room to join your mother on the exit ramp. Moments later, the ramp descends, revealing the black sun of Giedi Prime. You frown and squint as you adjust to the atmosphere on the planet. Your mother and you come down to earth. As soon as you can see beyond the patch of land in front of you, you shiver as you notice the Na-Baron waiting near your ship. You feel your anxiety and nervousness rising inside you, but you try your hardest to maintain your polite smile.

"Viscountess Y/L/N. Lady Y/L/N." He greets you, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine. You try to control your breathing and heartbeat, as panic is rising within you.

He looks... even more intimidating than on your home planet. That night, his mask had covered practically his entire face, but now you could see him in all his glory. And damn you, because those tempting lips he had weren't the only advantage of his appearance.

His face looked as if thousands of painters had worked on it, as if it had been lifted from ancient paintings depicting beautiful demons tempting people to damnation. And, oh, what a handsome devil he was. If you believed in an afterlife, you would wonder if he escaped from hell to lead people into temptation.

You couldn't help but wonder if he would recognise you. Does he know that it was you who went with him to the garden a few months ago? You try to read some reaction from his face, but he maintains an emotionless, composed demeanour as he looks at you and your mother.

"Na-Baron. It's a great honour to be here to celebrate your birthday. May fate always be in your favour." She greets him kindly. You shiver in relief as he thankfully doesn't pay much attention to you as his gaze comes back to your mother. 

"I hope it will. The maids will show you the way to the guest wing and your chambers. All celebrations will take place tomorrow. I hope that you will soon get used to the atmospheric conditions in Giedi Prime. Until then." He nods at the maids standing behind him. Bald women come up to you and hand you tiny baskets. "Our guests find it quite useful."

You look at the things in the basket; your attention is caught by sunglasses with black lenses and a strange coat. Your mother reaches for her coat and, with practiced skill, slips it gracefully over herself, along with her glasses, as you stare unsteadily at the strange fabric.

"Lady Y/L/N. May I?" Na-Baron asks. However, he doesn't wait for your answer.

He comes closer to you, takes your cloak from the basket, and hands it to your servants. He wraps the coat around you, adjusting it to your figure and making sure to cover all of your exposed skin.

"We Harkonnens have a special pigment in our skin to prevent the carcinogenic effects of sunlight and burns from long-term exposure. You must remember to wear this coat outside to avoid any diseases, Lady Y/L/N." He says, standing behind you and tying the fabric of your coat together. He uncovers your face for a moment and puts on your sunglasses. "Nor your beautiful eyes to be damaged." He whispers, so only you can hear him.

You shiver, staring at him blankly, glad that your sunglasses allow you the convenience of hiding your eyes from him and whatever you're focused on.

Was it possible that he recognised you? Was he giving you a hint that he knew you were his white swan? NO. Impossible. He probably flirted with every single woman who came to Giedi Prime. After all, he was going to find a wife this season. He had to show his softer side and hide Giedi Prime's brutality from the naive noblewomen so that some stupid and naive one would marry him.

"We thank you very much for your kindness, Na-Baron." Your mother speaks for you, obviously angry that you haven't spoken up for yourself. You just nod, shifting your gaze to the castle behind him, trying to escape his watchful, searching gaze for a moment.

"Your welcome." He responds with a nod to your mother.

He takes your hand in his, making you tense slightly as he leans down and presses a short kiss on it. A shiver runs through you as you feel the shape of his lips through your gloves, and your mind automatically recalls the memory of that night. You smile at him politely and quickly join your mother's side, leaving Na-Baron on the ramp as another ship arrives.

"Do not act like that. Don't show that you're afraid of them. And be careful. It's very common for people here to disappear after showing disrespect to the Na-Baron. You know how, right?" She whispers furiously to you as you are led inside the palace by the maids.

"I... I know. I'm sorry." You say this thoughtfully, turning discreetly over your shoulder to watch him greet the other noble families. This time, he doesn't kiss anyone's hand or help anyone put on their protective cloak. You shake your head. He probably saw that you weren't engaged to anyone yet, and that's why you got... special treatment from him.

"Just don't act like a scared mouse. I raised you better."

Right. Your mother raised you better. That's why you shouldn't have disappeared into the garden with this mysterious stranger from the very beginning. It would save you a headache now that wasn't caused by the oppressive atmosphere on Giedi Prime. You just wanted this season to end as soon as possible. Preferably your marriage.

You walk hand in hand with Lady Y/F/N towards the arena, gossiping about what happened since last night. The Giedi Prime sun is somehow more bearable today; you don't know if it's because of the items given by Na-Baron or because the weather was exceptionally not as cruel as the day you arrived, but you feel much better. (Or maybe it was because you didn't see Na-Baron Harkonnen today.)

"I tell you, Princess Irulan was furious. I heard she destroyed her room, and the maids worked all night to get it back in order. Do you think it's possible? That the Emperor wants to marry her off to Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha?"

"Possible. It wouldn't be a stupid move. After all, Irulan cannot become emperor. She may be the firstborn, but she has no right to rule. It is logical that her father wants to marry her off to the second-best possible party, of course, when it comes to financial and political issues."

"Second best? Who's first?" You just smile at her question, watching the other noblewomen and their families walk towards the arena.

"Of course, as a woman in love, I must say that Lord Luwael."

"Has someone talked about me?"

A faint blush appears on your cheeks. You and Y/F/N turn around to see a smug Lord. You give him an equally mischievous smirk and curtsy, grabbing the arm he offered you.

"I do not think so. You must have misheard, Lord Luawel. Maybe it's the sun of Giedi Prime that bothers you so much that you lose your hearing?" You tease him as the three of you enter the arena.

"Lady Y/N, you don't have to worry about me so much, as sweet as that is. Fortunately, I don't need as much protection as you ladies do. However, I must admit that Giedi Prime is a terrible place. It does not allow you to see the natural beauty of certain things, taking away their colours."

"Maybe there's something… positive to be found here?" Y/F/N asks hesitantly as you pass a group of Harkonnens heading to the arena. The men say something in their harsh, unpleasant language that makes you shiver. You are only further insisting that there is nothing good to find on Giedi Prime.

"Positive? With all due respect, Lady Y/F/N, the Harkonnens have destroyed everything beautiful that could be left on this planet. Including their appearance and behavior." You giggle, careful not to let anyone else but the three of you hear you. But you wonder why your friend's attitude is so... sullen. She plays with her glove nervously as her eyes fall on the baron's older nephew, Rabban. "I don't know who is worse, him or his younger psychopathic brother."

"I think both of them are equal in their madness." You comment, agreeing with Lord Luwael.

Your eyes involuntarily land on Na-Baron, who exchanges a few words with one of his servants. You shiver when his eyes find yours—as if he has a special detector that makes him aware every time someone's eyes linger on him for too long.

He nods to you, looking at you carefully and examining your dress. His lips twitch into a smile when he sees you're wearing the coat he helped you adjust to your figure yesterday. You quickly turn your head towards Lord Luwael and give him one of your practiced, beautiful smiles.

"I… I'm sorry. I should join my family. Lord Luwael. Lady Y/N."

You frown, watching her walk away like a beaten puppy. You decide to question her about her strange behavior later in the evening. Now you had to focus on your lord.

"And you, lady? Are your wonderful mother and father with you?" Lord Luwael asks, placing his hand on top of yours after managing to penetrate the layers of material protecting your skin. He acts as if he wants to pull you much closer to him.

You feel the skin of your hand burn where it touches his, but unfortunately, not from... the excitement of this tiny, forbidden contact. Someone's eyes are watching you carefully, but you are too afraid to look towards Na-Baron to confirm that it is his irises that are staring hatefully at your joined hands.

"My mother had a headache, so she staid in her chamber. Unfortunately, my father couldn't show up at all. I hope you won't abandon me and leave me so lonely in this barbaric place, my lord?"

"I wouldn't dare do that. I am a gentleman. After all, someone has to catch you if you faint, my lady."

You smile sweetly at him, ignoring the sudden urge to kick him in the crotch for his words. You must maintain the innocent demeanour of a cute, awkward, and sweet noblewoman. Even though you hated it...

"Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate it, my lord." You say, wondering if you should actually pretend to faint and let him catch you. It would be very romantic if he carried you out of the arena in his arms and took you to the medic. Plus, you wouldn't have to watch... Na-Baron's entire performance.

You take your seat in the guest box. The arena shakes with the screams and applause of people who are truly eager for their Na-Baron to shed blood. Lord Luwael hands you the binoculars and gently removes your cloak as you both notice that you are protected from the sun's rays by a special black glass window.

You shiver as the Harkonnen's war drums sound and the announcer says something in their language, announcing Feyd-Rautha's fight.

A blush involuntarily blooms on your cheeks when you see that Na-Baron has decided to fight without a shirt or any armour protecting his chest. You hungrily stare at his muscular torso as he shows off his warrior body, which is decorated with paint—probably their war symbols, bringing good luck in battle.

"A real poseur and playboy. He only does it to attract attention."

"Probably. But you can't say, that it doesn't work, my lord." You say and nod towards the other ladies, who are also staring at the muscular figure of a warrior that Na-Baron proudly displays.

"Does it work for you?"

"I'm just a woman. But I prefer… slightly more hairy men." Lord Luwael chuckles at your comment, giving you a mischievous look. His attention briefly returns to Na-Baron, who lets out a belligerent cry after the murder of the first prisoner. You see him shiver slightly and his eyebrows furrow before his attention returns to you.

"So would I also gain your attention if I appeared… in a similar condition?"

"My lord, you would then have my complete undivided attention." You respond equally flirtatiously. The man sitting next to you hums in appreciation. His hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he stares at you, entranced.

"You, lady, have my undivided attention at all times and occupy my every thought." Unfortunately, you can't respond to his comment with something as sweet as Na-Baron's angry, painful scream that echoes from the arena.

Your attention returns to the fight. Na-Baron fights the last opponent, who, surprisingly, is not under the influence of drugs. You watch the fight with curiosity, even more so when you see blood pouring from Na-Baron's side.

"He had to distract himself. So far, he hasn't had any problems fighting him." You hear people commenting around you, but your eyes are focused only on Na-Baron.

You shiver as his gaze wanders towards your box, and it feels like he's looking right at you, making sure you're watching him. You put this idea out of your head. He probably didn't even know your name. He couldn't recognise you; he would definitely show it by now if he did.

You shiver as he lets out a menacing scream and charges at his opponent. His movements are quick, well-aimed and aimed as he delivers slashes, perfectly avoiding the blade of the prisoner he is fighting. You hold your breath as he knocks the blade out of your opponent's hands and stabs him in the stomach several times.

Na-Baron whispers something to the warrior and slowly lowers him to the ground as he draws his last breath. You can't take your eyes off his bloody form. His piercing gaze is still directed towards your lodge as he raises his blade. The crowd in the arena screams, people applaud, and you feel Lord Luwael next to you slowly begin to fall to the ground.

"Lord Luwael!" You scream, attracting the attention of the people around you. Several men help you, and they lift the unconscious lord. They carry him outside, and you want to follow them, but unfortunately for you, the second round of Na-Baron's fight begins, so you can't just leave. So you go back to your seat, thinking hard.

Lord Luwael apparently had another negative trait besides being a hopeless romantic—a firm believer in preserving a strictly traditional, patriarchal system. He fainted at the sight of blood and abhorred violence.

You sigh, wondering how the hell you're supposed to cope with a husband and an emperor who's afraid to draw someone's blood and pick up a sword.

Your gaze falls back on the fighting Na-Baron. If only he was less... Harkonnen... You shake your head at the idea that crossed your mind. No. You are going to become the empress. Nothing could change that plan, and certainly not one night of oblivion and pleasure with a brutal, psychopathic future Baron of a dead planet.

But that doesn't stop you from admiring the way Na-Baron's muscular chest ripples with each rapid breath or the way his muscles twitch with his movements. And unfortunately, you can't stop your thoughts from wandering and imagining him moving into a much more... intimate situation.

"Did she watch the fight?" Feyd asks his servant as the medic stitches up his wound.

He finished the fight a few minutes ago. People were probably starting to gather in the ballroom, but he had to clean up and put things in order before he appeared in public. Before he shows himself to you.

"At first, she was a little distracted by this... lord. But he fainted halfway through Na-Baron's fight, so afterwards her attention was entirely on you, my lord."

"He fainted? Weak spawn. Did she enjoy my performance?" Feyd asks, slightly irritated by the way the medic's fingers are shaking with fear as he tends to the wound.

"She was definitely impressed. I think Na-Baron's decision not to wear the breastplate helped, as did the fact that the guards made sure not to let Lord Luwael into the arena again."

"Very good, you did a great job. Keep it up. I'm going to need you to distract that pet of hers for a while. You can do it, right?"

"Of course, my lord Na-Baron."

"Women like flowers. Those outside Giedi Prime." The medic comments as he finishes stitching up his wound. Feyd looks at him for a moment, then nods at his servant.

"This is a wonderful idea. Order a vase of the rarest flower species to be placed in her chambers. I'll give you a note tonight, after the ball."

Before Feyd finishes his sentence, he already holds the medic's arm and plunges a dagger into his stomach. The man groans in shock as he stares in sheer terror at the Na-Baron.

"Because of you, I'll be late for my own ball." He growls and puts on a black shirt, ignoring the blood on his fingers as he walks out of the infirmary.

He walks through the halls of the palace, hurrying to his chambers to change. His thoughts involuntarily go to you, remembering your intoxicating scent and the softness of your skin under his lips. Damn him if he lets some lesser man have the taste of what is his.

You belonged to him from the moment he killed for you the emperor's dog that tried to bite you. If necessary, he will kill another one to make sure that no man will dare to adore you again.

But Feyd couldn't do it; as much as he dreamed of it, he preferred to gain your... feelings rather than force you to marry him. And maybe he enjoyed the thrill of chasing you, but only as long as his claims for you weren't at risk. And this little... lord was hanging around way too close to you.

He didn't know at all what you saw in this weak man. He wasn't handsome, he couldn't fight, and he couldn't defend you. Certainly not before Feyd. You needed someone strong—someone who wasn't afraid of your true nature or unleashing it. You weren't yourself hanging out with that lord. He watched the two of you closely, and countless times he saw you tighten your hand around a glass, a fan, or in a fist when that lord made a remark that irritated you, but instead of snapping back like you did with Feyd, you smiled falsely sweetly and nodded obediently.

His beautiful, brave swan, instead of hissing at the fools around her, only tried harder to attract them. And this annoyed Feyd immensely. You could be so much more than just a pretty face. You had a character that Feyd admired in you, but instead of showing it with pride, you hid it deep inside, afraid of society's opinion.

You would make a wonderful Baroness. With you by his side, he wouldn't worry about anyone seeing him as weak man. And he himself found worthy company in you during that wonderful night on your planet. If only you hadn't run away from him, hadn't believed the rumours so much, and weren't afraid of him, but rather of what he might do to you, you and Feyd would make a wonderful match.

As he approaches his chamber, he hears the ladies giggling. He decides to hide in a side corridor and wait until the gossiping women leave. But he perks up his ear excitedly when he hears what they're talking about—and that you're among them too.

"Na-Baron put on quite a show. Have you seen these muscles?" Feyd can barely keep from giggling. But he can't help but wonder how you assessed his... muscles.

He did it especially for you—to tease you a little with what you could have had that night if you hadn't run away from him like a scared little mouse. How many nights did he spend dreaming about catching you before that frail lord got you...

"Oh please. He's a cruel brute. Psychopath. Did you see how he treated that poor man? Moreover, most of his opponents were under the influence of drugs."

His hairless eyebrows furrow. He feels his rage rising; he wants to come out of his hiding place and show this royal bitch a real fight, but he knows that his uncle will kill him for laying a hand on the emperor's daughter.

"I'm not surprised at him. After all, he's the next Baron, they won't risk his life for some lame arena show."

"What do you think about it, Lady Y/N?"

Feyd licks his lips, eagerly waiting for your opinion on his fight. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you will say. Will you praise his fighting skills? Appearance? Ruthlessness and brutality? Or maybe you loathe it as much as Princess Irulan does?

He waited nervously, his heart beating fast as he waited impatiently for even one word from you.

"I… think we had a rather… interesting fight anyway. Regardless of the circumstances."

His excitement fades when you limit yourself to such a simple, diplomatic, and natural answer. He doesn't want to hear something like that from you. He wants your opinion; he wants to hear the burning heat in your voice as you express your true thoughts and emotions with great conviction, even if they go against what he wants. He wants your passion—the same passion he has experienced the few times he has had the opportunity to be around you.

"But it's not honorable! How dare they treat prisoners like this?" Irulan growls furiously at you.

"And in your country, how are they treated, my princess? They either end up in a noose or have their heads cut off. Here, maybe being under the influence of drugs isn't the best thing, but at least they have a dignified death for warriors—those who don't fight Na-Baron are fighting in the arena for their freedom and are not under the influence of any substance. I don't think this is the case in many countries. Besides, it boosts morale and entertains the people. Two birds with one stone."

Feyd feels a smirk involuntarily form on his lips. He knew that his little, wise swan would think just like he did. However, I regret that you do not praise his skills as a warrior but only focus on the usefulness of such fights. Next time, he will try harder for you. Maybe he will even give you the heart of the strongest warrior?

"Of course you'll flatter him, Lady Y/N. After all, he clearly has his eyes on you. I saw the way he looked at you the day you arrived—it was clearly love at first sight."

"Oh yes! And I saw him looking across the arena towards your box! He got so distracted by looking at you that one of the prisoners stabbed him in the side! It's so sweet, just like a real romance book."

Feyd freezes for a moment. Was it that obvious? He couldn't, right? Maybe he was accidentally looking for you in the crowd of other people, but... he couldn't be that easy to read, right?

"I would never dream of courting Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, not even in your wildest fantasies my ladies. So maybe let's focus on the real, more likely matches that could happen this season."

At your words, Feyd clenches his hands into fists. How dare you so openly reject his possible advances? It was the best match in the empire. In fact, he could be a future emperor, and he'd damn well do it for you if that was all it took to get his hand in marriage. Seething with rage, his hand involuntarily went to the blade attached to his side. He had to find someone; he had to take it out on someone; but then again, he needed to hear more. Why does the thought that he adores you bother you so much? Did he do something to you? Has he offended you in any way? Was it your reluctance and disgust at the idea of having him as a suitor just because he was a Harkonnen?

"You mean your questionable engagement to my cousin?" Princess Irulan mocks you, fueling Feyd's anger both with the way she speaks to you and with your engagement to that weak piece of flesh wasting air in your presence.

"Why questionable, my princess? I think this would be the perfect match. Lady Whistledown herself devoted several of her paragraphs to it."

Feyd rolls his eyes at you. Have you also read the nonsense of some old lady who was bored enough to comment on events in the world of noble families? And here he thought that his swan was too smart for that...

"My cousin may be stupid and be fooled by a few pretty words and eyes, but he doesn't make rash decisions. He knows what kind of marriage will be best for him. He won't marry someone from a lesser family just because some anonymous writer is having fun spreading rumors."

"Do you have someone special for Lord Luwael in your mind, maybe?"

"I think we all know very well who I mean."

Feyd smiles, and for the first time, he is not hating the princess's existence. If she actually took this weak lord from you, the fight for your hand and heart would be much more enjoyable for him; after all, he wouldn't have to worry that you would marry some other man while he was trying his best to get closer to you. It would definitely make courting you easier if Irulan tried to charm your weak little lord...

"Hmm… possible. But tell us, princess, how's your Bene Gesserit training going? Has the Reverend Mother assigned you any task yet?"

"I believe this is none of your business."

Ah, so you knew. You knew that the Bene Gesserit were planning to marry him to Irulan—something he certainly wouldn't allow. But if he lets you believe it, would you fight for him? Would you try to convince him to stop chasing Irulan? You could. After all, you would see it as a threat to your position as empress. Feyd is curious what lengths you would go to if such a situation occurred—how far would you go in trying to seduce him and leave Irulan?

Feyd is no longer eavesdropping on the rest of your conversation. You pass him, and he quickly sneaks back to his chambers, changing his clothes. His mind races as he wonders what he should do now. And he decides to give you one last chance before he puts his plan into action.

The balls at Gieid Prime are… different from those you usually witness. The ballroom is lit by a thousand candles, the room is kept in semi-darkness, and you are more than convinced that some orgy is taking place somewhere in the corners and recesses of this huge hall.

You are just finishing your dance with Lord Luwael when Feyd-Rautha enters the hall. Na-Baron is greeted with loud applause and cheers. He smiles at the crowd of people, showing a row of night-black teeth. You shiver at the sight. You just don't know if it's out of fear or desire. You realise that every time you think he can't make himself a more terrible monster, he comes in like the bane of your existence and proves you dead wrong.

Oh how you wanted to finally leave Giedi Prime.

"Unfortunately, I think we should wish him a happy birthday. Everyone does it."

You nod at his words, seeing the rest of the guests actually gather around Feyd-Rautha. You place your hand in the crook of his arm and let him guide you towards Na-Baron. The alcohol you managed to drink without your companion's attention and the man's mere presence will give you a bit of courage. Although you know, if a real fight broke out between these two men, the candidate for your husband would probably faint from fear when he saw the first blood and lose it. What a pity he had such an annoying condition...

"Na-Baron. Happy birthday." Your companion says as you reach Feyda-Rautha. His blue, ocean-glacial eyes stare at the two of you, ignoring you for a moment to send an appraising glance towards the man whose arm you're holding. You see a strange tension building in the room between these two...

"Thank you very much, lord…"

"Luwael." He finishes for him, angry that he is not properly recognised and acknowledged by the Na-Baron.

"Ah yes. It slipped out of my mind. Wouldn't you be offended if I took the liberty of asking your lovely partner to dance? It's my birthday, after all." Na-Baron's attention is completely on you, and you wish he and Lord Luwael had spent more time on this little alpha male fight. You open your mouth, ready with an excuse to deny him the dance, but the man next to you speaks first.

"Of course. Enjoy yourself." Na-Baron gives him a smug smirk that only widens when Lord Luwael flinches at Feyd's black teeth.

You suppress a grimace and give your hand to the Harkonnen. He takes your hand with incredible gentleness and leads you to the centre of the room, right onto the dance floor. Before the dancing starts, he has the courage to take off your gloves. You give him a confused look, your heart beating faster, as he leans in to press a kiss on your hand. You shiver as the skin of your hand registers the now familiar shape of his plump lips.

He places his hand on your waist and connects your hand with his, leading you to the rhythm of a rather calm song.

"Such fire… and yet your anger does not reach Lord Luwael. What did he do to deserve this special treatment, my lady? Maybe you're worried about him after he fainted in the arena like some weak, little boy?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." You say, turning your gaze away from him, wanting to spend the rest of the dance in silence. You keep your eyes peeled for Lord Luwael, but unfortunately, you can't find him anywhere. As if he had evaporated.

"Is it so, little swan?" A cold chill runs through you as you use the nickname for you that he used that night. You feel your world freeze for a moment. He continues to lead you in the rhythm of the dance, allowing himself to pull you a little closer to inhale the scent of your perfume, but you don't notice, terrified of what he told you he knew.

"I... no." You blurt out, trying to control your emotions, and put on the mask of indifference on your face again.

"Well... I guess you know. Your heart beats so fast, almost as fast as that night when I tasted your wonderful nectar straight from the source. You know there's nothing as sweet as your juices?"

"How dare you speak to me like that?!" You growl furiously, unconsciously digging your nails into his palm.

"So she can still hiss! And she even has claws. I remember how sweetly you scratched my neck with them before you ran away like a scared little bird."

"Shut up." You growl, feeling like you're starting to lose control of this whole conversation. And not just conversation. You noticed that you had somehow found yourself outside the ballroom. The music from there reaches you in the form of a gentle hum as it presses you against the wall of one of the empty corridors. You swallow, realising what a sh*t situation you are in.

"Or what? Watch your tone, little swan. It's my birthday. You should be nicer to me. I didn't actually hear you wish me a happy birthday; your little puppet did it for you."

"Unlike some, he is a real gentleman, not a puppet or monster."

"Ah, but we know very well that you don't want a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn't do to you the things I did to you, and we both know how deliciously you moaned under my touch and how you shuddered as my tongue tasted you. Do you think your weak lord can do to you the things I showed you in the darkness of your house planet? That he can satisfy your desire? That he can free you from your shackles of social conventions as I can free you? You need someone bigger than the lesser man. I've already told you that. You won't settle for a man like that."

"You do not know anything about me. One night—not even the whole night—spent under my skirts won't suddenly make you know my true desires. You have changed, Feyd-Rautha. You're not the same boy from the Lankiveil I used to know." He hums thoughtfully at your worlds, watching you carefully and curiously.

"Hmm… maybe you're right, little swan. I think I need to do more to convince you that I am right."

You sigh as his lips press against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. You punch his chest, trying to push him away, but he presses hard against you, pinning you against the wall. You feel the toned muscles of his body as he grinds against you, demanding full access to your mouth.

You bite his lip until it bleeds, but that only turns him on more. His strong, large hand cups your breast, squeezing it tightly. You let out a surprised moan, and his tongue somehow finds a way to slip into your open mouth.

The material of your dress tears under his strength; his hands pull your breasts out of your dress and caress them as if his life depended on it. His fingers graze over your sensitive nipples, and you can only moan into his mouth as he sends a warmth straight to your core that reminds you desperately of how his tongue was working so well to release you that you had denied yourself.

You come to the shameful conclusion that maybe you could have let him bring you to orgasm before you ran away from him.

His lips finally leave yours, but you don't enjoy this freedom for long. They move to your neck, licking and nibbling madly, as if someone were about to tear him away from you. And the worst thing about it all is that you don't really know if that's what you want.

You scream as his black teeth dig into your skin, leaving a mark in the crook of your neck. You hear the click of enamel against metal as he accidentally catches your necklace, but he doesn't move away; he just sinks his teeth into it, as if trying to split a diamond in half.

He pulls away from you; you see the blood on his plump lips—your blood—and it only makes you more aroused. His hand slips under your skirts and reaches to your core, caressing you teasingly. You gasp, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

"Such a good little whore when she gets fingers and a few hickeys on her neck. Does your lord know what a shrew you are until someone kisses the venom from your lips? Does he know what fire burns inside you? Does he know what a wonderful feast you have between your legs for a thirsty man? Does he know you as well as I do? Has he seen how beautiful you look in the whirlwind of passion?"

His every question is punctuated by the rhythm of the thrusting of his fingers. You moan softly, holding back tears of pleasure, as he slowly brings you to the edge. You dig your nails into his shoulders, holding onto him with all your strength as he plays with your clit and sucks hickeys on your breasts.

"So sweet… so soft… so wet. And it's for me. Just for me. For Harkonnen. Say it. Tell me who fucks that little pussy so well with his fingers. Tell me who's driving you crazy. Tell me whose attention you really want, you wanton little bitch, and maybe I'll let you cum, despite the way you treated me… and on my own birthday…"

"I... you... you..." You gasp in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.

"Nah. Not like that. My name, beautiful little swan. Scream my name. Exactly the way you should have done that night in the garden." He whispers into your ear, biting the lobe. You moan as his fingers go deeper inside you, and his other hand caresses your breast, playing with your nipple.

"I... ah... Feyd.... Feyd, please..." You cry for him as your hips grind against his hand, seeking the sweet release that only he can give you.

"Yes…just like that…cum for me. Give me my birthday present and shout my name." You can only nod dumbly as you feel him take you over the edge. You bite down hard on his neck, refraining from making any noise as you tighten around his fingers, finally coming.

You gasp, feeling the metallic taste of his black blood on your tongue.

You move away from him as if burned. Your heart beats insanely fast as you stare at him, trying to process what happened. He pulls his finger out of you with a squelch, and you blush furiously. He puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking them. He moans at the taste of you, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Perfect birthday gift. Although I believe I can get more." Just as he moves to kneel between your legs, you hear the voices of the guards patrolling the halls. You push him away from you in panic and run forward, trying to improve your appearance a little.

This time, he's not after you. He didn't make any attempt to chase you. He allows you to traverse the halls of Giedi Prime without the feeling of his breath on your back, but you are very aware that you have miserably lost today's battle against him. He did exactly what he wanted with you and would have gone much further (and unfortunately, you would have let him) if you hadn't sobered up with the possibility of getting caught.

You told yourself that this was what you needed to get over him. After all, forbidden fruit always tasted the best, and once you experienced the Na-Baron's... undoubted skills, you could move on and marry a man who was the absolute opposite of him, a man with whom you didn't have to worry so much about the future, as with Feyd-Rautha.

Yes, this was what you needed—one last affair before the wedding—to make sure you're doing it right. Because what would await you as Na-Baron's wife, or, God forbid, concubine? Nothing good. The Harkonnens were the harbinger of misfortune, suffering, pain, aggression, and, apparently, good sex.

Whatever you and Na-Baron were doing, it had to end now.

"I'm supposed to be his wife?! This barbarian?! You can't do this to me, father! Feyd-Rautha will destroy the empire and plunge us into the blood of war and senseless brutality. He's a psychopath; can't you see it? Surely there must be another way to keep the throne!" Irulan's screams echo throughout the guest wing. Your eyes widen in surprise, the unpleasant pang in your chest only adding to your daze.

So the rumours were true. The emperor wants to give Irulan to Feyd. You don't like this idea very much. If the Harkonnens married into the Corrino family, your right to the throne of Emperor, or rather the right of Lord Luwael, would be in jeopardy. No one stood a chance against them.

You snap out of your daze when you see the door handle to Irulan's chambers begin to move. You quickly run to your room and close the door quietly behind you as you wonder what the hell just happened in these few hours.

You return to your chambers blushing and with a rapidly beating heart. You can still feel Na-Baron's lips vividly on your neck, and you're sure you'll have to cover it tomorrow so no one will see the hickeys that bastard gave you.

How stupid you were again! How could you let him get so close to you again and corner you when you were alone in his territory?! And what's worse, he knew that it was you who went with him to the garden that night; he knew and he wanted more from you...

You shudder as wicked thoughts enter your mind, all because of Na-Baron's tantalisingly absurd whispers. How could you enjoy his attack on you? How could you moan so loudly in a deserted corridor? How could you shout his name and attract the attention of the guards?

You were damn lucky that no one caught you, that Lord Luwael disappeared somewhere, and that he didn't see you giving yourself to this... this monster like a mindless whore. It had to be the alcohol. They must have put something in your drink; you couldn't just... enjoy the touch of a Harkonnen, a Harkonnen who just a few hours ago had slaughtered you in the arena before your eyes and was enjoying it like a little child enjoys a candy... A Harkonnen whose body was ethereal beautifully...

You are snapped out of your thoughts when your mother enters your room in a state of… extreme daze.

"Mother? Have something happened?" You ask her, worried that your little (another) tryst with the Na-Baron might have turned out to be not such a secret at all.

"Lord Luwael just asked for my consent to propose to you. You did very well, Y/N. You will be an empress."

You swallow nervously and smile, nodding your head. Your mother hugs you, and you feel millions of thoughts racing through your head. You will become empress, but only if Irulan and Feyd-Rautha don't marry, and there was only one way to make sure that would happen.

You had to play a game with the devil himself and seduce and deceive him until the day it would be too late for his marriage to Irulan and you and Lord Luwael would take the emperor's throne. But how the hell were you supposed to do that without getting burned?

Taglist: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran

[joannasteez]

shameful

pairing: roman reigns x reader warning: explicit content. minors pls dni. not degradation or praise, but a secret third thing i have yet to figure out. infidelity! post summerslam return! authors note: i don't know what this is and i wrote it.. so yeah. enjoy?! let me know what you think. love to hear thoughts/opinions etc word count: 1100 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @kill-the-artiste @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @empressdede @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @2-muchsauce

that 'not enough" feeling. a fullness not quite reached. forever on the edge. the heat over his skin, vicious and damp as it breaks. rough grunts and the sure stroke of his hips. like torture resting in his belly. twisted and holding. waiting to burst, to release. almost. palpable enough to taste. throbbing down his spine. needy little moans breathing against his tongue and the delicious pull of your pussy. an encore. from cheery, fevered cries to the play of these little delicate ones, sweetening his ears, his blood. almost. belly tight. burning. fingers curling the sheets. digging. groaning. 

a hot, terrible breath bursts into your neck. frustration unruly. 

you thumb away those loose hairs sticking to him. dizzy, pretty eyes pulling away from their pleasure for a moment to take him in. your lips hot against him. kiss swollen and dangerous. "whats wrong?" sweeping over his cheek. 

his tongue feels dirty. folds over as he speaks with a griminess not yet recognized. "none of this bother's you, does it?" words trying against the air. 

you laugh. head tipping against the sheets. devious and full. moaning into that richness of amusement. kissing his lips and curling your hips into him. a shift that pulls him in deeper. urges him to nestle and groan. almost. rattled enough with pleasure but never enough for that faithful breaking. "m'being serious", he roughs. feeding in gently, a tender little go that steeps him in and keeps him clutched tightly. your body trembling and receiving. always so easy to receive him.

you smile. mouth faint over his skin. over his beard and the apple of his cheek. along his neck, skimming and breathy. fingers in his hair and a whimper delighting just where his pulse living. your tongue warm, peaking to lick and curl. playful. taunting. "would you fuck me harder if i gave you a little resistance?" your palms smooth, at his nape, over his back. slipping against damp, hot skin. smiling into his neck. "i play up the guilt, cry about how we shouldn't do this and how awful i feel, leaving my man all alone to lick his little wounds while you fuck me. that'll make you give me more huh?" an urge to shift his hips, rutting short and sloppy. cock stirring up at your words. 

his thumb hooks under the bend in your leg. settling his knees to nail into the bed a little better, taut and strong and holding you hostage under him. open and easy. neck craning to chase your lips. to cease that awful flow of truth better felt when it goes unsaid. because he did love it. that damning streak of possession that comes with a chase. a cat and his deceptive little mouse. your tone disgustingly sweet, lips wet, charming. "you want it a little more wrong baby?" you purr. rolling your hips to grind at his dick. "it's only a win if you're the only one smiling right? nobody gets their fun but you..." 

roman's fingers fill with fire. an ache he can't stand that blooms fierce. uneven breaths and that almost ready to burst coil in his belly. your neck warm as he squeezes. a tremble rippling thereafter. like your body was made to follow him. 

"...thats how it works huh?, that's why you got your hotel room so close to his..."

"...you love the idea of this shit..."

tighter. thumb pressing in to restrict your throat. a sloppy dazed go of wet strokes. the messy noise of it burning his ears red. a bright heat that flushes his face. 

"...love the idea of him hearing me, finding me..."

"...that shit makes you feel so good..."

a moan with the strike of words. talking yourself to the brink of that beautiful great bursting. whimpers clear and pitchy. that sticky slick of arousal easing him in, easing him to bury deep. a tingle in the heels of his toes, rushing to the crown of his head. 

you smile. eyes dim and dazed still. fingers quick to rub your swollen clit. the lewd song of it good to him. his eyes casting against it. to watch you flutter and perform desperate for release. 

"you want me to pretend for you?" 

"fuck", roman cuts. setting his hips to give a delicious little grind against your walls. the thick tip of him nudging, filling you to the hilt. deep enough that your body attempts to curl. attempts to close in from too much pleasure. a drawl of trembly little moan leaving him. stuttered and overworked. cock stiff and throbbing and digging for something beyond that almost feeling. 

"does that make my pussy feel better? if i feel a little more shameful, a little less eager?" 

he lowers. laps his tongue against yours. slips into a kiss. lips meshing to pull apart slow. 

"you puttin words in my mouth", he rumbles. 

"...but its what you want. punishment. you want him broken..."

a flare in his chest. eagerness. blinding and resolute. his pace focusing. deft and steady. a method found after the burning pour out of a truth left unsaid. because it felt better to claim you like this. to war and win against the convictions of a sobered morality. drunk now off the pleasure seeping from your body. your legs spread and your pussy wet for him. split open to take him deep. his body thick and consuming. but he needed you to play the game. to give in slowly. be coy and pretty and delicate for him. because the challenge, the chase of it made that burn, that release, a delight better than anything ever felt. better than the beautiful onslaught of a cheering crowd, or the feel of the belt about his waist. 

"call him".

his breath hitching. hips stuttering. surprise binding to his bones. 

"what?", his fair falling everywhere. sticking to the confusion along his face. 

"get my phone".

he shifts without notice. snatches your phone off the hotel night stand. your breaths heavy, fingers slipping with a shake against the screen. 

you set it down. a call to his cousin that twists his gut mean. a terrible excitement. the call clicking short, proving an answer on the other end.

you push. nudge his heavy body over till he's laying out along the sheets. his fingers gripping your skin to rough you along. stirring to throb again. slotting against the soft wet take of your body. skin damp and sticky and smacking lewd as he makes to shift your hips to fuck against him. his palm, a short whip through the air till it lays at your thigh. "roman...", you give. gasping and wispy and delicate. face done up with a horribly sweet show of guilt. lips bitten by your teeth and your eyes prickling wet. a performance that settles him into a renewed eagerness. pleasure rife and coursing about him well. moving fast away from that almost feeling...

"louder baby", he roughs. "let him hear you". 

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Training:

Summary: Training with Anakin gets very off topic.

Warnings: R18, SMUT, once again I apologise.

Word count: 1,900

The training hall was filled with the hum of lightsabers. Anakin Skywalker, with his unruly hair and intense determination, stood at one end of the room, igniting his blue lightsaber. On the opposite side of the hall, you stood glaring at him. 

Master Yoda had assigned you as training partners, had insisted you keep practising your form and tactics even though you had both been promoted to Generals in the wars. 

The two of you had been at it for hours, rotating between circling each other, and charging at each other. 

Anakin, ever the provocateur, couldn't resist a taunt. "Are you tired yet, Y/N?" 

"You wish, Skywalker."

"Good, again." With that he came towards you once more, eyes glazing over with an instinct more focused and determined than he ever seemed outside of battle. 

"I've handled tougher challenges than you, Skywalker," you retorted, strengthening your stance as you prepared for the clash.

The ensuing battle was fierce and unyielding. Anakin's aggressive style clashed with the your precise and calculated movements.

You had always had such different styles of doing things, in some ways that made you very well suited partners, or at least fun ones.

In the midst of their heated duel, Anakin couldn't help but admire your skill. "You've got some moves," he admitted, a smirk on his face despite his fatigue. He was glistening with sweat now, you supposed you were too. 

You gritted your teeth, refusing to let his compliment distract you from the fight at hand. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Anakin," you replied, deflecting his attack with ease.

Anakin chuckled, clearly enjoying the adrenaline rush of the battle. "Just giving credit where credit is due," he replied, lunging forward with a swift strike that you quickly dodged.

“Yeah? Maybe one day I can teach you a thing or two." 

Anakin's eyes gleamed with amusement, "I doubt it. But it's always worth a try." 

For a moment, it seemed like you both were evenly matched, but then Anakin made a critical mistake, leaving himself open for you to strike and disarm him. 

The blue lightsaber flew across the room, landing with a clatter on the ground. Anakin was left defenceless, panting and sweating heavily. But he did not seem to accept defeat. 

Instead he started to fight with his body, dirty and completely against protocol. It shocked you into fierce defence, you were unsurprised by his tactics but still unsure of how to counter them. 

You tried to maintain your composure, but with each passing moment, it seemed like Anakin was gaining the upper hand. He completely ignored the rules of engagement that had been drilled into him since he was a child. But it worked. Soon your own saber had been flung out of your hands and he had you on the floor.

Only then did the fog clear from his eyes and the boyish look of triumph which covered his face made you groan and lie down, staring at the ceiling in defeat and mock misery.

Anakin leaned over you, his grin growing wider. "Looks like I win this round, Y/N."

You rolled your eyes and pushed him off of you, standing up and dusting yourself off. "That was a dirty move, you cheated," you accused him, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through your facade of annoyance.

Anakin shrugged, unapologetic. "Hey, all's fair in love and war."

You couldn't resist teasing him a bit. "I didn't realize you loved me so much, Skywalker."

Anakin's cheeks turned slightly pink, but he quickly regained his composure. 

"Don't flatter yourself, Y/L/N."

You were still on your back and trying to regain your breath, he moved to sit on the floor next to you instead of helping you up. You were grateful not to have to move for a moment, probably bruised and definitely sore from the fighting. 

He lay down on his back and put his hands under his head, watching him you couldn't help but notice his shirt ride up and your heart skipped a small beat as his muscled abdomen became exposed. 

You couldn't help but feel a strange tension building between you. you couldn't help but feel a strange tension building between you. Anakin's hand brushed against yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

You meet his eyes and feel something magnetic pull you into him, his flush and peace after the exercise had made him turn into pure light. Without a second thought, you closed the gap between you, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss that left you both breathless. 

It was a kiss filled with passion and hunger, a release of all the energy that had built up between you both during the hours of training. This had been the real goal of the session, the real tension behind it all. 

Anakin's hands roamed from over you face to down your body, exploring every inch of you, as if he couldn't get enough. He pulled you on top of him causing you to moan softly, unable to resist him, unable to stop. 

The training hall faded away as you gave yourself over to the moment, lost in the sensation of his touch. 

You start move move above him, start to let your own hands wander, He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, your hair a mess and your lips red and swollen from the force of his kisses. His cock twitched in his pants as he watched you, so much adrenaline coursing through his body that he mentally had to tell himself not to destroy you.

He did need a change though, wrapping his hands tight on your waist he turned the two of you over so that then he was over you. He grinned at your surprise and pressed his lips back on yours. 

"Still think you could beat me?" He asked, moving down to your neck and sucking down ferociously. 

"I think you've already won." You mutter, senseless to his ministrations. 

He beamed down at you, kissing you deeply and reassuringly, but desperate for release. "I want you so much," he murmurs. You can't bring yourself to say anything back, just moan softly as he moves his hand down to your robe ties, undoing them with ease and finding the top of your trousers, pulling them down. 

Each touch of his hands left your body on fire, you felt like you were melting from the inside out, a pool of lava aching for release. 

"Say my name, Y/N."

"Anakin." You practically purr, the tension getting tighter and tighter, your release so close. 

"Again."

"Anakin!" It had come so fast, so suddenly and completely that you were blinded. He licked his lips, watching your entrance, his hand snaking down your body and grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head and throwing it on the floor.

Then he removed his own and you were gaping at him. Not just a sliver, his entire torso was visible to you now. It was a work of art, every muscle taught and defined...

He smirked at the look on your face, and upon seeing it, you tackled him. You rolled him over and straddled him, pinning him down and grinding your hips down onto him. You couldn't resist tracing your hands over it, feeling the muscles in his arms and pressing your fingers into his chest. Tracing them with reverence, shockingly gentle for such an arousing moment. 

Not for long however, he grunted as your nails dug into his shoulders, your teeth bit down on his pulse point, punching his skin. He rose his arms up to wrap around your waist, his hands roamed all over your body, you undid his trousers too, pushing them down only just enough so that you could pull him out.

He looked at you, and you could have sworn he was going to say something, but he didn't. Instead he grabbed you by your hips, and you shuddered at the feeling of his hands on you. He lifted you so that he could line himself up with your dripping entrance, bringing you down with a shuddering moan.

"Anakin!" You cried, tears springing up in your eyes as sparks of electricity shot through every inch of your body. 

He grinned, knowing your sensitivity was all due your release. Feeling it build once again, his ego was soaring.

You moved up and down on him, feeling every inch of him, moving to let him get deeper inside of you.

The force and speed of your thrusts was picking up, and you dropped your head back in pleasure, moaning his name.

Anakin's hands moved to your hips, gripping them painfully tightly and pushing down on you, muttering your name into your neck. The feeling of him inside of you had you both right on the edge immediately, the movements only working to intensify the experience. 

"Is that what I do to you?" He whispered in your ear. "How do you feel?"

"It's so... good," you panted, throwing your head back.

He growled at your words, pushing himself up so that his length was buried deep inside you. You both groaned loudly at the feeling. "Tell me..." he breathed, sliding back and thrusting into you again, hard.

You closed your eyes, moaning as he moved again, this time slower. 

He growled at your words, pushing himself up so that his length was buried deep inside you. You both groaned loudly at the feeling. "Tell me..." he breathed, sliding back and thrusting into you again, hard.

You closed your eyes, moaning as he moved again, this time slower. 

"I want you Anakin, I've always- ah- wanted you."

The pressure built up, and you knew you were both close. His thrusts were getting faster and faster up into you until you couldn't hold yourself up anymore and you collapsed down onto him, screaming his name. He continued though, not caring or even noticing your overstimulation, just chasing his own. 

And yet, despite how drained you were, you still couldn't help but moan at every thrust.

You pressed yourself against him, going down onto him as hard as you could.

"Oh... Ah!" He cried, his hips jerking back and forth at a delirious speed, until with a final thrust, he hit his peak, groaning your name as he came. His grip on you tightened, and you held on for dear life as he rode out his high. 

His head fell back onto the training room floor and you relaxed your body onto him. Spent, and now, truly too exhausted to move. 

"That was.. incredible." He rasps into the air. You smile into his chest, running your fingers through his sweaty hair. "I never knew that would happen."

"We should train together more often." You say.

"I wish we could stay here forever." He says, his eyes closed. The sun had begun to set, and the room was flooding with orange light, an eerie glow making Anakin's golden skin look even more like a statue than it already did. A real life god, you laugh silently to yourself.

"I think I need a shower now." You say, finally getting off of him, aware of the liquids running out of you and leaking onto his body.

He looks down and swallows, "I'll come with you." 

[iheartjohnlennon]

The Beatles NSFW Alphabet - Paul

 

 

@heiterhund <<< co-writer xxx🩷🎀

 

 

 

 

 

 

A is for Aftercare (How he treats you after sex, what happens after sex, etc...)

• Paul's very chatty with you at the end of it, then after that he just lies with you.

• Sex takes all of his energy and he can barely move himself. While he still has you, he’ll talk your ear off about everything and anything, important or not.

• And he 100% asks you how the sex was and how it felt - he wants a review.

• After you guys talk, he just stares up at the ceiling, daydreaming, dazed. He looks lovely, you just sit up and stroke his face, your breasts in his face as he mumbles how much he loves you.

 

 

B is for Body part (His favourite body part of yours)

• Your breasts win everything for him.

• He just thinks they sit so prettily, he loves the curve of your chest - the underside of them. How soft they feel in his grasp. They get him so distracted.

• He also loves the way your tits bounce when he’s fucking you.

• He can grab them, suck them, squeeze them, fuck them, finish on them. They're just...everything.

 

 

C is for Cum (Where he likes to cum)

• Paul adores cumming on your breasts, no matter the position you do.

• He loves the way it looks - your tits being covered in his white, glistening seed.

 

 

D is for Dirty secret (Something utterly filthy that he did/or does/or wants to do behind your back.)

• Sometimes Paul will either purposely let his friends hear you get fucked or just tell them about what you both get up to. 

• It started off as a joke when George made an off handed comment about the marks on Paul’s skin, usually the dark love bites littering his neck. 

• Due to this, Paul really, really feels the need to tell his bandmates how well you guys fuck. Their reactions just fuel their ego.

 

 

E is for Experience (How experienced is he?)

• Those prostitutes in Hamburg taught him a lot, a lot.

• Not to mention he's a bit of a whore anyways so he picks up knowledge and stuff.

• Paul knows and has experience past mere orgasm. He could be a sex therapist or something at this point.

 

 

F is for Favourite position (How he loves to fuck you)

• Paul really likes anything where he doesn’t have to put in much work. He’s honestly a lazy lover. He doesn’t mind topping though, you just have to ask. 

• He prefers cowgirl, because he gets to have his hands on your pretty hips and watch your tits bounce as you do it.

• But that’s not to say he won’t do any other positions! He just has to admit that watching you, watching your face, is his favourite thing to do. 

 

 

G is for Goofy (How silly is he during sex?)

•Sex with Paul isn’t long enough for a full conversation, let alone smart quips.

•He might laugh if he can’t get it in the first time, or if he hits himself or something. But other than that, he just isn’t silly during sex. He takes it very seriously. 

 

 

G is also for Goal (What's his goal and/or dream in relation to sex)

• His goal is to cum! To cum everywhere and anywhere you will let him.

• He obviously cares about your orgasm, but… he feels like he should finish first, y’know?

 

 

H is for Hair (How well groomed he is, does the carpet match the drapes, etc..)

• This depends on the era, really.

• Early 1960s Paul would be very well groomed, neatly trimmed and not too long. Just a pretty thing that frames his cock, really.

• Going to 1966 and up? Yeah…maybe it would be a little unruly, but not like a jungle.

• After 1968 though…he just stopped caring!

 

 

I is for Intimacy (How romantic he is during sex, etc..)

• His intimacy depends on your relationship.

• If it’s a fling, expect him to hump and dump within a day. If you’re his girlfriend though? Expect him to be as caring as he can be, for the moment, anyways.

• There’s really no big scene in the bedroom, no music, no romantic lighting - just him being slower and taking his time. Your hands intertwined as he mumbles and tells you how much you mean to him.

• It doesn’t happen often, but he does want it to be often. So long as your relationship develops.

 

 

J is for Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

• Paul loves to jerk off.

• He thinks it’s the easiest thing to do. Plus, it focuses solely on his pleasure.

• He thinks about you when he does it, usually with his back pressed against the headboard cock in hand, as he tugs and twists until his hand is covered in his release.

 

 

K is for Kink (One or more of their kinks in relation to you)

• Paul has a huge breeding kink. He gets so hard when he thinks about knocking you up. It makes his cock throb and ache with need. He usually tries to cum inside you, hushing your muffled concerns with his hand over your mouth as he keeps thrusting into you.

“Shh, it’s alright, I think you’ll be a great mother. Don’t you want me to be a father, love?”

• Usually that’s his attempt at soothing you, and it makes him even more excited.

• His other kink is cross dressing… nothing too extreme, but he loves when he’s able to wear something frilly and girly. He loves the way he looks in panties, it makes his dick look bigger, which is more of an ego boost.

• One word: pegging. He loves feeling like the bitch in the relationship. He makes cute little whimpers, hands fisted into the sheets as he tilts his head back. He refuses to take it on all fours, though. That's too much for him. He prefers being on his back, legs wrapped around your waist as you ease the tip of the strap into him. His pouty lips part as he lets out a shaky breath - cheeks flushing pink. 

 

 

L is for Location (Favourite place to do the deed)

• The comfort of his own home just brings him a peace he rarely feels since he's constantly bombarded with fans and press and money.

• Doesn't matter where in your home, just as long as it's there.

 

 

M is for Motivation (What turns them on about you, gets him hard, makes him cum, etc..)

• Paul loves the faces you make during sex.

• He thinks you look so pretty fucked out and flushed. Your cheeks are so flushed, he thinks it looks better than any makeup you’ve ever worn.

• Your lips are so swollen from all the desperate kissing shared between you two, usually glistening with saliva (It’s Paul, he’s a messy kisser and that won’t ever change.)

• Eager humping, harsh gripping, and loud pants are usually Paul's tell tale signs that he’s about to cum.

 

 

N is for No (Turn offs, what pisses him off, etc..)

• Paul isn’t too thrilled at the idea of threesomes.  He doesn’t like the idea of sharing you because what’s his is his. 

• But if John asked or any close friends, he probably wouldn’t mind too much… No one else though, he’s the only one who knows how to fuck you. So why would you want someone else to join in? This is why he's so possessive, he wouldn't be able to even bear the thought of any other cock being inside of you.

 

 

 

O is for Oral sex (Does he prefer giving or receiving? How does he give, how does he receive?)

• He prefers getting head than giving head.

• He likes the way your lips wrap around his dick, tongue lapping the underside of his head - before you graze his shaft with your teeth. It sends a deep chill down his spine…

• When your nose nuzzles what pubic hair he does have, he’s about ready to cum down your throat. His hand usually finds its way to your hair, making a fist into it - pulling you up and down until he’s reached his climax.

• He does like eating you out though! It’s just not his preference. you might have to ask once or twice, unless he’s high or drunk.

• If that's the case, then he’s on you like some animal in heat. Sloppy kisses pressed against your clit, tongue dragging down to your entrance before he wiggles his tongue into it.

 

 

P is for Pace (Fast or slow? Rough or sensual? Etc)

• It’s not slow, like, at all.

• He's on you until he’s cumming inside of you.

• It's very fast, rough, desperate humping, like a rabbit. Sometimes he’ll hold you in place, hips jerking in quick messy directions.

• It can be romantic! Just…usually it isn’t.

 

 

Q is for Quickie (His opinion on quickies, how often they happen, etc..)

• Oh, he LOVES quickies.

• That’s usually what sex is like with him anyways! There may not be long rounds, but there’s usually so much fucking throughout the day.

• The beds too far away? Don’t worry, he’s already lifting up your dress, tugging down your stockings, and sliding his dick into you.

• He’s backstage during a performance? he already has you in the supply closet, hand over your mouth as he has his way with you.

 

 

R is for Risk (What kind of risks will they take.)

• Paul is 100% a pregnancy risk kind of guy.

• He kind of gets off on it as well, getting you pregnant “accidentally”.

• He'll not want to wear a condom and you'll ask him if he's sure, he just shrugs like...how bad can it be!

• He does want you to have his children eventually, he just likes the idea of having them unplanned.

• He just wants to raw dog you in peace, okay?

Paul finally had you to himself. 

The long day of answering the media, signing autographs, shaking hands - it was all so monotonous. 

But he’d do it all again if it meant he’d get to come home to you, naked, on his bed spread beneath him.

His dick was shoved into you, hands shoving your knees up to your chest - as he gave harsh, short thrusts. 

You let out soft whines, eyes rolling back as you took it like the good girl that you are.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Y’know, ‘m not wearing a rubber,” he huffed out in your ear, the smirk evident in his tone. 

Your eyes shot open as you tried to turn your head to speak into his ear.

“B-But, Paul,” you tried to speak, words getting caught in your throat as he continued to fuck you. Your nails dug into his back, leaving scratches as you tried to focus and tell him about the obvious risk. 

“Easy now, quiet down, I wouldn’t quite mind getting you pregnant y’know…”

 

 

S is for Stamina (How many rounds he can last, how quickly can they cum, etc..)

• He’s like a rabbit, he can and will fuck everyday if given the chance.

• He can’t do long rounds, each round is about 10-15 minutes. but there’s at least four rounds before he gives out and feels like he's been drained of his cum and will never cum again.

• Paul can cum in five minutes if you let him, but he’s always edging himself so you can enjoy sex as well.

 

 

T is for Toys (Does he own toys, use them, what kind of toys, etc?)

• You both have used your dildo, but not in the way where Paul just uses it by himself. You had to share it for the moment when you first tried pegging him.

• He asked one day if you guys could try something new. He and John were talking over lunch about sex - and John brought up something about the prostate, just a silly thought.

• Paul had to pretend he wasn’t interested, joking with John how stupid it sounded!

• But it’s all he could think of until he was home with you. He was nervous to ask about, thinking you’d see him as some sort of homosexual. You didn't, you have such an active sex life that trying new things in the bedroom never seems like a bad idea.

• Safe to say, Paul loved his prostate being stimulated. Due to that, you now own a strap on.

• Paul also doesn’t mind you having toys. He personally buys you them as well and likes watching you unbox them. 

 

 

U is for Unfair (How much does he like to tease you, how does he tease you, etc..)

• He’s extremely unfair, but not in the teasing sense.

• Paul simply adores you, but he’s extremely selfish when it comes to pleasure. If you don't finish but he's tired and can't go on, he'll make you beg to finish. A lot of begging.

 

 

V is for Volume (How loud is he, what noises does he make, what does he say, etc..)

• He doesn’t make loud sounds, but he is pretty noisy.

• He groans and whines, huffs and pants as he’s inside you.

• He’ll usually lean down next to your ear and rasp and breathe out how good your pussy feels.

• But that’s probably the most coherent sentence he’ll make out. Most of the time it’s just his gasps and sighs.

 

 

W is for Wildcard (Random sexual headcanon.)

• Paul never thought he’d agree to this. His jealousy made him an extremely bitter lover. Which was super ironic considering you always saw him flirting with fans.

• Though that’s not the point.

• John came over to visit one day, the group was taking a break from playing.

• Paul saw the way John was eyeing you, his brows lowering each time John complimented you - or would place his hand on your knee when talking.

• He couldn’t take it anymore and when you went upstairs to grab something, Paul approached his friend.

“Are you serious?” He asked through gritted teeth, ensuring you didn’t hear.

“Well, no, I’m John.” He responded, a shit eating grin plastered across his features. 

His attitude was making Paul more pissed, “Can you please drop the act for one second? You cannot be hitting on my girlfriend in my home!”

John didn’t look amused, his eyes fixated on Paul as he debated about his next step.

“Well, if I can’t be hitting on her in your home - can I be fucking her?”

And so there he was, sat across in the chair that your clothes usually laid on, facing your bed. He was being cucked by Lennon, and honestly? It wasn’t as bad as he thought.

Each time John rammed himself in you, he would ask: "Is this good? Do you like it-" and each time you would whine, teasing him, saying how Paul could do it better.

 

 

X is for X-ray (His cock.)

• Okay…so…5 inches solid, extremely average.

• He's circumcised at least! That's one plus! And his balls are good enough, a nice round pair.

• And dear God, is it a good 5 inches though. In spite of his size (which doesn't bother him too much) he knows exactly how to use it, and use it he fucking does.

• Size matters unless you're called James Paul McCartney. 

 

 

Y is for Yearning (His sex drive, how much do they want you?)

• He's like a dog in heat when you are both alone.

• In fact, even when you aren't alone, he'll still want you. Little touches under the table, spontaneous quickies, grabbing your arse and your tits.

• Paul is absolutely insatiable. 

 

 

Z is for Zzz (Sleep afterwards?)

• He falls asleep after at least 40 minutes of talking to you and daydreaming.

• You watch him doze off slowly before sleeping yourself.

• He sleeps like a baby unless he's stressed or has to write or produce.

The other two coming soon x

John's here

[daintyys]

Situationship with James? would love to see reader wearing a jersey that isn’t james’ cause they had an argument about wanting to be together or not, so she does that to tease him and see if he gets jealous (you can make it magical or non magical)

fem!reader x james potter, 1k words, angst and swearing

a/n: JUMPING at this ask because it gives me the opportunity to write james as a footballer ehehe. tysm to @gravelyordinary for helping me w this 😭😭

"Come on, James..." You mumbled to yourself, clenching your fists nervously. The game was becoming intense, both teams completely stuck in, aggressive and ready to win. You watched as James weaved in and out between other players. Unsurprisingly, he was refusing to pass the ball. Classic show-off James Potter. It was nearing the end of the second half, and James' team had to get this last goal in order to win.

James looked determined to be the reason for the victory. He knew you were there, and even though your last interaction had been a fight, he still wanted to look cool for you. He was approaching the goal. You saw him flash a grin at the opposing team's goalie- his best friend's brother. "JUST FUCKING SHOOT IT, POTTER!" Someone screamed behind you. You laughed, and your hands flew over your mouth as you watched James raise his leg to kick the ball. "Yes, yes, YES!" You screeched as the ball flew into the net, much to the dismay of the goalie.

You cheered, your ears ringing from the sheer amount of screaming surrounding you. You couldn't wait to see the expression on James' face when he saw you. You grabbed your purse and left the stands, heading towards the private lounge where the players and their families hung out after games.

You had free admission to the lounge, and everybody knew better than to question it. You had been going out with James for almost a year now, but had still yet to put a label on your relationship. James was convinced you two should be dating by now, because of course "you could end up pregnant". Sure, that could be true, but in your opinion that was no reason to be in a committed relationship.

You pulled open the door to the lounge, and James' teammates cheered when they saw you. They loved you, but admittedly also thought you were insane for not being James' girlfriend. You smiled, but quickly asked them to please "ignore the shirt". Setting down your purse at the bar, you took your jacket off. The silence in response was unbearable.

The last name "Black" was written across the back of the shirt you were wearing. Yes, Regulus Black was James' best friend's brother, but it was still disappointing to the boys for you to wear the opposing goalie's jersey. "Don't take it personal, guys." You laughed, turning to them. You were instead met by one set of eyes you weren't exactly excited to see. James was staring at you, ears practically shooting steam, as his mates stared at his reaction.

He scoffed, sipping his drink and turning toward the lounge. He walked away, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. You turned quickly to the bartender. "Passionfruit Martini, please." You sighed.

Drink in-hand, you made your way over to James. He was sitting alone, looking almost sickly. He looked up at you, rolling his eyes. You sat next to him, putting your hand on his knee. "Was embarrassing me like that worth it?" He asked, staring at the ground. You stayed silent, regretting your decision. "I- I wanted to see if you really cared all that much..." You stuttered, taking a sip of your drink.

James grinned sarcastically, facing you. "Of course I fucking care that much. Are you mad?" It was hard to believe it, but you could see tears in his eyes. "Shit. I'm so sorry, James. I didn't think you were actually serious about that!" He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink. "Why did you think I fought so hard with you the other night then? Just for the sake of it?"

You looked down at the floor, guilt taking over your body. "I'll take off the jersey if you'd like." You mumbled. "Well I can't make you do anything, Y/N. I'm not your boyfriend, afterall." James huffed. Your mouth opened in disbelief. "Don't be like that! It's not that I don't want to date you, it's just that I'm not sure I'm ready! It would be hard for me dating a footballer, you know!" James nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"I get that. You could have just said that, sweetheart." He placed his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. You sat up again and rested your head on him. "I like you. I really do. I just need time." You whispered. You felt James sigh. "Please just tell me. I don't want to lose you." You smiled at him, softening. "I promise."

"Can we get out of here?" James asked quietly, resting his hand on top of yours. "I actually really hate seeing you wear that, would rather you wear nothing at all than be in that shirt..." He trailed off, reaching out to feel the fabric on your body. You gasped, smacking his hand away. "We're in public!" You exclaimed. James laughed, putting his hand back on your waist. "Exactly why I'm suggesting we leave, Y/N."

Agreeing, you were soon in the back of a cab, James with his arm tightly around your shoulder. "I'm so so sorry." You repeated over and over. James laughed, assuring you it was okay. You peppered his face with kisses, much to the dismay of your driver.

Arriving at James' flat, the two of you dashed upstairs, fingers interlaced. "James!" You giggled as he pulled you onto his bed. He wasted no time in getting the jersey off of you, and he threw it to the floor. "Gotta give that back to him." He laughed. "I actually stole it from Sirius when he came to visit." You grinned, straddling James' hips.

Waking up the next morning, you smiled at the feeling of James' heartbeat under your head. You kissed his neck gently, trying to wake him up. He groaned and shifted under you, sitting up. "Good morning my handsome boyfriend." You giggled, moving his hair from in front of his eyes. James' eyes shot open, shocked. "Boyfriend?!" He gasped, a grin forming on his lips. "Yes, James. Boyfriend."

[azsazz]

Friend or Foe

Eris x Azriel x Reader

Summary: I mixed these two anon requests together, and hopefully it went alright :) "I was just thinking about Azriel beging a mate with a mother of dragons (like in game of thrones) ot would be so powerful... like, sm" and "Request! A Eris x Archeron!yn fic. Imagine a prythian where the high lords are not good and friendly with each other and are now planning a war over one another to take down the court next to them and rule over. Now after a LOT of convincing Autum Court and Night court are forced in a alliance between each other because of yn. Now imagine if one of them sabotages the alliance! What will happen? Who will yn choose? Will she be able to choose between her sisters and mate?"

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,901

Notes: The beginning is kinda shit but I wanted to share anyway.

_________________________________________

You sigh softly, admiring your mate in his sleep. His unruly amber hair splays across the fluffy pillow beneath his head, and the strong smattering of freckles dot his cheeks like embers, glowing in the morning light.

He has one arm thrown across his eyes, blocking the warm sun that’s peeking in the windows. You’d forgotten to draw the curtains last night, after Eris had growled at the handmaidens to remove themselves from his chambers as he took you to the bed and ravaged you all night, not having seen you for moons now. 

He’d been so excited to see you, though he wouldn’t let Azriel catch him in that state, no matter if they were also connected by the bond. An unfortunate thing, that the alliance between the two courts was not stronger, and it sometimes felt as if you were the only reason the deal was made in the first place. 

As if sensing your gaze on him, he blinks awake sleepily, a smile gracing his gorgeous face when he catches you looking.

“Good morning, fawn.”

“Good morning, mate.”

His smile widens at that, and he rolls over, scooping you under his body as he cages you in. You squeal, accepting the warmth of his body and the plethora of kisses he presses to your skin. You’re enjoying each other’s happiness this morning.

“I want to show you something,” he says suddenly, drawing away from you. You puff a laugh, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He’s positively giddy, an emotion you don’t usually see on your mate, but you’re thankful for his mood this morning. 

“Okay,” you grin, “Where are we going?”

He presses a kiss to your mouth and pushes himself from bed, dragging you up with him. “I can’t tell you,” he answers, but he’s beaming, moving around the room like he’s just been named High Lord. “I only ask that you wear something you can walk in.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

What Eris shows you takes your breath away.

He takes you through the forest, so deep into the woods that you have to take horses, and after you tie them to a tree to wait, its still a few miles to get to where he wants. 

You enjoy it though, the serenity of the woodland around you, hand tucked in the warmth of your mates, and you don’t understand why Eris is stopping you in the middle of a clearing until he’s gesturing down to your feet.

You gasp, taking a step back at the sight of three large eggs, huddled together near the edge of the clearing.

“What is this?” You ask, in disbelief. They’re the largest eggs you’ve ever seen, and you don’t recognize the coloring one bit.

Eris leans down, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you into his body. “Dragons.”

“Dragons?” you repeat, grasping onto his forearms. But dragons are a myth, creatures that have been extinct and unheard of for centuries, millenia even. “But how—”

“I don’t know,” your mate answers, squeezing you tight. “I found them when I missed you and was wandering deep in the forest. They can help us win the war.”

Yes, yes, they would be able to help win the war. You’re over the moon excited about your mates finding, even though the creatures might be too uncontrollable and young to be such a big part of this upcoming war.

“We have to tell Az, we have to—”

“We can’t.” 

You tear your gaze from the sight, furrowing your brows up at him.

“What do you mean we can’t tell Azriel?” you pull away. Your stomach twists into tight knots, and when Eris tries to reach out for you, you take a step back. His mouth firms and his hand drops to his side, sizzling in the quiet forest around you. “Eris, this could win the war.”

“I know,” he answers, voice harsh. He hadn’t shown you this to share it with your other mate, but to excite you instead, show you how much better off, how much safer you are in his court, with his smokehounds, with his dragons, and with him to protect you. None of those Illyrian swill, with their thin wings and long swords. They were hot headed creatures, more so than any autumn court general he’s seen, and he doesn’t think that Azriel can care for you as well as he can. He sure as hell knows that no one in the Night Court cares for you, they only pretend because you’re Azriel’s mate. 

“What are you saying then?” you ask, voice trembling. You curl your fingers into your thick skirts, suddenly hot under the Autumn sun. You don’t like the way your mate is speaking, like their alliance won’t be honored and instead, they’ll aim for their allies. “That you’ll attack the Night Court?”

Eris stays quiet and your throat aches with emotion. Tears spring to your eyes and you try to shove them away, try to keep your betrayal from leaking down the bond to either of your mates, but Azriel always keeps close tabs on you, and he feels the ache in his body as if it’s him who is feeling all of these conflicting emotions.

What’s going on? He sends to both you and Eris. He knows something is upsetting you, that you’re hurting, but he doesn’t know if Eris is the one doing it or has the situation under control, so he reaches out to the both of you for answers. Are you okay?

Eris flinches at the sound of the shadowsinger in his head. His fiery eyes are both a warning and disappointment. He had hoped to show you this to sway you on your stance in the war, to explain to you how they could never be allies with the Night Court and never would be. That you shouldn’t risk the chance of death to be by Azriel’s side in battle, but flying high in the skies with him, nearly untouchable to the soldiers below.

He shakes his head silently, pleading with you not to let the information slip. You’d be a traitor to your mate, your High Lord, to your court. 

You would be his enemy. 

Tears slip down your cheeks, hot and stinging as they roll down your red cheeks. You can’t do this, you can’t lie to your mate like this, even if he is from a rival court. But as far as the Night Court knows, they have an alliance—it’s why you’re free to spend time with both mates in their respective courts. But now…now you’re not quite sure what to think, where you stand in this war at all.

I’m alright, Az, you send back to him and Eris’ shoulders slump in relief.

You know that Azriel is only responding to you because Eris is stepping closer and reaching a hand out to comfort you, but you still can’t believe him, and you step back from his grasp, inching closer to the dragon eggs behind you. Then why are you so upset, my love?

Eris’ amber gaze flickers to the precious creatures behind you, and you’re quick to respond to your Night Court mate, I can’t talk now, Azriel, there’s something I need to do. I will reach out when I can, and I love you so much.

You realize that it sounds like a goodbye, but you shut that part of your mind away, pushing him from your thoughts to focus on your other mate, standing before you. 

“My fathers plans have not been flushed out yet, but I assume taking the territory of the Night Court is on the list of what he’s willing to accomplish by the end of this war,” Eris explains to you.

Your stomach bottoms out. You can’t believe he’s telling you this. You can’t believe he’s going along with this.

“Is it because of Azriel?” you ask, but it's no louder than a whisper as the thought takes root in your mind. Did Eris agree to infiltrate the Night Court to try and get rid of your other mate? So that he could be your only fate?

If he does accomplish something like that, you will never forgive him.

Eris’ gaze softens, as if he knows the direction of your thoughts. “No,” his voice is gentle, like that of a crisp orange leaf falling from the trees around you. The long grass rustles beneath your feet and the chill sends shivers down your spine. Eris reaches out again, trying to take your hand, to comfort his mate in need, but you’re having none of him right now, and it stings. “It’s because of my father.”

“So kill him,” you plead, desperately, and Eris flinches. Crows flee the clearing at your screams, and your desperation grows thickly in the sunlight space. “You can’t do this to them! To us!”

Your name is a sigh of frustration on his lips and it makes you still, heart pounding in your chest as your anger flares. Eris is distraught, you can see it in the purple rings beneath his eyes, the despair in his eyes, how he runs his fingers through his hair, pulling on it as if it holds all of the solutions to his problem. 

“Do you think I want this?” His voice is laced with smoke and the grass around his feet burst into flames. It makes you ache for him, but you don’t understand what’s going on, and Eris can’t seem to explain it to you. “The last thing I want is to take you from your other mate,” he gasps, but when you open your mouth to try and calm him down, to stop him from burning down the clearing around you, he continues. “I don’t care that he’s your mate too, I don’t care. I would never take him from you nor you from him.”

“Eris,” you try, “Then tell me what’s going on.”

He collapses to his knees as he tries to explain but the words are as tangled on his tongue as they are in his mind. He can’t get his head straight, he doesn’t know what to do, how to stop any of this. “I—”

He’s interrupted by the sound of cracking. It ricochets through the forest, through the grasses, and silences the both of you. You turn on your heel, staring down at the dragon eggs you’ve stepped so close to.

Eris whispers your name, calm and stern, “Come over here.”

But you don’t dare move, don’t dare to breathe as you watch the delicate shells of the eggs shatter, shifting with the movement of the creatures inside. 

A green head pokes its head through blinking a few times to get its bearings. The dragon is awfully cute, bits of shell and liquid covering its tiny head as it peeks around, getting its first glimpse of the world.

It caws and leans down to nudge at its siblings. One of the other eggs rustles but the other days motionless, not yet ready to wake and enter the world. 

You want to coo at the little thing, even though you know it's probably dangerous, but its bright eyes stare up at you when it realizes its siblings aren’t far from waking. It shuffles from its shell, stumbling over big paws, adorned with razor sharp claws. It squawks at you again, bounding through the tall grass towards you, and Eris whispers your name again, his hand gentle on your lower back as he tries to usher you away. 

He’s in disbelief. A part of him didn’t think that the eggs would hatch at all, that he wouldn’t have to give the creatures to his father, to use them in the war, but there are no thoughts in his head when the dragon approaches you.

Ignoring Eris’ pleas to back away, you crouch down to its level. The green creature blinks at you again, and behind it, a black tail pops out of another shell, its arrowhead shaped bottom whipping at the shell to crack it further, impatient from being stuck inside its own shell.

The green dragon makes an impatient noise, flames sparking at its mouth as your attention is occupied. “Okay, okay, little one,” you soothe, bringing your attention back to the creature intrigued by you. You reach a hand out and Eris draws in a sharp breath. He looks like he’s ready to drag you out of the clearing but he’s already hurt you enough, and he wants you to be happy. “Welcome to the world.” 

It sniffs your hand before nuzzling into you. Your face splits in a grin, and you reach out to pet along its scaly body. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before, and you already know that when they’re fully grown, they will be the sway in any war, let alone what side you’re on. 

Its sibling saunters over, sniffing at Eris and turning its back on him with a growl. Eris deflates a little, but there’s still one more egg waiting to hatch, and maybe it will like him. 

The black dragon sniffs your hand, eyeing you curiously, cocking its head. Maybe it can smell Azriel on your skin. You were in the Night Court yesterday. The green dragon nips at the other, and you wonder what their genders are, the grass too long for you to see. 

But Eris can tell, somehow. He’s had experience, delivering his shadowhounds’ pups, and he tells you softly, “The green one is a male, and the black, a female.” 

“They’re beautiful,” you say, completely enthralled by the two dragons before you. The green one nuzzles into you again, before catching your hand in its jaws.

You gasp as its sharp yet soft teeth break your skin. Eris swears, planting his hands on your shoulders as if to rip you away from the creature, but you stop him, planting your free hand over his own. It doesn’t hurt that badly, and it's just a curious baby, you let the dragon be.

But he’s not biting you just because he doesn’t know any better. You’re the first fae he’s seen, and he likes the smell of you, the feeling of your intentions in the air. You’d been scared, and he’d felt it inside of his egg. He knew you needed help.

He’s claiming you. 

From the jaw of the dragon, green lines crawl up your arm like blood in your veins. They wrap around your forearm and you gasp at the intricacies it winds into, creating a weave of vines that stop at your elbow. It's a unique mark, you’re his as much as he is yours.

“I think he’s just imprinted on me,” you breathe as the dragon lets go and curls around your calves. The black dragon beats its tail against the ground, uninterested in what her brother is doing, and even less interested in Eris.

“What are you going to name him?” your mate asks, eyes shining pridefully at you. He’s a little hurt that the black dragon won’t give him the time of day, but there’s still hope for the last egg, which the female dragon saunters over to, nipping at the shell to rouse its last sibling.

“Zephyr,” you answer, and you don’t even have to think about it, you know that this name belongs to your dragon. He purrs in response, brushing against you.

His sibling breaks through the shell of the last dragon, waking the golden scaled creature from its slumber. It caws in annoyance, but the female is having none of it, snapping at him to get him moving from the shell. 

The beautiful gold dragon gleams in the sun, and Eris knows immediately that this dragon belongs to him.

Much like yourself, Eris steps forward, letting the last sibling sniff at him, biting him. He feels his flames reaching out the dragon, feels them intertwining with his own power and the creature looks up at him in wonder. The marking by the dragon is similar to yours, a weaving of thin lines glinting gold like its scales from his elbow to hand, looking like a metallic spiderweb. 

When the dragon releases him, he snaps his fingers and the three dragons make noises of shock as a flame appears in his fingers. They sniff and snap at it, but Eris is focused only on the dragon that’s claimed him, “You like that, don’t you, Rory?” 

The golden dragon makes a noise in response that Eris takes as a good sign.

“Eris?” you ask, patting the Zephyrs stomach. Your mate looks at you with excitement glowing in his eyes and you soften, wondering if this will turn the tides of the war, make him change his mind about attacking the Night Court.

“Yes, fawn?” he answers, but you’re looking at the last dragon. She’s settled into the grass a few feet away, watching you both with untrusting eyes, even if her brothers have claimed you both as theirs. She hides in the shadows of the trees, and her glowing blue eyes remind you so much of the mate you have in the Night Court, with a matching set of stones lining his leathers.

It would make sense. There’s three dragons and there’s three of you, you and both of your mates. You have to ask, excitement stirring in your stomach. 

“Do you think she belongs to Azriel?”

[xoxochb]

— 1999 ꣑ৎ‧₊˚. pairing: connor stoll x daughter of hades lyrics: “hold me close and say you care / because I’m in love with your brown hair”

a first turn and a second. no, it’s too cold on the left side. but then again when you lay on the right it’s too hot! you can’t win can you? you pull the blanket further over your head to keep your skin from being exposed to anymore of the freezing atmosphere of cabin thirteen. you internally curse your father for being the god of the dead out of everything he could’ve been, additionally cursing him for your naturally cold body temperature. you groan when a wave of warmth crawls up your body, throwing the blanket off of your head in rage. yeah, fuck this. you stand up from your bed, sliding on your slippers and heading towards the cabin door when a familiar voice stops you

“going somewhere?”

you jump and clutch a hand to your chest, breathing rapidly. “gods, nico, you damn near gave me a heart attack!”

you attempt to search in the dark for your brother but you assume he’s to deep in a pile of many blankets to be found, nonetheless you turn in the direction of his bed

“changing the subject I see…”

you scowl and cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t sleep here”

“ah, I understand. going to seek warmth in your idiot of a boyfriend?”

“he’s not an idiot. I’m leaving now, mom”

you roll your eyes and exit the cabin before nico can muster up another stupid sentence. the cold night air may have been worse than your cabin, despite your cozy pjs (aka everything is directly from your boyfriend’s dresser). you pull your sweatshirt over your hands and rush your way to cabin eleven

when you enter the temperature is instantly different from your own cabin, especially with the crackling fire off to the side. you’ve taken this path many times, so it’s wasn’t too difficult to find the bed you wanted. you slide off your slippers and place them under the bed so you don’t trip over them in the morning (or connor. this was a real event, you laughed your ass off for a full twenty minutes). you admire the beauty that was your beloved before laying with him, his unruly brown hair, lips parted, freckle adorned cheeks, he looked so peaceful you could’ve cried. you sigh and slip yourself into his arms, and at last you were finally warm

but just as you find yourself comfortable tucking your head under connor’s chin he begins stirring and wraps his arms around you tightly

“knew you’d end up in my bed” he mutters almost inaudibly. you can’t help but smile

“my cabin was cold”

“hm, so are you”

regardless of his opinion on your body temperature he slips his hands underneath your his shirt, you bask in his warmth, sighing constantly. but you frown when he speaks again,

“this is my shirt” connor opens his eyes and looks under the blanket “and my pants! you’re a thief?”

you gasp and a little too loudly for a sleeping cabin you respond, “I’m a thief?!” this earns you multiple ‘shh!’ from around the room, making you resort to a quiet tone this time, “you’re a hypocrite, do you know that?”

connor laughs softly and closes his eyes again, inhaling your sweet scent. “‘m just joking. I love you (nick name)”

and you know he’s telling nothing but the truth. saying those three special words wasn’t easy for him and you knew that well— which is why you told him take all the time he needs before saying it. the day you’d said them for the first time you remember it vividly. you’d been bullied by some aphrodite kids over your paternity and the next day they all woke up with messily cut hair and crickets in their pillowcases. and you knew better than anyone who had been the culprit behind this fiasco, later crying in his arms you said those three words. not wanting to pressure connor into anything you began to apologize but without another moment he responded with the same phrase

a promise he made to himself that day. he was surely going to marry you whether anyone agreed with it or not. he was going to make sure nobody would hurt you physically or verbally the same way they did the previous day. and he’d kept half that promise for now (three years later fulfilling the second half)

“I love you too, con”

you feel his smile upon your forehead before he places a kiss there gently, then he takes one of your hands and places a peck to each fingertip and then your palm, and the back of your hand. he stops when he realizes there’s a bandaid on one of your fingers

“what happened?”

you recall the events of earlier today. “paper cut. was trying to turn the page of my book”

he kisses the bandaid. “my poor girl”

your eyes begin to heavy with the serenity of the moment surrounding you. you wish every night could consist of something as domestic as this. you let your eyelids flutter closed, you suppose connor takes notice of you lack of response

“sleepy?”

you nod. he kisses the top of your head again and rubs his hand up and down the skin of your back to assure your filled with nothing but warmth as you drift off into a deep slumber for the remainder of the night

[alonetimelover]

to feel fulfilled

pairing: Harry Styles x polish!reader (fem, she/her)

summary: During the day of the last Love on Tour show Harry intends to do three things: satisfy his fiancée, make granny's dream come true and put on the best performance for his fans.

warnings: fluff, some suggestive moments (nothing explicit), they are in love, okay? and granny is the total sweetheart, with Harry they are the power duo.

word count: 3,5k

a/n: Based on the anon request!

masterlist

Italy during summer was the most beautiful place on Earth, thought YN for the past couple of days, she’d been there. The house that Harry and her bought just over two years ago had windows overlooking the coast, shining, clear blue water crashing against the rocks, waking her up every day. Birds singing while sitting on the trees outside of their room’s balcony and the smell of the fresh coffee being brewed by one of the guests. 

She felt in heaven. 

“Will you let me wake up with you in my arms instead of the scrunched blanket, woman?” 

YN turned around from the balcony and smiled. 

“Good morning to you too, Harry.”

“Aghh!” Harry screamed into the pillow. “Come ‘ere. I beg you.”

With a winning smirk on her face, she slowly - teasingly - walked up to Harry’s side of bed. YN put a hand on his unruly mop of hair and brushed it away from his face. She’d never get over the way he looked in the morning. Clear complexion, always warm and awaiting her touch with scrunched eyebrows and eyes shut close, like scared of the beams of the sunlight. His soft skin glowing in those, the tattoos on display like paintings in the gallery. When he finally opened his eyes they radiated the peacefulness they seeked all the time. 

She once came to the conclusion that she loved him the most in the morning light. 

“Good morning,” Harry finally responded, clinging to YN’s legs. “How’d you sleep, lovie?”

Still stroking his hair, after countless kisses being pressed to her thighs, hips and belly she laughed and squirmed away from Harry’s needy lips. 

“Insufferable from the moment he woke up. Why didn't it surprise me?” 

“Your fault.”

Not giving her a chance to respond he hooked her legs in his arm and threw her on the bed. In seconds he laid his whole body on hers, pressing them together. Two became one. 

“Your fault,” Harry repeated, kissing YN’s lips for the first time this morning. “You look like this in the morning and want me not to do something about it?”

“Like this?”

“Yeah. This little thing.” Harry stretched the strap of her cotton top, snapping it back to place right away. “You’re irresistible. It’s driving me insane.”

Harry stretched his answer with breaks for kissing different parts of her body after each word. Cheek, lips, nose, eyelid, neck, collarbone, that one place right above her breast. He left those kisses like sweet treats for later. Because he knew that later he’d have time to do it even slower. 

“Don’t go too insane. Lots of people are waiting for you today.”

As the answer to that, Harry collapsed on her, hiding his face into her neck. This evening was going to be a sour-sweet moment. It was the end of the Love On Tour. After two years of travelling the world, putting his best each night and sacrificing sometimes more than he was willing to, it was a sour moment. He put his whole self into making it the place for all people, to help them feel comfortable, loved. But the end was inevitable and seeked. He was tired, prone to little health problems due to that exhaustion and he longed for a month to spend in one place. With his family and friends. With YN. 

“Can’t believe it’s the last one.”

“Two years. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a good night's sleep, huh?”

“I always sleep well with you by my side. Not that long of a time since, it seems.” He smiled widely, kissing her neck. “Thank you for being here. Wouldn’t be able to do any of it without you.”

“Thank you for finding me.”

***

“Babcia, what do you mean you’re not going with us?” Harry asked, confused. 

“I get easily seasick, my boy. Also, the garden needs some attendance. I'm going back home in two days. You all will have nice holidays and then come to me, right?”

Harry pouted, but then smiled lovingly at YN’s granny. “Of course. You promised me all those tomatoes and cucumbers from your greenhouse, I can’t not come. Right, lovie?”

“We’ll be back in August, granny. You’ll have us all to yourself for a month at least.”

The eyes of the lovely older lady lit up.

“Excellent. Now, let’s talk about that one secret you wanted to discuss with me, Harry. What is it?”

Granny took a sip of her hot tea and almost choked on it, after hearing what Harry had in mind. The couple was immediately on their feet, assisting her by firstly taking the cup and then carefully but firmly tapping granny’s back. When she settled down, assuring Harry three times that she was okay, they all sat back on their former seats. 

“I can’t do it, Harry. It’s impossible.” She rejected him, feeling her heart breaking. She loved Harry like her own grandchild and refusing anything to him was like stabbing herself. 

“No, it’s not. I heard it. We did it together. It won’t be any different.”

“Won’t be any different? Harry, my boy, you don’t believe the word you’re saying. YN, can you talk him out of it?” She turned to her granddaughter with hopeful eyes. 

“I could but I’m not going to. If Harry thinks it’s a good idea, I think so, too. Plus, you know that he won’t do anything against your will. You have time to give him an answer. Whatever it is, nothing will change.” 

“Oh, how those kids grow. It was just yesterday I was giving you this talk right before your recital,” granny laughed, squeezing her grandchildren’s hands. “I’ll think about it, okay? But I don’t promise anything.”

***

“Harry, can you please sit down?” YN pleaded with her fiance, trying to finally set him down and talk calmly. “I promised to take care of my family while you prepare for tonight, let me do that.”

“Yes, yes,” he responded frantically, still pacing through the room. “Your auntie and uncle are staying at the house, they’re not there yet because of the plane cancellation. Your cousins - the ones with funny hair styles - Anna and Maria - yeah, those were the names,  are already at the venue and are staying with their parents at Sergio’s house. Now, your parents are at the house with mum, Gemma and Michal. Granny is there too. Where’s grandad? I forgot about granddad. Jesus Christ, lovie. I- I forgot-”

Harry couldn’t finish the thought though. YN stood before him and held his face in her hands, stroking the rosy cheeks. 

“Shhh. You didn’t forget. Grandpa is back home. He sprained his ankle a week ago. You didn’t forget about anyone. You are the best host they could ask for, yeah?”

He took a deep breath. When he thought the Warsaw show was the most stressful one, he was so wrong it was funny. Not only he didn’t rehearse any of the songs yet he took upon himself to take care of everyone he invited for tonight. He knew YN promised and reminded him that she would do it, but he couldn’t just sit like a bump on the log. 

“Right ankle, I remember.”

“Now, deep breath in, baby. Let’s calm down, okay?”

Harry followed YN’s every breath, staring into her eyes. The calmness they provided, the stability he was reaching towards, all there, in those two little irises.

“Better?”

“Yes. Thank you, my love.”

He softly kissed her lips, lingering to put his hammering heart at ease. The softness of them comforting his chapped ones (all due to biting them in stress). He slowly, but surely embraced her body, deepening the kiss. 

YN was the only one to bring him back to reality. Also the only one to let him forget about the struggles and think about pleasure. There was no hour in a day when Harry didn’t think about her. When he would kiss her, hug her, make love to her. She bedevilled his soul and body, and he gladly took the role of the possessed. 

Screw calming his heart. Now, it was beating for her and only her. 

“As much as I’d love to keep going towards where it does. We need to stop,” YN whispered, after dramatically ending their kiss. 

“No, we don’t. Keep going, baby. Please?”

Now, he moved to her neck. To that one spot that was reserved for moments alone, for times where he really wanted to convince her. The spot right where she loved to feel his lips the most. The one, driving her over the edge with desire. Even the strongest soldier on earth wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. 

So why would she?

“Fifteen minutes. Not a second more, not a -”

“Not a second less. Oh, I’ll use that time to the last drop.”

Before YN could scold him for the innuendo he shut her up with the deepest kiss that day. 

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache, hArrysbtch and 23 402 others

harryupdates HARRY BACKSTAGE AT THE REGGIO FAMILIA!!!! the last show of tour is strating in less than an hour!!!! via italianoharry

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hArrysbtch what do we think, hitties out tonight?

comment liked by harryupdates and 16 301 others

italianoharry guys!!! he's whole family is here. yn is and here granny as well. harry was helping her move around the place swiftly

⤷ harrysmoustache i love this man with my whole heart

harrysmylife i can't wait to watch the livestream and cry for hours

harryshoee do we think he'll sing more songs????

⤷ harryonedirection i'm praying for the full best song ever!

⤷ harrysadbtch i want little freak. if he sings it, you can do with me whatever

——————————————————————————————

“He’s going to get sick. The wind is starting to pick up, he’s overheated. I told him, YN,” granny spoke in her native language to YN. 

Harry was already on stage. Three songs already done with twenty or more to go, and granny worried. Right before going to the ‘softgoods’ box, she saw him and almost cursed the stylist. ‘You are going to catch a cold,’ she said to him then to which Harry responded with ‘well, YN keeps me warm, babcia.’ 

“He’s going to be alright, granny. He is as healthy as a horse. Don’t worry and dance with me, huh?”

While dancing to Keep Driving, they kept watching Harry enjoying his last performance. The energy he brought with himself radiated to the audience. They, they were incredible. On the way to their ‘seats’ (the area that Harry had asked the guards to prepare for his immediate family) they all received friendship bracelets and gave away some. Granny made them together with Harry during their ritual afternoon tea, hoping to be able to pass them over. Each one consisted of a little note from Harry, thanking for participating in the show and being the fans for however many years they’d been. 

When Harry started moving towards the catwalk, granny breathed out in quite the exhaustion. 

“Right now, we’ll have a little slower section,” Harry spoke to the microphone. “Babcia, how are we feeling?” 

Granny looked up at Harry and smiled widely, putting her thumbs up. 

“She’s great, Reggio Emilia. Will you make some noise for her?” 

Harry then screamed into the microphone, welcoming the audience to do the same. They all mimicked him, making granny hide her face in the palm of her hands. YN hugged her grandma from behind, smiling at Harry. 

“Okay. Okay. Settle down! Now, we’re moving towards the slower part of the show. Granny, would you like to sit down?”

Granny was ready to let things go hang and tell him to keep going with the show, but YN tapped her shoulder and signed towards the ground. There was a little folding chair, waiting for her. 

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Okay, now that granny is settled and in good hands - thank you, baby - please sing if you know the words!” 

Harry then proceeded to make YN cry by singing her favourite songs. She loved them all but Little Freak, Matilda, Falling and Fine Line would always hold a special place in her heart. Plus, he did not  say a thing about adding those to the setlist. 

While walking back to the centre stage Harry looked over, seeing YN wiping off the tears and helping granny to get up and dance just a bit more. Inaudibly he asked her if everything was okay and after getting her signature smile back, he was on his way. 

***

“Granny, I am sorry and please cover your ears,” Harry said to the microphone before the intro to the Medicine started. 

“You know,” granny started, turning towards YN. “I kept my promise and didn’t search for the meaning of this song. But I am not stupid.”

“Granny,” YN longed, embarrassed. 

“Oh, I was young once, too. Enjoy it.” But when YN thought it would be enough to make her feel warm in the awkwardness, granny added. “Maybe, tell Harry to use more complicated metaphors so I wouldn’t understand what he’s doing with my granddaughter.” 

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch and 58 302 others

harryupdates GRANNY COVER TOUR EARS. Harry is singing MEDICINE right now.

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hArrysbtch and then he proceeds to sing it so slutty while looking at YN the whole time!!!!!

harrysmoustache yeah, im done

harryslotitaly i was standing behind yn and her granny and she said something along the lines 'tell harry to use difficult words to describe what he's doing with my granddaughter'

⤷ hArrysbtch we STAN yn's granny

⤷ harryno1fan idol

⤷ harryupdates we are now the fans of granny

——————————————————————————————

When ‘As It Was’ neared its end, the whole family of Harry’s started to move backstage, knowing what was coming next would be for them to watch from a closer place.  YN helped her granny move slowly towards the backstage area, holding the foldable chair in her left arm. Fans that they were passing reached for them, asking to pass on their love towards Harry. Granny got even more bracelets. 

“It’s Kiwi now, isn’t it?” She asked while going up the stairs, behind the stage. 

“Yes, it is. Then he’ll be back with us. For a moment,” YN added the last sentence quietly, still counting on granny to be persuaded by Harry. 

“Oh, you still want me to do it?”

“I do. Remember all the stories you’ve told us about. When you were younger with grandpa, the dream you both had?” YN switched to her mother’s tongue, wanting to have this moment just for her and her granny. 

“It was a long time ago,” granny said, having a sad smile on her face. “It’s been so long. I forgot what dreams were about.”

“Freedom. You’ve always said it was freedom.”

Granny, whenever they spoke of hard and devastating themes, was in awe of her granddaughter’s wit and cleverness. With each word she was proud of the woman YN’s become. Woman, that granny wanted to be. Free, happy and with a man she loved by her side. But granny never felt free. 

So maybe, after 92 years of her life, it was time to make that 12-year-old girl dream come true. 

“Here comes the star!” Someone’s scream pulled granny out of her thoughts. 

From behind the corner came Harry. Sweaty, exhausted, teared up but smiling. He walked up to the first person on his way - Anne - and hugged her like never before. Then he went to Gemma, his dad, and friends. Then he moved towards grinning YN. 

“I’m so, so proud of you.” She kissed him on the lips and pulled him towards her body, crashing them together. “So proud. You can’t even imagine.”

“I love you, my love. Oh, I love you!” Harry screamed, picking his love up and spinning them around. 

People all over them started cheering and whistling. They were used to Harry and YN being very affectionate with each other. They didn’t mind it, they appreciated how open they were with showing everyone that they loved the other with their whole hearts. 

“The piano is on stage, Harry.” Came the voice from behind them, interrupting their moment. 

“I’ll be right there!” 

After putting YN down, giving her one more kiss on the lips and forehead, he searched for granny with his eyes. The little lady was bearing down on one of the boxes, an enormous smile on her face. 

“Granny!”

“Harry, my boy!” 

He quickly embraced her delicately, kissing the side of her head. “Thank you for being here, granny. I wouldn’t be able to do it without you here.”

Granny smiled even more, “you’ve been practising your polish, I see. Thank you.”

As the answer Harry put his head on granny’s shoulder mumbling something. 

“What?”

“I need to go,” Harry repeated, looking into granny’s eyes. “I will play the ballad for them.”

When she looked into Harry’s eyes she saw the same things she saw in one’s boy’s eyes that she had married all those 70 years ago. The hope, love and fearlessness in that gaze was unmistakable. They were so similar but so different at the same time. They both wanted to give people everything they had, but her husband knew when to say stop. Harry was yet to be taught that. Both were so in love, they were ready to give up their life for it. Both cherished their families. Both wanted to make music. But only Harry got to do it. 

Granny knew that her husband would laugh at her reluctance to do what Harry wanted. He would say that ‘after all those years, you still don’t want to feel fulfilled’. He would hug her and say he understood and that he also would do the same. And he would also push her towards achieving what he couldn’t. What they couldn’t back in the day. 

It was the day she was going to feel fulfilled. Day of making dreams come true. Her and her husbands. Because he was ready to live the dream through her. 

“We will.”

Harry’s eyes grew big in shock. After the morning’s conversation he dropped all hope on doing this. He thought that the discussion was over and it was to never be brought back up again. He was very wrong and very glad for that. 

“In this case,” YN interrupted their moment, holding a hand with something white towards Harry. “I had it made just in case granny changed her mind.”

Examining the thing closer, Harry saw it was a T-shirt. When he unfolded it, his eyes shone brighter. 

“Granny, look at it!” 

On the front of the T-shirt on the white background were granny’s and Harry’s faces (Harry remembered when the photo was taken - just after the Warsaw show) with a big writing, saying REGGIO EMILIA IS GRANNY’S HOUSE and the date of the show underneath. 

“YN-”

“Look at the back,” YN interrupted her granny and helped Harry turn the material. 

There was a photo of granny and grandpa with their friends during their one and only concert back in 1948. Granny sitting by the piano and her husband with the guitar he had spent his whole paycheck on. Right there was the writing: GRANNY AND PAPA’S BAND. 

“Now, there is no time for tears, granny,” Harry whipped the tears off her cheeks. “I’ll wear this shirt and you will wear my jacket, okay?”

Granny couldn’t formulate any words. She just accepted the jacket Harry wore for the whole concert and with the help of YN put it on. Harry quickly dressed himself in YN’s gift and moved towards the stage. 

“I’ll be with you on stage, right next to you. If you want to stop playing, don’t worry. You can put your head on my arm and we’ll do this together, right?” 

“Right. I’ll play the highest notes. We’ll do it four-handed, yes?”

“Yes. I am right next to you.”

“I already gave you my blessing, but oh boy,” granny sighed. “She couldn’t have found a better man to spend the rest of her life with.”

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by harryitaly and 93 301 others

harryupdates "This is a song that Granny wrote by herself a few years ago in 1947, when she was in a band. They played one concert together before the idea of becoming the musicians was taken from them by the cruel reality of living post-war. Now, I'd really like for you to listen to this beautiful ballad called 'to be fulfilled'. I'm glad to do it with granny for the first time ever." Then granny took the microphone saying,"It's just for you, just for tonight."

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harrysmoustache i-

harrysmoustache no no no, it was so beautiful

harrysmoustache jesus christ im spamming this account

hArrysbtch i fucking cried hard

harrysmylife he's gonna pay the bill for my psychiatrist, cardiologist and whoever can heal mu fucking broken heart

harrysfan82 woah, it was perfect

harryandyn did you guys see the shirt??? it had a picture of granny's band at the back!

——————————————————————————————

Italy at night was even more beautiful than in the morning. The lights shining above their heads with the sound of crashing waves and chatter of people that were yet to go to sleep. The wind was moving the leaves against each other, making the melody of the living nature. 

And there were laughs. Laughs of Harry’s and YN’s while they were stumbling their way towards their front door. 

“And they were all - they were all like - wooah, what is happening? Did you see it, my love?” Harry said definitely too loudly, considering the time. 

“I did see it. You both surprised all of the fans. They loved it.”

YN moved in front of Harry and helped him with fetching the keys in his enormous tote bag. After finding them she turned around and quietly turned them in the lock. Open. 

“Shh,” she silenced Harry before he could make any more noise than stomping his feet against the floor. 

“Okay,” he longed, putting his hands up in no offence. “I am sorry.”

“Let's go to the bedroom. You need a good night's sleep.”

Within moments they were inside the room. YN switched on the lights, illuminating it beautifully. Harry, though, after closing the door behind himself, was moving incredibly fast and steadily towards YN. Pure lust and adoration in his gaze told her one thing: he did not forget the promise he had made that morning. 

He crashed their lips together, not caring how good it could look. He needed to feel her lips. To feel her body. He needed to feel this other - out of the world - connection they had. 

While stroking her cheek with one hand and pulling on her dress with the other, YN was busy trying to unbutton his shirt. Small buttons suddenly flew across the whole room, after Harry’s impatience got the best of him. He just shrugged at YN’s shock and went back to placing kisses across her collarbones. 

“I promised you,” he started, while slowly moving down onto his knees, kissing down and down towards the place he knew when reached - there was no going back. “I would connect those sweet treats, slowly. And then -” Harry helped her take off the dress. “And then, I’m going to slowly, very slowly thank you in the way you love the most.”

He kissed the skin over her hip bone, holding eye contact. The desire her eyes were showing, driving him crazy. But he knew, he needed to be slow. 

“Will you let me thank you too?” YN asked breathlessly, having Harry already started to put her mind in the whole other world. 

“Oh, I intend to. We have a long night before ourselves, don’t we?” 

——————————————————————————————

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, annetwist, harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 13 201 291 others

harrystyles To the fans, thank you for being with me throughout the years. Thank you for attending the shows, and thank you for your support. To the woman I love, thank you for showing me the way with your love and care. To Granny and Papa, thank you for teaching us about unconditional love and dreaming big. To my band, thank you for coming to this journey with me. Goodbye for now. Love, Harry xx

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yourinstagram being proud of you is a misunderstatement, you created the space for people to be themselves. i admire and love you for everything 🩷🩷

yourinstagram granny looks at papa just like that even though its been 70 years

⤷ harrystyles will you still look at me like that in 70 years?

⤷ yourinstagram to the end

annetwist I am so proud of you son!

hArrysbtch yeah, let's cry again

harryupdates THANK YOU

harrysmoustache yeah, he's going to disappear for a year, isn't he?

[marknee]

bts fanfics i think shakespeare would plagiarise the absolute shit out of.

chapter iii. ✷ chapter v.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — the bastard needs to find better hiding places to ‘secretly’ plagiarise. the tavern, really?

( ♬ ) — notes were found in the trunk by the foot of his bed. not the sharpest quill in the pot, i’ll say. 

( ✎ ) — word on the street is he’s been arranging a performance at the globe theatre next week.

( ♛ ) — why is this play being taught as part of the british exam curriculum? he didn’t even write it!

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, welcome to phase two. did you miss me? it’s been a long time coming, i assure you, so i’m glad to finally get the ball rolling on the next few chapters of incredible stories. my quill has been neatly sharpened, so are you ready?

⠀

⠀

( ♬ ) KEYNOTE — by @missgeniality

!! hoseok x reader | 18.5k !!

strangers to lovers, non-idol!au, smut, slight fluff.

dear reader, after some time away having finished phase one of this series, i happened to unwillingly stumble across some newfound knowledge of shakespeare, which enlightened all that i knew of. unbeknownst to me, shakespeare did write about sexual endeavours within his plays. exhibit a: “but i might see cupid’s fiery shaft, quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon.” a midsummer night’s dream, act iii, scene i.

but, did shakespeare write: “a gruelling war between your self-respect and lascivious yearning, a war waged for way too long - the fact that you're even thinking about it, your self-respect has to give in to your desires.” indeed not.

effectively, this story doesn’t grant you time to settle in. if anything, you have all but one option when diving in to the sharks: to surrender, allowing yourself to be thrown into the deep end - to a dark predator, who from that moment, sits at the table he’s created within your mind, body and soul, and feasts on every last ounce of sanity you thought existed.

truthfully, what could say it better than: “metal could melt under his scrutiny — you’re nothing but a mere mortal.”

⠀

( ♛ ) ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR — by @faryn_rose (ao3)

!! seokjin x reader, jungkook x reader | 48.4k !!

historical!au, violence, drama & romance.

“no, you decided. monsters did not spare people's feelings.”

there are those who fall under the supposition of being an iron fist in a velvet glove, and there are those who persist it. if anything, i argue a third exist: those who prove themselves neither.

throughout this story, it appeared two emotions were consistent in their approach of lurking within its entirety - heartbreak and betrayal. after all, people find themselves doing wild things in the name of love. in the battle between two men, both equal in their share of time on the battlefield, to win the precious heart of the reader, it provokes the question: who do you choose? the proud general willing to die for you, or the gentle chief who vows to keep you safe? certainly a tough choice.

the title is seemingly a perfect choice for this exhilarating fifty-thousand-word story. for the loser is left wondering whether the fight was worth the struggle.

not mentioning the loss of pride knowing their attempts were, in fact, faulty.

but, as said, all’s fair in love and war.

“he treated me like i mattered, like i had power in this world. and i decided that i couldn’t let someone like that go.”

⠀

( ✎ ) 1999 — by @tattookoo

!! campus royalty!jungkook x reader | 17.9k !!

90s!au, college au, hockey!au, fake dating, smut.

“kook, it’s really not hard to pretend to be into you. you’re very easy to love.”

with an unruly raven-haired rake with devastating dimples as the love interest, i am fully subscribed to the belief this utterance lies true. if anything, you’d be a fool to not swoon over this dashing playboy of the 90s.

this story hones into the idea of fake dating for the sake of rebuilding a reputation. but, as it seems, nobody’s fate truly rests in their own hands.

as we know - or will come to in time - a real relationship requires more of something that a fake perhaps less so: vulnerability. true, it carries the burden, yet it leaves space for commitment to linger, though as a visitor, and not as a resident. it seems commitment is what transforms a promise into reality.

the author does an incredible job of bringing every aspect of being exposed to the susceptibility of love, and that is what earned itself a place in my series.

yet, why is it we continue to delve into stories like these? well, for the greatest adventure we humans can ever go on: to run the risk of rejection, and to be completely okay with it.

⠀

( ♛ ) HOOKED — by @joopiterjoon (ao3)

!! namjoon x reader | 102k !!

friends with benefits, smut, angst, 18+.

typically, when tornado warnings siren, it’s our cue to turn tail and flee. so when tornado warnings siren within people, why is it we do not take initiative until the damage is done? even worse, what if they siren within ourselves? as we know, we cannot run from ourselves.

“i need to work on me with me." while this quote may appear ordinary, i fear its the most impactful, and arguably the most important, piece of dialogue in this story - the understanding that the only person who is going to fix you, is yourself. a tough pill to swallow - especially if you were shattered against your will - but one we must digest eventually.

shakespeare wouldn’t have a clue, regarding all his characters are broken beyond belief - and that, in most cases, ends up being their demise.

alternately, this story leaves you with two ending options. i shan’t tell you which is best, dear reader, as that choice belongs to you. but, a simple thing i like to remember:

“love is loss.”

⠀

( ♛ ) HEARTBURN — by @jiminrings

!! jimin x reader | 41.7k !!

heavy angst, emotional infidelity, more angst.

“the ones we love have the power to inflict the greatest scars, for what thing is more fragile than the human heart.” i can’t remember for the life of me who said this, but dear lord, does it just hit the mark for this story.

to cheat is to lack integrity. which jimin palpably inherits. but, it seems in order to acquire agency, sometimes bad things have to be someone’s fault.

throughout this tripartite story, you witness the growth of each individual character - and perhaps the loss of parts, too. each has their depths, their faults, their beauty. nobody is left dry, and it truly brings the story together in a way that connects so well.

“guard your heart, y/n. let it be yours before you share it again.” i ask you, author, what provoked you to write such heart-rending words? and i ask you, dear readers, to bathe in the words i say next: your heart is yours before it is anybody else’s.

this story is not just about the destruction of a great trust, but about a birth of trust within yourself and what it means to wholeheartedly put yourself first - especially in desperate times when nobody else will do it for you.

⠀

( ♬ ) TOLERATE IT — by @archivedkookie (ongoing)

!! taehyung x reader | 6k !!

heavy angst, one-sided love, forced marriage, smut.

“the worst way to love somebody’s to watch them love somebody else and it work out.” body better, maisie peters.

unrequited love is a killer. a crushing, sinking pain when your heart reaches the depths of your stomach, and it’s more common experience than one might think - especially between you and i.

whilst this story is still ongoing, i know i’m about to be completely swept off my feet. especially with leading quotes such as: “because before all this happened, you were his friend.”

this story feels familiar - the words familiar too. simply because i assure we’ve all been the the exact boat - the one floating upon stormy seas of rejection. we understand the readers pain, we sympathise with it, and we connect to it.

“not your love to be tolerated when you know you should be celebrated.”

we’re fools of love, that’s all we are. there’s no magic or defiance behind it.

and in the words of the perks of being a wallflower: “we accept the love we think we deserve.”

⠀

( ✎ ) LEVEL OF RESTRAINT — by @lemonjoonah

!! jimin x namjoon x reader x taehyung | 13k !!

office!au, bdsm!au, 18+, thriller, smut.

“any position beneath you would suit me nicely.” why don’t you shut the fuck up?

now, tell me, at what point does one cross the thin line between obsession and possession? what are the defining factors, and when down that very same faded line, does one reach a great epiphany they’ve reached a place of no return? does ‘love’ not beg for sacrifice? does it?

setting the scene, with characters like these, it’s hard to not risk the fall of betrayal from the thrust of arguably non-consensual sexual situations, but i’ll let you be the judge of that. effectively, this story is one you have to experience for yourself, dear reader, in order to understand. there is only so much i can tell you- reveal, express, without running my mouth and ruining the whole plot line.

though, i shall leave you with one piece of advice. a thought for you to ponder on: pay attention.

and talk about jimin and namjoon being sex on legs all you want, but there is no denial this story has a deeper, more sinister verona.

lady macbeth said it herself: “look like th' innocent flower, / but be the serpent under't.”

⠀

( ♬ ) WANT A TASTE? — by @suga-kookiemonster

!! yoongi x reader | 18.3k !!

friends to lovers, humour, shopping mall!au, smut.

"who are you, yoongi? what is your truth?” if there is something i can respect, should it be this line.

i believe there is a rich beauty in the small, gentle exchanges between strangers, to which ripen, transforming into the most special of connections between friends - and before long, between lovers. it’s a slow and steady process i’m sure, but i find those types of love are the most worthwhile. 

patience is, of course, dear reader, a virtue.

in my humble opinion, this story does nothing but breathe fun from its very core, encapsulating the sweet essence of excitement - of belonging - and burrowing itself around you like a warm blanket. that’s the sheer power of a writer - to familiarise the strange and mystify the familiar.

tell, aren’t you intrigued?

“all the time you've spent with him has already alerted you to the fact that his hard persona is all a front.”

took you long enough.

⠀

( ♛ ) THE WEDDING ARRANGEMENT — by @sugaurora (ao3)

!! namjoon x black!reader | 44.2k !!

enemies with benefits to lovers, smut, romance.

“and maybe that's because it wasn't the kind of love you always expected, but something different that you hadn't fully let yourself accept.” if this were any other topic of matter, i would let wit take its course. however, as it is not, i am inept from doing so - rather i shall let your own imagination prove itself dominant, dear reader.

effectively, if there is anything this story has mastered, it’s the realisation that assumptions can erode any relationship, and inevitably are a fate we, the human race, continue to face and to fight.

“strangely, the first thing you thought of was home.” while i presume i join the line of overdue attendants to stumble across this indescribable romance, to say its definitely left its mark - perchance, more.

if you seek a delicious story to sink your teeth into, let this take the cake. besides, the story isn’t the only appetising option on the menu.

“you're a walking erotic novel cover, namjoon.”

⠀

( ✮ ) FINAL SLEIGH — by @floralseokjin

!! seokjin x reader | 23.3k !!

office!au, rivals/enemies to lovers, smut.

in order to reach the beautiful rose nestled within its bush, you must first combat the prickly thorns to which ensure its survival by the name of protection. mind you, shakespeare never said that - i did. my quill is just as sharp it’s practically lethal.

the art of protection within humans, i say, is much different. it jumps out in strange forms, but each is just as valid as the other. which is what indefinitely makes this trope all the more interesting - especially in this story.

“feelings was a scary word, an uncertain word, but you thought you liked the way it made you feel.” arguably, if a pair are able to surmount this indescribable nine letter word, possibly even sit with the idea, then perhaps their journey marks itself a success. and that to me, is worth fighting for.

this story is a perfect mix between comedy and actuality, plenishing us of pure enjoyment while hooking us round the legs in the name of desire disguised. a perfect mask, indeed.

we’re all playing with fire. but if you don’t take that foolish risk, how’d you know you’d burn?

⠀

( ✮ ) SIT. STAY. — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 14k !!

neighbours!au, dog parent!au, smut.

“if you love somebody, let them go.” not to delve too deep into things, but baring in mind society’s self-destructive addiction to faster living, it poses the question whether “stay” within this context carries a much heavier weight than intended. asking someone to stick by you in a world which thrives on the act of haste, is a form of intimacy one may not throughly tread.

but understand this, dear readers, i do not miss anything.

the affinity within this story is one to point out. it’s so raw and genuine that it feels uncomfortably natural - to the point that freshly reading this felt like returning to an old friend your soul grew attached to in a past life, glad - and almost grateful - to encounter them once more.

��would you be better off telling him later, when things are settled, when you can tie up the story nice and neat?” oh, how you wound me. just so, the new in a relationship is a hard course to navigate, especially when it comes to our deepest shadows - perhaps it would be easier to stick a decorative bow over the cracks.

but then again, how else would light get in?

⠀

( ♛ ) BLOOM — by @hobidreams

!! florist!namjoon x assassin!reader | 20.7k !!

smut, action, angst, opposites attract.

in the nature of life, it is normal for us to resist death. but in the nature of the world, in the end, death overwhelms life. but ‘tis not death itself we find ourselves afraid of, rather the possibility of it. “like how a child fears what might lay beyond a closet door, beneath a four-frame bed.”

even i fed the dark, hungry demon of that spiralling thought once.

within this captivating story, the two main characters of life and death coexist beside each other. neither try to dominate and drain the power of the other. they simply rest, side by side, together. while joon grows life through his plants, the reader strips that of what is so. to each to their own. the birth, and the destruction.

but, dear reader, does life beg the existence of death? or simply, is it the other way around? can death suffice without existence? “you can't seem to sleep… without the comfort that there's something growing, thriving in life just a few feet away.” ��perhaps.

despite the pair being so different from one another, neither allow that defining characteristic the chance to ruin their dangerous, but very real connection. well… until the last petal falls.

but i shall let you discover that for yourself.

TAGLIST: @screamertannie @bebejungkook @taleasnewastime​

© marknee, 2023. all rights reserved.

[bau-drabbles]

hi lia! i don’t know if you write for spencer but i was wondering how he would unpack the trauma after the prison. he struggled so much with his image and i imagine it would be hard for him to see himself how he used to and how the reader could even love him 🥺❣️

i do write for him, love. thank you so much for asking, this is very rushed but it was so so sweet <3 😙

spencer was standing in front of the mirror, currently struggling to compose himself. his cheeks were sucked in as he analysed every single thing about himself. the hollowness of his face, the dark eye bags, the unruly hair, he wasn't sleeping as well these past couple nights. prison had thrown him for a whirlwind he didn't think he'd ever recover from, cat addams had scarred him more deeply than he ever could've anticipated. she had done the one thing that broke him, made him see himself for who he was.

a monster, a killer.

she had ruined him. he didn't know who he was, it felt like he woke up in the body of a stranger. and every day he was trying to find his purpose but it became lost in the hurricane of his thoughts. each one a dagger to his heart, questioning his morals and his sincerity as a person. all he could think about was how horrible he was, how much you deserved a better partner. one that could provide you with all the things he couldn't. how could you love such a horrible person?

under the weight of all these thoughts and his shame, his knees collapsed to the floor. his brows creased with a frown unable to stop his mind, his tears tracking down his cheeks rapidly. you entered the room in shock, seeing your partner a shell of the person he used to be. and it ached your heart, knowing that you couldn't help relieve this infliction.

"hey, are you oka?-" you began but he cut you off shaking his head. his face was covered, with embarrassment or anger you didn't know.

"i'm-i'm fine, just fine" he dismisses you but you don't listen, coming closer.

"i told you i'm fine!" he snaps and you look at him, seeing nothing but a broken little boy clinging to the pieces to try to make himself whole again. to try to make some sense of the chaos all around him. and it pained you that he couldn't let you in.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to shout i.... she's right. cat. just look me y/n...." the words have failed him and he wipes his eyes but the tears have their own mind. slowly he felt himself spiralling down the rabbit hole he forbade himself from entering. cat had done so much damage than he cared to let on, he thought he was strong enough to handle it. he should have been. hotch had been giving lingering looks all day like he knew something as wrong but he didn't say anything, morgan and jj were trying to get him to speak but he refused. he was fine, he had to be fine. he wasn't going to let cat win this round. he wasn't going to let cat have the last laugh, he was better than that. he'd rise to her challenge and beat her at her own game.

but the niggling voice of doubt constantly berated him, every move was flooded with doubt. every decision had him questioning whether it was the right one. he woke up in cold sweats constantly plagued by the horrific abuse in prison, he didn't think there was ever going to be an end to this misery.

and then there was you, his beautiful partner. you deserved more than he could've ever give you, you deserved to be with someone that wasn't as broken as he was. and he didn't want to but maybe it was easier letting you go, though even that thought was enough to make him unravel.

"you are so beautiful to me, do you know that?" your voice shakes him put of his poisonous thoughts and he looks at you agape, as if you had said the most preposterous thing on earth.

but you gingerly sit beside him, brushing a few stray curls away from his forehead. taking his bigger warm hands between your own, you look at the man who has your heart wrapped around his finger and he didn't even know

"i'm.... what?" his own words are so soft, he didn't even think you had heart. the blood roared over his ears, his heart thundering beneath his chest he feared it would rip through the skin. your heart breaks when you see how much pain he's carrying, his eyes full with his anguish. you gently wipe them away, holding his stubbled face between your warm hands. tracing his skin with the pads of your thumbs, tilting his jaw so he was eye to eye with you.

"you are perfect to me, spencer. i love you, more than you think. more than i even know. you didn't deserve anything that happened to you but baby, you don't have to go though it alone. let me in, please" with a gentle press of your lips against his forehead, he holds you close against his chest. his frame shakes with the sobs he's trying but failing to reel back.

you hold him tight, kissing his head, hoping that he could feel the outpouring love you held only for him. that no matter what, cat would never win this round. you'd help spencer overcome this battle, side by side until he was okay again. it wasn't going to be easy but it didn't matter, you loved this man more than words could ever describe.

he deserved a life full of peace and happiness and you'd do anything to make that a reality

[buckymorelikefuckme]

Hii ❤️ congrats for 1k 🎊

Could you do some fluffy Wanda? From super soft intimacy: kisses all over the face, and from fluff scene and dialogue number 7 😁 thank you!!

thank you hun :') i hope you like it !! ♡

soft intimacy + 7 & 7 - constantly smiling or giggling when your partner is around + “do you know how much i love you?”

wanda maximoff x reader

words: 292

As awareness begins to trickle in, Wanda hums, feeling the sweet kisses being pressed into her cheeks start spreading. Across her nose, forehead, chin, even her eyelids.

A smile has been on her face for a minute now as she soaks in the affection. She hears you giggle between kisses and can't help letting out her own giggles. The laughter carries on as you continue to press kisses all over Wanda, turning sloppy and wet in places bc you can't stop smiling either now.

She finally cracks her eyes open and you're already looking back, pure delight in your expression that she's sure she's mirroring.

“What a lovely way to wake up,” she rasps, stretching out her limbs, feeling her back pop in a couple places, and then falls back against the sheets in a boneless heap.

“You looked so pretty,” you murmur, “I couldn't help myself.”

She hooks a hand on the back of your neck to guide you down so she can get some proper kisses. Before either of you realize it, you're having a slow, lazy morning make out. Your bodies are still sleep-warm, there's creases from the pillowcases on your faces, and you're both sporting some gnarly bed head, but it's the type of moment Wanda knows she’ll remember for years to come.

You pull away after a while, brushing some unruly strands of her hair away from her face.

“Do you know how much I love you?” you wonder.

Wanda hums. “Probably almost as much as I love you.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “It's not a competition,” you point out.

“Okay,” she concedes. She smirks. “But if it was, I would totally win.”

You playfully whack her with your pillow, even more laughter filling the air.