#but shes a descendant of one of the few people who managed to not get hit with the tonberry curse in nym

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 10 - Free Day

AU Jobs pt.2: SCHOLAR Just before setting out to Limsa Lominsa, Arsay's guardian -a lalafel named Emrara Emra- would gift her not only Arsay's now treasured ribbon, but an heirloom of great import. A blue stone that had been passed down in Emrara's family for generations with a strange symbol caved into its face. Supposedly it came from a time where three powerful schools of magic began to clash for reasons unknown. Little did Arsay know how useful that stone would be on her adventures, or that it would lead her to uncover mysteries around the very same same city her guardian always dreamed of finding.

[samkerrworshipper]

she’s on the run

beautiful girl series part 4 -> pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3

leah williamson x daughter reader, jordan nobbs x daughter reader

this was created whilst i listened to so long, london and florida!!!!

You waited until Leah had fully descended the stairs, waiting patiently until you heard Lia and her talking in the kitchen before you started to creep off of your bed and towards your open window. It was a easy climb, one you’d made hundreds of times, you hardly batted an eyelid as you climbed out of the window, your legs swinging out and over until they hit the tiling of the roof. After that it was a simple jump from the roof too the gravel drive way, your only concern was trying to be as quiet as possible, so instead of jumping as normal, you stepped to the edge of the tiles, being ever so careful to make sure that you didn’t slip and fall. Once you got to the edge you sat down, scooting until your feet were hanging over the edge, turning onto your stomach and sliding down until your feet found one of the tresses on the side.

It was a odd form of rock climbing but with some arm strength and dodgy footing, you managed to eventually get your feet onto the gravel of your moms driveway.

You didn’t look backwards as you tiptoed across the driveway, the only think you focused on was turning your location off before starting to jog away from your mom’s house.

You didn’t know where you were going, you just knew that you needed to get far enough away that your moms friends who crowded all of the surrounding neighbourhoods couldn’t find you, you needed a way out of here.

You didn’t have a lot of options, and the options you did have were shitty, but there wasn’t really any others that would work.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket as you rounded the corner of the block, ducking into the first alleyway that you spotted.

There were a couple of numbers that were options, some better than others, you went with the first one that came to head.

The phone rings out for a few seconds, your fingers jitter against the sides of your plastic case, whether you feel prepared to admit it or not, you’re going through withdrawals, it’s around now that you’re body is accustomed to shooting up, to getting a hit of drugs and right now it’s becoming more obvious by the minute how desperate your body is for that high that your body is used to receiving.

Maya had become the older sister that you never had, she cared about you, she treated you with more care and love then anybody else in your life, there wasn’t really any hesitation in your mind as you pressed down on her contact, the ringing noise being the only thing to register in your mind.

It rang out for a while, before your phone went silent for a few seconds.

Originally, you thought that it had rung out, but then there was a groan and something else from the other side of the phone.

“Babygirl?”

You don’t know where the nickname had come from, but along the way it had just become the way that Maya had chosen to address you.

“Hey, I need your help, where are you?”

You heard some rustling, and then Maya’s voice.

“I’m still at Matt’s house, what’s happened?”

Fuck. Fuck.

Matt was a problem, but he was one of the only people who could solve your main problem right now, that was all that was at the forefront of your mind.

“Mom found out about the drugs, she took them off me. I’m crashing, can you come get me?”

More rustling, then someone talking in the background.

“Fuck, kid. I’m gonna come get you alright, we’ll get you to Matt’s house and he’ll look out for you, it’s gonna be okay, we’ll look after you, I always look out for my girls.”

More rustling, accompanied by more background talk.

“Just send me your location alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nod your head, taking in the information and finding that your hands and body seem to relax with the knowledge that there is a resolution coming.

“Okay, okay, thank you, thank you, I love you.”

Maya’s like you, or at least you try to tell yourself that. She’s never had anyone who loved her, she’s all by herself. That’s what you tell yourself, that nobody’s ever loved you, that you’re all alone, she tells you the same. That nobody will love you like a good high, that your all alone, that you always will be. To start with, you thought it was all nonsense, that to her you were just a means of getting money, but after hearing it enough, after realising the truth behind her words, you thought it must be true, she was older than you, she’d seen more of the world than you had.

You stayed hunched over in the alleyway, ignoring the buzzing on your phone that meant your mother had realised you were gone. You felt a pang of compassion in your heart, just briefly. You didn’t want to worry her, you didn’t want to think about the anguish that would have crossed Leah’s face when she’d returned to your bedroom to find it empty, even worse if it was Jordan.

Consciously, you didn’t care, not really, all you cared about was the fucking high that you were missing out on. But the eight year old version of you, somewhere in the lowest pit of your heart felt horrifically bad.

It took fifteen minutes of you being hunched against a brick wall, hiding from the view of the street, shaking and shivering before you were hit with the light of headlights, coming from the end of the alleyway.

You stayed hidden, just in case it was your mother or somebody else, staying crouched down behind a bin.

“Babygirl, let’s go.”

You stood up properly, your body straightening out and beginning to walk towards the far to bright white lights.

You sat down in the passenger seat, closing the door behind you as swiftly as possible.

Maya captured you in a hug before you could do anything, her arms wrapping around your neck and torso.

“I’m so proud of you, you’re in good care, I’ll look out for you, me and Matt and the girls, you’re in good company.”

You nodded your head against her shoulder, slowly pulling yourself from her embrace.

Her pupils were dilated, your brain didn’t consider the danger behind her being high, more jealous that she was riding on a happy cloud that you were craving to be on.

The drive felt longer than it should have, your phone buzzed relentlessly the whole way there, it took everything in you not to look down and block the numbers that you knew were ringing, but you didn’t have it in you.

You didn’t like the feeling that hit your gut when you rolled up to the same house that you’d stumbled out of a couple nights ago, you loved Maya, you loved drugs, what you didn’t love was the overwhelming fear that you felt at having to face the same man who had done those horrible things to you days ago. Maya must have noticed, or seen something was up with you.

“Something wrong, darlin?”

She was 23, closer to your Mom’s age then yours, she cared about you.

“Matt, he didn’t want money for the drugs, he wanted something else.”

You expected, or you hoped that Maya would be shocked, but she wasn’t, not in the slightest.

“I think you’ll find babygirl that your body is the most powerful form of payment, men will do anything for a woman’s body, it’s good you learn that young. Matt provides a lot, drugs, care, a house, give him what he wants and he’ll treat you well.”

You stuttered on your words.

“W-what if I don’t want it?”

Maya put her hand on your cheek, squeezing firm enough to make it sting slightly.

“There is no such thing as not wanting it. We’re primal, we crave to be touched and wanted, he’s just teaching you that. It’s an eye for an eye. You get your high, he gets what he wants. It works out for everyone. He’s just trying to keep you safe, just trying to make you feel loved, it’s the only kind of love there is.”

In your core, in your brain, you know it’s untrue, Maya believes in what she’s saying though, or at least she appears to.

“Now c’mon, let’s get you upstairs, get you some artificial assistance.”

She pats you on the shoulder, before opening up the door on her side of the car and stepping out. You let go of the breath that you’d been holding in. Maya is like your big sister, she cares about you, she would never intentionally hurt you, she’s the only person who really gives a shit about you.

You open the car door without much more hesitation, having convinced yourself that she’s right, and more that once you shoot up that your brain will quiet down and all of your doubts will be silenced.

Maya leads you into the house, it’s a lot emptier than it was the other day, a lot less people sprinkled across all of the surfaces, instead there are a few girls and Matt, who’s right in the middle of all of them.

“Pretty girl, didn’t think I’d see you back so soon.”

He’s voice is drawling, slightly tilted.

You didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t come off as rude, so you simply smiled at him, as well as you could considering the bile that was in your stomach just at the thought of the man in front of you.

“She got kicked out, needed some place to go, I told her there is always room for her here.”

Matt nodded and smiled, his hands were all over the women around him, you tried your hardest to keepy your eyes on his face and not the company he was keeping.

“Of course, I look out for my girls. You craving pretty girl? You need something?”

You nodded your head, hopefully, you were desperate, the emotional nature of what you’d just been through with your mother enough to be slowly pushing you towards the edge.

“Maya take her upstairs, the speed is in my bedside draw, I’ll be up in a bit.”

Maya smiled and nodded, grabbing you by the shoulder and pushing you towards the same stairs you’d stumbled down just a few days ago.

You tried not to feel completely daunted as you were tugged upstairs, your shaky legs carrying you the distance to the bedroom that you’d been in less than twenty for hours ago.

It was the same position, same place, same everything.

It was hard not to feel completely terrified.

Maya led you over to the bed, sitting you down whilst she rustled in the bedside table.

It was silent, calm, as peaceful as you could feel in your current situation, until your phone started buzzing again.

“Answer it, let them know you’re fine.”

You looked ay Maya like she was crazy, she sure seemed it.

“Excuse me?”

Maya looked up from her spot rustling through the drawer.

“They’ll leave you alone if you answer, let them know you’re fine and not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

You gulped, pulling your phone out of your pant pocket and looking at the flashing contact of your mom, your finger hesitating over the green button before clicking on it.

“Bubba? Bubba? Jord, she answered, I’ve got her.”

The exhale of relief that you heard leave your mom’s lips was one of pure happiness.

“Mom, please don’t ahte me, please don’t hate me.”

You could always deal with the thought or realisation that your mom didn’t love you, but having her hate you, it would do things to you that you couldn’t handle.

“Bubba where are you? I don’t hate you, I could never hate you, I love you so much bubba. Just let me know where you are, we’ll come get you, we’ll sort this out.”

Your mom sounded more desperate than you’d ever heard her.

“I’m okay mom, I’m okay, I’m safe.”

Another exhale of relief.

“Look bubba, all your aunties are out looking for you, me and Jord have been worried sick, just let me know where you are, please. I’m so worried about you bubba, look, just come home, we can figure out the drug stuff, me and mama will get you all the help you need, we’ll make it all better, just come home.”

It had been hardly two hours since you’d slipped out of your window, you didn’t want to know how stressed your mom would have gotten had it been six or twelve.

“Mom I know I did wrong, trust me, I know. But you want me to go to rehab, you want me to get better, and trust me I want it, but I can’t do it, please.”

You heard something being dropped and then a button being pressed.

“Chick, listen to me, your mom and I are worried sick, you need to come back home. We’ll sort it all out, we’ll get you the help you need, but you need to come home, just tell us where you are.”

The feeling of the rubber tourniquet being tied to your upper arm and a needle prodding at your vein distracted you slightly.

“Look mom, I’m in good company, I’m safe, I love you both but I can’t do rehab, I can’t do getting better, I’m not ready, I’m not strong enough for that, I’m not like you and mom, I can’t be strong and brave, I can’t tough it out when it gets hard. I just need you to love me from a distance and understand that I’m doing whats best for me.”

Maya looks on proudly, it feels like your saying things to appease her and that makes you feel good, the validation of having her smile at you and nod her head at you, it wasn’t love but it was something close, the closest you felt in a while.

“Bubba, listen to me. You are so strong, everything you’ve been through in your life, it’s nothing in comparison to this. You don’t need the drugs, you don’t. This isn’t you bubba.”

You think that deep down, Leah and Jordan have no idea who you are anymore. The injection into your bloodstream only solidifies those thoughts.

“This is me mom, this is who I am now. I was like you and jord’s perfect little child, your perfect girl but that’s not me anymore. I’m not the same kid, this is me.”

You swore you heard a sob, or sniffle from the other side of the line.

“Bubba, we’ll sort this out, just come back home, please.”

You shook your head, enjoying the feeling of your blood circulating the drugs that had just hit your system.

“I can’t do that mom’s, I love you, and I’m so grateful for you but I can’t come home, I just can’t mom, bye.”

Before either of them could reply to you, you pressed down on the hang up button, throwing your phone to the end of the bed and leaning back, letting the high begin to sink in.

The bed sunk down next to you, Maya’s arm snaking around your waist.

“Good job babygirl, I’m proud of you, you’ve got me, I’ll look out for you, I look out for all of my girls.”

If you were sane, you’d probably ask yourself the question of what kind of person looked out for their people by giving them drugs and subjecting them to sexual assault, but with the drugs running through your veins and the relief starting to hit your brain, you couldn’t find you in it to care.

“Feels good.”

Maya brought your head to her neck, it was warm, happy, nice.

“I know babygirl, feels so good doesn’t it?”

You nod your head, the bliss starting to really get to you, your whole body feeling the affects of it.

Everytime you get high you think it’ll last forever, that the overwhelming numb happiness will last permanently. Every time you shoot up, you think that maybe it’ll all get better, that the feeling you’ve been searching for, will finally set in. It doesn’t though.

You come to the conclusion that it must be a more pure solution, or more concentrated because it’s getting to your head a lot quicker than normal.

You don’t even notice when Matt slips into the room, too busy processing the overwhelming feeling of the drugs rushing through you. It’s good, it feels good, until the bed dips on the other side of you and a hand is on your waist.

Your body is too numb to try and fight back, even if you had the energy or will to, you doubt you’d be strong enough.

There are words being spoken around you, hands all over your body.

You can’t open your eyes, can’t even try to understand what is happening to you.

You bite down on your lip, as your pants are tugged down.

You dissasociate it, disassociate the hands on you, dissasociate the feeling of being violated, enjoy the fact that the mixture of the drugs in your system and pain coming from your lip manage to be enough to distract from the pain being inflicted on you.

It’s primal, it’s an eye for an eye, it’s a form of payment.

Some time during the process, you drift off, whether it’s from the drugs or pain you aren’t sure, you just know that the sweet mixture of the meth seems to be enough.

You wake up with an arm around you, your silently terrified to open your eyes and find out who, but you’re also in pain and a little bit too curious for your own good. You’re grateful that the hands are Maya’s, it’s a small win. Your head is still dazed, it feels good, but you’re itching for something, itching for more.

“Hey babygirl.”

It’s light outside, it has of been a couple of hours and based on the pain between your legs you don’t want to know what’s happened in the couple of hours you’ve been unconscious.

“You feeling a bit better?”

You nod your head, focusing in on the daze and not the itch across your body and the pain your experiencing.

“You’ve been such a good girl for Matt and I, doing exactly how we pleased, we’re so proud of you.”

It’s the kind of praise you’ve been searching for months. Growing up, for your mom’s, you’d always been the perfect child, a pathological people pleaser. You’d always been told you were independent, in the end though it had all just been loneliness. You grew up to quickly, from the moment you were in foster care, passed around like a piece of trash, there was no option but for you to be lonely. Then you moved in with Jordan and Leah, and they had each other, you were still alone. You didn’t allow for yourself to make mistakes, you had a chance with them, if you were anything less than perfect then how could they want you? You were a student, a star athlete, polite, a perfectionist to your core. You took on all of the burden during the breakup, you were there for both of your mom’s through it all, yet you were the one who was always at the brunt of their anger and discontent. You weren’t worthy of their love, not when the perfect child stopped being perfect because of the pressure, because of the self-hatred that had manifested inside of you since the first people to show you love had broken apart, leaving you empty on the inside.

You blamed yourself for a lot of it, Leah and Jordan had been fine before you, it was like as soon as you entered their life it was just a ticking time bomb, you wrecked everything, you were a semi truck that drove through people, pulled everyone and everything in it’s way a part.

Maya knew how it felt, she’d broken people a part, she knew what it felt like to be all alone, she’d taught you that it was okay, that it was okay to be lonely.

She cared about you, she understood you, she wanted you.

“More, need more.”

She looked into your eyes and you felt understood, like she knew exactly what you were going through and knew how to patch up and fix all of your problems.

“Alright babygirl, just give me a second and we’ll get you juiced up, huh? You deserve it, you’ve been such a perfect girl for us.”

Maya removed her body from yours, reaching over to the bedside table, rummaging through it the same way she did last night.

Your body was still vibrating with the endorphins, the dopamine was filling your head, replacing everything in you that felt dead and broken, it felt so good, it was the feeling that you craved, the reason that you’d given everything else up, because it made you feel more content and fulfilled then anything else.

You were scared of losing it, scared of losing touch with the feeling that you were relying on.

You craved her praise, craved the drugs, craved the nothingness that came from having everything around you turn into nothing, all of the feelings, all of the struggle, all the pain and suffering turned into dust.

It was what made your life worth living, without the high you didn’t think your life would even remotely worth living for, you had nothing, you had nobody, you were alone.

Maya was quicker with her mannerisms, she knew what she was doing.

You’d never seen her do needles before the last twenty four hours, but you also weren’t that shocked. She had the tracks along her arms, the attitude that seemed like she could. She was the one who’d introduced you to drugs, it had started with a bit of pot, then coke, then heroin, then any pill that you could find and eventually, speed.

You’d been tentative at first, speed was more addictive than any other drug, speed did bad things to a body, methamphetamines were a druggies worst enemy. You’d met cokeheads and some of the most addicted heroin junkies and yet plenty of them had told you that they would never touch meth, that it was too intoxicating.

Meth took control of a persons body, penetrated the system faster than most drugs, meth got into your head, it changed a person for the worse.

You wanted that though, you were seeking for that. You were seeking for something to take control of you, something to change you, something to change the way your brain was wired.

It felt so good, you’d never been into needles either, avoided them like they were the plague, but with the plastic tourniquet strapped onto your arm and the cold point of the needle pressing against your inner arm.

It was the best feeling in the world, the best feeling known to man.

You felt like you were on the peak of Mount Everest, like you were unstoppable.

It was the same feeling you’d once gotten from just being in a room with your moms, the same feeling you’d gotten after a good game of football, the same feeling you’d gotten out of getting a good mark back on a test.

A while ago, a time that you don’t like to think about anymore, it all came naturally. Your body did hunger for that kind of attention because it received it naturally, it didn’t have to worry about when the next burst of serotonin would come. You didn’t have to create your own sensation, like you do now, you didn’t have to put yourself on a constant calendar to keep yourself sane, to make sure that you stayed happy enough to stay alive.

You didn’t think about the fact that you’d shot up a couple of hours ago, that you’re body was only just now learning to absorb intravenous drugs, that you were more dosed up then you had been in your entire life and now you were adding gasoline to the fire inside of you, you didn’t care, all you wanted was for this feeling to keep lasting, for the pain in your stomach from everything that you knew had happened but couldn’t recollect to be numbed by the drugs that you were craving.

You felt alive when the needle pressed into your arm, it made you feel like you were unstoppable, enlightened, like nothing could stop you. It was a strak contrast to how you felt when you were sober, when you were sober, you felt like the weight of the world was resting on your shoulders, that you were responsible for all the people that were around you and if you failed them then you were no better than the little traumatised girl that had been handed to your moms all those years ago.

You tried to ignore the odd chest pain that set in as the drugs mixed in with your blood, or tried your very best at least, it was hard though, when the initial pain started to turn into a skin splitting sensation you tried your best to pay no mind to it.

It was odd, you figured it might be a new effect you were unearthing, needles gave a different high in comparison to your normal, it was understandable that their would be different effects.

For the first time though, in a long time, you weren’t overcome with the near overwhelming relief that normally flooded you, the pain in your chest was to strong, instead of your heart slowing, your pain subsiding and all the thoughts quieting down, it felt like you were going into overdrive, hyperaware of everything that resided inside of you. Your chest was hurting, your heart was beating at a abnormally fast pace and your brain hurt, like it was rattling around inside of your head, bruising the inside of your skull and cracking it into pieces as every second passed.

“Maya, maya.”

It was a croak, yourr eyes being forced open as you took sharp, short breaths.

“You’re okay babygirl, deep breaths, it’ll feel good any minute.”

Except it wasn’t feeling good and it was feeling worse as every second passed. Your skin was prickly, hot and red and burning all over, your heart felt like it was beating faster than it had ever before and everything about how you were feeling felt so inexplicably wrong.

“Not good, not good, not good.”

Maya’s hand was on your face, patting at you like you were a dog, like you were a pet to her.

“Ride it out, you’ve got it babygirl, it’ll pass.”

It wasn’t passing though, it wasn’t, nothing about how you felt was passing at all.

You could feel your control of your body start to fade, you didn’t understand how or why, you didn’t understand what was happening, you knew though that whatever this was, whatever you’d taken or been given, it wasn’t good. It felt like poison inside of you, slowly taking control of every thing inside of you, like something was eating you up from the inside, as every moment surpassed.

You wanted to think that it was going to be fine, that you were just experiencing some kind of heightened high from the buildup in your system, but there was something overwhelmingly odd and wrong about how you felt, it was real, realer than any drugs had made you feel.

Drugs were artificial, and they made you feel artificially happy, or numb, somewhere between those two. Drugs had never made you feel real and tangible, like you were more of a human than anybody else, but right now, you felt more personified then you ever had, like you were so synched with your body that it was too much, too much feelings, too much pain, to much of everything.

You struggled to get out anymore words, between the feeling of your heart beating the speed of light and your chest being too tight for any oxygen to enter your airway.

You supposed she got the message when your body started to shake, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your body struggled to cope.

You heard her scream, felt her pick up your body, in blinks of your eyes you made out the staircase, the entryway, Matt in your line of sight.

You get traded into his arms, arms that make you feel tense and uncomfortable, something your body seems to react to because the tremors or seizures, or whatever the fuck your experiecing only worsens.

You blink in and out of consciousness as you’re taken from the house, into the backseat of somebody’s car, Maya and Matt seated in the front, murmuring to each other as you violently shook in the backseat, your consciousness fading as your body became less connected to you.

You weren’t sure where you were going, where drug addicts thought it was a good idea to take a person fucked up out of their minds, you hoped it wasn’t back to your mothers, or rehab, you seriously doubted the latter considering that two addicts themselves were more likely to take you to a fucking graveyard instead of rehab.

You knew neither of them were talking to you, just talking between the two of them, you hoped they were getting you some kind of help, that the two of them would stick by you and find you some help, Maya loved you, Maya was the only person who cared, she would get you help, she would stop this feeling, she would fix it.

You couldn’t see, you couldn’t control your body, you couldn’t feel any sensations across your skin beside the burning created by the lack of oxygen being circulated throughout you. It was like the drugs were slowly infiltrating every part of you, that the veins which mapped out your body underneath your skin were being pumped full of the toxic substance that you’d been so desperate to fill yourself with.

It must have been a bad reaction, or something you’d taken was laced, probably with fentanyl or something that was mixing badly, fentanyl was renowned for being one of the worst things to combine with meth, opioids and stimulants were bad together, it was probably the two forms mixing together inside of you, creating a horrible chemical concoction of reactions inside of you.

You couldn’t keep yourself awake for most of the car ride, there were patches of consciousness, patches where your eyes would open just for them to close once again.

You were awake when the car stopped, not awake enough to catch a glimpse of where you’d stopped at but awake enough to hear the car engine turn still on. The passenger door opened, then footsteps, then the backseat door beside you opened.

Maya picked you up, or at least that’s who you thought had your arms around you, your eyes were forced shut so you didn’t have any confirmation.

A few steps were taken, fast ones, and then she was squatting like she intended to put you down, and then she did.

You didn’t know how or why or where, you just knew that it was cold, there was rain drizzling down on your face, your body was shaking more than ever and you could hear the footsteps getting further and further away from you, then the sound of a car door being opened and shut and the car pulling away.

You were in agony, there was no other way to put it.

You’d been abandoned before, it was nothing new for you, it only reinforced the idea that you were simply incapable of keeping people in your life, nobody wanted you long term, you weren’t made for long term love, you were like a toy to a child. Fun and entertaining for a short amount of time, before you were forgotten and then eventually, thrown away.

You passed out before you could think more about the toy comparison, cold, alone and forgotten.

[flem17ng]

Oblivious: Mapi Leon x reader

note: this is for the anon who asked for mapi leon fic! I hope it’s what you had in mind xx

Summary: Reader is absolutely infatuated with mapi and she has no idea. Luckily some friends decide to help out.

content: mild age gap but not really

word count: 1.4k

“do the drill y/n! you can drool over leon later!” Patri sighed as she watched you, yet again, get distracted by the older player. This had been happening more and more frequently: everyday it seemed you were found gazing at Mapi from across the field. today was no different as you watched her sprint forward, tap the ball with her toe into the air and volley it across the field. 

clàudia slapped your arm with a grin. 

“one of these days she’s going to notice how in love with her you are hermana” 

“shut up” you grumbled, turning back to the drill. It was true that you made it pretty obvious. It seemed like the whole team knew about your crush on mapi except mapi. It’s not like you had a chance anyway! she was older than you, more experienced and probably the single most attractive woman you had ever seen. So yeah, you didn’t think you really stood a chance. 

“don’t be silly Pina, we both know Mapi wouldn’t recognise y/n’s crush if it slapped her in the face” Patri laughed with a shake of the head.

“can we change the conversation please” you whined suddenly finding the drill a lot more interesting than before

“change what conversation?” 

You whipped around only to find yourself face to face with the very girl you’d been looking at only seconds before. Mapi smiled at you (a sweet lopsided grin that made your heart speed up). 

“oh nothing! Just y/n and her big, ga-“

“my dead grandma” you almost shouted causing a few people to look at you in confusion. Mapi raised her eyebrows. 

“we where talking about my very dead grandma! that’s all!” you gave Patri a stern stare. 

“oh…” Mapi looked between you and the two other girls. “oh i’m sorry I didn’t know. um… well it’s water break now” Mapi backed away a few steps before turning and walking towards the drink bottles. 

“y/n what the fuck” Clàudia muttered. You looked at her, mortified. you needed to pull yourself together. 

***

It took you a whole 2 days to embarrass yourself even further. So maybe you weren’t able to pull yourself together like you told yourself you would. 

The game was a stunner. 9-1 to Barcelona. It was no secret that Mapi was the most valuable player on the pitch that day either. She was everywhere she needed to be. The final goal was something you knew you would never forget: Playing attacking mid, you raced into open space managing to lose your marker just as you neared the box, a second later you could see Mapi weave past the opposing striker and boot the ball towards you. Time slowed down as you jumped, letting the ball hit the top of your head, giving it the slight redirection it needed to skid into the top corner of the goal.  

You wasted no time turning at running towards the tattooed defender who’d assisted you. Her smile in the moment was better than the whole crowds cheering put together. When you crashed into her with a hug, you didn’t even think before kissing her cheek. 

“Mapi! I did it! I swear I could kiss yo-“ you cut yourself off when you saw Mapi’s eyes go wide. The awkward silence didn’t last long as the team descended on you both with loud cheers and slaps on the back. 

***

“you what!!” yelled Patri when you where safely in the car home.

“don’t make me say it again” you groaned, sinking further into your seat, covering your violently pink cheeks with your palms. 

“no i’m going to make you say that again! You said you could kiss her? Jesus y/n!”

Patri shook her head while Clàudia laughed from the backseat. 

“what did she do!” Pina laughed, clearly finding your embarrassment very amusing. 

“she just stared at me! god she’s going to think i’m a freak” you sighed. You could brush it off as heat of the moment, but you know it wasn’t. You could kiss her. Hell you wanted to, everyday you wanted too. 

“you guys are friends! she’s not going to think you’re a freak” Patri laughed

You just sunk further into the leather of the car seat, hoping it would swallow you up. 

***

Mapi was pacing the change-room the next day after training. The thought had been grating on her mind all day. Ever since you avoided her in the car park that morning. Usually you arrived at similar times, chatted about your morning, music, life, but that morning you had parked as close to the building as possible and practically ran inside at the sight of the older player. 

Mapi had shrugged it off but then during training you seemed to be making a visible effort to avoid her. It made her gut twist to think you were upset with her. hell, it made her feel sick to think you were upset at all but no one needed to know that. 

“god it’s just painful to watch at this point” Patri groaned to Alexia as she entered the change-room, only to stop short when she saw Mapi staring at her. 

“hey Mapi! I thought you would have gone home by now” Alexia smiled, much better at playing a poker face than Patri. 

“oh uh, no. I wanted to check on Y/n” she muttered. 

Patri smirked, “oh and whys that?” Alexia slapped her arm to be quiet. 

“she just seemed weird today. Like she avoiding me or something” Mapi groaned. It was weird seemed her like this, so unlike her usual bubbly self. 

“you really have no idea?” Alexia asked. Not teasing, but a genuine, gentle question 

“no idea about what?”

“she likes you Mapi! she has for a long time. If she’s acting weird around you maybe it’s because she’s losing hope.” Patri explained, watching mapis mouth fall open into a little ‘o’. 

“i didn’t realise” she whispered. Inside she could feel her heart speeding up like a kid. she smiled excitedly, “she really likes me?”

“oh god your oblivious sometimes leon” Alexia laughed. 

***

Anger couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt when she told you. embarrassment, mortification, rage. You didn’t even have the energy to yell at her when you got the text from Patri telling you that she had told Mapi about your feelings. You simply sent a text to your coach telling him you were sick, locked your phone and cried. 

You knew people would try to get in touch with you, hell some even tried calling your landline but you ignored it all.

How could you show your face at training again?

after a day or so you unlocked your phone. 

4 missed calls from patri, 3 from alexia, a large paragraph from clàudia and-

one text from Mapi Leon. 

You tapped the notification. 

today, 10 mins ago. 

mapi 🦁:  I wanted to kiss you too. 

You almost dropped your phone when you read it. and then you re-read it. and then you really did drop your phone when a loud knock came from the front door. 

“please y/n. It’s me” you heard her voice float through the hallway. Her tone was pleading and you could picture her expression: soft but with a wrinkle in her brow that only appeared when she was worried or upset. 

When the door opened, she stepped inside without hesitation. 

“y/n” she said breathlessly. Her cheeks were pink as if she’d been running and, just as you had imagined, her brow was crinkled with worry. 

“mapi? how did you-“

she cut you off with her lips, cradling your cheek with her hand causing you to gasp. 

she pulled back, looking from your eyes to your lips for permission to kiss you again. 

“Mapi…”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise sooner. I’m an idiot i know”

You smiled at her and shook your head, finally giving in and reaching up to smooth her worry lines. 

“just kiss me again león” you laughed. and she did just that. Pulling you closer by your waist and kissing you deeply right there on your doorstep. 

Maybe you were an idiot, maybe she was oblivious, but hell she was a good kisser. 

shit, You needed to thank Patri.

[thatdeadaquarius]

HELP I JUST HAD A THOUGH

WHAT IF

What if....

Blunt reader became a harbinger

I have NO idea how that would go but im here for the crack lol

I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-

(and to use this gif more importantly they're all so hot here lol)

Sun: Reader (you/they/them), Blunt Language AU :D

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, crack treated srsly (yes im using ao3 tags atp)

Stars: Harbingers!

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

SO thought I’d update anyone missing out bc of the new year but-

I made this silly thing called Blunt Language AU, that was my 1st post for this blog/fandom actually! :D

I’ll link it here, but TLDR: it’s just our modern speech sounding “ancient” to the Teyvatians, who speak really flowery/fluffy/lots of context in comparison!

That’s all you rlly need to know to read this I think, so enjoy! :)

☆

u fall into Genshin Impact, and Snezhnaya is where you land first type of energy lol

weird golden star falling from the sky? that sounds like a prophecy the Tsaritsa knows abt alright

so they sent Childe, one of the friendliest (if not The Friendliest) Harbinger, to see if it was a valid claim you’d finally descended,

and ofc as soon as the redhead heard you try and talk to him, he knew the claims by the small village nearby (who had taken u in from the cold weather/taken care of you) were legit

pantalone did manage to squeeze some examples of what you’d possibly sound like into his head before he left so while Childe personally has a tough time talking to you, it doesn't mean he’s not willing to try!! >:)

he mostly just kept asking questions forever until he understood what you meant, and as soon he got u were asking abt the Tsaritsa, the other Harbingers, himself, even how to get Sneznayan-made clothes lol

he was like: 👀👀👀???!!!!

it wasn't so much recruitment at first as it was “omg the exalted one wishes to learn abt us, the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers? abt me?? well would your highness like to come to our palace perchance???!!!!”

= have u ever been seduced and worshipped by a god and her country?? would you like to- ??? ← Childe actually

and with that convinces you to come straight to the Harbingers/Tsaritsa’s very home

No, you’re not just spoiled.

No, you’re not just pampered.

You are cosseted and coveted.

The Tsaritsa makes her first in person appearance to the people in decades to personally announce your return, and to get a festival going to literally parade you into the capital lol

And tbh it was kind of shocking how quickly the people of Snezhnaya are able to whip out the party supplies, within days of traveling via horses/sleds/carriage/trains all kinds of transportation, u arrived at the capital in full swing of a parade for you

The Tsaritsa herself in what looks like a genshin-ified kokoshnik, the elaborate headress draped with a veil so thin it looks like frost covering her face,

flocked on either side by her harbingers in full (kinda goth) ceremonial outfits waiting on your arrival too

needless to say you are properly smitten intimidated

and you stay nervous around them for the first few days or so,

that is before you run into the weekly, what you would call “family dinner nights”, but they call “dinner reports”…

in which Childe, the only one you’d been comfortable enough around to be a bit more genuine to, and surprisingly the only one to quickly adapt to your speech after traveling with you for days, would translate for you what tf you were saying to them vs. what everyone at the table was saying to you/around you

you would also like to propose other titles for these weekly dinner meetings you’re invited to, aka “family feud dinner night/family fight night/harbinger on harbinger hate night/fruit on fruit crimes, if you will” 💀

the Tsaritsa is just peacefully talking to you abt any and everything, bc ofc Pierro’s on her right, and ur on her left

(she and Pierro are surprisingly soft spoken, very polite, and able to say something interesting/take an interest in whatever subject you all end up on)

u don't think you've ever been more comfortable and on such equal footing around ppl sm older than you (what are older ppl to you, but to them ur literally fucking eldritch with how ancient u are, and u can tell with how they treat u like it lmao)

hard cut back to the rest of the table:

an argument that just gets louder and louder has broken out between Childe, Dottore, La Signora, and Pantalone abt who should get free time with you first/get to do smth with you first as you get over ur adjustment period here, Childe has taken his butter knife to throw and just barely missed Dottore’s eye, and it is now embedded in the back of his fancy chair (the servants placing down dinner courses just move abt w/the most bored expressions on their faces)

(u send half the table if this group gets out of hand and u just: “Please shut the fuck up, each of ur comebacks take 30 minutes and it’s killing me” 💀 bc they're the most likely to understand u too, even Pierro/Capitano/Pulcinella chuckle a little, and u think the Tsaritsa smirked under her veil)

ur honestly too scared to see what Scarmouche, Sandrone, and Arlecchino are arguing about, because they're arguing so silently further down the table. They have murder in their eyes.

Columbina and Capitano are having a peaceful collab over weapons, armor, and clothing to offer you, Pulcinella is close enough to both participate in that convo and in you, Pierro, and the Tsaritsa’s convos too

by the 2nd week you've decided to choose chaos, and get them to play board games together sometimes (they cant all make it all the time, tbh u don't know if u can handle that either) but groups of them will play at a time

u remembered early on what a dick Dottore was, and sentenced asked if he’d like to play this new board game called “Monopoly” from ur world with Childe, Pantalone, Pierro, Arlecchino, La Signora, and Scaramouche all together :)

(so what ur trying to bring khaenri’ah part 2 down on his head as punishment?? u owe scara and collei that at least)

Columbina is more than happy to help get you Harbinger-like clothes to wear since ur so interested in the style!! (yes yesss get converted, she already has a title picked out for you)

she also giggles anytime u talk abt whether u like an outfit or not, bc u just “no thank you I’d rather wear a trash bag than that shirt, but lets try another?”

meanwhile the tailors in the background u could literally edit them to one of those videos where it just zooms in on their faces with a vine boom of shock

like Pierro, ur unranked, just above the other Harbingers really, as it wouldn't do to make you the 12th Harbinger or smth

the names they gave you being, “The Playwright” or “The Renaissance” or even “Drammaturgo”

(pls anyone who speaks Italian correct if I'm wrong ToT )

ok but the first time, unsurprisingly, one of them got snappy with you, likely Scara I would think,

Scaramouche, pissy: “And what shall we do if it appears our almighty god is perhaps a descender who is entirely human? Why I dare say you’d be transgressing on privileges that were never yours to begin with!”

Every other Harbinger, the Tsaritsa herself, the servants, the frost on the walls: 😶😦😨😶‍🌫️

You, unbothered, still eating and fully expecting this moment: “I don't want to hear it from someone who has god-mommy issues. You shouldn’t have an opinion about me, ur biased.”

yeah, so obviously, they’re emotionally all attached now whether they know it or not, and this was of course the moment they realized they're god would fit in so perfectly here

(the other nations are going to have to pry you from Snezhnaya from their cold dead hands, esp since u now have legal deniability to visit bc ur technically a Harbinger, only commanded by her majesty lol)

(Scaramouche, Arlecchino, and Sandrone were fighting about who gets the room nearest to your quarters lol)

(Capitano won, somehow??)

☆

sorry ive been slow lately guys, been just trying to work on alllll the fics these past weeks/days/however long its been??

anyway had the shift from hell last week so wish me luck with work this week if u see this 😭

hope u enjoyed this old ask/crack treated srsly post orah!! :D

Safe Travels,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[huntershoe]

Back to you

Hunter x Jedi!reader

Spoilers for the bad batch season 3 :)

Summary: After a long time, you're finally reunited with your family and your lover.

Warning: Canon violence, Mention of mental and physical torture, slight depressing state, hurt/comfort. Fluff!

A/N: Let me know if anyone would like part two. I was planning on making it spicy ;}

Word count: 2.4k

Part two

It's been months since you got a distress signal from one of your fellow surviving Jedi. Months since you managed to rescue your Jedi friend but sacrifice your own freedom. Months since you've seen your family and your lover.

The last thing you remember from when you were still with the batch was when you were all on Pabu, helping the people restore the beautiful ocean city while you were waiting to get any word from Echo as he helped Rex.

When the only thing missing was Crosshair.

You got the distress signal the same day Echo said he would visit. You knew you couldn't wait for your friend to visit, so with a tight hug, a long and loving kiss and a promise to return safely and quickly, you set the course for your Jedi friend.

Unfortunately, your plan wasn't Vader proof and you ended up captured, switching your place with your friend who managed to escape. You waited for your end, silently apologizing to Hunter and your family, but it never came. Instead, Darth Vader decided you would make a great addition to the imperial inquisitors, so they tried to break you, in every possible way.

For months, they tortured you mentally and physically, leaving you crying and barely alive at the end of every day. But you never broke, no matter what they did to you, you didn't break. There were times when it came close, but thinking of your batch and Hunter gave you strength to fight on.

So when the first opportunity to escape came, you took it. Doing everything in you capacity, even if it meant you'd have to tap into the dark side of the force. Your body had been weakened in the past months, your skin now covered in scars but that didn't stop you and you managed to escape, hijacking an imperial ship and running.

It seemed that even the force was on your side once you coincidentally run into Echo, Rex and the newly forming Clone resistance. But all your happiness disappeared once Echo informed you of the loss they suffered almost immediately you were gone. All those months, just the idea of coming back to your family and how everything would be perfect once again. Everything fell apart and you felt like you were once again in that cold prison cell, waiting for the inquisitors to torture you again. You were falling into the dark abyss, ashamed to even show yourself to Hunter and Wrecker.

It wasn't until Echo came looking for you, four days later. His body radiating happy energy as he practically jumped on you, hugging you and telling you that both Omega and Crosshair managed to escape and were now safely with Hunter and Wrecker on Pabu.

That made you hyperactive, filling you with energy and will to live and both you and Echo were in the ship only few hours later, crossing the galaxy to get back to your family once again.

Three days later you finally made it to Pabu, docking the ship at the top of the city. But while waiting for the ship to touch the ground in a matter of those seconds, your mind betrayed you. Suddenly all you wanted to do was to hide in the corner and dissappear, all those happy thoughts dissappeard, instead being replaced with dark and hateful thoughts. You imagined how Hunter must hate you now that you only returned once everything was alright again. How you dissappeard when they needed you the most. Maybe he's even blaming you for everything bad that happened to his family. Or maybe Omega's the one who hates you now, maybe she thinks that you betrayed them, leaving your family to help someone else.

Your whole body was shaking and you felt like you would faint and when the ramp finally began to descend and the sun shined on your face, Echo had to gently grab you because you swayed like a fragile flower in the wind.

Both you and Echo managed to take a few steps down the ramp before you heard a loud yell. Omega screamed yours and Echo's name, sprinting full speed at you, making you react the same. You yelled her name and she jumped in your arms as you quickly prepared to catch her, hugging her close to you as you began crying, peppering her face with kisses and petting her hair. You managed to crouch with Omega in front of you as you grabbed her cheeks and looked at her more closely, checking for any injuries as she cried telling you how much she missed you.

But as soon as Omegas eyes fell on your face her expression fell as well.

"What happened to your face!" Big tears began rolling down her cheeks as she looked at you. Similar to your body, your face was now littered with both small and big scars, some more visible than the others.

It's been months since you've seen Omega, the young female clone that had unexpectedly entered your life and become like a daughter to you. And after so long, you didn't want your scars to be the first thing you talk about, it was too dark subject to address in the first moments of reunion. So you moved your hands up to her hair, trying to change the subject to something happier.

"Look at your hair! It's grown so much!" You laughed through your tears as you played with the little girl's hair.

"I know, now you can finally braid my hair!" The young girl knew what your were trying to do and played along giggling as she mirrored your hands movements and played with your hair.

You were just about to respond when you both got interrupted by someone whispering your name. Your head snapped behind Omega, falling on a frozen figure, Hunter.

Your body went rigid, completely frozen in time when your eyes meet with his golden ones. Omegas eyes followed yours and once she saw Hunter standing there silently watching, she hugged you one last time before slowly removing herself from you and running towards waiting Echo.

Now that Omega was no longer in front of you, you stood up slowly, your eyes never leaving his as he watched your every move like he couldn't believe you were really there.

Your hands began shaking again and you grabbed your sleeves to try and stop them but to no avail.

"Hunter?"

You whispered back to him, taking a small step towards him. He said nothing, but his body moved and he was by you in the next second, his hands enveloping your body as his own crashed against yours. He squeezed you almost as hard as he could, fearing that if he wouldn't, you would've disappeared again. Hunter buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as your hands slowly stopped shaking and you moved them up into his hair. Your forehead fell on his shoulder as you finally closed your eyes, taking in his warm presence. You both stood there for a long minute, not moving as you both tried to soak in each other's warmth.

You felt Hunter deeply inhale once again, his breath tickling your neck, before his lips pressed against the same spot and he kissed you. Repeating the movement kissing up your neck, slowly coming to your face as his hands moved up to your neck, and his thumbs landed on your cheeks as his eyes found yours again. Hunter breathed out your name again, his face so close to yours.

"I thought I lost you..." His normally smoky voice sounded broken, quiet, like he was worried he would scare you away if he'd talk any louder. His own hands began to shake slightly as he gently turned your face around, his eyes jumping from scar to scar.

"Hunter, I'm so sorry. I tried to get back to you, I really did but they-" You tried explaining yourself as his eyes found yours again.

"When your ship returned I thought to myself at least I got one of my girls back...but then only General Prima came out and she could barely look me in the eyes to tell me what happened..." Hunter let out a sigh as his thumb traced the scar across your lips.

"...I thought I lost you and I couldn't bare to even think of what they're doing to you...I tried get you back every day, you and Omega..." He went on slowly and quietly, his other thumb tracing the scar across your eye.

"I'm so sorry Hunter-" You tried to apologise again but he interrupted you again with his thumb on your lips.

"Just...just promise me to never leave me again...I...I can't live without you." Hunter whispered as one tear left his eye and you moved your hand to his cheek, brushing it away as he leaned into your touch.

"I promise Hunter, never again." You nodded your head as you promised him, your own tears escaping you again and you moved your head, leaning your forehead against his.

Hunter let out a gentle puff of air, making your lips tingle as the air hit them. His own lips ghosting over yours as he whispered. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner ka'ra."

A small smile appeared on your lips and you gently nodded. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner ashi dul."

You responded and finally moved, pressing your lips against his into a long and loving kiss.

Hunter's hands moved back down to your waist and he pulled you closer again as his kiss turned more desperate.

Your own hands moved around his neck as you pulled yourself impossibly closer, a small sound escaping you as Hunters hand squeezed your hip and he took the chance to deepen the kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips as he entered your mouth in almost like urgent matter.

You let him take the reins and followed his tempo, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you again.

"Okay, you can continue doing that later! Now it's my turn!" You heard Wrecker before another set of arms snaked around you and Hunter, squeezing you even further and lifting you in the air. Both you and Hunter gasped, breaking the kiss to look at the gentle giant as he hugged you, leaning his head on your shoulders. You chuckled, grinning and squeezing one arm out and moving it to gently pat Wreckers head. "I missed you too Wrecker." Even Hunter managed a chuckle as he heard his brother sniffle quietly.

"We're never splitting ever again." Wrecker decided as he slowly put them down and brushed the tears from his eyes away. "Agreed." You nod, grabbing the giant clone's hand and squeezing it.

"What, no hug for me?" Crosshair's sly snake like voice asked as he came closer and crossed his arms in front of his chest an amused frown on his face. Your head turned in his direction and a wide smile grew on your lips and you gently let go of Wrecker and moved around Hunter, letting your hands to drag across his chest as you stepped closer to his youngest brother. "Crosshair!" You grinned and quickly moved closer to him, enveloping him into a big hug. Your movement surprised him greatly as he was expecting a glare and a witty remark instead you hugged him.

His arms were awkwardly waiting at his sides, debating if he should hug you back or push you away. Alas, you were the only one that hugged him so far and he'd be lying to himself if he'd say he didn't need a hug. So he let his arms slowly sneak around your body and he hugged you back, silently laying his head on top of yours.

"I'm glad you're back with us again." You whispered just loud enough for him to hear and you felt his breath hitch.

He slowly let go of you and stepped back a little, watching the scars across your face.

"Come on, you have to meet Batcher!" Omega gasped, grabbing your hand out of nowhere and pulling you towards what looked to be a  excited Lurca hound, running around and chasing Moon-yos. You chuckled at the enthusiasm of the little girl and looked back behind you to your lover and the rest of your family, only to see Hunter slightly glaring at Crosshair and Echo rolling his eyes and pushing the former Sergeant, encouraging him to move, while Wrecker only laughed and followed closely.

Omega managed to introduce you to the lively hound, telling you how she helped her and how they bonded over the time as they managed to survive the empire. Batcher seemed to be the perfect energetic pet for Omega as they began playing together, almost forgetting everyone else that was watching them.

You felt a warm hand on the small of your back and a moment later a warm body pressed against your side as Hunter lowered his head to whisper in your ear. "Come on, you must be starving." He pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead as you turned your head to look at him. "A little, yeah." You confirmed and Hunter motioned with his head to his brothers, before gently pushing you towards the house reserved for the batch.

Hunter whistled, making Omegas and Batchers heads turn, motioning them to follow too.

The shining sun had slowly began to descend as they sat down around the table after they put on some food. They snacked on the delicious fruits, talking about everything, just like they did in the old days, while they watched Omega and Batcher play.

The moment felt perfect, besides the one empty chair, remaining everyone that they will never be complete again. Everything else felt normal, Crosshair's witty remarks, Wrecker's compliments to the food, Echo trying to talk about another one of his missions and Hunter silently trying to listen to everyone as his hand slowly fell on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure you and himself that this moment is in fact real.

Translation:

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - Mandalorian way of saying "I love you"

Ner ka'ra - My star

Ner ashi dul - My other half

[lillaluna]

language brings us closer

Pairing: Dottore, Childe, Panatalone x f!Reader

Summary: in my mind, everyone who comes from Snezhnaya knows Russian.

Tags: modern au

CHILDE

Childe spotted you as soon as you entered the bar in the company of your girlfriends. He was sitting in the company of Dottore and Pantalone. As soon as you appeared on the horizon, all of Ajax's attention turned to you, he stared and wasn't shy about it at all. You threw a few surprised glances at him and asked your friends to see if this strange red-haired guy was looking in your direction, after which you and your friends laughed.

Perhaps the evening would have ended without your acquaintance, but passing by his table you heard him talking about you, definitely not expecting you to understand him. Because he was speaking in Russian.

"My future wife," Childe commented as you walked past him with an embarrassed smile.

"In your dreams," you replied to Ajax and winked.

Childe fake grabbed his heart and pretended to faint.

"She's definitely going to be mine!"

PANTALONE

You felt great at the poker table, and even more so because all the people sitting at it were familiar to you. Except for one guy, who everyone called Pantalone. You were immediately attracted to him because he didn't play cautiously, he took risks, made big bets and bluffed skilfully. And all these actions were accompanied by an exceptionally benevolent smile, which did not waver for a moment.

And so, now was the decisive moment, when there was only one choice, who would take the winnings. You sat in a relaxed pose and tapped your finger on the cards, trying to figure out what was behind that soft smile.

"It seems the mouse has fallen into the clutches of a predator," the guy said in clear Russian.

Obviously he thought it would have some effect on you, you'd be confused. But it turned out exactly the opposite as you smiled broadly and replied:

"I'm sorry, but in this forest I am a predator."

Pantalone seemed to forget how to breathe when you showed off your Flash Royale.

DOTTORE

It was a terrible snowfall. Not one of those snowflakes that slowly descend from the sky and carpet everything in white, no, it was a snowfall that threatened to get in your eyes, mouth, nose and maybe even your underwear. So, you were insanely happy when you finally managed to stop the taxi and jumped into it without looking. Probably with about the same thoughts, Dottore jumped into your taxi from the other side. You stared at each other in surprise for a brief moment, and you thought the situation would pass unnoticed, but here his lips were already pressed into a thin line.

"That's my taxi," the man spits out stiffly, right in your face.

Dumbfounded by such insolence you almost gasp as you inhale loudly.

"Actually, I'm the one who stopped him!" You protest. "Here, the driver can confirm!" You shift your gaze to the driver, who has been watching this scene through the rearview window.

"Sir, the lady is right, I stopped when I saw her," the man says, at which point Dottore tightly wraps his coat and opens the door, but with one last look into the interior of the car, he caustically blurts out in Russian:

"Fuck you, lady!"

Undeterred, you growl back at him, also in Russian: "Fuck you, mister!"

A second pause and a sly but beautiful half-smile appears on Dottore's face.

[selarina]

This is Part 2 because you guys asked

This florist guy is a peculiar lanky character, who later revealed himself as Gojo Satoru, who is apparently the son of a rich guy, the grandson a rich guy. He descended from a whole lineage of rich men and women, and so, it seemed particularly odd that this scion of affluence was was cooped up in a barely running florist shop.

So, you didn’t end up texting the guy after he cheekily slipped his number on the card but you did get rather… intrigued?

There’s something so strange and unreal about him. Apart from the oddity, the lankiness, the outright boldness that could only be a result of a privileged upbringing, he’s also interested in you — and boldly so. It’s never truly happened to you before, even your current boyfriend took about 6 whole months of weighing out the pros and cons before asking you out. It feels nice, you do suppose.

You’re lounging on your bed, the red roses from the shop lying beside you on your bed table almost dead from the rejection of the apology you gave. And honestly, you thought not to put waste to such pretty flower. You intended to put it into a vase or an empty bottle but you never ended up doing it. It’s funny how you’ve managed to neglect them over the past few days. It seems like a cruelly fitting metaphor of your relationship.

you: remember that florist guy

yue: sighh

yue: yeah you haven’t shut up about him all week if you haven’t noticed

you: shut up i only mentioned him like twice

you: anyway

you: i’m pretty sure he told me he wished my boyfriend died

yue: WHAT

yue: he’s just like me fr <3

You sighed. He is just like her. She’s never liked your boyfriend and saw right through him to be the facade of a temporary high school relationship based on nothing but superficial optics that would hurt at least one of you on the way.

But now, at the very least, she felt safe knowing it won’t be you, regardless of how cruel and selfish that may be. She always prioritised only the people around her. It’s something you admire about her, you wish you could care about the people around you as much as she did.

You mulled over the prospect of texting the florist, Gojo Satoru. For starters, he’s clearly interested in you, and you’re clearly in an odd limbo of a relationship and the ethics of that are well… pretty grey. And also, he came off strong, bold and you’re just meh. The first taste of your bitter sweetness and he’ll run.

A week passes, the withering roses sit comfortably at the bottom of your trash bin, amid ruffled paper, tissues and other junk alike. You stil find yourself thinking about Gojo Satoru, pondering whether you should send him a message.

If he's going to run away, you reasoned, you don't see the harm. Well, you do see the harm for your current relationship but again, he's going to run. So, it doesn't truly matter. So, you text him.

---

A week elapsed, and you received no text back, it started to eat you alive just a bit. The single checkmark next to your message mocked you every time you opened the chat. Did he give you a dead phone number? Was he just being nice?

It's all too odd, and the memory of you meeting the guy starts to feel like something you made up. You try not to dwell on it much, focusing on school, chores, sports, friends. Yet, after exhausting these distractions, you found yourself lying in bed, bones growing drowsy, thinking and dreaming about the man.

So, several days later, you do something slightly insane. Some might argue it was the most sane course of action, namely... Yue. But who cares? You're the only one here to judge.

You really, truly do not have interest in him but you do find yourself slowly taking the long route back home, walking past the flower shop every chance you get this week. But you always made sure to maintain a distance, choosing to walk on the other side of road, because like you said before — you aren't interested, just curious really.

And it would truly insane if this meant anything because he's just some guy you met while buying roses for your boyfriend.

You start to notice the little things about the shop itself — how it seems perpetually quiet, how the flowers displayed outside changing is the only sign of it being active, and then you eventually manage to catch a glimpse of Satoru inside, tending to the blooms like he's a practiced still from a movie.

You started to wonder if he was purposefully ignoring you. His quaint and unpopular shop always seemed devoid of customers. What did he do with all his time? From all the times you have crossed past the shop, not a single one of these instances has had any customers in them.

And one day, you decide to finally go back into the shop. No excuses prepared, you decide to make it all up as you go.

"Thought you'd never come in," he greeted you with a grin, leaning casually against the counter as if posing for a photograph.

You turned to scan every corner of the shop, checking to see if anyone else was present, reluctant to divulge your teenage romantic conundrum to an audience.

But to your relief, the shop was empty, save for the two of you.

You turned back to Satoru, noticing how his signature black sunglasses lay perched on the bridge of his nose. That's another one of those unusual things you've noticed about him, how he's always wearing his glasses.

One day you got late at school, having stayed back to hang some posters, so when you walked back you noticed the man still donning his glasses, even though the night had already set itself in the sky. You didn't understand why he would wear them. Perhaps, he has an eye condition.

"So, you didn't reply to my text," you say, striving for a casual tone as you pocketed your hands and approached the counter. You try to ignore the implications of him knowing you were walking past here all week.

He doesn't say anything, tilting his head, before he startles you by taking off into the backroom.

You wait there, confused, staring at the silent flowers beside you, as you wait and you wait.

He reemerged with a bag, rummaging through it for something? His phone, maybe?

Yes, his phone. "Right! Sorry! Sorry, I had my phone off," he explained, his eyes focused on his loading phone.

"You have one... right here," you remarked, removing your hand from your pocket and pointing at another phone resting on the counter.

He chuckles, "Huh, yeah. I do have another phone, but that's more for business stuff. My personal phone is the one you texted," he clarified, nodding toward the device in his hands.

"I see," you replied plainly, slipping your hand back into your pocket.

"I'm sorry for not responding. How about I make it up to you over some Mochi?" he grins. "Today? Right now?"

"Whoa, hold on. I didn't agree to go on a date with you. Remember, I have a boyfriend," you reminded him.

"Right," he grits with restrained chuckle. "Well, I didn't ask you out on a date. Just Mochi."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow at his response, amused by his persistence.

"Just Mochi, huh? Are you always this forward with all your customers?" you tease, finding yourself intrigued by him and all his boldness and audacity.

"Well, you're not really a customer today. Unless, you want to buy me flowers before our date?" he grins, abandoning his apron, as he comes from behind the counter.

"Hey! I said this wasn't a date," you find yourself yelling back at him, leaving only a slew of chortles as a response from him.

[wings-of-flying]

the thing about chip is that he's a little too unassuming. an orphan kid with no name and no memory of anything beforehand, yet is old enough to beg to join the black rose pirates. sure, you can believe it, even if the other orphan aboard definitely has a name

that orphan kid then goes on to survive the hole in the sea, amongst few who lived and made swift recoveries, but unlike lizzie he had no protector, and unlike roofus he was a child, only nine. alone in the recently corrupted black sea and with no magic, he managed to make his way to land, which we've learnt is at least a few days travel when on a ship. he didn't drown, or freeze, and he doesn't seem to remember it. it's odd. almost impossible, you could say. but fine, we move on

with gillion and jay, he's so clearly the odd one out. standing between the chosen one and a descendent of the sun, he seems out of place (especially from a meta perspective). but even then, fine, it's probably just meant to be funny

but then there's all the other things. out of the three deals we've seen, he's the only one who's found niklaus rather than vice versa. he slipped through a dream into the realm of who we can only imagine to be one of the most powerful people in mana. and you have to remember he didn't possess any magic until after the feywild. the deal happened after joaldo

he's undead now. his heart was ripped out, his flesh is decaying, but he lives. sure, the other crew members of captain widow were technically undead too, but the fact remains true that this is unusual. the undead thing lead to him following the compass (which is something else i'll get into, because doesn't he seem oddly interested in it yet unaffected) into that sack where he met with niklaus for a second time, the only riptide pc we've seen met him more than once. and the wish doctor seemed more than happy to share some of his secrets with chip

now the compass. it's made by niklaus, linked to desire, and when ollie used it just a few times in joaldo it had instant effects. chip keeps looking at the compass, so much so that it's now magically increased his desire to find arlin, and yet he's had no other effects

when he made the deal with niklaus, his price seemed hardly anything. "don't interfere". it doesn't exactly align with gillion's favour or jay's name and a command she must obey. also it technically gave him two things: knowledge of arlin's whereabouts, and reverting the effects on ollie. and once again niklaus shared more of his plans with chip than any other captain. like he trusts him, almost

inexplicably, chip can speak celestial. a language which just so happens to be key to unlocking all these clues surrounding the hole in the sea (the map, the door in the place beneath the sea as well iirc). jay's understanding of primordial is explained by navy lessons (makes sense if they're dealing with the undersea), but chip's celestial never is

and now the place beneath the sea -- where the cumagoon (do i have to write that in a serious analysis post?), now unlocked by the compass, led -- a voice welcomed him home

i think chip's more deeply connected to the black sea than even he has ever considered. it runs much deeper than simply the loss of arlin and the black rose pirates. i think he, like niklaus, is intrinsically tied to the entity known as the nameless prince, and thereby the egg. he might be more significant magically than we previously thought

[lovepookie]

₊˚ෆ Favoring Roses Over Daisies - s.qr

♡ ︎sypnosis: daisies will forever and always be boring; they were the former queen’s—your mother’s—favorite flower. however, now that it’s your turn to ascend the thrown, you can’t help that roses are your favorite; just like the blood-red ones embellished on prince ricky’s black suit on the night of your suitor’s ball. but don’t get caught up in the pretty scent and petals, because where there is beauty, there is thorns. ricky is the prince of an enemy nation—and your whole life he has been nothing but a pest. a really pretty one.

♡ ︎genre: royal au, fantasy/magical, fluff, angsty, prince!ricky, fem!reader, prince!hanbin side pairing, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, the dramaaa

♡ 7.0k word count (i’m not sorry)

♡ ︎warnings: cursing, mentions of readers father passing away, misogyny mentioned, kinda angsty and dramatic, playful threats, please let me know if you’d like me to add any!

♡ ︎nano note: i know this is long asf, but i am not even the slightest bit sorry. been thinking about prince ricky for the longest and i just had to quench my forbidden love needs. feedback and fangirling in the replies w/ me is greatly appreciated! xoxo

.♡.

“Look at you…so beautiful.” Your mother said, standing behind you as you sat on your bench in front of your vanity. She placed a lavish gold crown on your head carefully, using pins to secure its place.

You manage to shoot her a faint smile.

Your older sister had dropped off the face of the earth when you were teens, and now that you’re becoming of age, you were the only heir able to be crowned.

It felt bittersweet.

Never once in your life did you ever want the title. You grew up thinking it was always out of touch because of your place as second to the thrown. And you were fine with that. You grew with the mindset that it was never yours to begin with and let your sister take reign.

You’d sigh in relief when she would be pulled away from your play dates for classes on her duties as a future leader.

It was a so bittersweet.

When she left.

Still, you stared at yourself in the mirror with a bit of poise.

This was your moment and you took it on with a great sense of responsibility; wanting nothing more than to be the best leader to your people. You had many plans now that you had been crowned, but nothing could prepare you for today.

Descending from your mother; you were shockingly only the second queen to be crowned as of a couple days ago. The ceremony came and went so fast with everyone making a big deal out of it. This catapulted misogynistic hate back into the thoughts and mouths of other nations who were still coming around to the idea of women in power.

On the night of your 21st birthday, you were notified that your mother would be stepping down as Queen. Your father had passed away a few months ago and because of this, your nation was now unable to continue to keep peace between the neighboring nation your father was great friends with.

This nation was Sector Four and they never really liked your sector, Sector Nine, for how they ruled. Your father, who was from Sector Three, was just miraculously married to your mother and was the sole driving factor to both nations recoiling from the long history of wars and bickering.

As your mother described it, she was just excited to meet boys on the night she was to find a suitor. She did not realize when she met your fathers eyes that they belonged to none other than a friend of the enemy.

He was a godsend to your nation and the very reason your mother says she was able to face such widespread disrespect that was thrown at her for being the first Queen.

But this didn’t matter anymore. That peace and sense of tranquillity vanished the moment your father’s breath did.

Now that your father is gone, the hunger for power and the ratification of misogyny was trickling back—you were nothing to them; so long as you were your mothers child.

Regardless, life went on and the fact of the matter was that you were now Queen of a nation too and therefore had to meet a suitor.

Today would be that fateful day.

Yes, you heard that right.

Only a few days as leader and every nation in question were lining up for a piece of the power.

It was laughable.

Still, you gathered your thoughts and made yourself knowledgeable of what had to happen. Unlike your mother, you’d be prepared—this wasn’t some joyous event created for you to find a man, this was so much more than that.

“Alright, your tiara is secure.” Your mother said, meeting eyes with you in the mirror as she smoothed down the sleeves of your dress.

You let another soft smile grace your face as you started to stand.

“Thank you, Mother.” You say, albeit a bit shaky.

You didn’t want to be nervous, but the time ticking by was starting to get to you. It was already evening, the ball that your mother put in place being seconds away from starting.

“Don’t worry. So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother said, calling you by the nickname she gave you as a child.

She’d always loved daisies.

They were alright in your opinion.

You’d always prefer roses.

“I know. I’ll be fine.” You say, half trying to convince her, half trying to convince yourself.

“Very well, I better get going now. I’ll meet you out there okay? Remember to smile and have fun, alright?” She says as she walks slowly towards the door.

You nod at her.

“Yes Mother, I’ll try my best.” You say, the words being comforting to you somehow. She smiles and sends a flying kiss your way. You chuckle and catch it, much to her happiness.

Once she’s out of sight, you allow yourself some time to think.

Maybe tonight won’t be too bad. If you don’t find a suitor, so what?

There was no hurry, and you were sure everyone present was definitely not there for love. Everything is always meticulously planned when it comes to royal affairs, and anyone can rule truly.

It was just your lucky turn, so you could play by your own rules.

After talking yourself up and out of your nervousness, you decide it’s go time.

You make your way into the large hallway, it’s festive flowers lining the balcony that oversaw the foyer.

Wow, they really went all out.

Just a few halls down was the dining hall, so not many people were around. As you rounded a column in order to go down the stairs that were around the corner, you were quickly drawn out of your thoughts as you quite literally came face to face with someone else.

It all went so fast, suddenly you were falling backwards, a person falling over you too.

“Oh!” You yelled out.

My dress! This shit was hard to put on!

“Oh my! My apologies miss, I-“ Says a young man as he quickly gathers himself.

You crouch up on your elbows, looking up to meet his eyes.

He looked cute.

His features looked like a dear caught in headlights. You didn’t even know what headlights were, and you weren’t sure how you got that saying. Anyways.

“I- Your Majesty?” He utters out, as he stumbles to his feet. He was endearing.

You just stare.

“Your Majesty I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful.” He states, slightly bowing his head and holding out his hand for you to take.

You do so, placing your hand gracefully in his, the strength of his arm pulling you to your feet.

“It’s alright, I didn’t see you as well.” You say.

He clears his throat as he gets a good look at you for the first time, head slightly bowed still.

“You may be at ease.” You chuckle.

His cheeks go pink, a smile making its way onto his face. The dimples on his cheek bones poked through, his eyes forming into crescents in possible embarrassment.

A guinea pig.

He looked like a cute guinea pig.

“Well then, I take it I’ll see you during the reception?” You say, already endeared by his charms.

He looks back at you in shock and places a hand over his heart before bowing again.

“Oh- of course! It will be a pleasure to see you again Your Majesty.” He gets out, taking another bow.

You chuckle.

“Very well, I hope to find out your name then too.” You say, bowing back and making your way down the stairs.

His bow never falters, and you’re sure when you’re far enough you hear him scold himself.

You laugh to yourself.

He was endearing.

And only for a moment does it distract you from your responsibilities.

Within seconds your smile falters and you regained your poise.

It was time to address your guests.

As you walked into the corridor and greeted a bunch of royal caretakers, you greet the Royal announcer as well, making him aware of your presence so that he can announce your entrance. Once he did, everyone scrambled to make sure you were ready, fixing things unnecessarily to make things perfect.

You just let it happen of course—your nerves were starting to get the best of you anyways.

Within a few seconds, you were announced and the velvety ceiling-length curtains were opened.

You walked into the ballroom and were greeted by bright lights and loud cheers. The lighting blinded you for a second, but you didn’t let that show in your expression.

Once you were able to adjust your eyes to the room, you saw several hundred people. Some were smiling, some were serious.

You saw your mother and teachers, happiness evident in their faces to see you be announced as Queen to everyone in attendance. Then you looked over to the other nations and the suitors who were present for you.

My, oh my.

There were so many.

You let out a quiet nervous sigh as you continued through the people and made your way to your seat for the dinner to commence. Before you could sit, there were a few young men who passed near your area and bowed your way, hoping to get an early introduction in.

You chuckled.

One bowed generously, throwing you a wide gummy smile. He must be way younger than you, you note. Just as you slightly bow in response, you see him make his way closer.

He bows again before speaking, “Your Majesty, might I just say, your portraits do not do you justice.” He says, gummy smile coming back as he towered over your seated frame.

He was tall and built, but nothing could stop you from seeing his boyish nature. You let out a chuckle before replying, “And your name?”

“Gunwook. Prince Park Gunwook from Sector Five.” He says, shooting you another sly smile.

You decide to let your chuckle out a little louder this time.

“Noted, Prince Gunwook.” You smiled.

He bowed once more and walked back to what you assume is his royal friends.

Before you could catch the gazes of anymore cute faces, a plate was placed on the gold charger in front of you and everyone in attendance watched as you lifted your gauntlet of still-too-bitter wine; signaling the start of the dinner.

It was only a few hours of wining and dining under the gaze of many suitors before the most nerve racking part of the night was to commence. The classical music changed its tempo to that of dancing music, people making their way to the ballroom dance floor.

Your nerves were starting to build as the melodies played through the hall.

Looking over to your mother, you saw her gesture for you to join the dance floor despite no one asking for your hand to dance yet.

You sighed anxiously and stood slowly to your feet, your ball gown shifting to follow along. As soon as you do this, you see many figures moving, almost on par with your own movements.

Here we go.

It was obvious that the race to ask you to dance was finally here; and boy you wished your corsets hadn’t been so tightly hoisted around you.

Who even dances right after desert?

Still, you hold your chin up high and walk towards the floor as gracefully and as unfazed as you can. It’s there where you meet eyes with him again.

He smiled, whiskers reappearing. Without thinking, you walk towards him—much to everyone’s surprise. He looks shocked as he quickly aknowledges you with a bow.

“Your majesty-“ He starts.

“Would you like to dance?” You speak, cutting him off.

His shock is only evident for a moment, before he smiles bigger and holds his hand out for you to take. You smile back, already comfortable within his grasp.

Once meeting the dance floor, he turns towards you, grasping your waist and holding your other hand in his. You place your hand on his shoulder, and get a good look at him.

Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four. Please don’t be from Sector Four.

“Your Majesty, thank you for approaching me first, I really am flattered.” He speaks respectfully as he leads you into the dance.

The many people in the room become nonexistent as you let him guide you.

“No need to thank me, you were the first familiar face I’d seen, so naturally I approached you.” You say, smiling shyly under his gaze.

His intentions seemed so straightforward in the way he looked at you. He had seemed entranced.

Dare you say, taken.

You decided to stare at his royal blue suit, the intensity of his gaze becoming too much.

He chuckles.

“My name is Prince Sung Hanbin, Sector Two. Please call me Hanbin, Your Highness.” He says.

This took you by surprise, so you looked up at him and re-evaluated his face.

Your mother’s best friend had a son named Hanbin, but you’d never gotten the chance to meet either of them since she was a Princess of a far away nation. Suddenly his features matched up with that of the paintings you’d seen of your mother and her closest friends when she was younger.

It all came together so seamlessly.

“Oh, so you’re thee Hanbin…” You say, staring him straight in the eyes.

This garner’s you a laugh.

“With all do respect your majesty, I think you’re the woman of the hour.” He says slyly, passing you a smile.

He was smooth.

A very respectful kind of smooth.

Just as you were going to respond, another voice chimes in.

“Pardon for the interruption, but may I have the next dance Your Majesty?” Says a handsome man, confidence seeping through his demeanor.

Hanbin stops leading you and lets go of your waist. As you turn, you meet his eyes.

Sharp and confident, just like his tone, he came off very striking. He was stunning.

If Hanbin was endearing and Gunwook was adorable, this one was gorgeous.

“If her majesty would like to, of course.” Hanbin says, you notice a little protectiveness hidden in his tone as he looks your way.

You smile up at him, barely able to take your eyes off of the new gentleman in front of you.

You notice how his red hanker-chief and red embellishments stand out compared to the rest of his solid black suit. It was all very eye-catching.

When you look back up at him, you were met with a slight smirk. He smiles down at himself for a second, a boyish look on display for only a moment in time.

This, too, takes you by surprise.

You gather yourself as Hanbin clears his throat. You were probably being watched by so many people right now. You can’t help but take note of the evergrowing tension that was starting to cement amongst you three.

“My apologies,” You say, “I’ll be alright Prince Hanbin. Thank you for your time.” You finish, shooting him a smile of gratitude.

He reciprocates it kindly and bows, then passes your hand to the man in front of you.

You take a moment to look him up and down.

Why couldn’t you? You were the Queen for crying out loud.

As you grasped his hand, his other hand goes for your waist quite smoothly. When you place your hand on his shoulder, you hear a chuckle. Your eyebrows raise at this.

“Why do you laugh?” You ask, and you can’t help that your gaurd goes up.

Maybe it was time to go back to being skillfully observant and professional—because this one made you feel uneasy.

“I’m sorry Your Majesty, I wasn’t expecting your gaze.” He says, pulling you a little closer by the waist and staring down at you as he starts to lead you on the dance floor.

You note the vibrado in his tone this time, your heart doing something weird in the process. You also felt your face getting hot.

Why is it scorching in here?

“Pardon?” You say, trying to not drop into the floor.

He chuckles again as he stares down at you once more, “Nevermind that, Your Majesty. How are you feeling?” He asks.

This takes you by surprise—yet gratitude fills your heart at the fact that he even cared to ask.

“It depends. Which answer would you like to hear? The decent one….” You look up at him, meeting his playfull eyes.

“…or the truth?” You finish.

You see a glint in his eyes right before he spins you around, and when you meet again, his eyes find yours effortlessly.

“Whichever you’re willing to share, but I’d rather hear the truth.” He affirms, his serious and chic look taking reign again. You contemplate answering him altogether.

“Very well. But before I do, what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking….” You stall.

“Apologies, Your Majesty. Prince Ricky.” He states, holding up your hand that was in his grasp and placing a kiss on your knuckles that were covered by your satin gloves.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at his actions, and you have to run what he says back in your mind over and over for you to even process his name.

“…It’s a pleasure to meet you…” You start, staring into his eyes as he continues making eye contact through the gesture.

You didn’t know from whomst he learned to be so smooth from, but you definitely wanted to meet them and say thank you.

He was sly like a feline.

“The pleasures all mine.” He responds and continues to guide you as the music plays.

Finally you decide to give him an answer to his earlier question.

“Truthfully, this is all planned and feels nerve-racking.” You state, deciding to stare at some people around you as you danced, getting a little too worked up by the young man’s continuous gaze.

“I can understand your majesty. Truthfully, are you even serious about finding someone tonight?” He asks a little daringly.

You roll your eyes playfully as he spun you once again, hoping you were moving too fast for others—your mother—to notice.

Ricky was making your graceful facade crumble right from beneath you, and it was something you thought you’d never let happen—let alone at the hands of someone you met a couple minutes ago.

“Truthfully?” You start, and he nods in response.

“Truthfully, yes. I need to do this for my nation.” You say, the conversation turning a bit more serious, your smile faltering.

You were starting to remember your responsibilities.

Right.

You had so much to uphold.

Ricky notices this—the change in mood.

He sighs and looks around as well, contemplating his response before he speaks.

“I can understand the heavy weight you must be carrying on your shoulders Your Majesty….” He mumbles.

Then he leans in, pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear.

“…but for now can we just be people?” He asks.

You feel your heart sink.

When he pulls away, you are met with a genuine look on his face. He smiles and looks down, a piece of his wavy blonde hair falling into his eyes. You go to move it out of his face, but just as you do, someone interrupts.

“May I have the next dance your majesty? Apologies for the disturbance-“ Someone starts, but before they can finish, a man who looks strikingly similar to Ricky steps up.

“Prince Quanrui, your mother is waiting.” He speaks, gaining Ricky’s attention.

Prince Quanrui?

You feel like the world starts spinning.

Prince Quanri.

No.

No…

NO!

“-Your Majesty!!” Your bestfriend and head-maid, Juni, exclaims, pulling you from out of your slumber, forcing you to sit up in your bed.

“Huh?!” You shoot up, chest heaving as you try to take in the feelings left behind from the dream you had just lived through.

“You wench, I’ve been yelling at you! You were starting to scare me!” Juni says, sending you a side eye as she gets up in an attempt to act irritated

All you can do is sigh in relief.

The people in your dreams resembled the same people in real life, but everything felt wrong.

Quanrui, or Ricky, had been the Prince of the neighboring nation that despises your mother, that much was true—but he was nothing like the boy you’d just interacted with in your dream just now.

From the moment you had met him as a child, he was insufferable. He’d always made fun of you and you always found yourself in constant arguments with him.

Tonight would be your suitor’s ball, but you were hoping it would go nothing like your dreams. You couldn’t even understand how you were able to dream of Ricky or see him in that light.

Yes, he was handsome, but that was besides the point.

“I’m sorry Juni, I was having a nightmare.” You say, gathering yourself and getting up from your bed.

It was time to start getting ready.

“A nightmare? ‘Oh- Prince Quanruiiii~ Oh! Do you want the truth Prince Quanrui??~’” Juni mocked as she pranced around your room with an embellished fan, obnoxiously fanning herself.

Your face went warm within seconds.

“Silence! Or I’ll make sure you’ll be serving Prince Yujin rather than Prince Jiwoong’s table tonight.” You say, daggers in your eyes being thrown her way.

Prince Yujin was your younger kid cousin, whilst Prince Jiwoong was a newly appointed royal over in Sector Eight, the latter being known for capturing the hearts of maidens across many lands.

To this, she pipes down like a startled cat, walking out of the room to do god knows what.

This leaves you alone in your room to get ready for the night—as well as all alone to your thoughts.

You sigh as you look yourself in the mirror after your bath. You brush through your hair, anxiousness coursing through your mind.

When your mother comes in and stands behind you to help you with your tiara just like you knew you’d seen before, you feel shivers go down your spine.

“Is everything alright?” She spoke with grace, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

You nod.

“Don’t worry…So many people may be waiting for you in there, but they all have an agenda of their own. Try to have fun, okay Daisy?” Your mother says, calling you once again by the nickname she gave you as a child.

Your face went pale, blood running cold at this statment.

You’d always prefer roses.

Still, she continued on like a broken record.

-

After getting ready and talking yourself through your possible insanity, you meticulously decide to take another route to the reception hall—this meant taking the long way through the castle in order to get there.

Just as you round a corner very carefully, a voice takes you by surprise.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice chimes in from behind.

You jump, immediately turning around to meet sharp and playful eyes. As soon as you see him, you deadpan, automatically irritated that he graced you with his presence.

“What are you doing following me?” You stammer back harshly, immediately turning your back on him and continuing on your way. He reaches out for you and grasps your hair as you run along, letting it pass through his fingers.

“Your hair has grown longer.” He states, a smile on his face as you turn to give him a weird look.

He just chuckles and catches up to you.

“Why are you speaking to me informally, put some respect on my name.” You state, walking faster to hopefully get some distance between you two.

“Oh I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he starts, but before you can look his way, he spins you towards him and stares down at you.

You couldn’t read him really, but you knew he was probably doing this to embarrass you.

He did this to every lady.

You were sure.

“You look stunning tonight.” He states, brushing a stray part of your hair away from your forehead.

He watches as your face turns warm in color whilst doing everything in your power to try and avoid eye contact.

“Watch your trinkets Prince Ricky, I’ll make sure you go barren.” You say.

He quickly retaliates, immediately moving away—a wide-eyed smile playing on his face.

“Your Majesty, don’t speak that way. You don’t want your suitors to know you’re already thinking of me and children in your life.” He states, quickly sprinting off knowing you would resort to violence at his comment.

You catch his wide smile as he saunters off.

You were so tired of him.

-

With a fast heart beat, you ready yourself to take on the crowd for what felt like the second time today. You tried your best to get the events that just played out, out of your head; trying to convince yourself that your responsibilities and duties as a Queen were of the utmost importance. When the curtains open and your full name is announced, the same scenery you had dreamt of had come to life.

Your mom smiled the same way.

Your teachers did too.

The suitors all scurried to try and approach you just like you had seen before.

You walked over and sat in the same seat.

And there he was, that gummy smile introducing himself all over again.

It was unnerving this time.

The only thing that differed from your dream was the run in with the boy named Hanbin earlier within the day.

Instead, Ricky took his place. In a way, this excited you. Maybe what was to play out was that Hanbin would take Ricky’s spot too.

You smiled to yourself, the sound of music ringing throughout the hall as the strings and flutes played. This time, you didn’t need to search in your mothers eyes for what you should do next. You stand up, dress trailing in your wake.

You feel the room watching your every move. As you step out into the free open space on the dance floor, your eyes searching for him.

If everything play’s out like it did in the dream with only a few substitutions, it should all work out in your favor.

You turn gracefully, finding him on one side of the room. As soon as you see him and you make eye contact, he smiles, albeit a bit shocked.

Alright, you got this.

You take a step in his direction.

Then another.

And even when you see people make their way towards you, you continue towards him.

As you grow closer, his smile drops.

And when you stand in front of him, he stares you down, more serious than you had ever seen him.

“Would you like to dance?” You ask.

He looks around, fake smile on display to try and play off what was currently going down.

“Your Majesty, what are you doing?” He mutters, holding his hand out for you to place yours in.

“Just follow my lead.” You whisper as he bows before looking back up at you.

He takes your hand in his and pulls it towards his lips, taking you completely by surprise.

“You know they won’t like this.” He states, but gives you a smile contrary to his words.

He leads you out to the dance floor.

“I know,” You start, “…but I’m not doing this for you. Or them.” You say, making eye contact again with Ricky, his hand finding it’s way to your waist.

He chuckles at this, his smile reaching his striking eyes as he looks everywhere but at you, probably trying to sell the narrative that you two were having a decent conversation.

You two had always been around each other growing up, sworn enemies by the nations you both belonged to. It was just how it worked out, so you weren’t sure if anyone in the crowd was buying this.

“You sure? I see the way your cheeks go rosy when I tease you.” He speaks, looking back down to you.

This was the one time you recognize his height, because even though he’d tease you, you’d never stayed this close long enough to realize how his frame made you look almost sickly.

“I feel so sorry for you Prince Ricky. You’re so delusional, you don’t even realize how much you’ve rotted your looks away due to your own selfishness.” You mutter, starting to look around for the guinea pig who should be saving you at any moment from this hell.

If everything went to plan, the whiskered boy would take Ricky’s place and you’d dance the night away in contrary to how your dream turned out.

If everything went to plan.

“Oh, so you admit your attraction. I hate to break it to you Your Majesty, but I am not looking to be courted.” He says smugly, finally looking at you, mischief hidden in his eyes as his smile fades. It was almost a serious look.

You scoff at his words nonetheless.

“Say what you want. I know what I’m here for.” You say, continuing to look around.

Where are you?

Ricky notices this and starts to look around as well.

“Who are you searching for? You’re missing the whole reason you asked me to dance.” He says, half teasing, half confused.

You roll your eyes, but continue to search through the crowd.

“Right. Because i so badly wanted to dance with you.” You say, your tone contradicting your words.

Before you could hear out his next words, you were pulled closer by the waist. Your attention snaps to Ricky, meeting his eyes for the ninth time that day.

This time, he definitely looked serious.

A little too serious.

Despite this, you couldn’t look away. You take in the way his eyes look back and forth between each of your own. Without realizing your line of sight trails down to the swoop of his nose, and you see the way his cheeks smooth down to his sharp jaw. You didn’t even want to glance at the wording on the side of his neck. He was breathtaking—so long as he kept his mouth shut.

He looked just like the woman who hated your mothers guts.

When you trail to his lips, you see them upturn slowly. And just like that, you’re brought back to reality.

“Your Majesty-“ A voice chimes in, interrupting the moment.

You quickly snap your neck toward the voice.

Much to your dismay, it was a woman.

“Pardon Your Royal Highness, but may I steal Prince Quanrui for a dance?” She utters, smiling your way with innocence.

You hated that she too had whiskers.

You took in the way her yellow dress contradicted your red one; tailored to match her every inch, including her eye smile.

She was gorgeous.

And when you glance back at Ricky, that pretty entrancing look is gone from his eyes.

And he wasn’t Ricky.

He was Prince Quanrui.

“Ah- If I’m not interrupting anything, that is.” The girl states as she bows your way shyly.

You clear your throat and let go of Ricky’s shoulder, turning to reciprocate her bow.

“Of course. I don’t mind.” You say.

But you do.

You gave Ricky one last look, taking in the way his wavy blonde hair fell into his eyes. Naturally, his suit catches your eye again too; the pretty red roses looking a little different this time.

Roses had always been your favorite.

You send him a faint smile before you face the crowd again. It was an embarrassment that another suitor had taken away your current dance partner away. This was your suitors ball after all, but in that moment you couldn’t have cared less.

Guinea pig wasn’t here.

He didn’t ask you to dance.

Your dream was wrong, and he didn’t exist.

You walked back towards your seat, hoping to get a little rest after dancing for so long.

Despite how you were feeling, you kept your poise and grace as you went. Anyone watching would have thought you weren’t phased.

Everyone but your mother.

She met you back at your seat, brushing off suitors who were approaching you to dance in her wake.

“Are you alright, My Dear?” She asks, sitting down next to you whilst taking a sip of her drink.

You smile her way.

“Yes.”

“His eyes.” She mutters.

You stare at her in confusion.

“Your father got in the habit of gazing at me like that.” She finishes.

Within another minute, she was up and off, but not without leaving you with one last statment.

“Roses also deserve to be picked, regardless of their thorns.” She whispers, just enough for only you to hear, then you are once again left all alone to the maze that is your mind.

You look over to him.

He danced with this fake smile, his flirty eyes contrary to how lightly he grasped the young ladies waist.

It was all the confirmation you needed.

You knew he’d loved you your whole childhood.

You just knew.

Without thinking, you make your way across the ballroom floor.

Nothing could stop you.

No one.

“Your Highness?” A voice chimes up, trying to stop you on your way towards your destiny. You stop, but your eyes are still fixated on Ricky.

“Yes?” You say awkwardly, not even looking their way.

“Hello,” they bow, and you’re barely able to see their figure out of your peripheral vision, sight still set on one of the few blondes in the room.

“Uh- I’m a Prince from Sector Two, and I couldn’t help but-“ He notices your averted attention.

“-I couldn’t help but be in awe of-“ He follows your gaze.

Oh.

You finally take a moment to look towards the owner of the voice tripping over their words. You are met with a shy young man, smiling down in defeat, dimpled lines on the apples of his cheeks.

Him.

“I’m, sorry.” He says before he clears his throat to speak again.

“I couldn’t help but be in awe of your beauty, and it seems I know why.” He finishes. He finally looks you in the eyes.

Sung Hanbin, Sector Two.

“You have eyes I long for, but I see they burn for something else.” He finishes saying, a heartbreakingly respectful but sad smile gracing his face.

You just stare back in awe.

“Have a wonderful night, Your Majesty.” He says, defeat running rampant in his pretty eyes.

“I wish you happiness and health in abundance; truly.” He lets out, bowing before sending you one last smile.

He’s real.

You’re taken aback for a moment as you watch his figure fade back into the crowd, but then you remember the fire that was lit inside you before this interaction.

Right.

Whiskers was sadly the last of your worries right now, and the next thing that happens just confirms this.

When you turn back around, you meet eyes with him.

This time, he’s closer than you’d thought he’d be and you almost bump into his chest as a whole. With a few swift movements his hand finds your elbow, helping to steady you.

You can feel the warmth from him seep onto you—or maybe it was coming from you?

“There you are. I thought pretty boy might have entranced you.” He states, shooting a look in the direction whiskers had left. He over fixates on that area but you continue to look up at him and stare, taking him in all over again.

When he looks back down at you, the glint in his eyes change.

Ricky.

“Prince Quanrui.” You utter out.

His eyes turn blank.

You chuckle.

“Ricky?” You question, searching his eyes for change.

His eyebrows frown, and he tilts his head at you with his hands still placed on your elbow, but there’s that spark of life that’s ignited after you call him by his nickname.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” He questions, completely confused.

You smile up at him genuinely.

You’re not sure if you’ve ever regarded him as adorable before, but what was cute if not him right now?

“I really love daisies, did you know?” You ask, taking him in for all that he is, not caring if you two were stood standing in the middle of the banquet.

He speaks up quickly after registering your words, leaving no time or space to ponder them, “Nonsense, roses are your favorite—especially the red ones. Who are you and what did you do with the Queen?” He asks playfully, letting go of your arm and looking around like the playfull person he always was.

You stare at him, probably smiling like an idiot. He just waits for your response but when it never comes, he looks down at you in confusion.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He finally decides to ask once his eyes land on yours.

“Ricky, I know you’re in love with me.” You state plainly.

His heart drops and you can see the warmth leave his face. He scoffs ironically, and looks around anxiously whilst he dusts himself off.

“Wow, that’s a good one, Your Highness. You’re really getting good at that-“ He starts, but before he can finish his fluster of a comeback, you grab him by the collar and pull him close.

It wasn’t close enough for your faces to be touching, but now your faces were closer than they’d ever been before. You can hear his breath get caught in his throat, and you watch as he gulps in order to cope with what was happening.

You smirk, looking into his eyes.

You were definitely starting to feel the power of a Queen alright.

“Ricky, I’m going to walk away. And when I do, I will continue to walk and never look back.” You whisper as you study him.

You watch as his eyes looked down to your lips and back up.

Precisely.

However, before you could even pull away, you are yanked forward as he brings his lips next to your ear.

“Let’s say you are correct; I am madly in love with you,” He starts out as a whisper, “…are you willing to deal with the repercussions?”

His tone is playful, and you can hear the smile in his words. He was definitely acknowledging the fact that you two had already been acting so inappropriately infront of all your guests—yet he did not care and was waiting for your permission to proceed.

Waiting for you to acknowledge him fully for what he was.

The sworn enemy who was supposed to hate your guts.

You smirk as you pull away.

“Rules and repercussions are for the people; I am your Queen.” You state boldly, a smile radiating onto your face.

He smiles too, your words garnering a laugh as he pulls away and slightly throws his head back in amusement.

He was really something.

When he leans back towards your face in an effort to keep the conversation between just the two of you, your heart to ascends into your throat.

“Y/n, are you serious?” He asks as he searches in each of your eyes for any sign of regret or even a glint of mischief. He really hoped this wasn’t a joke despite your two’s very playful attitudes.

You watch him, knowing that deep down this is all you’ve ever wanted. Then you send him a smile; and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

Within seconds he pulls you in, placing his pretty lips onto yours.

Finally.

Even the gasps you could hear from around you couldn’t tear you out of the moment you were having.

He was delicate with you; moving his lips on yours like you’d wither from beneath him. His hand that now held your waist inched you closer and closer; it was as if the act you two were in the middle of still wasn’t close enough for him.

When you finally pull away, he places one last kiss on your lips, before he stares down at them. A grin makes it’s way onto his face before he’s looking around at the people in the room without ever meeting your eyes.

He ignores the angry looks on his people’s face, deciding to shoot them the most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen as he focuses back in on you.

“I knew the dream potion would work, maybe meeting you through your dreams wasn’t a bad idea.” He mutters, grasping your hand and pulling you back in and close to him.

Your expression falls as your eyes go wide.

“What did you say?” You ask, half trying to process his words, half going to lose your mind if you heard him correctly.

He freezes and stares down at you like a dear caught in headlights.

Once again, you don’t know why that imagery popped in your head, but alas.

“It’s nothing, Your Majesty. May i have this dance?” He asks cheekily, not knowing if he should continue to play it off or make a run for it. He was always so playful and mischievous.

He was always so…himself.

He was always Ricky.

And you liked every bit of him unfortunately.

He was your favorite.

“Going once…Going twice…” He lets out playfully, holding his hand out closer towards you to take. You do so gracefully, a smile now making its way back onto your face.

When he leads you to the center of the dance floor, he pulls you close and urges you to rest your head near his heart. The music plays on and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you two in disbelief—but it did not matter.

This was your favorite place to be.

“Did you know I actually prefer daisies?” Ricky speaks out of nowhere, his soothing tone cutting through the music that played throughout the hall as you lifted your head and searched his eyes.

There it was again.

That pretty cat-eye gaze of his; fixated only on you.

“They’re my favorite, Y/n…”

“You’re my favorite.”

2024 © lovepookie

♡︎ please do not plagarize, repost, copy or translate any of my works. thank you.

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

so...I have a new chapter of my Feyd-Rauta/Reader fanfic up and ready.

AO3 link: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 4 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

I also have it below the cut. It does require some content warning/TW and is NSFW/not safe for minors.

CW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced sexual abuse, implied/referenced incest, rough sex, blood and pain kinks, graphic depictions of violence

Chapter below the cut:

You wake up the next morning to the sound of the timepiece on your nightstand.

Idrisa had assumed correctly when she told you that just a half-tablet would help both with the pain and with getting to sleep later.  For half an hour afterwards, you sat in the bath, staring at the opposite wall and hoping the warm water would add to your relief.  Five minutes was all it took to start feeling better, your torn muscles relaxing, and half an hour to start feeling drowsy.

It took some effort, but you managed to get out, drain the tub, and clean your teeth before settling into bed, thinking about how this will be your nightly routine at least until you’re carrying his child.  Who knows?  You might be already. 

You’re sipping from the water still left on your nightstand when Idrisa comes in with a tray carrying a couple of mugs.  Over the past few days Idrisa’s learned that you like a bit of caffeine first thing in the morning but you’re not sure what the other mug’s for as she sets the tray down on the desk and hands you one.  You sniff at the contents; it smells savory.

“It’s bone broth for you, Na-Baroness,” she explains.  “I thought it might be nice.  It’s not medication but it has healing properties of its own.”

Bones of what, exactly? you think as you accept the mug.  “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” she asks, trying to keep her tone light, avoiding the direct question.

“Sore,” you admit after taking your first sip, and it tastes quite nice.  “But what you gave me last night helped.”  You expected your womanhood to throb, but there’s also a persistent ache in your legs, your hips, the undefined muscles in your abdomen.

“You still have more for tonight,” she says, “just in case.”

“I wish I didn’t have to,” you tell her.  She looks away before trying to figure out what she could possibly say to that.

“I can’t help you with that part,” is what she comes up with.  “But I can assist with almost everything else.”  She turns to your closets and rifles through, picking out a few items for you to choose from.  Over her shoulder she tells you, “You’ll be expected at breakfast in an hour.  It shouldn’t take too long to get you freshened up.”

One of the few things you quite like about the Harkonnen Fortress is the emphasis on good hygiene.  Of course, you have extra features to maintain that the rest of the Fortress doesn’t, but you brought the supplies and ointments needed for that and you know where to have more imported when you run out.

When it comes time to dress you decide on a combination of your own clothing and Harkonnen that doesn’t clash. A bit of a symbolic union of the Houses.  You can’t help but think that people will have certain ideas of you today as a newly married woman who had, as clear as day to everyone, fulfilled all the marital duties expected of her last night.  Your walk isn’t quite as stiff as last night, though, and if you just walk a little slower then your discomfort won’t seem obvious to anyone not looking for it.

Of course, everyone at breakfast will be looking for it; your family out of concern, your new husband and in-laws presumably out of amusement.  It’s all you can really think about as you leave your chambers and descend for the Dining Hall.  That and the look on your new husband’s face as he’ll undoubtedly want to assess the damage.

You manage a smile as Idrisa announces your entrance.  There’s an open seat next to Feyd-Rautha that’s clearly meant for you and you take into account that your family has only just arrived and everyone’s watching you.  Everyone but the Baron stands in respect as you keep your polite smile, the one that projects that nothing could bother you, and you greet the table.

To his credit, Feyd still displays the kind of chivalry your father would expect when in his presence.  He stays standing when everyone else sits down so he can pull your seat out for you.  The kindness of the gesture’s somewhat undermined by the look in his eye, gauging every movement, every minute detail, and it makes you feel naked again under his shark-like gaze.  

You don’t look him in the eye as you sit down, nor when he pushes your chair in and takes his seat beside you, nor when you quietly thank him.  You know he’s still watching you, wondering how effectively he’s broken you in already, like a pair of combat boots.

The table is laid with everything you could need as far as drinks, but as a courtesy it’s not until you sit down that food arrives, delivered on massive platters by slave girls in billowy white garb and whose biceps strain under the weight of each tray. You’re sure that the Baron’s patience is a pretense that he’s upholding to appear polite towards your family, not one that will continue after breakfast, especially when you see his enthusiasm when he digs in with the appetite of multiple men.  

The food itself takes up most of his attention, but he does discuss trade routes with your father, who seems subdued and withdrawn.  Father maintains his end of the conversation but doesn’t offer more and barely touches his food–the latter you can assume is because he’s put off by seeing the Baron eat, and you don’t blame him.  Even with the bone broth from earlier you’re pretty sure you’d have more of an appetite if you didn’t have to sit close to someone who inhales nearly half of a spread meant for eight people.

You break away from that thought when Feyd-Rautha says, “Oh, so you don’t need to head back to Arrakis so soon,” and you follow his gaze to the entranceway.

Rabban trudges in, nose heavily bruised and in a splint.  He nods in acknowledgement to your family, offering a brief salutation before taking his seat.  He doesn’t respond to his brother, but quickly accepts a small glass of what you can only assume is whatever he was drinking last night.  He pours it into a mug that he tops with coffee.

“I leave in the afternoon,” he says, addressing his uncle instead.  “The spice is abundant.”

As they briefly discuss spice production on Arrakis, you shift in your seat.  Sitting down, you’d quickly realized, is also uncomfortable, and you’re glad for your brother-in-law’s entrance causing a diversion.

It doesn’t last long, though.  The Baron says, “It’s lovely that we get to reconvene again after such a fruitful wedding.”

Fruitful .  You can’t help your blush and you’re sure everyone notices.  You wonder if they’re all thinking the same thing and as the meal stretches on, the longer the worry of it eats at you.

It all goes understood, and for you it’s excruciatingly awkward, and everyone senses it, but no one mentions it.  Rabban certainly wants to; you can feel it whenever he sneaks glances at you, and you’re certain it’s on the tip of his tongue as he looks at you.  You don’t think he’s really lusting after you, though.  He just happens to covet his sibling’s shiny new toy.  It’s more than a little immature, given that he has nearly twenty years on Feyd-Rautha, and had come of age by the time his brother was born, but you think you can understand.  You may love your siblings and they may love you too, but that’s not how the Harkonnens work.  For them, siblings are a safety measure just in case the first one dies.  They’re taught to fight one another for the approval of their parents–or in this case, their uncle–and are stripped of any sentimentality lest they become weak.

Oh, Great Mother.  What does that mean when you do finally have a child?  You’ll likely be expected to have more than one even if one is all you need to appease the Bene Gesserit.

You take a sip of water and avoid Rabban’s gaze.  He probably would’ve been amused to see how slowly and gingerly you were walking earlier, maybe he would’ve bit down on a cutting remark on how you’d be a lot sorer if he’d been your groom.

Oh, Rabban definitely wants to taunt you over what you all know transpired last night, but he won’t.  He can sense the power shifting within the family and if he wasn’t aware that his younger brother was their uncle’s favorite before, he certainly knows now and knows why.  He probably just wants to go back to Arrakis where he has unquestioned power.

The Baron is once again the one who actually comes close to mentioning it.  “With such a distinct change in environment I’m sure you’ll want to relax, especially once you’re with child,” he says.  “We have an excellent system for that, some well-trained attendants as well who can provide things like massage, special baths.  We can keep you comfortable.”

After last night, the concept seems nice, but you’ll go out of your mind with boredom if that’s all you have to look forward to.  You want to know as much as possible about the planet you’re inhabiting and the family you’ve married into, no matter how gruesome the details.  You doubt the Baron or your new husband probably had thought about that, and had just assumed you’d be content as a human incubator for the next nine months.

“That is a wonderful offer and one I’d be interested in another day, perhaps, but I was actually wondering where you kept your library?  Maybe a room of archives?” you ask.  “I’ve had some education about the history of the Harkonnen line and some of the infrastructure of Geidi Prime, but I’m interested in learning more.”

The Baron considers your interest in his people and his planet versus your dismissal of his original suggestion before saying, “We have a very fine library, young Y/N, and within it a room of records.  Your attendant will know where it is and can accompany you whenever you like.”

“I can take her, uncle,” Feyd-Rautha says immediately.  “I can give her a proper tour.”

I know you can take and give a lot with your new little pet , you can practically hear the Baron think.  

“If you prefer,” he says instead.  “We still need to discuss your birthday.  It’s only a few weeks away.”

Right.  Another gladiatorial “match.”  The one in which you’re to paint your new husband’s–-admittedly chiseled–-torso beforehand.

“We have time for that,” Feyd says.  “But I’d also like to show my bride the other parts of our Fortress, starting with the library.”  He manages to keep his tone casual, but you can tell his rebuttal irritates the Baron.  It’s almost comical, his surprise and annoyance that his nephew would want to spend any time with his wife other than the compulsory impregnation.

“Very well,” the Baron says.  “You can show her the library after our guests have left.”

They’re already packed up, as it turns out.  Worried about leaving you alone but eager to get back home, and perhaps ever so slightly assuaged by the fact that your new husband has some sense of decorum and that you seem intact.  Not your virginity, of course, but everything else.

You excuse yourself to use the bathrooms, a sort of salon with individual cubicles and sinks but a larger sitting area with vanities and larger mirrors.  You tilt your head at it, curious, because it implies that there are women of leisure on Geidi Prime, but there aren’t many that you’ve seen.  A single girl stands near the entrance and gives a small bow as you enter.

You also don’t expect to see your mother when you leave your cubicle and head for the sinks to wash your hands.

She stands in the middle of the room, looking like she wants badly to speak but not sure what to say.  You give her a small smile as you wash up.  The girl’s quick to hand you a towel and patient to wait until you’re done drying your hands before accepting it back without a word.

They truly have people for everything , you think, looking after her as she scurries back to her post and drops the towel in a hamper before you can so much as thank her.  You and your mother look back at each other.

“Father looks miserable,” you say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Your father has a hangover,” Mother says.  

“He didn’t seem drunk when I left,” you say, leaning one hand against the counter. 

“He wasn’t,” Mother says.  “He got drunk after you and your…husband…left for the evening.”

She doesn’t need to elaborate.  You open your mouth, exasperated, wishing you could explain how it feels to have everyone act as though you’ve been handed a death sentence that they put you up to.  She takes your hands without a word and nods towards the salon.

“How are you feeling, really?” she asks once you’ve acquiesced and you’re seated across from each other.

“All things considered, fine,” you tell her.  She doesn’t look convinced.  “Mother, I…” you try to articulate it.  “I can’t say that I’m happy about this arrangement, but I’m going to have to live with it for years to come.  If I act as though my life is over then it is.”

She looks down and runs her thumb over the top of your hand.  “I kept preparing you for something like this hoping it wouldn’t happen,” she says.

“Well then, you did exactly right,” you tell her with a small smile that feels fake but one that she returns, however briefly.  She sighs and looks down.  “I’m grateful that you’re worried, and trust me, I am, too.  But it would help more if you believed that I can survive this.”

Mother leans forward, eyes widening in hurt.  “Your father and I wouldn’t have let you near that man if we didn’t think you’d survive,” she says.  “The Bene Gesserit gave us their word that you will, and it’s the reason we’re here right now.”

You furrow your brow.  Mother hesitates, glancing at the girl in her gauzy white dress, who remains standing and silent, not acknowledging your conversation.  Mother needn’t worry; the Baron would never bother listening to a slave speak even if she had something to offer.  When the girl doesn’t indicate that she’s heard anything, Mother continues.

“When the Reverend Mother spoke to us, she assured us that as brutal as he is, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen won’t defy Bene Gesserit orders to make sure you’re safe to have and raise his child.  She also said that he has an ingrained sense of honor and loyalty to the Harkonnen line.  He’ll ensure your survival and your children’s survival.”  And even if survival is the best you can expect right now, you can still count on that.

....................................................

The Na-Baron accompanies you when you see your parents off; neither his uncle nor his brother does the same.  He offers you his arm and you could almost laugh at the formality of it, his entire behavior towards you when you’re both fully dressed juxtaposed against last night.  He can play the perfect gentleman all he likes, but you won’t forget how he pressed you onto your stomach and fucked you ruthlessly.  Still, you take his arm, appearing as his poised and docile new wife.  He offers his final respects to your father but otherwise stands back at a distance, watching in silence as you hug everyone one last time.  You wonder if he’s ever hugged anyone a day in his life.

He still stands, waiting, when they board their ship, when it takes off.  He watches you watch until their vessel is no more than a pinpoint in the sky before he approaches you, arm extended again.  “Shall we?” he asks.

You’re still trying to accept that it’ll be a long time before you see your family again, your correspondence with them likely to consist only of letters, and he’s probably waiting for you to speak when you have nothing to say to him.  He doesn’t understand what you’re feeling and you doubt he cares to try.  You just take his arm and he leads you to the Fortress library in silence.

“I hope you slept well,” he says finally.

“I did,” you tell him.  “Although Idrisa had to give me a mild sedative to do so.”

You glance over at him and think that another man would feel guilt over hurting his new bride, but of course you’re stuck–for now–with this one, who keeps his expression neutral but who you can already see in his eyes both that he’s satisfied that he caused you pain and that he doesn’t care what methods you used to relieve it.  At best, he’s indifferent to your pain given that you seem fine now.

“Good, because I’ll want you in my chambers tonight after dinner.  Same procedure as last night.  Your girl will collect you when it’s time.”

“Alright,” you say, and he waits for just a moment before you realize what he wants and add, “ husband .”

He glances sideways at you, as if to say, Good.  You’re learning.  Don’t get too confident, though.  What he says, though, as you reach a set of double doors, is, “Everything and everyone here is at your disposal.”  Just as you are at mine .

When he opens the doors and you get your first look, you can’t help but be impressed.  Your impression of Geidi Prime was that it was hardly a planet of scholars, but the library is immense.

Feyd-Rautha notes your surprise.  Not that he says anything, but you doubt he’s flattered by it.  A librarian’s quick to appear at your side, head bowed, and Feyd snaps his fingers in his direction before gesturing forward.  “Come with us,” he says, and gives a rudimentary tour of the layout, showing you the Archives room and different wings.  It’s even more expansive than you’d realized, and you’re grateful for it.  You’ve got your work cut out for you, you think as you see the impossibly high walls lined with shelves up to the vaulted ceilings.

How many of these have you read? you want to ask him but refrain as the tour ends.

“Make sure the Na-Baroness has everything she needs,” he says to the librarian.  He doesn’t look at him as he speaks, though.  He looks directly at you, then beckons you forward with a simple curl of his hand.  When you come forward he cups your cheek in that same hand, and his kiss is neither chaste nor passionate; it’s a simple statement that he’s claimed you.  He’s marking his territory.

“See you at dinner,” he says once he lets you go.

............................................

You know what you want to read up on first.

There’ve always been rumors about the depravity of the House of Harkonnen.  You’d heard a few of them regurgitated over the years.  Some of them, like cannibalism, you’re reasonably certain aren’t true, but there are others you can’t dismiss.

Father implied once that the Baron’s voracious appetite for food was the least repulsive of his desires.  You’d been too young at the time to understand what he was saying, nor were they for your ears as you’d been listening in, unnoticed, but you can’t help but think about Father’s disgusted tone, because you certainly know what he’d been implying now.  Not that a Harkonnen-sanctioned record is likely to provide such details in their own library, but it’s a possibility you’ll have to consider even as the thought turns your stomach. 

You start, though, with Feyd-Rautha.  It takes pulling out several books and bound sheaves from a couple of different sections to get started, but a worthy investigation once you’ve found a comfortable place to spread everything out and get to reading.

You hadn’t realized that he was born not on Geidi Prime, but on another planet, Lankiveil.  You had , however, heard about how his father, Abulurd Rabban, defected from the Harkonnen line and everything it represented, opting for a different sort of life on a distant planet with a Bene Gesserit woman who gave him two sons born eighteen years apart.  This leads you into reading about Lankiveil, how it’s cold and water-based like your own planet.  Its main source of industry is whaling, and it almost makes you laugh to picture Feyd in a raincoat on a dock.  It’s just so far-fetched, the idea that he almost had a life very different from this one.

Of course, that was never going to happen.  Rabban is infamous for one major act that changed all of their lives forever: as a younger man he killed their father for abandoning the bloodline and shaming the Harkonnen name.  For the crime of patricide, he earned the moniker “Beast,” which he wears with pride.  The Baron had already gotten his claws in his elder nephew by then, but Feyd-Rautha had still been a little boy.  You’re not entirely sure how much he even remembers his father.  You don’t know if they’re happy memories, or if he’d loved him.  It’s still hard to imagine him ever having a childhood, but not only did he have one, his early childhood had been free from the Baron, from Geidi Prime, from the expectations of the House of Harkonnen and with two parents who you’re sure must have loved him.

It's an irrefutable fact that he’d come to Geidi Prime at the age of seven.  And that is where rumor and fact intermingle.  Some have claimed that Feyd’s mother sent him away for what she thought was his own protection; after all, she had never been on Geidi Prime nor known her late husband’s family, so it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for her to assume that her son would be better off with his uncle.  Some believe she sent him away as punishment or for her own self-preservation, sensing danger in him at a young age and fearing what he’d grow up to become.  Others have insisted that the Baron had his youngest nephew taken away to ensure the possibility of another heir, having no sons of his own. 

You pause only part way through when Idrisa come in and suggests you take a break, maybe retire to your quarters and have something to eat and drink to tide you over before dinner.  Apparently no one will mind if you take whatever documents you choose back to your quarters.

“We are at the Na-Baroness’s disposal.  Whatever she desires,” the librarian assures you when you ask, his head inclined in a bow and his gaze downturned.  It’s still a foreign feeling, the way no one can bring themselves to look directly at you, their fear of you by pure association.  You clamp down on that discomfort as you thank him and return to your quarters with as many documents as you and Idrisa can carry between you.

As you reach your quarters and get settled in again, you wonder about Feyd-Rautha’s mother and the theories behind the Baron taking over as his guardian.  The first theory, you decide, is unlikely.  If she knew that her lover had defected and renounced his lineage, she would’ve known why.  He would’ve warned her about them, even if she’d never been and even if he hadn’t, the Bene Gesserit would have.  The second theory is entirely possible; you have no idea what Feyd was like as a young child.  You’d assume he was made rather than born, and that personality traits aren’t inherited, but perhaps the darkness was always there.  Perhaps she’d felt that he was doomed to be an extension of everything the Harkonnen represented.  Still not terribly likely, given his age, but possible.

What you can likely imagine, though, is the Baron simply plucking Feyd-Rautha from his home to collect and repurpose as his own.  He’s never been married nor produced any children and to simply claim one from a deceased family member, knowing no one could truly challenge him over it, would be an easy solution for that.  From what you already know about him, he probably wouldn’t even see it as kidnapping, just taking what rightfully belongs to him.

You’re aware that Feyd’s an orphan, but nothing as to why beyond Abulurd’s murder.  You find that there really isn’t enough to go on as far as his mother’s concerned other than her Bene Gesserit training and identity as Abulurd Rabban’s concubine, until you finally find the date and cause of death.

Feyd’s mother, according to the records, died when Feyd was fourteen.  She’d been murdered in her own home.  No one was caught, which means that the culprit’s been fiercely protected.  You’d be willing to bet real money that the Baron had someone kill her and take away the one motivation he’d have to return to Lankiveil.  It would line up with something else that you read; Feyd’s mother’s murder would have taken place shortly after Feyd-Rautha had attempted to assassinate his uncle.  It had been quickly thwarted and fourteen-year-old Feyd-Rautha had been punished severely but spared his life.

You can easily imagine the Baron killing the one family member left not connected to the Harkonnens so his young nephew would be so isolated that he’d have nowhere else to turn.

Are the lashes on his back part of the punishment he faced?  It would make them just over a decade old.  You’re still not sure about the scars on his inner thighs.  He likes pain; could they be self-inflicted?  Maybe done to him at his own request by a lover?  There’s an intimacy to them that you can only hope was done in an act of passion rather than a punishment administered by his uncle.

Although, and it makes you feel sick to think about, that option is also entirely possible.

If they were self-inflicted, or done for his own gratification, you wonder if he’ll one day ask you to draw a knife on him as well.  The more you think about it, the more you realize that you’d be willing to; certainly rather him than you.

“Idrisa,” you start, looking up as she enters the room carrying what looks like a pair of black dresses.  “How much do you know about the time Feyd-Rautha tried to assassinate his uncle when he was a boy?”  She hesitates.  You wait.

“My apologies, my lady,” she says, looking down, “but I wasn’t in the Fortress then.  It was before my time.” Instead of elaborating further, she holds up the dresses, one in each hand to compare. “The Baron wants you to dress in the traditional Harkonnen style for dinner this evening.  Which of these would you prefer?”

You glance between the two.  Both long, both structured, but one with paneling and a more elaborate bodice that looks like it would take more time to actually get in and out of.  “That one,” you say, pointing to it.  If Idrisa knows your logic behind your choice, she doesn’t bring it up.  She just waits for you to put your documents away and after you’ve taken to the bathroom to freshen up, helps you get ready.

When you arrive for dinner, you’re almost the image of a Harkonnen lady, the only traits betraying you being your hair and eyebrows.  As expected, the Baron is already eating and while neither he nor Feyd-Rautha stand for you when you enter, your groom does stand to pull your chair out once more as you reach the table.  It’s a simple formality, you assume, to hold up the pretense that this is a normal marriage and as something he can easily take away.

“What did you think of our library?” the Baron asks when you sit down, accepting only one answer.

“Truly impressive, Baron,” you tell him.  “A testament to the House’s power and resilience.”

If you were worried what he would think about you wanting to look into his bloodline and history, those worries were unfounded.  After the exchange he barely acknowledges you the entire meal.  He and Feyd-Rautha, however, discuss the arena and new spice routes.  You quietly take everything in and watch them interact.

The Baron switches between backhanded compliments, mean-spirited little quips, and the occasional genuine compliment for his nephew.  He oscillates between seeming to respect him as a man fit to ascend the throne and still undermining him as hardly more than a child out of his depth handling any conflict.  Feyd’s frustration remains quiet, just beneath the surface, but palpable.  He seems to know that the Baron’s toying with him, testing him constantly, wondering which new way he flatter him only to put him down again. 

It’s also immediately clear that Feyd doesn’t like that you’re seeing him like this, that once again as soon as he’s gotten what he’s wanted he’ll abruptly send you away.  Whatever control his uncle takes from him he can always claim from you. 

He tried to kill him once, when he was much younger and weaker than he is now.  What changed?  Does he still think about killing him now that he’s entering the very prime of his life?

You’ve long since finished eating by the time you realize that the men at the table have probably forgotten that you’re even there, so you clear your throat to get their attention.

“My apologies, but may I go to my chambers to prepare for the evening?” you ask, voice light.

You wait.  Feyd-Rautha turns and gives you a small nod.  “I won’t be too much longer,” he says, exchanging a cold look with his uncle.  You don’t want to think about what they say about you when you’re not around, or what kind of innuendo the Baron will leave.

..........................................

The second time of what you’re sure will become a nightly routine is a little less nerve-wracking, but not one that you’re looking forward to.

When you’re stripped down in his bedroom again you choose the same position, even as you feel like a completely different person than you were just one day ago.  There’s no fear this time, just resignation.  You’re not sure if it’s going to hurt again but it also doesn’t matter, won’t change anything.

He comes out of his bathroom in the same manner as last night, naked and only partially erect.  The sight may not scare you anymore, but you still, unfortunately, find his body nice to look at.  You’re getting used to everything else, as well.  The black teeth and gums nearly made you flinch the first time; now you’ve accepted it as the only mouth you’ll kiss from now on.

He approaches the bed.  “Lay back,” he says as he starts to climb into it with you.  “Spread your legs.  I want to check something.”

You blush, thinking, Can’t we just get this over with? as you comply and take a breath to calm yourself, staring at the ceiling to avoid looking directly at him.  You try to tamp down the embarrassment at how exposed you feel.

He inspects the damage, his fingertips pressing against your swollen folds and eyes darting back up to your face at your sharp inhale.  He gives your privates a more thorough pass-through than you were willing to give yourself last night.  You blink, concerned, as he takes his hand and spits on his fingers.

Why would you? --you think for only a split second before he brings his fingers back down to your torn and stretched womanhood, circling your bud in lazy circles and keeping his thumb there before dipping a finger inside of you.

You instinctively clench around the digit even as it doesn’t actually hurt.  “Relax,” he says, as if that’s something you can easily do in your situation.  His thumb continues working your bud as he curls his finger inside of you, pressing forward, and you see his brief smirk as you whine, taken aback by the jolt it provides.  He does it again, slipping in a second, and the stretch doesn’t burn quite as much, doesn’t pinch so much as it tugs.  You glance between his legs to see that he’s filling out the rest of the way from the sights and sounds of you skewered on his fingers.  That in itself makes you gasp and flush at the idea that this, warming you up and seeing you aroused, gets him going.  In many ways this preparation is just as much for him as it is for you.  

Just as last time, you sense when he decides, Alright, you’re ready .

He has enough decency to pause when he’s pressed all the way inside of you, because he still feels massive, and like there’s not enough of you to accommodate him, as though your insides need to rearrange themselves for this intrusion.  

It doesn’t hurt as much as last night, you remind yourself.  You breathe through your nose as you tremble and hold onto him, gripping his shoulders and remembering how he likes the way you “get your little claws in.”  The rocking of his hips is steady and deep but not too rough, not yet.  You whimper and adjust your grip on him, managing to breathe, taking in the way he slides in and out of your bruised canal.  It’s okay.  It’s fine.  You’ll get through this .

As soon as he can sense that you’re adjusted he goes harder, faster, relishing the way your nails scratch down his back.  You raise your knees up to his ribcage and squeeze, trying to get some leverage in.

It’s no real use; he controls the pace, grips your hip with his free hand and seems to like when your whimpers and moans are laced with discomfort, wordlessly begging for him to please slow down, be gentler.  Even if he doesn’t force you onto all fours like last night, it still feels animalistic when he speeds up further, grunting against the flushed skin of your neck, keeping you locked in place around him until you feel him coming, shuddering as he fills you up.  

For a moment he raises himself up from his forearms to his hands, looking down at you with an expression he can’t place, before drawing a few errant strands of hair away from your face and pulling out.  You don’t look at him as he collapses onto his back beside you.  Somehow you feel even more used than before, more like a warm hole than a woman.

The two of you lay together in silence as you wait for the throbbing to subside.  It takes a couple of minutes, but when you start to feel better you sit up and slide your legs to the side of the bed.  You won’t wait to be dismissed.  You sense him turn his head to look at you but don’t acknowledge him.  You’ll head back to your chambers, soak in another lukewarm bath, and take the second half of the tablet from last night, even if you don’t need it as badly.  It’ll at least help you sleep. 

You get up and head for his dresser, reaching for your clothes when Feyd-Rautha’s voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks.  “I didn’t tell you to leave.”

You turn and look at him, your eyebrows raised.  “You want me to stay?” you ask.

“I didn’t say I was finished with you yet,” he says.

You give his still-softened dick a pointed look.  “You look pretty finished off to me,” you tell him, and step into your slippers.

You realize you made a mistake as soon as you say it.  Feyd-Rautha’s up and at your back before you can finish pulling on your chemise.  He tears it off you, throws it to the floor and wraps an arm around your ribcage as he lowers his head to your ear.

“I won’t tolerate you questioning my own body or abilities,” he says.  “If I say I want another go, then I’ll have one.”

You squirm, and he turns you around, pinning you to the dresser as he grabs your hair and tightens.  You wince and try to push away from him, but he only grabs your wrist in his free hand and brings it down to the dresser.

“I won’t be disrespected in my own bedroom,” he says, and you force yourself to look him in the eye.  It’s the first time he’s seemed angry with you; the harsh angles of his narrow face more pronounced, his eyes pale and pupils blown out, his full lips the closest you’ve seen to a thin line.

Maybe it’s you he’s actually mad at, maybe not.  Either way, you’re the one he can take his frustrations out on.  

Play along, you tell yourself.  Even if he’s not going to kill you for insolence, he’ll find ways to make life worse for you .

“What do you want me to do?” you ask finally.  His face seems to relax slightly, and you realize when his chest moves again he’d been holding his breath.  After a moment he decides how he’ll punish you for your so-called disrespect.

“Kneel on the bed, hands braced on the headboard, with your legs spread.  Make sure to keep ‘em there,” he says.

You slowly step out of your slippers and turn, walking towards the bed.  The seconds that pass as you get into position are silent, agonizing.

You wait, and when you don’t sense him move any closer, turn your head to look at him.

He’s still staring, taking in his fill, before he strides forward and settles in behind you, one hand braced beside yours against the headboard, the other cupping your breast.

It doesn’t stay there, though.  After giving the soft flesh a squeeze for good measure he moves his hand upwards, around your throat.  Your first instinct is to freeze, wanting to move.  

He’s not going to kill you; he’s just trying to scare you, you tell yourself, and it’s working.  You try to breathe, calm your rapid heartbeat.  He can taste your fear; he revels in it.  He doesn’t squeeze but he deliberately leaves his thumb against your windpipe, his long fingers curled around your neck.

I won’t kill you but I easily can, he seems to say.  Unarmed and naked I could still kill you in brutal fashions you’ve never heard of.  And then he gently nuzzles against your hair, and the shift disarms you, makes you feel all the more helpless as you whine.

He releases your neck and you inhale, closing your eyes.  His hand trails back down, squeezing your other breast this time, down your stomach and to the apex of your thighs.   He idly strokes your bud, and it gives you a jolt despite your nerves.

“Who else has ever touched you here?” he asks.  It’s not a threat, but you could easily picture him killing anyone you name–it’s also not lost on you how fucked up that is.  Thankfully you can provide none.

“Just myself,” you tell him.  He huffs, as if to say, Yeah, I thought so , before taking one of your hands from the headboard and guiding it back in between your legs.

“Show me how you do it,” he says, his hand over yours.

You flush with embarrassment, but comply, bringing your fingertips to your bud and pressing down in a circling motion.

He gives a hmm , as you trail your fingertips to your slit, collecting the combination of his spent seed leaking out of you and your own growing wetness before bringing your digits back to your bud, has you whimpering at the slick of it.  He follows, hand tight over yours, learning your movements.  Despite your nerves it’s easier to get slicker, and to your horror you find yourself rocking your hips up against both his hand and yours.  You give a breathy whimper, unsure how your own body can betray you like this.  He finally tightens his grip on your hand and moves it to the headboard, leaving you in shock as he spits on his fingers and takes up where you’ve left off.  

He mimics your movements exactly, touches you the way you’ve touched yourself over the past few years, and yet it feels all the more exhilarating to have another hand there that you can’t help but gently move against his fingers, larger and so much longer than yours and yet so precise and deliberate.  

Before you realize it his cock, stiff again, slides against the cleft of your ass.  You gasp, wanting to turn around but he’s so close to you, chest against your back, and he grabs your hips to jut out further behind you, pulls you down his level, your thighs on top of his.

“Don’t move,” he tells you, withdrawing his hand from yours and settling back.  You can feel your body flush, your nipples stiff against the air, holding onto the headboard as you sense him grip himself in his fist and press against you.

It doesn’t hurt this time when he pushes in.  He can sense it in your moans, the way you’re wet and pliant for him, ready to take him however he comes to you.  You almost hate it, that he can do this to you.  That he probably could have from the beginning.  He rolls his hips up into you, the glide and pressure of it only on the verge of discomfort, but a welcome ache, a stretch inside of you.  

You reach a hand behind you, skimming along his flank, wanting to touch him, but he’s just out of reach and you drop your forehead against the headboard, your moans and whines spurring him on.  He grabs your hand and presses it back against the headboard before giving a deeper thrust into you, one that would’ve hurt yesterday but the push of it provides a delicious throb now.

The tension builds.  You can feel it like flames licking up your spine and belly, and he can hear it.  Your cries become increasingly desperate, your own hips rocking back down to meet his.  You hardly register that you’re doing it or why; your body takes over and makes the decisions for you.  He brings one hand to fondle your breasts again, one after the other, before bringing it down to your bud, and you can only imagine how smug he must be feeling that not only does he have you exactly where he wants you, that he’s making you enjoy it.

It finally feels good.   You’d almost assumed that it never would, but it does.  If anyone listened in, they’d hear the unambiguous pleasure in every noise you make and Great Mother, does Feyd-Rautha draw a lot of noises out of you.  

But then his hand comes back to your other hip, leaving you so close to the precipice and after several more thrusts he comes, grabbing your hips and pushing upwards with a harsh grunt against your hair.  He spears you onto him, pausing, rocking his hips up once more, and once he’s certain that he’s finished pulls out, grabs your jaw, and turns his face as much as he reasonably can to yours.

He sees your stunned expression, can feel that you’re still throbbing and in need of some sweet relief, and nods his head dismissively towards the door.

“ Now you can go,” he says.

You stare at him for a moment, not sure if you want to slap him across the face or pull him in for a furious kiss.  He can see the warring impulses on your face and looks at you as though he’d be perfectly content with either, but still will react differently depending on which you choose.

You settle for a kiss, grabbing the back of his head and mashing your lips against his.  You think that you’d like nothing more than to push him down and take him for yourself, for your own selfish pleasure like he did.  You’re not entirely sure of the positioning but you’ll figure it out.  You shift, managing to turn to face him properly before resuming the kiss.

He allows it, even responds to it, for a minute before grabbing the back of your head and pulling you away.

He tilts his head at you as if to say, ‘ Next time don’t question my virility or how I can make you feel, and maybe then I’ll let you come. ’

You bastard, you think, wondering how much he’s enjoying the clear indignation on your face.  He likes provoking you, that much is certain, whether it’s fear or lust or anger.  You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, then, and so after some awkward shuffling you dismount the bed and pointedly look away from him as you walk to the dresser.  It would probably be more dignified if you didn’t have his seed leaking out of you, trailing down your inner thighs.  

You don’t bother to look back or say anything as you quickly redress and leave.

Neither you nor Idrisa speak as you head to your chambers, but as soon as you’re behind closed doors again you tell her that you’ll need a moment alone in the bathroom.

You’re grateful that she leaves you to it without an explanation this time as you glance in the mirror and the remnants of your blush that start at your hairline and follow down to your chest.  

You shrug off your robe and turn on the faucet before finally, shamefully, bringing your hand between your legs and feeling the slick of him there mingling with your own slick and rub down, cursing Feyd-Rautha and cursing this planet and hoping that the sound of the running water drowns out your cries as you brace yourself against the sink, head bowed, and come, shaking and twitching, to the memory of his tongue and fingers against you, of him inside of you.

When it’s over you can’t bring yourself to look in the mirror was you wash your hands and turn off the faucet

You’ll need the half-tablet tonight.  Not for pain, but because otherwise there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep tonight.

[thmles]

| You're Losing Me. (2)

- I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore.

[pairing: miguel o'hara x spider-person!reader]

[warnings: sweet to angst, mentions of physical fight, blood, bruises, mention of deaths]

[a/n: this has been a long time coming!! i've tried to write these past few days but never really finished writing this but i was feeling a lil sad tonight so i managed to focus my motivation on writing this! i also went through some theories on reddit and twitter about miguel's canon theory bc i honestly question it?? anyway i hope i did the first 'you're losing me' fic justice with this, since i tried my best writing this. hope y'all enjoy 🫶🏻]

You were smart enough to leave the watch that was issued to every member of the Spider Society at your apartment. Miguel had been tracking your location only to see ‘you’ in your apartment. He blocked you from creating portals and tracking the location of him, Jess, and Ben. It was for your own good, anyway. He was looming over Brooklyn on a rooftop as rain lightly poured over the city. He looks down at his hand, the very same you returned your promise ring he had given you a year prior. Miguel figured that he’d talk to you after he brings in Miles, that he’ll try to make you understand his side. Miles was a kid, he doesn’t know better. He doesn’t understand how astronomical the consequence of letting his father live. With the help of his suit, Miguel is able to store the ring on the right side of his hip. The hunt for Miles had just begun.

-

You on the other hand managed to get to Gwen’s dimension. A somehow colorful yet gloomy version of Brooklyn. With a few taps on your (much better) watch, you located the apartment complex where Gwen lives. The watch even gave you the exact number of their apartment. Brooklyn was glowing in the dark of the night as you swung through the city. It reminded you of your Brooklyn. A beautiful city that never sleeps.

You approached the rooftop of the apartment and gracefully landed on it. After a quick change (which really just consisted of you taking off your mask and slipping on a jacket you managed to grab before you left your apartment), you slowly descended the stairs from the rooftop to their apartment.

A knock on the door pulled Gwen’s and his father’s attention. It was a long time coming, talking about their feelings, the truth, and being Spider-Woman. “Captain Stacy? I’m uh, a friend of Gwen,” The voice called out. Gwen smiled knowingly at her dad as he stared back at her in confusion. “She said she’s coming back home today and she left something in my house.” The voice continued.

Gwen let out a laugh and quickly opened the door before her dad could do it.

“You came.” Gwen beamed at you. You returned a smile and pulled her in a hug.

“You really think I’d leave you by yourself?” You mumbled in her ear.

She hugged you tighter before pulling away. Her dad looked surprised as Gwen seemed to forget she was in her Spider-Woman attire. Gwen looked between you and her father before exclaiming, “Oh, dad! This is my friend! They have been uhm, a really good friend of mine!” Her dad motioned at her attire. Gwen laughed as you waved at her dad. “Don’t worry, dad. They know.”

-

After a quick goodbye, you gave Gwen the watch you had made similar to the ones issued by the Spider Society. After a few dimension hopping, you managed to assemble a team of Spider-People who hoped to help Miles as Gwen looked for the latter. Gwen detected that Miguel, Jess, and Ben were at Earth-1610 to search for Miles but Miles wasn’t in the dimension. After a quick talk with the team (consisting of Margo, Spider-Noir, Peni, Pav, Peter B. and Mayday, Peter Porker, and Hobie) you were quick to realize that Miles was sent to Earth-42. The group agreed that they should rendezvous with Gwen, but were reluctant at your decision to go to Earth-1610 as a distraction for Miguel.

“What do you think Miguel’s going to say after seeing you’re going against him?” Peter B. asks as you both stand before a portal to Earth-1610. The night sky was cold and you were jealous of Peter’s robe. Your eyes softened as you looked at Mayday looking up at you curiously. You booped her nose and it made her giggle.

“Well, I’m about to find out.”

-

It wasn’t hard to find Miguel. Looming across Miles’ house, scanning if Miles made it home. Silently landing behind him, your heart ached as you stared at his back. It doesn’t even feel like it’s your Miguel anymore. It’s almost as if he’s out of your reach, that no matter what you’ll say will go right through him.

Shakily you called out, “You know he’s not here.” You approached him slowly until there was a reasonable distance between the two of you. The rain pattered on your body as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. You were shaking from nervousness, sadness, and the cold rain.

“I know. I was waiting for you.” Miguel turned to face you. His mask came off, his eyes bore into yours and you swear you could feel your heart drop to your stomach. You took your mask off and threw it in front of him. He looked at your discarded mask before looking at you in confusion.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way, Miguel.” Your voice softly said, getting in a fighting stance. You knew you had to help Miles. You would do anything to help if it were anyone in that situation. You owe it to your own father to help save everyone, to help save someone’s father. Growing up without one was one of the hardest things you ever went through. You didn’t want that for anyone else.

“So, you’re ending everything we went through for a kid?” He scoffed as he approached you, You were quick to back up to maintain the distance you guys had.

“Miguel, that is the point! He is just a kid!” You exclaimed. Miguel rolled his eyes and replied, “A kid who knows nothing about the damage he is causing!”

“It was your fault! You didn’t have to create the Spider-Society or replace someone’s identity! Isn’t that the very reason that universe collapsed!?” You yelled, leaning towards him as he looked at you in shock. “That you willingly replaced someone, and continued to do so? That your actions were the very reason that everyone died in that universe?” Miguel could only look at you as his eyes turned scarlet. You knew he was seething with anger.

“And that you, Jess, and Ben, of all people,” You scoffed as you glared at him. “Have the nerve to tell Miles that he doesn’t belong. When the three of you were never bit, right?” You finished. “Oh and your ‘canon theory’ is bullshit. What if that Spider-Person isn’t close to a police captain or doesn’t have an uncle who needs to die? What then?” Honestly, you were shocked at how much you had told him. Truth be told, the things you said were things you kept to yourself for months.

Miguel didn’t know what to say, but he knew you were right. His supposed theory was only based off of most Spider-People, but it doesn’t guarantee that those events happen to every single one. To him, it felt like an attack on him and his ego. That you questioned his every move despite those actions were done to protect you. Because he can’t risk losing you.

-

The next thing you knew, Miguel launched at you. Thankfully, you had your ‘spidey-senses’ and were quick to dodge him. Before you knew Miguel would rather die than hurt you himself. But when he saw your bruised and bloodied body on the rooftop, he finally realized that he let the anger get the best of him.

“You lost me, Miguel.” Those were your final words before you slipped into unconsciousness. He brought you back to the Spider-Society to get you proper medical attention before he had to leave to hunt Miles. Miguel took your left hand and slipped on the promise ring on your ring finger. He gave the back of your hand a kiss.

“I hope you forgive me, mi amor. I’m sorry.”

[itsabouttimex2]

Descendant of the Lady Bone Demon: Part Two

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Maybe they should’ve seen this coming. Maybe there were a few warning signs they didn’t pick up on. Looking back on it now, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? All those little things should’ve added up a long time ago.

The way the room grew silent and tense when you walked in, no matter how how exuberant it had been prior. How you manage to sneak up on everyone without even trying, as though you had no presence. The wide berth that strangers give you, even though they can’t explain why. That last one had been particularly strange for your friends. They hadn’t understood why people would treat you so coldly, not back then.

They understand now.

MK has already had so much placed on his shoulders, and all of it was without his asking. The fate of his friends. The fate of the city. The fate of the world. Time after time, countless lives are placed into his hands, and he does his very best to bring them safely through the danger posed by ancient threats and lurking demons.

Once, living out the dream of being a hero had been fun. Back then, all he had to do was master a new power or bust down another bad guy, and then everyone laughed and went on with their peaceful lives. Back when every adventure ended before the day was over and he was back home just in time for Pigsy to start scolding him for being reckless.

But as he grows stronger, so too does his vast array of enemies. As he trains his body and masters his skills, all those who seek to oppose him are doing the same.

Which means higher stakes. More danger. More destruction. More lives on the line day by day. It means that every last friend and companion of his will end up finding themselves in danger just on account of being associated with him. His enemies are rarely noble, most of them willing to target his friends in an attempt to devastate his heart and mind, hoping to leave him mourning and unsettled. He thwarts these attempts one after another, always saving the day in the end.

His greatest fear is that a day will come where he falls short of such an accomplishment.

A fear that the Lady Bone Demon brings to the forefront of his mind. She brings this hidden terror to light, and exacerbates it.

“Foolish child. Do you really think that one person can save everyone from pain and suffering? Or are you truly arrogant enough to believe that your strength alone can forge a better tomorrow?”

She makes him want to be stronger. Smarter. Better. Good enough to protect anyone who’d ever be put in danger. Especially you.

“Y/N! Let’s hang out today! Come on, I’ve got my room set up for a Monkey Cop marathon!” He takes you by the hand, dragging you along after him with a big smile that he struggles to maintain. When he’s sad or upset, he turns to you. In turn, he makes it clear that you can always rely on him to protect you.

If he were a bit more mature, a little more confident and self-assured, he’d make for a wonderful older brother figure. He’s spontaneous, energetic, supportive… and entirely terrified that he might lose you.

That fear drives him to train harder, to work harder… to be someone you are truly and honestly proud of. To be someone you can rely on and turn to in any time of need. He tackles his training with a renewed vigor, all in preparation for the moment that you might need his protecting.

And now that said moment has come, he’s more scared than ever before. The person he fears most bears down on him as he stands in front of the person he fears losing most, and all he can do is hold strong.

“You will not stand between me and my destiny!” The Lady Bone Demon’s voice is furious, her eyes crackling with arcane energy.

The very same eyes that you have. MK doesn’t know exactly what started his suspicions, but your eyes are what confirmed his little hunch. The two of you are related in some way, he’s sure of it.

And with how insistent she is with getting her hands on you, it’s only a further nail into the coffin. There’s no denying that you and the Lady Bone Demon have some sort of connection. But what? Are you her descendant? Did she plant a seed of her essence into your forefathers long ago to ensure that some part of her would go on, and only now is returning to reclaim it? Are you simply powerful enough for her to see use in you? Does she think she could sway you to her side?

There’s a dozen explanations that could be true. However, he has no way to prove which one of them it is, because the Lady Bone Demon is staying tight lipped on why exactly she wants you, perhaps as to not give MK a chance to counter her plans.

It doesn’t matter, MK reminds himself. What she wants with you doesn’t matter. What matters is that she wants you, full stop. And if he can stop her and her well-intentioned plans, then he can save you and everybody else too. All he has to do is push a little harder.

And then?

Maybe he can just… forget about it all. Forget about the Lady. Forget about your nebulous ties to her. And everything can go back to the way it was, when he didn’t jump every time you spoke to him, when he could look into your eyes without feeling like someone had dumped ice down his shirt, when he could fall asleep next to you without waking up in a cold sweat.

He’ll forget all about it, burying it deep inside his brain.

And then things will go back to normal, with you safely under his protection.

Right?

He knows right from the start. I sincerely believe that if someone was the Lady Bone Demon’s descendant, Wukong would be aware the very moment he met them.

A dread chill races down his spine the moment he see you, freezing him for just a second as he contemplates one of his worst fears coming true. The Lady Bone Demon is back.

Except… no, not really. That’s not her at all, is it? You’re just… some kid. With the exact same crushing spiritual pressure that she personally exerted. And the same eyes that she had.

Yeah, this isn’t a coincidence. There’s just no way. He goes off to do some digging, but not before subtly tasking MK with keeping an eye out for you while he searches for anything that could prove your ties to one of his greatest enemies.

And this is Sun Wukong we’re talking about, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. It doesn’t take him very long, whether through cleverness and trickery or sheer brute force.

Maybe the monkey demon twists a few heavenly arms to get the information he wants. Maybe he utilizes the 72 Transformations to eavesdrop on a keeper of records. Maybe he’s just got a sacred book of lineage hidden away in some pile of junk somewhere.

However he does it, he gets the job done well, with just the conclusion he’s looking for- you are indeed, of the Lady Bone Demon’s blood.

But Sun Wukong has come far from his days before Five Phases mountain. He’s not some vicious demon who bullies those around him, nor does he jump to outright murder as a solution for every last problem.

He’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, just so you can maybe prove yourself to him.

It starts with him crashing at your house without an excuse, he himself writing it off with a very unconvincing “bout of motion sickness” that would supposedly leave him incapable of comfortably riding his cloud back to Flower Fruit Mountain.

His true intention is to see what you’ll do while he’s “asleep”, laid across your couch with his head rested on a cushy pillow, tantalizingly propped-up for one who might wish to try and crush his skull or slice his throat.

Instead, you usher him to a cozy guest room, asking him to call you if he needs anything. He makes use of this several times, asking for food and water to see if you’ll poison it.

But you don’t. There’s no hand-made poison sourced from the Underworld slipped into his peach tea. No sacred knife hidden inside your sleeve. No Heaven-forged needles baked into the slice of pie you bring when he mentions being hungry.

You aren’t a scheming demon, he realizes. You’re just a good kid.

You remind kind to him, even as he intentionally tries to fray your nerves. You don’t snap or argue or whine, instead tending to his false needs with a smile on your face.

He drifts comfortably to sleep in the guest room, stomach satiated and his brain whirling. Before he passes out, he realizes with a pang of sympathy that he’s clearly the first person to have ever slept here. Stocked and furnished comfortably for anyone who might stop by and spend time with you… it’s instead been rotting without occupancy, left unused for what may well have been years.

You aren’t a bad person. You really, really aren’t. You’re just a good kid who clearly needs someone to quell the stomach-turning loneliness that finds you down each path you take.

At first, he decides to be that person out of pity. He stops by sometimes, ducking in to snag a bite from your fridge, engaging in a short but friendly conversation, watching sympathetically as the mere exchange of several sentences boosts your mood to healthy levels.

You start to anticipate his visits, making sure you have food and drink he’ll enjoy on hand. Lots of peach-filled pastries, to nobody’s surprise. Pies, tarts, cookies… it turns out that Sun Wukong has a pretty unabashed sweet tooth. He’s actually somewhat touched that you out in the effort just to make sure that he’ll have something nice to eat when he stops by.

Just as pity went to warmth, slowly that warmth comes to a peak, igniting.

Eventually, he starts taking you back to Flower Fruit Mountain to spend time with you there, trying to acclimate you to an eventual residency there with him to repay every kindness you’ve done for him.

There’s not a single pivotal moment where he realizes that he wants to keep you beside him, just a slow, day by day fall into platonic obsession. He gets attached, hard.

From your point of view, your kindness and determination to forge bonds with those around you has finally earned you a friend.

From his point of view, you’re a lonely, wayward child who needs someone nearby to protect and shelter you.

This is far from the truth, but his delusions grow by the day, in part an innocuous desire to repay your kindness, in part an unhealthy attachment to someone who has no hope of escaping from his grasp.

Really, though… if he did spirit you away, would you complain or argue? Fight or run?

Even if you did, there’s no way you’d get away from him. Just sit back, and let him take care of you, just the way you took care of him.

That’s what family does, after all.

You’re another one of his weird kids. That’s where it starts and ends for Pigsy. You fit snugly between Mei and MK, forming a neat little trio that he wants to both throttle and hug. Just as often as you three make him feel like he’s heading to an aneurysm-induced early grave, you make him feel fulfilled and content. His noodle shop, his two best friends, his three high-energy goofy kids.

Pigsy is happy with the life he has. He’s happy with the life he’s provided for MK. He’s happy to see Mei overcome her insecurities with her family and gain their approval. He’s happy that Sandy has found peace and improved himself. He’s even happy when Tang comes to visit, though he’ll gripe about the man “freeloading” whenever he stops by.

It’s a strange, stressful life that he’s built for himself, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

A world he wishes was just a little kinder.

It has served him kindly enough, though. Success, family, friends, some degree of fame. Most things a person can want, Pigsy has in decent abundance.

His problem is the way it treats you.

You’re a good kid. You really are. You’ve been visiting since you were a child, and he’s watched you grow up. If it weren’t for Tang, you’d be his most frequent customer. (Because you actually pay for your food, he calls you his favorite customer, to Tang’s dismay) And because you’ve spent so much time here with him and his family, he has a pretty good feeling he understands you.

Is isn’t just the renowned food you’re coming back for. It’s the company, too.

You always come in alone and drag out your visits to last as long as possible. You make conversation whenever and wherever you get the chance, stretching out these moments of companionship for as long as you can.

You’re lonely. Not for a lack of trying, of course. You try to strike up conversations, try to reach out to others wherever you can. People seem consistently unsettled and unnerved in your presence, immediately looking for an out when you come around. No matter how kind you are or how often you try to make connection, you get left in the dust.

If you aren’t at Pigsy’s Noodles, then you’re alone. So you keep coming back, again and again. Not just for the incredible food, but for them.

For him.

It’s sad, but it warms his heart a little at the same time. You rely on him. Maybe he could go as far as to say that you need him. Who would he be, if he didn’t welcome you with open arms?

Pigsy wants you to be happy. He wants to keep you safe. And eventually, those feelings grind slowly towards wanting to keep you close.

And close he keeps you, there and then, and then, here and now.

Pigsy does not let go of you. Even as the manic wide-eyed man he only knows as “the Mayor” demands your unconscious body from him, talking about “bloodlines” and “destiny” and “the power she requires”, the chef refuses to be parted from you.

Since he can’t run, he has no chance but to stand and fight, wielding a nine-toothed rake with one hand and keeping you slung safely over his shoulder with the other. He’s never been good at fighting, so it isn’t truly an even match. He’s instead trying to block and dodge the Lady Bone Demon’s sycophantic servant, barely warding him off after each blow.

His efforts to hold out eventually do pay out, with MK stepping shortly in to knock the “Mayor” away from you both, punting him across the landscape and then into the ground from there.

Leaving Pigsy to weigh the options left before him. However, it’s not much as much of a struggle as one might assume. You’re a kid, he thinks to himself, holding you close as he examines your bruises and scrapes. You don’t need to know. What would it accomplish? Do you need to know why people fear you? Why they think of you as unapproachable? Why they run away from the kindness and warmth you offer?

Would it help you, to know the reason? No, Pigsy decides. It could only lead to trouble and heartbreak. What if you ran away from both yourself and your friends, and never came back for fear of hurting them? What if you lost the ability to trust yourself? What if you hurt yourself?

He can’t run the risk of losing you. From now on, he’s going to take a much more personal role in your life, very potentially bringing you to live in the restaurant with him and MK.

“You don’t have to worry about those two freaks, kid. Just let me look out for ya, from now on.”

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Y'ALL I had the most wretched train of thought

(spoilers for totk; also I haven’t fought Ganondorf yet so no spoilers in the notes pls!)

The Zonai existed during Skyward Sword, even predating the game. The people of Skyloft and the Zonai have had a few run-ins, some peaceful and others not. At one point, prior to improving their technology, the Zonai tried to steal loftwings to better travel to different sky islands. Least to say, Skyloftians did not like that. They have an uneasy peace and keep their distance far from each other by the time of Skyward Sword, but Link and Zelda are familiar with their existence.

When the cloud barrier disappears, it allows the Zonai to go back to the Surface as much as it does the Skyloftians. It takes them a few years to manage it and establish a settlement, and they eventually run back into the Skyloftians on the Surface. Link and Zelda are married with kids by now, and Zelda is the leader of the Hylian settlement. The Zonai discover that Link is responsible for the cloud barrier's disappearance (Zelda is proud of Link for defeating Demise so she'll let him take all the credit; also, she doesn't need nor want to tell a ton of people she's a goddess reincarnate, especially to a tribe her people have historically not had the best relationship with).

In thanks, the Zonai give Link a gift: a Secret Stone.

The Zonai tell Link that this special magical stone is one of several that are gifts from the goddesses. The Zonai do not know all their properties, only that they enhance whatever abilities the user has. Link figures this will enhance his fighting prowess, and though he is appreciative of the gift, he doesn't think it'll make much of a difference to him.

And then the nightmares come.

Link starts getting nightmares of varying scenarios. A knight fighting a giant monster, facing down an army of mechanical beasts. A child struck down by a demon king. A man with a fairy fighting a demonic beast. Link sees his children, he sees what Hyrule grows to, he sees Demise come again and again, and he sees the Heroes who have to fight him.

Demise's dying words weren't a hateful monologue spat out in spite. They were a promise, a curse.

With this knowledge, Link goes to Zelda, and the two try everything they can to figure out how to stop this. The visions drive Link to near insanity, preventing him from gettin more than one to two hours of sleep for weeks. Zelda goes to the Zonai to ask more about the Secret Stones (she wants to give it back, honestly, but is afraid that it would be viewed as a rejection of the gift, and given the history of conflict between their tribes, she doesn't want to go that route). The Zonai know very little of the stones, though, and Zelda doesn't get much. Link, on the other hand, learns about them from the dragon servants of Hylia. He is told that the stone, when combined with its user, can make the wielder immortal.

Link doesn't care about immortality. But he does care about stopping the demon king, in every era, in every place, in every time. He does care about protecting his descendants, his people, the whole world.

The dragons warn him that he will never be the same, that he may never actually be able to interact with his family again.

After months of haunting visions of destruction and death and pain, he finds himself willing to make that sacrifice. If it means he can protect Zelda and his children, he'll do it.

So one night, he flies on his loftwing to an island in the sky. He hugs his loftwing and kisses him goodbye. He begs his companion to look after his family. Zelda's loftwing arrives, alone. The two birds fly in circles around Link, stirring up a wind as he stares at the Secret Stone held delicately between his index finger and thumb, held just above eye level before he squeezes it in his palm.

And he swallows it.

On the Surface, Zelda drops the glass she's holding. In the sky, a dragon screams.

The Zonai learn what happens when one consumes a Secret Stone.

And the Spirit Dragon is born.

[wandixx]

Dani gives people heart attacks and brings down a lot of trafficking rings, making friends along the way. Everything by accident, really

Dani traveled around world, hadn't she? While doing it, she had to meet a lot of interesting people.

Like heroes or villains.

In civies or not or both who knows.

But to actually learn things about someplace you have to spend more than one night there. Like, idk? Month? Probably more but I doubt she would be able to sit in one place for any longer. In many places she is shorter.

Month is long enough to create some connections though.

Enough to get someone to realize when you disappear...

Yeah, Dani on her way of gremlin and self discovery ghosted bunch of people without second thought. They'll probably forget her in few months anyway. And she was everywhere in USA. She didn't left American soil only because she didn't want to be too far from Danny in case of emergency. Before anyone tells me he was in space so he could fly to her wherever on Earth she would be, Earth's atmosphere ends about 100 km above sea level and officially this is border of space. Telecommunication satellites are between 8000 to 12000 km up. It's about how wide Atlantic Ocean is.

Plus y'know, time. If she needs help, she probably can't quite wait until he flies all the way to Hong Kong, Wladywostok, Rio de Janeiro or wherever she is.

So America it is. For now at least. When they're 100% sure she is stable she'll fly elsewhere.

Anyway people who she ghosted are used to batshit crazy stuff but "this tween is alone on her road to self discovery and just left for new city" isn't first thing anyone thought about. Maybe outside of Martians. They know. Everyone else? No idea what happened to this tiny, chaotic, snarky, probably meta child.

First thought though?

She got kidnapped.

So now 3/4 of Justice League, some individual heroes and bunch of less intense rogues are scrambling around their cities tracking every trafficking ring they found glimpses of, trying to find Dani.

Flashes work with Captain Cold on this and seem to slowly descend into madness. At the same time, Dani eats ice cream with nice museum lady from Washington who introduced herself as Diana. Then she helps at animal shelter with kind stuck up boy called Damian. Oh, Danny likes aliens, let's visit Martian Manhunter. Maybe she'll manage to get autograph for her template. Wait Space Cops? Kinda sucks but Danny would probably like their signatures too. Let's go. Oh, Superboys are fun mess with and older one is like her! This Nightwing guy puns like Danny but she always feels like he looks at her weirdly. Billy should eat more, magic or not, fighting is tiring. Good thing she has Sam's money to buy him burgers.

She has time of her life while people she met are slowly dying.

She probably doesn't even hide that she is traveling but for whatever reason they don't think she actually left.

They don't bring it up on any meeting because no matter how concerned they are, it's not really whole league type of business. And Martians just discreetly enjoy chaos.

There is a lot of ways it can get resolved (or not) but I kinda thought about Jon introducing his old buddy Damian to his new buddy Dani because he thinks they would get along and they just stare at each other for long moment before:

"Dani..."

"Dami!"

"WHY DID YOU LEFT WITHOUT A WORD! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE KIDNAPPED OR DEAD!"

Some screaming and revelation that Killer Croc was looking for her too, Dani hits moment of realisation.

"Wait, is this what people think when you just up and go?"

"Honestly? Yeah"

"Oh, Ancients I did this to so many people. So many..."

Idk, just Dani traveling and leaving people behind.

Do with it what you will

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Western Nights.

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Javier Peña x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3.6k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content at the end. talk and themes of PTSD. brief mention of domestic abuse. several mentions of panic attacks. age gap (but all very legal and consensual). smut in future chapters.

Author's Note - it's finally here!! i've had this idea for so long and i'm so glad to finally put pen to paper. the dads best friend trope is one of my biggest weaknesses and javier peña is my favourite character ever, so naturally this was born. this fic will tackle some topics that may be a little tough for some people, so make sure to read the warnings!! can't wait to get this up on its feet and running, and for javi and peaches story to develop <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! <3

Masterlist. Requests.

Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Healing isn't linear. Recovery is a journey. This is a choice I have to make. No one else can make it for me.

You're repeating reassurances to yourself in your mind as you descend the stairs to the basement.

It's dimly lit, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust. When they do, you're able to make out an old, heavy, oak wood lectern at the front of the room. Rows of flimsy plastic chairs are set almost as an audience, and tables line the edges. The carpet is worn, beige, and stained, the entire space smelling like must and bad coffee. You wonder how many girls like you have stepped foot in here in the past.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your wrists and stick to the back wall, willing yourself to become invisible. Watching as people mill in slowly, you take a deep, steadying breath. In for 4. Hold for 4. Out for 6.

"Hi!" a middle aged, dyed blonde, motherly woman screeches at you. The cadence of her voice makes you jump.

"Sorry, sweetpea! Didn't mean to scare you," she looks you up and down before continuing. "You're new here, ain't ya?"

Her southern accent, albeit very high pitched, is somewhat comforting. It's something familiar in this room full of the unknown.

"Yeah," you just about manage to choke out.

She surveys you again, this time with no judgment. You realise she's just trying to figure you out, as you are her.

"If you need anything, just come find me. I'm Primrose."

You smile gently at the floral moniker, and decide that Primrose might be some much needed support. Her motherly aura was calming you ever so slightly.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, if we could all talk a seat, that'd be fantastic."

A tall, curly haired man - who can't be more than 30 - wearing a name tag sticker that reads 'Tobias' has taken his place behind the lectern, gesturing at everyone to sit down. You pick a chair near the back, slouching down and ducking your head.

"Wonderful. Hi, everyone."

A chorus of hellos echoes around the room, everyone clearly used to this routine.

"For anyone who's new here, I'm Tobias, but everyone calls me Tobi. I've been a Priest for the last five years, and I've been running this group for the last two. Usually, how it works is that we get a few people to come up and speak through their experiences."

Your chest tightens, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. As if he sees your panic, Tobi continues.

"Most people find that being able to talk freely and without judgment is a useful coping mechanism. PTSD is complex, and it isn't something that can ever be fully 'cured' - but we can find ways to make things easier. You're in a room full of ladies and gentlemen that might not understand your experience, but definitely understand your feelings."

He catches your eyes across the depth of the room and smiles gently. You muster up the strength to smile back cautiously, and he nods before speaking again.

"Some just come here to listen. Others find it beneficial to talk. No one is going to pressure you, judge you, or scald you. This is a safe space. Share as much or as little as you'd like. Okay?"

Everyone nods and murmurs in agreement. Tobi seems to have a way of reassuring the entire room without really trying. He's calming, tender hearted, genuine. You like him already.

"Who wants to start?"

Primrose shoots up out of her chair on the front row and makes her way to the front. Tobi squeezes her shoulder as she passes, and she beams at him.

"Hi, y'all! I'm Primrose."

The room is clearly familiar with the blonde ball of excitement. Everyone yells greetings at her, her energy almost infectious.

"Most of you know my story, but just in case you don't -"

Her eyes flit to you briefly, and she smiles. You half smile back, relaxing slightly.

"I was in a marriage where I suffered domestic abuse. He used to hit me, manipulate me, call me names. You think it, he did it."

She takes a breath, putting the smile back on her face where it's faltered.

"I have some news to share. I'm engaged!"

A few people jump out of their seats to hug her, congratulating her with pats on the back and yelled excitement.

"Thank y'all, thank y'all! I couldn't wait to tell you guys. I just... I never thought that I could ever be happy again. I certainly never thought that I'd ever find the courage to be with another man, after everything. But I've found someone amazing. And he treats me like a queen. So, to anyone who's new here - it is possible. I promise you. Y'all better help me pick out a dress!"

The room erupts into applause, and Primrose smiles so bright you're surprised the lights don't shatter.

After Primrose, an elderly man named Walter takes the stage. He explains his experience in the military, and the trauma and violence he witnessed for years. You learn that he's a recovering alcoholic, who wasn't had a drink for 9 years. He shakes slightly where he stands, leaning against the cane in his hand. You can tell he's lived through hell.

Finally, after Walter, Tobi stands at the lectern. He's the sole survivor of a car accident that killed his two best friends. After struggling to cope, he turned to God, and became a Priest to better help people just like him in his community. He speaks with such ease, such grace. A wave of calm sweeps over the room as everyone listens intently.

He checks the brown leather strapped watch on his right wrist before clicking his tongue.

"Well, folks, that's all the time we have for today! Feel free to stick around and chat to each other, as always. There's coffee and cookies on the table, and Janet made some of her famous honey loaf too. Thanks for coming. Same time next week?"

Everyone agrees in shouts and thumbs up directed towards the front. Slowly, people rise, stacking their chairs away before making their way over to the table where the coffee sits next to the styrofoam cups.

You remain seated for a little longer, catching your breath. Your teeth are digging into your bottom lip, knawing at it anxiously. You suddenly taste pennies, and lick up the blood quickly with your tongue.

Standing up shakily, you fold your chair at its hinges and add it to the stack at the front of the room. A yawn overtakes you, tiredness suddenly settling into your bones.

Coffee. You need coffee.

You make your way over to the tables, timidly smiling at Primrose as she shows off her ring to a small group of people. Just as you reach over and grab an empty cup, you become suddenly aware of a presence behind you.

"Don't drink that."

A warm, rich, booming voice hits your ears. The large, looming presence comes a little closer, towering over you.

"Trust me, honey. It's the worst coffee you'll ever taste in your life."

You know that voice, it's familiar timbre.

Javier Peña.

You turn around to be met with the sight of him peering down at you intently. He's wearing a flannel and blue jeans, heavy boots on his feet. He smells like musk, sandalwood, and the Texan heat.

God, he looks good. He's strikingly handsome. Objectively attractive. Everyone in your town agrees that Javier Peña is one beautiful man.

And seemingly unattainable. Since leaving Lorraine at the altar years ago, no one has heard any word of Javier so much as dating.

"Such a waste," your mom always says. "Gorgeous man like that. He could have anyone he wants!"

And it's true. Chocolate hair, broad shoulders, strong thighs. The man is a heartthrob.

A heartthrob with a secret, apparently.

"Javier?" you question. "What are you doing here?"

It's now you realise that he's here. At the meeting. You've done such a good job of keeping your head down, going relatively unnoticed. And now, staring down at you, is your dad's best friend. So much for covert.

He must see the realisation on your face. Or maybe he notices the way your breathing quickens. Either way, he places a warm palm on your shoulder, looking at you carefully.

"Hey. It's okay," he reassures. "I won't tell if you won't."

You nod meekly, trying to stay calm. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

The basement suddenly feels too small, too dark, too stuffy. The carpet is too scratchy, the chairs too hard, the table too white. You need to get out before your chest caves in.

"You know, if you still want coffee, there's a diner like ten minutes from here. They do really good pie," Javier tells you, distracting you from your impending panic attack.

You take a breath and nod.

"Yeah. Okay. I like pie."

"Come on," he encourages, gesturing at you to lead the way. "Walk with me."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Javier walk steadily side by side in silence, fingers occasionally accidentally brushing each other. After it happens twice, you decide to put your hands in your pockets the rest of the way, ignoring the warmth that radiates off him.

You eventually arrive at Cherry Pie Diner. The neon sign is blinding, shades of bright pink, yellow and blue flashing and flickering. Inside, the white overhead lights illuminate classic red leather booth seats and waitresses in pinafore aprons.

"Here we are. When you go in, ask for JoJo. She'll take care of you," he winks.

You stand stuck in your place on the sidewalk for a minute, processing his words.

"You're not coming in?"

He seems taken aback by your question. Now he's the one processing.

"You... uh - you want me to?"

"I, uh, yeah. I mean... if you're not busy... I just, uh - nevermind. Sorry. Forget I said anything."

"I didn't want to overstep, you know, it, uh- But if it's okay with you... I could do with some coffee."

Javier smiles at you gently, gauging your reaction. When you smile back hesitantly, he pushes open the door to the diner, gesturing at you to head inside.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"What looks good, honey?"

You raise your eyes from the menu you were staring at intently to quirk your brow at Javier.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if anything looked good," he repeats kindly.

"I, um, I'm not sure. What do you recommend?"

"The peach pie," he says without hesitation.

The quick response makes you laugh, the melody of it tugging at Javier's heart strings. He realises, sadly, that he hasn't heard that sound in a hell of a long time.

"Listen, I know it's not anyone's go to," he justifies, "but it's honestly the best thing on the menu. There's nothin' like it."

"Okay," you say with complete certainty. "Peach pie it is."

JoJo is a bubbly, Southern woman with rosy cheeks and a smile that never seems to falter. She takes your orders happily, flirting with Javier like you weren't sat watching, confusion and awkwardness plastered across your face.

"You two seem close," you approach gently, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, I know her husband. JoJo's been serving me here for at least 10 years. Peach pie, every time," he laughs.

"I'm usually a cherry pie girl. Maybe you'll convert me."

You both sip steadily at your coffees, humming in contentment at your first bites of pie. Halfway through your slice, you break the silence.

"Okay, fine. This might be the best pie I've ever had."

"I told you," he smirks. "I'll never lead you wrong, honey. Promise. Not where pie is concerned, anyway."

You finish off your slices in comfortable quiet, neither of you quite sure what to say next.

"So, uh... about tonight..." you begin nervously.

"I won't tell anyone I saw you, cariño. I swear."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Javi. Really."

Javi. The nickname so rarely used, it makes his heart stutter for a second.

"You're... you're not gonna ask what I was doing at that meeting?"

He tilts his head slightly, gazing at you carefully before replying.

"If you wanted to tell me, you would. I'm not gonna push you. These things take time."

He smiles like he knows. You think, maybe, he does.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, sweetheart."

A breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"Was that your first meeting too?"

He shakes his head, soft curls rippling.

"I've been going for a few months. I sneak out of town every week, so I'm pretty sure Chucho thinks I'm having a secret love affair. He doesn't ask questions."

You both laugh, and JoJo's head whips up, her curiosity peaked. She's never heard Javier laugh like this. Sure, he chuckles at her jokes, but the sound doesn't usually reach the corners of the room like that.

"He'd probably love it if you were, you know. Your love life is often a topic of conversation in my house, among many others in our neighbourhood."

He scoffs, and kicks your foot under the table teasingly.

"Man, nothing happens in that damn town, does it?"

"Nothing at all. Think we're overdue a secret love affair from you, Mr Peña. It might liven things up a little."

"Shut it, you," he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater back down over your wrists again.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Think my dad is starting to get worried, you know."

A deep crease appears between his brows abruptly, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I've just been busy, I guess. Tryna sort my shit out," he snickers dryly, no real humour in it.

"So did you do it?"

"Hmm?"

"Sort your shit out?"

Now he laughs genuinely, bright smile gracing his cheeks.

"Absolutely fucking not."

"Man, I know the feeling," you reassure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your breathing speeds up slightly, eyes darting around the room. Javier notices, reaching across the booth to grab your hand. He intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing comforting patterns on your skin. You take a deep breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"I feel like... like I'm... uh...," he nods at you reassuringly, squeezing your hand a little tighter. "I feel like I'm drowning. I'm barely keeping my head above water at any given moment. And I'm tired, Javi. Fuck, I'm tired."

A warm, salty tear escapes you, running down your cheek. Javi leans forward and brushes it away with his thumb, big brown eyes never leaving yours.

"It's okay, cariño. You're okay," he murmurs. "I get it. God, I get it."

"You do?" you sniffle.

"I do," he confirms. "More than you could ever know. And I know how lonely it feels. But I promise you, sweetheart. You're not alone. Not anymore."

His voice is like warm honey, soothing and golden. It melts into you, releases some of the tension from your shoulders. The tightness in your chest loosens slightly, and you take a deep breath. You find the courage to look at him again, and find that he hasn't taken his eyes off you once. His gaze is like an anchor, tethering you to reality. You surprise yourself by not wanting to shy away from the intensity of it. No, you want more.

Javier lets go of your hand to trace his fingertips up your forearm. He draws patterns carefully, as if he's learning every inch of you, committing you to memory. Like he isn't sure when he'll get to touch you like this again. If he'll get to touch you like this again.

You're still looking at each other, neither of you gathering the courage to look away. It's as if Javi is reading the words off the very surface of your soul. You're not sure you've ever felt so understood in your life. It terrifies you.

Without thinking, you grab a hold of Javier's hand and raise it to your lips, kissing each of his knuckles gently. The tenderness makes his heart ache.

"Hermosa," he sighs almost wistfully.

The sound of his voice snaps you back to the present moment.

"I'm sorry," you stutter, letting go of him. "Fuck, Javi, sorry. I don't - oh, I... fuck."

"Why do you do it?" he asks.

"Do... do what?"

"Apologise for everything. Every other word out of your mouth is 'sorry'," he chuckles affectionately.

"Sorry," you mumble without thinking. You pause, registering your words. The two of you break out into laughter, clutching at your stomachs.

"Are you?"

"Am I...?"

"Are you sorry? Or do you just say it because you think people want to hear it? You can't apologise for your entire existence, cariño."

You look into those warm, chocolate eyes, and realise he's read you for filth. He's right.

"I'm not sorry," you whisper.

He quirks a brow and nods attentively, urging you to continue.

"For... for what I just did. I'm not sorry."

You're praying that he understands what you're trying to say. I'm not sorry for my tender gesture. I'm not sorry for this connection we've made. I'm not sorry for my soft heart.

"I'm not either," he replies, barely above a murmur. You hear him, clear as day.

You reach out, this time, and interlock your fingers with his across the table. His large hand envelopes yours, and he squeezes. It effects you more than it probably should.

JoJo drops a plate behind the counter, the red and white china shattering across the checkerboard floor. The smash snaps you both out of the moment, making you jump. Your heart kicks into overdrive, battering against your ribcage.

"Hermosa, it's alright. Just a plate."

You hear him, but your nervous system doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths become laboured and frantic, and your hold on Javi's hand tightens almost painfully.

"Come on, Peaches, let's get out of here. It's getting late."

Javier stands from his bench seat and pulls you up with him, never once removing his fingers from where they're locked with yours. He shoots a smile over to JoJo, who returns it with glee. The two of you walk across the parking lot, hand in hand, illuminated by the neon light of the diner's sign. The colours dance across Javier's cheekbones, reflecting off the brush of his mustache, painting the rich brown warmth of his hair. He's never looked more handsome.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Peaches."

"Hmm?" Javier asks from where he's leaning against the side of your car, back in the church parking lot.

"You called me Peaches. In the diner."

He nods, smirk etched on his streetlit face.

"Because of the pie."

"Because of the pie," he echoes.

"I like it," you confess quietly. "Peaches."

Javier pushes off the vehicle and stands, towering over you. Without a second thought, he brushes a thumb over your cheekbone in a featherlight touch.

"Sweet like peaches," he murmurs. "Too fuckin' sweet for a world like this one."

You look up at him, breath catching in your throat when you meet his eyes. He's gazing at you with adoration. With tenderness. With so much softness. Your knees go weak with the weight of it all.

It hits you, suddenly. The realisation.

You want to kiss him.

You want to kiss Javier Peña.

You want to kiss him more than you've ever wanted to kiss anyone in your entire life.

You're stood in the parking lot of a church on the outskirts of town with your dad's best friend and you're feeling the closest thing to happy you've felt in months.

You take a step forward, closing the gap between you. The warmth radiating from the older man settles itself in your bones, shielding you from the chill of the night. Just as you tilt your face up towards his, your phone buzzes.

Jumping apart as if you've been caught, you check your messages with shaky hands.

"It's my mom. She thinks I'm with a friend, so she's just checking in. She doesn't like it when I drive in the dark."

The mention of your mother snaps Javier out of his peachy haze.

"You should get back, cariño. It's late. Sorry for keeping you."

"Now who's apologising for no reason?"

He laughs, and you feel like you've won a gold medal. An achievement in its own right.

You climb into the drivers seat of your car, starting up the engine. Just as you're about to leave, Javi taps on the window. You roll it down.

"Same time next week, Peaches?"

"Same time next week, Javi."

You drive away with a smile on your face and a warmth in your stomach, the taste of peach still lingering on your lips. You notice that Javier drives behind you steadily, following you carefully to make sure you get home safe.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're staring at the ceiling.

You're plagued by insomnia.

According to the Internet, it goes hand in hand with your PTSD. You make a mental note to work up the courage to ask Tobi about it in the next meeting.

You lie in bed, watching as the sunlight slowly illuminates the room. Usually, you'll make a cup of tea, read a book, watch a TV show. Pace around the room like a caged animal. Count sheep. Do yoga. Listen to music.

Tonight, you take a different approach.

Tonight, you slip a hand under the waistband of your underwear, and replay the way Javi murmured your name in the diner on repeat.

It does the trick.

@frogers @farintonorth @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedrobaby @grace46 @harriedandharassed

[babyyhoneyyyyy]

⋆.˚✮ 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 ✮˚.⋆ - One Shot [h.s]

Storyline: After concluding a public relationship on unfavorable terms, singer Madison Moore decides to sever all ties with her boyfriend. However, a year after their separation, she crosses paths with him again at an awards ceremony, where he makes his entrance accompanied by his new girlfriend – the same one Madison once suspected of cheating on her. Nevertheless, she no longer possesses the same docile and soft personality she used to have and when she realizes her ex is attempting to approach her, she chooses to immerse herself in a casual conversation, coincidentally encountering her primary rival in the music industry, Harry Styles. Word count: +9k Smut: 🔞

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

Diamonds sparkle around my neck, while pearls delicately rest on my ears. A charming set of jewelry has been carefully chosen for the evening, creating a perfect combination with the black dress I selected for the red carpet.

The fabric hugs my figure precisely, displaying a dark yet radiant shade that reflects tiny glints under the light. The standout features are its pronounced V-neck and the leg slit, adding a revealing touch to the ensemble. My hair complements the look with a lace-up that falls down my back, leaving my forehead exposed.

I glance once again at the small clock showing the time through the mirror's reflection. It's nine fifteen, and there are just a few minutes left until the rest of the team arrives, and we all head to tonight's location in the van.

I close my eyes for a brief moment, letting them open again as my reflection appears before me. In another moment, the red lips might have seemed excessive, but tonight they were more than appropriate if I aimed to make an impact. A long-awaited display of recognition, only possible with suggestive clothing and a mischievous look.

I knew these tricks well; I had been using them for a few months and had become almost an expert. However, I couldn't really complain; they provided me with confidence and a sense of control, as only I knew how far to go and how much to reveal.

I hear my nickname being called by my manager, beckoning me from the other side of the door, signaling that the moment has arrived.

I let out a final sigh, giving one last glance at my reflection in the mirror, and with a small affirmative gesture, I make my way to the door. I unlock the latch and move down the hallway.

"How do I look?" I ask once I see my entire team getting ready to leave my apartment. Their gazes immediately shift to my face and gradually descend to my outfit, creating a subtle interplay between my face and figure in a silence that was beginning to feel almost unsettling.

Then, Allyson, my best friend and the person who would also accompany me to the gala, more at my request, approached me, dropping her hands onto my shoulders and holding me lightly while allowing a cheeky gaze to traverse my body once again.

"Incredibly hot," she replied with a side smile. If I didn't know her better, I would even say she was flirting with me.

"You look like a freaking superstar," Sandy, my agent, joined by my side, commented with a radiant smile that I didn't hesitate to reciprocate.

"A very sexy one," added Allyson.

"Seems like she got the memo," I responded to Sandy, throwing a glance at my friend while I simply watched their interaction with amusement.

"Time's running out. People are already asking if you'll show up, Maddy". I hear the voice of one of the technicians, prompting my manager, my best friend, and me to hurry and exit immediately.

I feel a slight tug on my arm, causing me to turn my head back. I observe Sandy, who looks at me with her typical observant and serene expression before any event, always trying to convey the same message to me.

"You're going to fuck everyone tonight". A smile escapes me due to her choice of words, as I playfully nod, and she takes my arm, finally allowing us to exit the apartment.

The noise of the city intensified as we navigated its streets. The neon signs became more prominent, and some cars honked their horns. Although I would have enjoyed observing the characteristic brightness of Hollywood, the driver's announcement that we had arrived only made my heart beat faster. The once bustling atmosphere provided by the streets was now fueled by fans waiting outside the venue.

The van's polarized windows prevented them from seeing me from the inside, but somehow, magically, some people had already started chanting my name. A smile spread across my face, feeling more confident as we headed towards the location predetermined by the team. I observed the various faces approaching the van, trying unsuccessfully to see beyond, but still shouting random names until they landed on the right one.

I checked my small bag, pulled out my mirror, and refreshed my lips with the lipstick I had specifically chosen for tonight. I took a deep breath a couple of times, practicing a breathing technique I had been taught since my early days in the industry, trying to focus on all the positive things that had happened up to that point. I was about to participate in one of the highlights of my career, not just as a guest but practically as the potential winner and the main star of the night. I was at the top, and no one could stop me.

My nod was enough for the back door to open, allowing my heel to finally touch the red carpet. The noise intensified, ringing loudly in my ears as the choruses of my name created a buzz around me. Camera flashes accompanied my descent as I tilted my head slightly to mark my steps on the pavement.

I stood in the center of the carpet, striking various poses for the photographers, keeping my face with a serene expression, and, on some occasions, with a smile. I began to move away as the pleading shouts for me to stay faded away. Allyson gently took my arm, occasionally smiling at the paparazzi still trying to get our attention as we entered the venue, followed by my team.

As we made our way through the backstage hallways, I could hear the voices of the presenters. I watched different technicians move around us, greeting me as they recognized me. Some even asked me to take a photo, a request to which I gladly agreed.

My heels lost prominence as we approached, overshadowed by the buzz of the show taking place in the main hall.

"Maddy," I hear Sandy's voice behind me, taking a moment to address me while she seems to be immersed in a phone conversation. "You should start getting ready," she informs me.

"Of course" I reply, making her nod before she returns to her phone call. I glance at my best friend, who has let go of my arm and looks at me with a pout. We both knew that her seat was reserved at the assigned table inside the hall, and I had to head to the dressing rooms to change.

"At least you'll wait for me next to Shawn Mendes" I mention, giving her a playful nudge as she regains a smile.

"You're absolutely right," she replies. A smile lights up her face, and before I can leave, she takes my hand, drawing my attention again. Ally is not known for being an especially emotional person; in fact, I used to surpass her in that aspect. However, lately, her emotions have started to emerge, which is saying a lot considering I've known her for more than half of my life. The expression she wears right now is more than enough to make my heart swell. A tenderness that adds sweetness to our friendship and makes me feel grateful for it every day.

"You're going to do wonderfully, although you already know it," she says, gently squeezing my hand. I feel the excitement rise through my body, finally manifesting in the growing moisture in my eyes. I blink a bit as I look up, preventing the tears from actually coming out. "I love you, Maddy. Good luck".

Oh, dear, I hate getting so emotional to the point of crying in these situations.

Unable to contain myself, I move closer to her, releasing our hand grip and enveloping her in an affectionate hug. Finally, I pull away and nod.

"I love you too, thank you". I reply, finally letting her go to continue her way into the hall, where the noise returns once the door leading directly to the entrance opens.

Again, the sound of my heels echoed on the floor, this time as I headed towards the path that led to the dressing rooms. As I advanced, some technicians greeted me until I reached the door with a star bearing my name. Under my hand on the lock, turning the knob as the dressing room materialized in front of me.

Immediately, I was enveloped by the scent of vanilla. Warm lights illuminated the room, matching the furniture in beige tones, including a sofa, a dressing table, and a small table with dried fruits, fresh ones, and bottles of water.

However, my attention focused on the rack beside the furniture. I approached and took off the cover that was suspended on a hook. I placed it on the chair, spreading it out as I unzipped the garment bag, finally revealing the outfit I would wear that night.

My performance would be marked by a yellow ensemble that had been tailored for me some time ago. It consisted of a ruffled top and a matching skirt, providing additional volume to my figure. Although it exposed my abdomen, allowing me the flexibility to dance and move freely on stage thanks to the small shorts I wore under the skirt.

It was a beautiful and practical outfit. It had been in my closet for a long time, and this was the perfect occasion to wear it.

I placed my belongings on the dressing table and secured the dressing room door for more privacy. Dressing was straightforward; however, removing the dress presented some difficulty. Nevertheless, I finally managed to replace it on the dress stand and hang it on the rack.

I turned towards the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, allowing my image to be seen from head to toe, highlighting the combination of yellow that enhances my skin tone and subtly adds volume.

I heard a tapping on the door, and I approached to open it, allowing Sandy's figure to enter the dressing room. I didn't stand up to show her my outfit, as she had witnessed the tailoring process from the beginning. Instead, I sit at the vanity and pull out the makeup I had brought for touch-ups, quickly changing the shade of my lipstick so I can blend in with my outfit and also to mattify my face with powder.

I felt calm until that moment, mentally reviewing the choreographies I would perform. However, when my nickname came out of my manager's lips, I immediately looked at her. I knew Sandy long enough, from my beginnings in this industry, and I could already discern precisely when something was not right.

"What happened?" I immediately ask, although silence persists from Sandy's side. She has chosen to sit on the couch, watching me through the mirror. "Sandy, tell me now, you're making me nervous". I say.

I see a sigh escape her lips as she nods towards me and says, "It's about your performance".

My breathing starts to become uneven as infinite possibilities take shape before me. I remain calmly silent for a moment until I decide to respond.

"Okay..." I affirm, maintaining composure regarding the situation, and wait to get more details. "What happened with that?"

"They said we have to cut it down," she replies at the same time my confusion arises. This time, Sandy doesn't wait for me to ask additional questions and proceeds to explain, "Now, you'll only have time for one song, then you'll have to leave the stage to make way for the next artist".

My eyes narrow in her direction, I turn my back to her, and lean on the back of my seat at the dressing table.

What exactly did she mean by that?

"Next artist?" I ask still confused. "I thought I was the main performance".

"That's right," she replies. "But, apparently, there was a sudden change of plans because they need to add someone else in that slot".

I continue to watch her attentively, examining each of her gestures. She clearly seems nervous, but I feel like she's hiding something more.

"Who?" I venture to ask. The question is enough for Sandy to shake her head repeatedly and get up from her seat on the couch. I watch as she starts pacing around the dressing room, holding her phone and typing at the same time. I call her again, but her response is limited to giving me a look and remaining silent. "Sandy, I was promised a full performance. I've practiced for months to occupy an entire slot, not to be limited to just a few minutes. At the very least, I deserve to know who it is".

Sandy's eyebrows furrow, showing an internal struggle to reveal the truth. Finally, after a sigh that reflects her unease, she utters the name of the responsible party: "It's Harry Styles".

Of all people in this damn industry.

I sigh with frustration and look at myself again in the dressing room mirror. The light illuminates the space, covering my entire face and clearly reflecting my furrowed brow and a pout beginning to form on my lips.

What was originally going to be a complete performance of about ten minutes will now be reduced to only four, with just enough time to present my latest single.

I was upset, or rather, furious. I had dedicated months of effort and rehearsals to this, preparing to occupy an entire slot where I would not only present one but two songs, each with its own set design and choreography. And now, all that work was going to be wasted by having to involuntarily share the spotlight with someone else.

And worst of all, that someone else turned out to be him.

Harry embodied all the negative aspects of my career, being my number one rival since my position began to rise rapidly. There was a time when I considered that his growing popularity along with mine could be seen as a positive boost for my career, but it turned out to be the opposite when I realized he saw it as competition.

At one point, he snatched a venue where I was supposed to give a show. I tried to communicate with his team at that time and eventually with him, thinking it was a mistake. However, when I received a small note on my phone with a headline showing him laughing at the situation and even making sarcastic references to my loss in the middle of his own show, I decided that things needed to change in that regard. 

I could tolerate many things, but I wouldn't allow him and his actions to leave my fans and me hanging.

"I'm really sorry, Maddy. I did my best, but they insisted on sharing the space". I hear Sandy's words, feeling her closer and visualizing her behind me, leaning on the chair that still supports my body.

I nod finally, aware that the issue was not in her hands to resolve, as it transcended our team.

I hear three knocks on the door, announcing that it was time to go. I check myself once again, making sure my makeup is still intact, and rise from my seat, also adjusting my skirt.

"Fuck them all. Let's go".

I hear Sandy's laughter beside me, leading the way as the dressing room door opens, allowing me to re-enter the bright light of the hallways. Most of my team is waiting for me. I greet the dancers who will accompany me with a smile and join them as applause fills the space. My team makes the moment more lively, allowing us to perform a small ritual that has become a tradition for us before each performance. We join our hands and raise them with cheers of excitement.

This is how I finally position myself behind the stage, gaining confidence as I turn my back to the audience. With my right hand, I hold the microphone and squeeze it tightly at least three times, inhaling air as I adjust my breathing.

Until I see the stage light up with blue lights, I close my eyes and let the music fill my ears, a chorus of screams chanting my name initiating my performance.

The performance unfolds exceptionally. The dancers beside me don't hesitate to execute strength in their steps, and I, in turn, accompany them beyond necessity. I put into practice all the breathing exercises, holding the high notes perfectly. All the effort is reflected in the applause and screams around me when the music stops and the lights intensify the drama.

I stayed on stage for an additional time, under everyone's gaze, waiting for the team's signal to descend from the platform. I raise my hand and give a small wave to everyone, receiving warm smiles, many of them from faces familiar to me in the industry.

The cue comes through my in-ear monitors, and with the dim lighting present, I descend from the stage at the back.

My team welcomes me with hugs and some applause as we return to the backstage. However, I sense the music resurfacing once again with a sound of trumpets that extends throughout the environment, triggering my inevitable curiosity.

I turn slightly backward, watching the bright light flooding the stage again in a warm tone, this time accompanied by a tall man who exhibits a unique presence that I have had the chance to witness on a few occasions, and he wears a suit that fits perfectly to his body, made of a fabric that seems to be leather.

I make a small grimace as I see him confidently traverse the stage, as if I had never appeared in this one, looking at the people as his own and quickly winning them over with his movements. The audience erupts in cheers when he drops what appears to be a green feather boa, revealing his bare torso, covered only by his leather jacket.

Not wanting to see any more, I turn around and head back to my dressing room, ready to change my clothes and head this time to the new place where the after party would take place.

I opted for a dress in a celestial shade and also fitted to my body, although the fabrics of this one had a subtle dewy effect that I loved.

As I enter the new lounge, I am greeted by upbeat music from a DJ and the dark lights in shades of red and blue become familiar with my dress. I sense greetings from a few industry acquaintances before finally finding my best friend in the crowd. Near a table at the bar, Ally was actively engaged in a conversation with the guy we once talked about, and then I began to doubt whether I should interrupt.

My lips concealed to prevent my smile from being too evident as I approached, but my gaze shifted, and immediately, I regretted it when I felt my steps instinctively stop.

A few feet away, I spotted Joe with his distinctive brown hair, recognizable to me. However, that wasn't all; next to him, a young blonde placed her hand on his shoulder, carelessly approaching his face while smiling at him.

At that moment, I couldn't pinpoint exactly the feeling I was experiencing, except for the paralysis of my heart that prompted me to continue watching their interaction. I mean, it wasn't common to meet my worst ex again, let alone witness his audacity in introducing the woman I discovered was his lover for much of our relationship.

I felt like I could vomit at any moment, and everything seemed to get worse when I sensed that Joe's gaze shifted from the girl beside him to me.

I felt the world crumbling around me, forcing me to blink and look away, although it was already too late when, from the corner of my eye, I saw his figure starting to approach.

Although Ally was still immersed in her conversation with Shawn, I no longer cared about interrupting them. But they were both far enough away that trying to get there in a hurry would be a hopeless endeavor.

So my only option was to turn around and head back to the dressing rooms, which ended only in colliding with another body in the attempt.

"Have you gotten lost all the way to your table now?" I hear Harry's characteristic husky voice, revealing his presence in front of me with a completely revamped outfit, still in dark tones, wearing a suit that seemed to be crafted from a wool-like fabric, though I couldn't pinpoint it due to the dim lighting. What was completely visible was his torso, now covered by a bividi.

A sigh escapes me. This was the last thing I needed.

"I forgot something in my dressing room," I reply.

"Still your dressing room?" he asks mockingly, causing a furrow in my eyebrows. "I thought once your performance was over, your name simply vanished from that door".

"I don't know, what do you think?" I respond sarcastically, hearing his laughter, knowing he expected me to reply with the same tone. "Did your name already vanish?"

"What do you think?" he replies. I roll my eyes, confident that no one would really see my expression due to the lively atmosphere around us. However, I decide to remain subtly cautious and maintain a falsely enthusiastic expression before smiling at him.

"I don't have time for this, Harry. Excuse me". I mutter under my breath, looking down, instantly erasing my smile, and waiting for his body to give me the pass.

Instead, Harry chooses to inquire, "Are you sure?" leaving me again with an inevitable furrowed brow as I realize he's not moving. "Because I see your ex-boyfriend over there with an attractive blonde a few meters from us," he states. Once again, I feel my heart freeze, and a dry cough resonates in my throat. Uncomfortable, I avert my gaze carefully, avoiding meeting anyone's eyes, until the husky voice manifests once again, but this time a bit closer. "And, in case you've forgotten, the dressing rooms are in the opposite direction".

Damn.

"Of course, I remember," I immediately respond, turning my head to address him directly, allowing him to step back a bit as he notices our proximity due to my movement, though I, for my part, don't even react. "I was going to the bathroom first, and then to my dressing room, that's what I meant".

"Sure". he murmurs with another smile. He doesn't hesitate to express his intention to tease me in front of me. His audacity has persisted since I've known him, and the incendiary reaction every time we cross paths only intensifies over time, becoming increasingly unbearable.

I felt a sense of suffocation every time I encountered him. I often watched him from a distance, displaying evident kindness to the public, being friendly, joking, and laughing, letting his dimples adorn his face. Despite all the charming image he projected around him, my perspective on him remained unchanged.

Every close encounter with Harry carried the accumulated tension throughout our career. The thirst for competition lingered silently as we exchanged glances at various events, and at times, even shared cheeky smiles that revealed our triumph when one of us won in our confrontations.

And, on this occasion, that's precisely what he was taking care of.

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink?" he suddenly asks, causing surprise and confusion on my face. I wait a few seconds before he continues, "As a way to congratulate you on your performance".

And there it was. It wasn't a friendly invitation but a celebration of his own triumph.

I feel discomfort rise on my cheeks, turning them reddish and experiencing the spreading warmth in me.

"Do you mean the performance you were about to steal from me?" I respond inquisitively.

"Did I?" he asks, feigning confusion in his words as his eyebrows tilt in sarcasm and his green eyes narrow.

I take the opportunity to get a bit closer to him, leaving us almost at the same distance as he once chose to move away. However, this time, he chooses to remain motionless in his place, making our height difference more evident, though my response is equally close.

"I know perfectly well that all of that was your fault," I murmur, making sure my words stay between us two. His eyebrows slightly arch as he continues to look at me, and I interpret it as a sign to continue, "It was a solo performance, and obviously, you couldn't stand not being the center of attention tonight".

Harry chooses to remain silent, studying my face carefully. I interpret his silence as confirmation, perhaps even something he was ashamed to admit aloud, and rightfully so, because that was what I really expected.

"You seem pretty sure," he finally responds, dropping his head to one side. "Let me discuss it with liquor on me".

"No way". I immediately deny.

"Your ex is still chasing you," he murmurs once again close to me.

I lower my gaze and inhale deeply.

There was no alternative. Either I faced Harry's words, or I faced Joe. One seemed to be worse than the other, although I couldn't decide which was which; but my instinct only urged me to go along with his proposition, and that's exactly what I did.

"Just one," I reply, reaching a conclusion. "No more".

Immediately, a dimple forms on his face, and an almost malicious look accompanies it. Whether I regretted it or not, I had already accepted, and he wouldn't allow me to truly retract.

Finally, this seemed to be my destiny for the night.

"Of course".

Harry turns, indicating for me to follow as the music around us increases as we approach the bar table. Lights flash in a variety of colors, now immersed in a dark violet tone. I grip my small purse firmly as bumps affect my body due to the dancing crowd, possibly drunk, without realizing or anticipating the space they occupy.

I don't pay much attention as I return my gaze forward, realizing that the bar atmosphere is left behind as we move forward.

I furrow my brow and try to match my pace with Harry's, striving to find an explanation. However, he keeps moving with determination and doesn't even turn around, knowing I'm still following him.

I identify the nearest exit door and decide to stop him at that moment. I pull his arm and hold it close to me, causing his pace to halt, and he finally turns to look at me.

"Where are we heading?" I inquire.

"I'll buy you a drink," he simply responds with a shrug, implying that the answer should be obvious.

"But I thought—" my words are interrupted by a sidelong gesture from him as he answers: "Those there aren't good".

My eyes narrow in suspicion. "Did you even try them?" I ask.

"I heard some comments," he says, shrugging his shoulders again.

Harry doesn't wait for me to say more and takes advantage of the grip I still have on his arm to grab my wrist, pulling my body slightly to keep walking.

The door of the lounge is opened by the security personnel guarding it, and the night breeze intensifies around me, leaving the noise of the music behind.

Once the doors close, I can appreciate the difference between the white lights coming from one of the main parking lots of the venue and the various luxury cars parked all over the place. Harry leads us to one of them, specifically a Range Rover that is slightly separated from the other cars. His hand releases my wrist and goes in the opposite direction of the car, letting me pass alone to the other side. I stay there for a few seconds, watching his interaction with the driver until he returns to my side, opens the back door, and lets me go first. I express a "thank you" in response and get into the car.

The journey turned uncomfortably silent, allowing me to settle at one end of the fine leather seat as I watched the city streets materialize around us through the polarized windows. My grip on my bag occasionally intensified, fidgeting with my fingers in an attempt to calm my nervousness.

The moment inside the lounge replayed in my mind, with Joe's brown eyes fixed on me, probably witnessing my exit with Harry. However, all the concern faded, carried away by the same tide to which I was willingly submitting. It's at that moment I hear my companion's voice, alerting me that we have arrived.

Harry steps out of the car first, unexpectedly assuming the role of a chauffeur as he opens the door and takes my hand while helping me descend. I feel his warm touch, contrasting with the multiple rings adorning his fingers. A chill runs down my spine, accentuated by the surrounding breeze.

The environment seems colder than usual, permeated by the salty aroma, and the presence of several yachts parked around the area makes it even more apparent. I furrow my brow, directing my gaze to the man beside me, who seems immune to my gesture and keeps his eyes straight ahead.

What the hell am I doing here?

"Where are we?" I inquire. More out of the need to know, I do it with the desire to get a genuine explanation from him.

It's only then that Harry turns his gaze back to me, revealing a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"I thought it was obvious by the yachts around us," he replies. At that moment, his figure starts to move, and I realize the car has withdrawn. The cool breeze surrounds us as I shift my attention to the majestic yachts practically next to me. One more luxurious than the other, with a shiny appearance, but this only serves to increase my confusion.

"I mean," I begin to say as I follow him down the wooden path, causing my heels to resonate more loudly. "I know where we are, but why are we here?"

Harry instinctively turns, throwing me a brief look before responding, "Because I owe you a drink". My gaze intensely connects with his, and I notice one of his dimples forming again due to his smirk. "What?"

"This is not a bar," I reply, pointing out the obvious at that moment. Our steps are the only response I continue to receive until, after what seems like a few minutes of walking, we stop in front of a particular yacht.

It was almost as extensive as the others, presenting itself with at least three sections from this perspective, equally white and gleaming, illuminated from the outside and showing only a glimpse of its interior. However, this one stood out even more among all, displaying the initials "HS" on the front, which leads me to connect the dots and take a closer look at the owner that I now recognize.

"What better than having a drink in the middle of the ocean, don't you think?"

For some reason, I choose silence as a response and wait for Harry, once again, to help me climb the stairs leading inside the yacht.

Inside, the opulence becomes even more evident. The bow presents itself as an illuminated catwalk, even equipped with spacious sofas for comfort. The interior looks almost like a small apartment, also furnished, with a table and chairs for any meal one might want to enjoy. A carpet covers the entire floor, softening the sound of my heels, while some ornaments decorate the space, highlighting the golden details around.

"Make yourself at home," I suddenly hear Harry say from behind, taking me by surprise. I turn my head instantly, slightly bumping into his face, as I see him enter the space. Finally, I notice that in the background, behind a partition, there is a wide stool that seems to be part of the kitchen and, in turn, the bar with a variety of drinks on display welcomes my presence. Harry's body is disappearing into that area, blending in and leaving me alone at the entrance.

A sigh escapes my lips as I sink into the spacious sofa. I check my bag, opening it to take out my phone and heading straight to Ally's contact. The call doesn't ring until the third tone, by which time I already hear the music hitting my speakers, forcing me to move the phone slightly away from my ear.

"Maddy?" I finally hear my friend say. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm fine, calm down," I reply. "I came with a— Um," at that moment, I didn't know what to say. I had called to assure her that I was okay, but I hadn't considered the most obvious: what would I tell her if she asked what I was doing? I couldn't just spill the situation, as that would prolong the conversation, and the last thing I wanted was for Harry to hear all the details as if it were a gossip show. I quickly think of a response before Ally starts to suspect. "With a friend I met backstage, and we came for a drink at a... small nearby bar so no one can make assumptions," I conclude. I bite my lower lip as I hear Ally's response materialize on the other side of the line.

"Do I know that friend?"

"Uh," I hesitate for a moment before responding, genuinely trying to stop lying altogether. So I say, "Yes, probably". But before she can ask more questions, I interrupt her. "I'll tell you later".

"That's fine," she replies. I hear the music around her slightly fading, suggesting that she's stepping aside to get more privacy. "But is he at least hot?" she asks. And I have no idea what to answer.

I swallow as I look back into the yacht, watching Harry's broad back and curls from a distance. Even meters away, he appears unperturbed, and curiosity fills my instincts again. I hide my lips and look straight ahead.

"A bit," I reply.

"Alright," she responds. "Let me know if you need me to pick you up or something, I'm here for you".

"I know, there's no need to worry," I reply. "Are you going back with Robert?" I ask, knowing that now only my driver remains to ensure she gets to her own apartment safely.

"Well..." I hear a small laugh from her, and my eyebrows raise as I wait for her response. "I think I'm heading somewhere else too".

"Oh..." A shared laughter joins the conversation. "Okay... I understand," I nod through the call. "I'll wait for the details".

"I'll be waiting for yours too. Goodbye," I hear her slightly dragging the words, so I simply respond with a goodbye and hang up.

It seems I wasn't the only one who had an unexpected encounter.

A few minutes passed as I dedicated myself to look around, putting my phone back in my bag. At that moment, I hear the partition opening, with a subtle but attention-catching sound making my head turn in its direction.

Then, I see Harry holding two glasses in his hands, bringing one towards me and keeping the other.

The  liquor has a hue similar to pink, sharpening my curiosity as I bring it to my lips. The sip results in a bittersweet taste, immediately recognizing the mix of vodka and strawberry.

"It's really good, thank you," I comment as I continue to feel the subtle sweetness on my lips. I sense the sofa slightly sinking under the weight of someone else a few meters away, as if they were trying to maintain a distance. Harry leaves his drink on the table in front of us, watching me as I continue to drink.

It truly was delicious, but I no longer knew what else to say besides continuing to sip. So, I decided that the moment might be more bearable if I introduced some alcohol into my system. That would be the only way to stop thinking about the look Harry was giving me at that moment.

"Now we can address what you mentioned in that room," I hear his rough voice through my ears, awakening any instinct as I pay attention. "You seemed very confident in stating that I tried to steal your presentation".

"Wasn't that the case?" I inquire in response, finally placing my glass with the drink less than halfway on the table, right next to his. "It doesn't make sense for you to deny it. And neither do I have any point in remembering it". I tell him. A silence hangs between us, leaving his response in the void as an idea forms in my mind. At this point, the liquor has started to take effect, and although I'm not seeing blurry nor unconscious by any means, my filter disappears. And I really have no objections to that, as it is exactly what I wanted.

"I propose something," I start, capturing his attention with a steady gaze into his green eyes, which seem filled with curiosity, not really anticipating what I'm about to say. "For tonight, I'll leave all that behind, and you won't mention it with the intention of annoying me."

"Do I do it to annoying you?" he asks, laughing, one that highlights his dimples again as he shakes his head expressively and approaches the table to reach for his glass.

"You really have difficulty recognizing what you do, don't you?" I inquire, tilting my head to the right.

"That's all you assume," he responds.

"All you don't admit," I retort.

"Now you're calling me a liar," he comments after taking another sip of his drink. His words are laced with more sarcasm than usual, and his cheeky smile becomes more evident. "After you've had a drink, that's a bit disrespectful".

"Tell me a truth," I suddenly say, catching him completely off guard for a moment. His eyes meet mine directly, squinting slightly and raising his chin a bit. I watch as his tongue passes over his lips, moistening them and giving them a natural shine, before he answers: "I watched your performance".

"Now, a lie,"

A smirk begins to form on him, and then he replies, "I watched your performance".

Unexpectedly, a smile of my own appears on my face.

"I think it's your turn now," he tells me. I nod my head and inhale a bit of air before settling into my seat, allowing my dress to rise slightly and reveal more of my thigh. I don't bother to fix it, noticing Harry's gaze descending before realizing that I'm watching him.

And then another idea crosses my mind.

"Let's make this more interesting," I propose. "The loser will take off an item of clothing".

Harry's eyebrows raise in surprise, but quickly lower, leaving his expression showing only curiosity.

"Are you sure?" he questions.

"Of course," I reply without hesitation, reaffirming my confidence.

Harry responds with a small sigh, settling into the sofa, letting his body sink a bit more into it. He adopts a pose by resting his arm on the backrest and slightly opening his legs for comfort. In the whole process, I can't help but observe him.

"I didn't know that bold side of you, Maddy," he suddenly mentions my nickname, leaving me with a slight frown, wondering how he knew. "Who would've thought".

"On the contrary, I feel like I know a lot about you," I reply in a lower tone.

"Oh, really?" he asks, matching my tone. A playful smile forms on my face as I nod.

"Yes," I start, leaning slightly closer to him. My knees press into the sofa, and my hands sink into it as I slowly approach his body in a crawling position. I focus solely on following Harry's eyes, which darken, taking on the same tone as the night that envelops us, abandoning the green they briefly exhibited. I stop at the level of his knees, not directly colliding with them, and then I also rest my arm on the back of the sofa.

"You're narcissistic," I murmur, allowing silence to settle between us as my words hang in the air. "You enjoy being the center of attention, and when someone doesn't give it to you, you seek it at all costs," I continue. "That's why you brought me here. You can't stand that I won't surrender to you for real".

Silence settles between us again, but this time I feel the atmosphere becoming denser. Despite the breeze, I experience how heat floods my body, reddening my cheeks and forcing the opening of my lips to facilitate the circulation of oxygen. As for Harry, watching each of my movements with his eyes, which still retain their dark color, observing me with precision.

His lips receive another moistening from his tongue before he responds: "Aren't you already doing it?" he asks, his voice deeper than usual.

"You lost," I retort. A look of fake disappointment forms on my face, followed by a smile that I can't hide. "You know what that means".

Harry doesn't say anything for a few more seconds, until I finally notice one of his dimples returning on his cheek as he lowers his gaze. And with a final nod, he replies, "If you insist".

The minutes keep ticking away, and the atmosphere becomes hotter as Harry's clothes disappear. I always trusted my statements, no matter the question, and thanks to my certainty in words, Harry accepted his defeat in most of the rounds.

However, things took a turn; my glass was already empty, and my embarrassment vanished with it. This time, I was more than obvious, allowing the only garment that played against me, my dress, to disappear from my body when I admitted defeat, leaving me in lingerie. Harry simply watches the moment as I stand up from the sofa to make it easier to remove my dress. My lace set is black, with small flowers adorning the edges.

I leave the dress on the sofa and approach to return to my place, but Harry's hand lands on my wrist, stopping me as I look at him.

My breathing starts to become irregular, accentuated by his touch that intensifies it. I watch as Harry rises from his seat, standing in front of me, highlighting once again our height difference, but closing the gap nonetheless. His cool chest impacts against mine, brushing against me in a contact I eagerly await. I feel anxious to experience more, and Harry seems to sense it, patiently waiting to take my neck with his palm, sliding his right thumb over my lips. In an instant, I part them slightly, allowing the gentle touch of his fingertip to meet my mouth and eventually take its place inside.

My lips wrap around his finger, caressing it with my tongue as a circular motion saturates it with saliva, all of this under Harry's watchful gaze from above.

And at that moment, when I feel I can no longer bear the pressure and try to move away to take the next step, Harry tightens his grip on my neck, placing his entire palm around it, leaving me immobile for a moment and allowing my breath to come out with slight difficulty through my mouth. I can feel my heart beating harder, and at this point, I have no doubts that he can hear it too. His palm raises my neck, placing his face inches from mine. My gaze lowers and rises in an expectant rhythm, watching his lips and returning to his eyes, a rhythm that keeps me restless, asking for more, craving more, and only calming when his face takes on the expression I desire. His gaze, changing in the darkness of the night, follows me, and my agony comes to an end when his lips meet mine.

A passionate, desperate, thirsty kiss fills me, complementing my body and intensifying my sensations. My hands become explorers, and he satisfies them as I touch his body, tracing his face, reaching his hair, pressing him more against me, if only it were possible.

Harry, for his part, releases his hold on my neck and descends down my body just as unrestrained, exploring every corner of my body with his touch. He moves across my back with intensity, brushing with delicacy and eliciting a moan from me during our kiss. His rings are still cold, becoming more evident as he descends, exerting pressure on my skin and possibly leaving marks due to their firmness. Although I wouldn't admit it out loud, I wished it to be so, especially on my buttocks, where his pinkie and ring fingers, adorned with his significant initial rings, exerted pressure.

The kiss becomes careless, causing us to separate slightly in search of air. Harry takes advantage of this to grab my hips, and in an unexpected move for me, he turns me, allowing my body to fall and press me forcefully against the table in front of us.

My face and palms are pressed against the glass, adjusting to the space, although I have no complaints about it. My senses intensify, perceiving Harry's body behind me with strength, and even more noticeably, his erection protruding from his boxers, pressing firmly against me.

My eyes begin to close, surrendering to the sensation even when my underwear remains a barrier between us. However, as seconds pass, desperation takes over me again; the dripping of my fluids only increases, and my hips begin to move as a signal. But Harry takes care of putting an end to it, pressing my hips once again and, this time, letting his palm strike forcefully on my buttock.

I can't contain a scream that escapes from me, while my hands desperately search for something to hold onto. I realize that the smoothness of the glass plays against me, and I can only try to hold on firmly to the table.

I feel the tingling on my skin, probably already reddened, but it is soothed by Harry's palm, which moves gently around, in a dangerous massage that approaches and moves away from the area that needs it the most. His fingers intertwine with my underwear, slightly raising the fabric and allowing the breeze from the surroundings to reach that part. Another moan escapes from my lips, and I close my eyes, surrendering to the sensation.

"It looks so good on you," I hear his voice near my ear as he continues exploring the fabric, causing a shiver to run down my spine. "It's a shame that it's getting in the way right now".

It's at that moment when I hear the fabric's crunch, and my eyes open immediately. Harry doesn't give me time to react as I feel his erection finally pressing against me. Touching me, but this time without restrictions, he maintains an ascending and descending rhythm while moistening it with my own fluids. The sensation is pleasurable, so much so that my lips part more, and sounds of satisfaction resonate throughout the bow.

My mind focuses exclusively on the sensation, paying attention to every movement, and I join in with my hips. Harry keeps his firm grip on them until, at one point, I feel him distant. I don't perceive his touch with mine, and a pout forms instantly on my lips. I turn slightly towards him and see that he has a condom package in his hands, already starting to open it.

My pout becomes more evident, emitting a sound that draws his attention back to my face. I know it's the right thing to do, and yet surprisingly I find myself feeling disappointed by this when I should be grateful; but considering that I am free from any disease, perhaps I expect the same from him.

Harry watches me for a few seconds before lowering the condom, half-open, and looking at me attentively.

"I have no doubt that you're safe, but are you taking care of yourself?" he asks. My heart starts to beat rapidly as I nod immediately.

"Should I doubt that you're safe too?" I inquire in response, just to be reasonably sure.

"I can show you my certificate another day if you wish," he says, showing a serious expression that indicates his proposition is genuine. A smile escapes from me.

"Do you come with a pedigree?" I jokingly ask. Then his gaze changes once again, observing me with darkened eyes.

And I feel Harry's response materialize in a smack that elicits a moan of pain and pleasure from me.

"Damn," I mutter through gritted teeth.

"Very funny," he replies in turn.

The moment is brief, with his anger disappearing or maybe intensifying when the first penetration takes place.

A moan escapes from me, intensifying as the thrusts become more frequent. Harry shows no mercy, much less moderates his strokes. He grips my hip with one hand while the other presses into my lower back, pushing me harder against the table with each thrust and leaving me adrift with each impact.

"Fuck, Maddy," his simple voice, mentioning my nickname again, provokes a sigh that escapes my lips, being carried away by his movement. "You feel so good".

My eyes struggle to stay open, wishing to truly absorb the moment in all my senses but becoming increasingly difficult as the intensity builds.

The upper part of my underwear still rested on me, but now the fabric becomes uncomfortable as my body craves the slightest freshness to contrast with the moment. Apparently, I wasn't the only one seeking it, as Harry, as if reading my thoughts, shifts the hand that was on my back to my bra, and in a swift motion, unclasps it, freeing my body.

I feel his torso press against my now exposed back, lifting me slightly and allowing his hand to fit perfectly on my bare chest. I bite my lower lip once again with such force that it anticipates the possibility of blood in my taste.

Harry's caress feels soft on my skin, creating an absolute contrast with his movements inside me. Occasionally, his roughness manifests fully when he lightly squeezes my nipples, making the sounds coming out of my mouth more pronounced as he advances.

"Do you want to tease me again?" his voice emerges as I drop the question and focus on the sensation. "Come on, pretty girl, talk to me," he insists once more, trying to provoke a response. I bite my lip, holding back a smile, aware that I am getting into a small dangerous game at that moment.

Harry's grip intensifies, pressing against my skin, probably realizing the dynamic that was unfolding.

"Or do you prefer me to call you a slut?" the simple suggestion makes my back arch, revealing my immediate response, and I hear a husky laugh from his part. "Is that what you are? A little slut who enjoys my cock filling you?" another moan from me manifests in the space, representing my own thoughts.

"Does it feel good, huh?" Too good, I wanted to respond, but once again, I chose to hide my lips between my teeth. Then, I feel my hair being pulled sharply, lifting my body from the table and leaving me in an arched position. My buttocks rise, and the sound of the collision of our skins becomes more evident.

"I bet that idiot you had as an ex didn't even get close to this," I hear him say, and actually, far from worrying about the mention of my ex, the unspoken response to his statement is more than evident in my body.

Harry personified desire in its purest form, and the longing for more became evident in each of our encounters. I hadn't realized this until this moment when I felt him hitting inside me, holding me firmly, talking dirty to me. This was all I needed.

I hear Harry's breath in my ear, intense enough to reverberate in my senses and take me to experience a deeper level than I thought I could reach in my whole body. The adrenaline keeps rising in me, reflected by the thin layer of sweat on my skin, completely undoing the smoothing I once had.

My hands, full of desperation, try to move backward in an attempt for contact. However, Harry's firm grip on me makes this almost impossible; daring to move on my own would mean losing balance completely.

I have no sense of how much time has passed, with the only sound being the echo of my moans mixed with his in the space, when I feel everything come to a complete stop. I turn my head towards him, seeking his gaze and finding it with an amused expression that he doesn't even try to hide.

"Keep going," I demand in a whimper, but Harry ignores my words, still watching me and still inside me. "Damn it, Harry, continue," I express this time with annoyance. For his part, Harry tilts his head to the side, looking at me expectantly.

"Not even a please?" he asks.

A sigh escapes from me. I don't hesitate to do it. Honestly, at this moment, anything was valid for me; I just wanted to feel him again.

"Please, please," I murmur to him. The plea makes his eyes darken once again more than usual, and his gaze reflects the quickness of the change in his expression. "Continue, please".

I don't even finish speaking when Harry pushes his cock once again into me, with a speed that equals or surpasses the previous one. My grip tightens on the table, holding on with strength and trying to endure as much as I could.

"Tell me a truth, Maddy," I hear him say in my ear. "Tell me how you feel. Tell me you need this as much as I do". His words express an assertion, being confident as always, and if I had been fully conscious, I would have laughed just to tease him. However, now I felt like I was levitating and was willing to follow every order he gave me just to keep feeling him.

It was surprising to admit that his effect really caused this, the nullification of my own reason, yielding to his, and letting myself be carried away by the waves of the same ocean we were in. That was Harry, the whirlpool I willingly submitted to, just to experience another taste.

At least, for this night.

"Tell me, or I'll stop". I hear his threatening voice, and before I can articulate a response, I feel the firm pressure of his hands on my hips, urging me once again.

"Holy shit," I manage to say, gripping the table tightly. My head tilts back, feeling his own chest behind me as he advances in his movements. I can't form a coherent sentence without being interrupted by the pleasant sensation. As his movement continues, I pray for him not to stop; therefore, his name escapes my lips, expressing a single plea that I hope satisfies him, although with Harry, we both know it will never be enough.

"Come on, pretty girl," he repeats that nickname that sends a shiver down my spine once again. "Tell me a truth or you'll lose again".

"It feels so good," I finally utter, albeit still with difficulty. "Don't you dare stop," I warn, hearing a low chuckle in response. "I'm so close".

"Come," he responds immediately, accelerating his pace inside me, causing my eyes to close. "Let me feel how you tighten around me".

"Come with me," I manage to say only.

"You don't have to ask me twice," I hear his response in my ear.

The intensification of his thrusts makes them more rhythmic, marking a strong beat that increases the collision between our naked bodies. My head continues arched backward, but this time it remains immobilized by his arm around my neck, holding firmly in the precise place. The pressure is strong enough to be felt, but still allows me to breathe without too much difficulty. However, this complicates as I feel my movement synchronizing with his, my hips coming to life on their own as I approach the peak of pleasure in my life.

Tears run down my cheeks, leaving a salty taste on my lips, inevitably absorbed while my mouth emits moans or seeks air. The walls of my pussy begin to contract, and I can feel the pulsations inside me from Harry's cock, indicating that he is as close as I am.

I couldn't help but wish that he would come before me, longing to experience his reactions firsthand. However, the inevitable happened.

I felt a sensation of warmth rising through my body, wrapped in an electricity that made me move more restlessly and carelessly. My moans became louder, and finally, I experienced the tension bursting around me. I was unable to feel anything other than my own release and the overwhelming sense of satisfaction that invaded me.

Harry's grip relaxes on my neck, releasing it and allowing my body to fall back onto the table. It is at that moment, when I finally find myself able to regain awareness of my surroundings, that I can feel Harry's body leaning against mine, embracing me gently with his posture and holding me with delicate gestures.

The synchronization of our own breaths takes at least a few minutes, during which we both maintain our positions and experience an immediate sense of relaxation that extends throughout our bodies.

The minutes seem to prolong, and fatigue envelops me, allowing me to perceive only the freshness of the night breeze as Harry pulls away. I feel his touch on my legs, wiping me with what seems to be paper and holding me to prevent me from falling. Finally, I let myself fall on the couch, backed by him, and let myself be carried away by exhaustion, while Harry's green eyes are the last thing I see before everything plunges into darkness.

The whisper of the sea and the movement of the waves wake me up, and I realize that the night has given way to the blue morning sky around the yacht.

My drowsy eyes struggle to accurately perceive the environment until I focus on the table in front of me, which seems to be located farther from its usual position, several meters away from the scattered chairs in the place.

Memories of the previous night assault me at once with this landscape, leading me to look up and meet the serene face of a sleeping Harry beneath me.

I contemplate some of his curls falling onto his forehead, while I realize that his face has small marks from my dark lipstick. A faint smile forms on my lips as I try to move in my position without waking him.

In my attempt, I look around again, noticing that my bag is also scattered on the floor and has started buzzing similar to my notifications, which doesn't cease.

My brow slightly furrows, trying to distance myself carefully from Harry once again until I finally manage to and take my bag in my hands, pulling out my phone.

The time is revealed to me, noticing that it might be due to the various notifications that were coming in. On the screen, I see messages from some friends, numerous missed calls from Ally and Sandy, and a last message from an unknown number.

I access the last message from Ally, finding her response that she is already home and noting a drastic change this morning, or more precisely, since dawn. Her messages started with capital letters and filled the chat with about twenty monosyllables, culminating in a final message begging me to explain what was happening.

I didn't fully understand until I decided to open the link she attached to the message. Then, a note from People magazine opens in my browser, with my profile face and the image of a smiling Harry next to me.

I close my eyes for a moment. I should have anticipated that this would happen.

Inevitably, I continue scrolling down the page, and a big headline appears, accompanied by more photos of me getting into his black car and disappearing with Harry, leaving no trace of us throughout the night.

«CAUGHT IN A SPECIAL NIGHT Has Madison Moore decided to leave behind the melancholic romance and opt for vibrant pop? Discover the latest details about the encounter between the star girl and none other than Harry Styles.»

Shit.